~*~*Winter, AC 194~*~*
She moved silently, all of them did, an early lesson in
stealth. You learned it quickly or you
were caught. Stefan came clattering in
after her, the sound of his wet boots squished in the hall. Niente was good, but only when he had to be,
otherwise he exhibited the normal restless energy of any young teenage boy.
Richard looked up from the book he was reading to watch her
kneel by the fireplace, she held out her small hands to the flames but she
didn't relax as the heat flushed her cheeks.
He was sure he saw her shivering in the jacket she wore. He didn't recognize the affiliation but that
was common. Midii always went out
looking like a shivering waif and it never failed, someone always gave her the
coat off their back. They just couldn't
help it and she was just that good.
Stefan came in announced by an exaggerated yawn and executed
a graceful vault over the back of the couch.
He looked at his partner and rolled his eyes, she had nothing to be
upset about, they'd led the troops to the core of the rebel forces in record
time. They'd be moved up for sure, out
of this rat-trap of an old military dormitory forgotten by the world. They'd be
infiltrating offices next and before you knew it right at the top, no more
shivering in the cold and eating the leftover rations donated by sympathetic
rebels. Even he shrank a little at
taking charity from the very people they'd been sent to betray.
The device around Midii's neck beeped softly and she lifted
her hand and yanked the chain off, tossing the little game necklace into the
fire.
"Yes," Stefan cheered.
"Finally you're celebrating. We
were awesome. They'll see Midii,
there's nothing the two of us can't do together. They'll see we're beyond this crap. We're better than this, we can do so much more."
She turned desolate eyes on the older boy and ran out of the
room. Richard's lips thinned and he
glared at Stefan.
"You don't understand her at all," he said softly, his voice
accusing.
Stefan shrugged. "I
know all I need to know. She may be
melodramatic and swimming in guilt but when the chips are down she never
flinches. That's all the matters to me
about Midii Une."
Richard found her in a window seat, shivering in
earnest. Insulation and heating weren't
top priority in the abandoned barracks where the Alliance kept their secrets
under wraps. No trick was too dirty in
the battle for universal dominance.
"Midii, come back where the fire is at least," Richard said.
She shook her head.
"I'm so tired," she muttered, leaning her head wearily
against the wall and closing her eyes briefly.
"Thanks anyway, but I think I'll go to bed."
"How long were you out this time," he asked, noticing she
was thinner than the last time he'd seen her.
But still pretty in that pitiful heart-wrenching way that had the power
to disarm whole troops of soldiers. She
made them think of their daughters at home, maybe even the girlfriends they'd
left behind. She was growing up and her charms hadn't gone unnoticed by him
even if Stefan persisted in calling her a skinny little crybaby.
"Six weeks," she said, her voice catching slightly. Six weeks to get to know the people she had
to betray. Six weeks to learn their
names, hear their stories. One man, the
one who'd given her the coat had even offered to take her home as soon as he
got the chance.
"As soon as I can, I'll help you get home, Little One," he'd
said one night, stroking her hair softly as they sat by the campfire.
She'd watched him die with empty eyes that couldn't even cry
anymore.
"Six weeks," Richard repeated thoughtfully. "Somebody's probably stolen your blanket by
now. Come on you can have my bed
tonight."
Her eyes widened and she shied away like a startled rabbit.
"I didn't mean that. How about you just take my blanket? I'm
going to stay up and read anyway," he amended.
She nodded and followed him to the stark little room.
A nasty younger boy with sly, squinting eyes peered out his
own door at them.
"Watch it Ichiban.
I'll turn you in for bringing a girl to your room," he warned.
"Fuck you," Richard stated, sliding an arm over Midii's thin
shoulders protectively.
The boy scowled, those two thought they were better than
everyone else when they were nothing but betraying scum just like all the rest
of them here.
Midii paled and pulled away.
"I better go. I
can't get in trouble. My family . . .
," she whispered, shaking her head a bit fearfully.
He tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her into his
room and yanked the blanket off the bed.
"Just take it," he said.
"That little rat won't tell.
He's all talk."
"Why are you being so nice to me," Midii said, raising her
eyes to look at him. "You should stay
away from me. Everyone should. I'll
betray you eventually. That's what I'm
good at and it isn't all talk."
"They make you do those things. It isn't your fault. You
need to look at it like it's just a job.
Midii, we don't know whether the Alliance is wrong or right. Those rebels you turn in are killing people
too. They're fighting and killing
people every day. What you do saves
people's lives as well. Don't forget
that."
She looked away again and touched the bruised spot on her
neck where she'd torn away the chain.
"Is that what you really think," she asked, there was hope
in her voice that quickly became suspicious. He was starting to sound too much
like them. They twisted their words to
make it seem what they did was right.
But she had seen too much and the memory of Nanashi wouldn't let her
take comfort from their lies.
"I like you Midii," Richard said, replacing the arm around
her shoulder and bending his face toward hers so their noses almost
brushed. "I really like you. I wish we could work together."
Midii shook her head.
"I've always been with Stefan, since the first time . . ."
The first time, she thought. The worst time. The time
she had betrayed Nanashi. She didn't
like to think of him and yet some nights she tortured herself with the memory
of that first mission and the boy she'd given her heart to. He'd gone away and never given it back. How often she wished he'd just shot
her. He could have saved her from this
awfulness, from the horror of repeating her sin over and over again until she
was almost immune to the pain of others.
She knew she'd never see him again.
"Can I kiss you," the boy beside her whispered, already his
lips were brushing her cheek.
"You're not afraid of me," she asked.
He shook his head and took her hand. "You're not so bad Midii," he said, holding
her eyes with his, making her listen.
"Whoever told you that was wrong.
We all do what we have to to stay alive. To keep the ones we love alive."
"Is that why you're here too," she whispered.
He shook his head.
"We lived by a military base, back home on the colony," he said. "It was dangerous but all we could
afford. They fought, my parents fought
all the time and I would run away. One morning when I came back the apartment
building was just gone."
His voice grew hollow and quiet and he felt the warmth of
her shining, sympathetic eyes gazing at him and he loved her for it in that
minute, the admiration and interest transforming their relationship. She still cared about people, beneath it
all, she felt something for what he'd lost.
Sweet, beautiful Midii.
"I remember the ash falling around me like snow. Dead people, dead pets were lying
everywhere. A mobile suit had fallen in
some terrorist attack. God Midii, it
was like some hellish domino effect, crushing and burning . . ."
"Oh Richard," she said, grateful deep inside, despite what
it meant for her, that her father and brothers were alive somewhere. "Then why, if you have no one, why are you
here?"
"I want to stop the fighting, and this is my only chance. I
want it all Midii, not just to follow their orders but to someday give the
orders. I wouldn't let things like that
happen," he said.
"All I have is my family," Midii said, tears appearing on
her thin cheeks. "I'm not like you, I
only do this for them. I only want to
go home and have things the way they were again."
Sympathy and shared sorrow turned to soft kisses and
touches. He looked into her eyes,
surprised to see the naked sorrow and disbelief clear for him to see.
"You really don't think I'm a horrible person, for what I've
done," she asked again, her voice pleading.
He promised and kissed her until she smiled a little.
"Thank you Richard," she said, her face beaming as if he'd
given her a wonderful gift.
~*~*~*Winter, AC 199*~*~*~*
He had been a child to think there could be a world without
death and terror. What forgotten
passion had possessed him to believe he could ever make a difference?
Circumstance had made Richard Ichiban everything he had
always hated and nothing was as it seemed.
Not the world and not Midii. How
could he have known that finding her again would lead to this when he had
wanted those things so much? Was it so
much to ask? To have her? Was this
punishment for the acts of terrorism he had condoned? He'd only done it to realize his dream of peace. His mind wouldn't let him equate the images
of the shuttle explosion he'd orchestrated with the destruction of the
apartment building on L1 so long ago . . .
Watching her was like having a knife twist in his
heart. She was Midii, untainted
and beautiful. All the false sweetness
and innocence that Midii wielded as a weapon over everyone she met was
personified in this little nobody from this overlooked corner of the universe.
The little waitress was so much like Midii, even down to the
man she chose to give herself to.
Ultimately it was all his fault, he had turned Midii against her
old friends and especially against him until instead of his beloved she became
his most hated enemy.
The taste of tobacco, bitter and sharp, filled his mouth as
he took a deep drag off the cigarette he held and considered his options.
If he didn't get out of here soon he'd be trapped on this
colony with Barton and he could only evade him for so long. The other day he'd nearly rounded a corner
and smacked into him. But she
had saved him. He'd seen her through
the window of that tacky little diner, her likeness to Midii transfixing him
immediately. Of course Barton had found
her too, both of them drawn like moths to their favorite flame.
He could leave now and finish things between himself and
Midii, with luck he'd beat the strike and be off colony before the distracted
Preventer could make a move to follow.
Maybe if she knew, if Midii knew . . . his breath caught as
he pictured her pleading for forgiveness, begging him to give her another
chance . . . .
Damn her, why couldn't it have been true? That night at the
reception when the world was so close to being his? The same night Eva had shown him Midii's true self.
The roar of the water from the hydropower plant nearby
almost kept him from noticing the roar of an approaching motorcycle.
Almost.
He slid into the shadows, blending expertly into his
surroundings.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Molly peered anxiously between the thin and faded flowered
curtains at the window, a happy smile brightening her face.
"Trowa!"
She flushed unconsciously as he came up the stairs and
smoothed a hand over her hair.
"Troooowaaaaaaa!!" her 14-year-old brother squeaked in a
high-pitched giddy voice that mimicked he own.
He soon had the younger two rolling on the floor laughing.
"Shhhhhhhh," Molly begged, her eyes wide and pleading with
them to behave themselves as she opened the door.
I hope he can't hear my heart beating, she thought, as she
looked shyly up into those wonderful green eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Diarmid blinked. Was
this his boss? She'd seemed so nice
this morning, praising his reputation and oozing confidence in his ability to
solve this matter. The woman on the
screen seemed an entirely different person.
Were the rumors about her true?
Was it dangerous to get on the wrong side of the Chief of Preventers?
"Agent Walker," Lady Une said, her eyes narrowing in an
almost frightening manner. "Perhaps I
did not make myself clear this morning but this issue must be solved
tonight. I entrusted this mission to
you, are you saying you are not able to rise to the occasion?"
Diarmid gulped, his blue eyes glittering with
embarrassment. Did she have to put it
quite that way? He shook his head, his
capacity for speech momentarily deserting him.
"Let me be blunt," she said, withering his self-esteem as
dignity and an air of command rang in her voice. "The Preventer Agency has high expectations. Only the finest candidates are brought to
our headquarters' facility. We have
given you this chance to prove yourself and your ability to be successful on an
important mission. This is no game or
training mission. Such an opportunity
won't come again. I suggest in the strongest of terms you make the most of it
Walker."
"God in heaven, please say I don't look like a beached fish
gasping for air," Walker prayed, glancing at himself in the mirror as she
briskly cut the transmission. There was
no room for protest, no time for explanations.
"Does she think I'm a bloody miracle worker," Diarmid
muttered, annoyed that his face was pale and blotched with the red spots that
plagued redheads when they were nervous.
He knew Lady Une was right and he wanted to succeed for so
many reasons. He realized very well
that a shuttle pilots' strike would be highly detrimental to the peace
initiative that Preventer was sworn to uphold.
And besides, he admitted deep in a secret space in his heart, if he
failed how could he ever face Midii again?
He wanted to impress her and he definitely wanted to remain working in
the same office building. Failure might
mean a one-way ticket back to Earth and far away from her.
But that wasn't all.
He had to live up to his brother's legacy. He'd been a mobile suit pilot and engineer, a member of the OZ
specials, they'd all been so proud of him.
The light in his parents' eyes had gone out permanently when Sean had
been killed at the Corsica base during the war. As an added outrage it turned out his death was a highlight in
the evening news. The image of his
brother's exploding Aries mobile suit played in his mind and reoccurred in his
nightmares with awful clarity.
He couldn't let down Sean's memory. He'd been the pride of their parents, the
decorated and commended underling of Lt. Zechs Merquise. How could he, Diarmid, fail where Sean had
done so well? He would be as loyal to
Preventer as his big brother had been to OZ.
He would succeed in this.
"Shit," he said, splashing cold water on his face to get rid
of the scarlet blotches. "How the hell
am I gonna pull this off?"
Diarmid turned on his heel suddenly and pulled on his
Preventer jacket. It was time for
another meeting with Mr. Bertrand and this time he wasn't going to take no for
an answer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Andy Adams clung to his sister's neck and peered at the tall
stranger standing awkwardly in their tiny living room. He was nearly 7 years old but still very
shy.
"Don't be such a baby Andy," his older brother hissed,
embarrassed by the display of childish behavior. Tom, age 10, thought Molly's date was totally cool. He had the most awesome leather Preventer
jacket. He hadn't even known Preventer agents came to their colony!
Andy's lip trembled and he buried his face in his sister's
hair. Molly's hair always smelled
comfortingly of baby shampoo that came from the big, economy-sized bottle they
kept in the tiny shower they all had to make do with. Molly insisted on the tear-free brand for her youngest brother
although the older boys complained it made them smell like babies.
An unwilling smile twitched Trowa's lips as Molly looked at
him apologetically, her brother clinging to her like one of the little monkeys
they sometimes kept at the circus. The
thought gave him an idea.
He crouched down in front of the little boy, studying the
childish lines of the little face that portrayed an innocence he had never seen
before. A feeling of regret that had
been buried deep inside of him for so long that he had nearly forgotten he'd ever
felt it. His eyes blurred momentarily
as memories overwhelmed him. Trowa looked at the soft childish hand tangled in
Molly's hair. When he'd been that age
his hands were already rough and calloused, a child's smaller fingers in demand
for specialized mobile suit repair.
"Hi Andy," he said, purposely keeping his voice gentle. "I'm Trowa."
The little boy hid his face in his sister's shoulder again,
his hair was the same color as Molly's--and Midii's. Trowa pushed down the pain the thought brought. "Why am I here," he wondered suddenly. "She's not Midii."
"Andy," Molly whispered, starting to feel nervous that Trowa
would think her brother was strange.
"What's the matter?"
"He's scary," the little boy murmured. The older boys, Tom and Jack, couldn't help
laughing at that remark.
"He's very nice.
He's my friend," Molly said, raising a finger to her lips and glaring at
her two other brothers.
"I've seen men in those coats on TV! They've got guns," Andy said, a frightened
tear trickling down his little round cheek.
Trowa unobtrusively slipped off his jacket.
"I only wear that jacket sometimes," Trowa said, wishing
he'd brought another jacket. "Guess
what my other job is."
The boy peered at him with round, curious eyes and shook his
head.
"I dunno," he whispered.
"A clown," Trowa announced, rolling forward and up into a
handstand. He bounced on his hands a
few times before lifting himself up and balancing on one finger for a split
second before making the little boy laugh by doing a comic fall.
Molly grinned as Andy hopped off her lap and forgot his
shyness as he begged for more tricks.
"Thank you," she whispered, tiptoeing to kiss Trowa's cheek
and escaped into the kitchen to finish dinner.
"He's so perfect," she thought, as she lit the candles on
the table, the ones she saved for special occasions.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midii nibbled on a croissant, impatiently brushing the
crumbs from her orange sweater as she tested password combinations on her
laptop to break into Bertrand's files.
Her eyes widened as she saw indications of activity from the home file
location.
"He's still in the office," she whispered. "I wonder why he wanted to get rid of me so
quickly?"
She put in an earpiece and flipped a switch to tune into the
bugging device she'd planted in the office before she'd left. Midii frowned but her heart pounded with a
burst of adrenaline as she listened to Bertrand reveal his position to the
"security guard" in his office. He sounded
so confident. Too bad he didn't know
who he was up against, she thought, her lips twitching in a confident smile of
her own as she propped her foot up on the desk chair and buckled a slender
leather thigh holster around the top of her leg.
With speedy fingers she forwarded the information she had to
Heero's office. "Just in case," she
whispered, although fear of failure was the furthest thing from her mind. She found the thin-barrelled, inconspicuous
gun tucked in a corner of her suitcase and slid it into the holster before
shrugging on her jacket and locking the door behind her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You're definitely Andy's hero now," Molly said, kicking off
her shoes and settling on the sagging old sofa of indiscriminate color at the
opposite end from her guest. "He was so
excited I can't believe he finally drifted off."
"I didn't realize I'd have to perform for my supper," Trowa
joked, unable to help admiring her when she smiled. Happiness made her eyes shine and a little dimple appeared
irresistibly to dent the creamy smoothness of her cheek. She made him wonder what it would be like to
just stay here on this small, unimportant colony. Would anyone care if he just disappeared? He'd wrap things up with Ichiban first of
course because no matter how Midii felt about him now he'd never expose her to
danger. Besides she wasn't the only one
threatened. The unwanted vision of what
he'd seen in that hotel room the other night tightened his stomach and cold
sweat popped out on his face. Trowa
shut his eyes tightly and opened them again to find the girl had slid across
the cushions to stare at him with a mixture of tenderness and concern.
"Are you okay," she whispered. Her face so close to his that her breath warmed his cheek. Her eyes were so pretty, thick black lashes
fluttered shyly to frame the bright innocent cornflower blue. And it was over with Midii. He still loved her but her eyes held only
pain and cold aloofness when he looked at her now. It hurt her to see him and somehow that was the hardest thing of
all to bear. She'd made him need her,
her touch, the physical closeness and he realized that she was the only girl
he'd ever touched, ever kissed. Oddly
he remembered Duo saying once that girls were like flavors of ice cream, they
all tasted good. He remembered Hilde's
wounded look too before Duo whispered to her that she was his favorite flavor.
Curiosity and the pain of his wounded heart motivated
him. Molly caught her breath in
disbelief. Those fascinating green eyes
were on hers and she could see something in them that made her heart
pound. A soft, almost soundless whimper
escaped her throat as she felt his fingers close gently over a strand of her
hair and his face relaxed with deep contentment as real as the look on Andy's
face when she handed him his teddy bear at night. She forgot in that second, forgot he loved someone else, forgot
he wasn't staying here and that he'd said he was going to leave. She knew he was going to kiss her.
Molly held her breath as he bent his head to hers and she
felt the feather-light touch of his lips.
She felt afraid to move, as if he would stop if she did. Slowly she relaxed, leaning into the kiss as
his lips moved gently, wonderingly over the full, rosy lips beneath his that
began to part tentatively in response.
Her hair was smooth and so soft in his hand. It had a warm, sweet, indefinable scent that
was just like her. . . . Molly. But it
was the familiar texture of it that made his pulse race with memories. How he could sit for her for hours in the
dark, her slight body curled into his, the happy little sounds she made when he
played with her hair . . . Midii.
This was different, nice, but he felt himself ignoring the
invitation of the soft lips opening beneath his. Reluctantly he dropped his hand from her hair with a last
lingering caress. He felt her expel her
breath in disappointment as his lips brushed her cheek and he straightened.
"It's over," she thought sadly, seeing something in his face
that told her his mind was elsewhere, that maybe he was regretting what he'd
done.
She wouldn't have traded that moment for the world, when he
was kissing her, when she felt the warmth of his hand tangled in her hair. But there had been something else too, an
uncomfortable feeling that she was stealing from someone else.
"Trowa," she said, gathering her courage in the silence that
was growing thick and uncomfortable between them. "Why don't you go back to her?
I don't know all that happened but I'm sure that if you talked it out .
. ."
"I'm sorry Molly," Trowa said.
She grinned and somehow the act of smiling made her feel
better. "It was just a kiss," she
said. "A wonderful kiss. A wonderful night too. But you're changing the subject. Go home Trowa. I can see that you want to.
It's written all over your face."
"I can't—
She leaned forward and shushed him with her fingers.
"Don't say can't. I
tell my brothers that and I'm telling you.
You're not being fair to her Trowa.
Did you ever ask her how she felt?
Or did you just assume," she asked.
"Maybe she's hurt because you went away. Did you ever think of that Trowa?"
Her words were like an epiphany. Go back and try to explain how he felt. Why was it the obvious answer seemed like such a novel idea?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Velvety darkness blanketed the lovers that lay entwined in
an embrace of mutual bliss on the comfortable sofa in Cathrine and Midii's
apartment. It was a moment of perfect
peace as they savored the moment of wonder and contentment.
Of course as many detractors of the current political
climate often stated, peace wasn't meant to last.
The doorbell rang sending a perky, irritating dinging sound
through the room that immediately sent Wufei and Cathrine scurrying for
clothing that had somehow gotten scattered hopelessly around the room.
"Midii? Cathy?" a
familiar voice called uncertainly. "I
can't believe it! We're an hour late getting in because of all the confusion at
the spaceport and they go out? Exactly the manners I'd expect from those two. I told you this was all a big mistake," an
aristocratic voice hissed, none too quietly.
"Winner? What the
hell? Great timing. Just GREAT!!" Wufei yelled, making Cathrine
snicker and lean over to peck him gently on the nose.
"I love you," she whispered, as a faint blush crept into his
tanned cheeks. "With everything that
happened I forgot that Midii told me they were coming for dinner tonight."
Her face fell.
"She's still not back.
I know that something must be wrong," she whispered, sinking back on the
couch with her blouse only halfway buttoned.
Dorothy's voice filtered in from under the door. "I swear I heard something! They must be in there. Ring the doorbell again Quatre."
Wufei winced as the cheerful little bell sounded again.
"Just a second!
We'll be right there," he shouted, kneeling in front of Cathrine to
finish buttoning her blouse.
"Wufei? Chang Wufei?"
Dorothy and Quatre said simultaneously, looking at each other with
startled eyes. It couldn't be!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midii pressed herself silently against the door, not even
breathing as she slid the thin plastic keycard into the slot to let herself
into the office as silently as possible.
She bit back a startled scream as the door seemed to open of it's own
accord and a rough hand closed around her upper arm to drag her inside.
She blinked, the room was so bright compared to the darkness
of the hallway.
"Let go," she whispered, attempting to pull free of the iron
grip that held her. Angrily she jammed
her elbow into the man's ribs, disheartened when his only response was a brief
chuckle.
"Feisty little thing, aren't you? Tell me who you are missy and what you're doing here," he said,
his whisper matching hers and telling her that someone was in the inner office
with Bertrand.
"I'm Mimi, Mr. Bertrand's new secretary. I left my nail polish in my desk drawer and
I'm going out tonight so if you'd get your hands off the merchandise I'll just
grab it and leave," Midii said.
His grip tightened painfully. "Secretary? That lucky bastard doesn't miss a trick does he?"
"Well if you're not going to let go maybe you'd like to go
barhopping with me tonight," Midii asked, winking at her captor.
"Sorry baby, you're not going anywhere till I clear you with
the boss. We've got Preventer breathing
down our necks and we can't take any chances. Capisce?"
Midii giggled.
"Me? A Preventer?"
The dark-haired giant laughed too. It was rather funny to think that this pretty little piece of
fluff could be a Preventer agent. He
let go of her arm.
"I suppose you're no threat sweetheart. Get your stuff and hightail it out of here.
And do old Johnny a favor and don't mention this to Bertrand," he said.
Midii pouted and rubbed her arm. "I think you left a mark," she said, going to her desk and using
the cover of the computer to retrieve the hidden gun from its holster on her
thigh.
"And for that," she said, pointing the weapon at the shocked
bodyguard, "you'll have a bit of explaining to do once I turn in my report to
headquarters."
"Why you little bitch," he hissed, moving towards her but
stopping when she clicked the safety of the gun.
"Now, now," Midii scolded.
"Let's not have any name calling.
Shall we pay a visit to the boss? He has a few things to explain."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The night had been a revelation for Trowa. He'd always believed that if only Midii
would change things would be perfect between them. But now face to face with a girl that was everything he thought
he wanted he truly realized that Midii had been what he needed all along. He wanted her, just her. The goodness and selflessness that she kept
inside of her was like a treasure that only he knew about.
From the minute he'd first seen her again he'd felt that
love from her, the love she'd been the very first to show him. He remembered the tone of her voice when she
called him Nanashi. She'd always made
it sound like a name. And when she gave
him the cross, there had been something in her face that reached into his heart
and claimed it for her own. That was
why, why it had hurt so badly when she betrayed him, but even though he left
her behind she never stopped loving him.
He believed that. Suddenly he
wanted to be back with her so badly that his body ached with physical longing.
With sudden clarity he remembered all the times he'd turned
his back on her and left her behind. He
had to go home. He loved her. Loved all the sorrows and mysteries that
made her Midii, made her his.
"Trowa," Molly ventured.
"I have to get ready to go to work.
You look like you're thinking about what I said."
He nodded and rose reluctantly to his feet. "I think I've overstayed my welcome," he
said.
Molly shook her head.
"Of course not! You're welcome to stay.
I know Tom is still awake and if you give him the chance he'll talk your
ear off about your job with Prevnters."
"Thanks anyway. I
need to do some thinking," he said.
She took his hand.
"I know she'll forgive you Trowa," Molly whispered. "You just need to go back. But don't leave without saying goodbye."
"Of course not," he said, leaning to kiss her cheek. "I promise."
A light flashed on Trowa's answering machine and he debated
whether to pick it up. Probably just
Heero, wanting his report, no one else knew where he was and he'd just left
Molly's. It was humiliating and
frustrating to have nothing new and now his determination was stronger than
ever before. He had to get back to
Midii.
He sighed and pressed the message button. It was Molly.
"Trowa," she said, her voice apologetic and hurried. "I totally forgot to thank you for the
beautiful roses. Did you write that poem yourself? You must think I'm
horrible. Don't call back I'm leaving
for work. I'll be there if you can't
sleep and want to talk. I had a
wonderful time tonight. I'll never
forget it. Good night."
Trowa frowned. He
hadn't brought flowers . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thomas Bertrand's eyes widened with surprise.
"Johnny! What's the meaning of this? I told you to stay outside while I discuss
business with Mr. Walker. This isn't
the time to bring some little bimbo. . . My God is that Miss Dunn?"
"I think you've got something to tell me about those
unsigned contracts, don't you Mr. Betrand," Midii said, trying to catch
Diarmid's eye. Damn, he was looking at
her as if he didn't recognize her. The
room was dark, the only light came from a small lamp on Bertrand's desk.
Bertrand thought fast.
Who was Miss Dunn really working for?
She couldn't be from Preventer or Walker would recognize her.
"So Agent Walker," he said cordially to the man in front of
him. "You want to help with the negotiations? Deal with my secretary. It seems she's the one whose been
blackmailing me to stall the contract signing."
"What," Midii gasped, too surprised to react as Diarmid
turned and knocked the gun out of her stunned hand with a quick blow.
Walker looked at Bertrand's secretary victoriously as he
slapped one end of handcuff over her slender wrist. He had the culprit. He
was going to be a great success. He'd
be up for a promotion. Midii would be
sure to be impressed. Midii? The angry-eyed girl evading his attempt to
catch her other wrist looked just like her.
"Midii? My God
darlin' what are you doing . . .
Midii cursed and fell to her knees as the shocked man
dropped her wrist, scrambling for her gun and sitting back on her heels as the
big dark-haired man waved it in her face.
"Looking for this sweetheart," he teased.
"Call your buffoon off Bertrand," Diarmid said, stepping in
front of Midii, his heart racing as he hoped his voice sounded more confident
than he felt. "This is my, umm, my partner."
Bertrand raised a skeptical brow. "Suppose you let Miss Dunn explain herself, Agent Walker."
"You should know I've already contacted headquarters with
the bulk of my evidence against you Mr. Bertrand," Midii said coldly, warily
eying the madly grinning Johnny. He
seemed awfully happy to have the tables turned on her she thought.
"I do believe you're bluffing Mimi my dear," he said. "I'm sorry Agent Walker but I'm afraid our
negotiations are at an end. Johnny, you
know what to do with our guests?"
The big man nodded, reaching out to tug on Cathrine's star
earring playfully. "We're gonna have
fun tonight after all," he said, letting his blunt fingers brush her cheek.
Midii shuddered.
This was not going as expected, not at all.
"You big brute!
Don't even think about touching her," Walker shouted, trying to figure a
way to recover from his having blown her cover.
Johnny chuckled and looked down at the fuming shorter
man. "How cute. The little guy's trying to protect the
dame. Just like in the movies," he
chortled. "Did you two ever see the one
where the couple gets handcuffed together and the bad guy chases them with the
gun? Wanna try?"
This could work, Midii thought, catching a welcome gleam in
Walker's hip pocket. It would certainly
be worth a try.
"Oh God! Oh God Diarmid! He's going to kill us," she cried
hysterically, as Johnny snapped the other cuff on Walker's wrist. She threw herself into his arms and cried
loudly.
"Shhhh, don't blow it," she whispered in his ear quietly
between sobs. "You have to protect me,"
she cried in a louder voice as her hand closed around the cool metal handle of
the pistol in his pocket.
"That's enough. It's
time to play," Johnny said, placing a meaty hand on her shoulder to pull her
out of Walker's embrace only to find himself nose to nose with a gun again.
"Hand your weapon to Agent Walker mate," she said. "The game's over."
When both guns were in their possession it wasn't long
before Bertrand was ready to confess.
"Call a meeting of your board of executives Mr. Bertrand,"
Midii said. "I think we've made it
clear that the Preventer Agency is committed to the success of these
negotiations. I hope you won't be giving
my fellow agent any more trouble?"
"No ma'am," Bertrand said sulkily.
Diarmid followed Midii out into the hall as backup arrived
to help "oversee" the negotiations and take their 'friend' Johnny into custody.
"What the hell happened in there," he asked. "Who are you Midii?"
"You'll learn that you have to get creative in this
business," she said. "And never reveal
who your allies are until the right moment.
I've been doing this nearly all my life. It does take a bit of practice and the right instincts. You'll learn."
"I almost got you killed," he said, his voice filled with
remorse. "If anything had happened to you . . ."
"Shhh," Midii said, laying her fingers gently over his
lips. "I've had closer calls. Don't
worry about me. Congratulations Agent
Walker, I think Lady Une will be pleased.
Just be sure to keep our secret!"
He watched her walk away down the hall.
"Midii, why?" he called.
She stopped a second to look at him over her shoulder.
"We're friends aren't we," she asked.
"Yeah," he agreed.
"Friends."
He looked after her as she disappeared, something melting
inside as he remembered the brief instant she'd pressed herself up against him
and the tickle of her hair against his cheek.
He blushed and his face grew hot remembering the feel of her hand in his
pocket.
"Just friends," he said, turning back to the office. "I'll try
Midii. I swear I will."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Molly tightened her coat around herself and yawned as she
walked beneath the wall of the power plant and through the chilly mist that was
ever present around it. She was tired
but once she got to work and had a few cups of coffee she'd be fine. She hoped Trowa would be happy even if there
really was no hope for them. She could
always treasure that kiss, that brief look of admiration in his eyes.
She had to roll her eyes at her thoughts. She was being so melodramatic. It was only a kiss.
"Right," she said aloud.
"Only a kiss from the handsomest guy you've ever seen."
Lost in her thoughts she bumped into something solid and
felt a pair of arms reach out to steady her.
"You should be more careful," a masculine voice, cultured
and elegant, said.
"Oh! Excuse me," Molly said, looking up into a pair of
golden eyes that smiled down on her from beneath brown hair that was
attractively tousled by the wind and the misty air.
"My pleasure I'm sure," he said, gazing at her
intently. "A lovely young lady like you
is no bother at all."
His gaze was disconcerting, almost a stare and Molly pulled
away as he reached out to trace the curve of her cheek.
"Well, still, I'm sorry I bumped into you," she repeated,
backing away. "Please excuse me."
"You look like her you know," he said as she turned
away. "Did Trowa tell you that?"
She turned to look at the stranger. He knew Trowa?
"Like who," she asked curiously.
"Midii," he said, his voice caressing the word with an
eerie, dreamy quality that made Molly shiver inside her coat. "That's why I sent you those flowers."
Her heart thumped painfully in her chest as he walked toward
her, primitive fear seeming to freeze her in place. Something was wrong.
"Molly," a familiar voice called and she let her breath out
in a painful gasp as Trowa came up beside her and placed an arm around her
shoulders.
"Are you alright," he asked, his eyes studying her.
"Of course," she said, her earlier fears seeming silly now
that he was here.
"Our valiant hero makes it on time for once in his life,"
Ichiban snickered.
"Go home, Molly and lock the door. Call the police," Trowa said.
She hesitated a second, staring at him. He was different from the Trowa she knew. And suddenly she felt like Andy had
earlier. Frightened. Something horrible was going to happen.
"Get out of here Molly," he said again, but his eyes were on
the man. She nodded and ran.
"Pretty girl," Ichiban said, letting his eyes follow the
slender form of the retreating girl before turning back to Trowa
conversationally. What would Midii think?
Do you think she'd approve of your innocent little angel?"
"Let's take this discussion elsewhere," Richard suggested,
Trowa's cold and silent stare making him uncomfortable. "I don't want anyone interfering."
He turned on his heel and jumped up until his hand grasped
the iron utility ladder fastened to the outside of the hydro basin.
Trowa followed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midii yawned and reached up to tug the elastics from her
hair as she walked tiredly from the elevator to the apartment door.
Please let Cathy be out, she prayed as she ran a hand
through her hair. If nothing else at
least since this little escapade her hair was almost its natural color again.
Perhaps she had overdone it though, she felt so tired. But it was a good, healthy tired with no
sign of a headache. She just wanted to
crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours.
Midii was sure Cathy would never wake her up just to scold her, she'd
believe sleep was more important.
She yawned again and fumbled for her key, hoping her
assessment of Cathrine would be right.
Midii needed time to come up with a reasonable explanation for her
absence. It should have been easy but the thought of lying to her friend caused
an unfamiliar anxious knot in her stomach.
I'm changing . . .
For the second time that night the door whipped open,
seemingly of its own accord, when she had barely inserted the key in the hole
and Midii found herself staring into two angry faces, the anger barely abated
by the relief the two felt at seeing the prodigal return.
"C-Cathy! And Quatre? What a surprise," Midii stuttered,
half tempted to turn on her heel and make a dash for the elevator.
They seemed to read her mind as panic flitted across her
features and the unlikely duo reached out simultaneously to drag her into the
apartment.
Midii winced as the door slammed shut and she scanned the
room, seeing Dorothy perched on a stool at the breakfast bar calmly filing her
nails and not even favoring her with a glance.
On the other side of the room Wufei stared disinterestedly out the
window.
She gulped before raising guilty blue-gray eyes to
Cathrine's searching violet ones. She
couldn't expect any support from Wufei or Dorothy that was certain. Her best chance was to claim a headache with
Cathy or maybe try tears on Quatre? She looked from one to another indecisively
as they barraged her with questions about where she'd been and what she'd been
doing and why she'd worried them so quickly she couldn't even make out half of
what they were saying. Finally she got
a word in edgewise.
"Please Cathy, I'm sorry but I really need to sit down,"
Midii sighed. "I'm so tired."
Cathrine's tirade faltered a bit as she noticed the deep
purple circles ringing Midii's eyes.
Midii contained a victorious smirk and let a tear slip down her cheek as
she looked pleadingly at Quatre.
Remorse filled the two of them, they really had been
concerned about her and then they'd attacked her the minute she walked in.
"Oh enough already," an irritated voice broke in as Cathrine
helped Midii to the couch and Quatre started tucking an afghan around her. "Can't you see she's manipulating you? She's only avoiding explaining herself!"
Quatre and Cathrine gasped and looked at Dorothy
disapprovingly, Midii however blushed with shame. She was doing it again, doing it to people she truly cared about.
"She's right. I'm
sorry," she whispered, looking down and pulling at the fuzzy fringe of the
blanket Cathrine had made.
Dorothy raised a slender eyebrow in amusement and slid
elegantly off the stool.
"Leave us alone," she said.
"I have a word or two for Miss Une."
"It's alright," Midii said, holding up a hand to still
Cathrine and Quatre's protests. "I'll
talk to her."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A cold misty spray of water swirled around them as they
stared at each other. The thunderous
scream of the turbulent water below and the cold wet fog pervaded the
atmosphere, muting their confrontation as if it were a dream.
Yet it was vividly real too, the crumbling stone wall rough
and uneven beneath their booted feet and the encompassing chill of the wet
air. Tiny rainbows shimmered in the
spotlights that surrounded the basin, the illumination doing little to cut the
odd, otherworldliness that hung over the scene like a smothering blanket.
Trowa's hair clung to his face in wet, auburn strands and
his eyes gleamed in the sparkling wet light.
He looked like he'd just risen from a mythical ocean, a vengeful god,
cold-hearted and single-minded in his purpose [1]. The evidence of his watery domain trickling in jeweled rivulets
down his face and garments.
Richard was unimpressed as befitted a dark demon facing a
god of light without fear, secure in his own skill and power. Golden eyes glittered in anticipation
between unruly strands of sleek, heavy hair that clung to the sculpted contours
of his face.
The words when they came, originated with Trowa. They were mundane words meant to spark the
action rather than from any actual hope or desire that they would be obeyed.
"You're under arrest."
Ichiban tilted his head and searched Trowa's face for signs
of a sense of humor he could somehow have overlooked.
He didn't find it.
The sensuous lips curved into an amused smile. It was like dueling, all the finer points of protocol and
etiquette had to be observed it seemed.
"Arrest? Do you
think if you take me in and question me that you'll finally understand
her? Understand what was between the
two of us? You never could. You're not like her and I. You're engaged in a neverending struggle to
capture something you can never have.
Something that doesn't exist," Richard said, watching the silent tension
build in the cords of muscle in his opponent's neck and the shift in his
posture.
His voice continued the verbal attack.
"You're thinking that I tried to kill her, almost killed
her. But I love her . . .
Trowa took a step forward, he wanted to stop this
conversation.
"You're under arrest," he repeated.
Ichiban laughed.
"For what? You've
wanted it too. You know just how I feel
about her. Has she ever betrayed
you? Ever made you want to kill
her? I thought I could do it, thought I
could hate her but when it happened and her blood was on my hands . . ." the
voice faltered and grew stronger again.
"She's like a siren. She'll kill
everything you care about, destroy all you've worked for and yet when she holds
out her arms to you, you can't resist.
I've dreamed. Such vivid dreams
. . . love . . . hate . . . blood. . .
"Stop it," Trowa said, his voice ragged, the words too close
to the truth as he saw how close he had come to killing her so long ago, the
memory of moving the barrel of the gun so slightly at the last minute. "I couldn't do it . . ."
"You are like me," Richard whispered, triumph momentarily
lighting his slanting golden eyes as he stepped silently, cat-like toward the
other man. First blood was his. The ledge was narrow and the stones shone
slippery in the sparse light at the edge of the spotlight circles.
He lunged as the other man digested his poisonous words,
burying his shoulder into Trowa's stomach, the momentum taking them both over
the side of the ledge and hurtling toward the maelstrom below.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midii felt at a disadvantage as Dorothy stared down at her,
her arms folded. The other girl was
elegant as usual and Midii pulled self-consciously at the short yellow skirt
she still wore and reached up to pull off Cathrine's earring.
Dorothy's silent scrutiny increased her nervousness and
Midii thought what a tough enemy the other girl could make. Her intentions were well-masked and if
Dorothy didn't speak soon Midii was sure she would scream from all the tension.
"Nice outfit," Dorothy said finally, the corner of her lip
turning up in a smirk. Sarcasm was one
of her favorite weapons. It could be
even more useful than a sword and it was always at hand. Miss Relena had been a fine opponent when
she'd drawn her weapon on her, always coming up with the proper response to
foil her attempts to shake her composure.
She doubted Midii would be as adept. She looked guilty and nervous and
tired. Right where Dorothy wanted
her. Dorothy was tired of competing
with the traitorous little addition to their group. She was nothing but a troublemaker who didn't seem happy unless
she was putting herself and others in danger.
Dorothy would never forget the suffocating fear and loss of her
self-control when Quatre had gotten himself trapped in that cathedral. Because of Midii. And tonight he'd been all set to rush out to look for her. Luckily she'd come home right when he'd been
trying to talk the stoic Chinese pilot into accompanying him. At least someone else around here had some
sense about that girl.
"What's the matter Midii?
Did you come back because no one came after you? Couldn't you find any trouble to get
into? I'm sure you're happy that Cathrine
and Quatre fell right into your little scheme to get attention. They were very worried. You should be pleased with yourself. I hate to inform you that no one told Trowa
though so your little plan to get him to come back and rescue you from the big,
bad, unknown danger was a complete failure," Dorothy hissed.
An unfamiliar feeling of remorse crept in through an unguarded
entrance to Dorothy's heart as Midii's face paled and she raised a shaking hand
to rub her eyes wearily. She wasn't as
satisfying an opponent as Miss Relena.
There was nothing enjoyable about it at all. It was like kicking a wounded puppy and she suddenly and
fervently hoped Quatre hadn't just overheard what she said.
"That's not what I wanted," Midii ventured, trying
desperately to control her voice and match Dorothy's confident tone. Dorothy had plenty of reasons to be angry
with her. "I was only trying to help."
Midii's response fired Dorothy's anger again. Trying to help? Ha! Now would be the perfect
time to tell her the things that she'd promised Trowa that day at the
hospital. The day he'd run away from
his responsibilities to Quatre. Of
course Quatre never said a thing, but Dorothy knew he was hurt by Trowa's
continued absence.
"I'll tell her you can't love anyone. That you don't know how. I'll tell her to find someone else . . . .
As Midii watched, Dorothy's face grew thoughtful, remembering.
"Tell her," he'd said.
"Quatre was right, you are kind."
She felt again the shock in her heart when she felt his lips
on her hand, the kiss of forgiveness.
She looked back at Midii and words she never meant to say came out of
her mouth instead of the ones she'd planned.
"Just be patient.
Trowa will come back. Understand
how hard it was for him, all that happened in Brussels. He blames himself for what happened to you
and Quatre," Dorothy said, surprising herself.
Tears streamed down Midii's face.
"Dorothy. I--" she
said wonderingly.
"Hmmph," Dorothy said.
"Don't get all weepy. I can't
believe you think he'd never come back.
Remember he did promise to be Quatre's best man. And there's a reason we came to visit, even
though you were so rudely not here although we had plans for dinner."
"I'm sorry I wasn't here," Midii apologized, wiping her face
with the back of her hand. "What was it
you wanted?"
Quatre had talked her into this, but if left with a choice
of one of his sisters, who were all either extremely flighty and silly like the
youngest Safira or grim and stern like Yasmina, the oldest, she'd take the only
other option available. She had so few
women friends, or friends at all for that matter. Relena was the one she counted as her best friend but she had had
to go and get pregnant.
"I can't believe she was so inconsiderate," Dorothy bewailed
internally.
Here goes nothing, she thought, at least she could count on
Midii to look good when the occasion warranted it although she looked rather
trashy at the moment and smelled oddly of cotton candy lip gloss that shimmered
on her lips.
"I was going to ask you to be in my wedding," Dorothy
said. "As Trowa's partner."
"Maid of honor," Midii asked, surprise evident in her voice.
"Dorothy, I don't know what to say."
Dorothy frowned. Was
she going to say no? Suddenly she felt
unsure of herself and a wave of loneliness washed over her suddenly.
"Before you say no you should consider that you'll hurt
Quatre's feelings if you do," Dorothy said tartly, trying to guard herself
against possible rejection.
Midii smiled softly, realizing suddenly the meaning behind
Dorothy's words. She had given her a
gift. The gift of hope. For some reason the fact that Dorothy felt
Trowa would come back meant a lot to her.
She knew the other girl wouldn't say something like that just to soothe
her feelings.
Could she want to be her friend? They really should get along since Quatre and Trowa were so
close. Her eyes grew shadowed . . . if
he ever came back, if he even wanted her back.
But he would come home eventually, he'd definitely come back for
Quatre's wedding. She had to believe
that.
She chose her words carefully, Dorothy had a lot of pride
and it was hard to decide just what to say.
"I'd love to Dorothy.
Quatre's my friend as well as Trowa's and I'd never want to disappoint
him. He's always been so kind to
me. But I'll only do this if it's what
you want as well. It's such a special
time for you. You shouldn't have to
make do with someone you don't want," Midii said, looking at Dorothy hopefully
from beneath her lashes.
"Well," Dorothy said.
"You did help me out that time on Corsica, although it was your fault in
the first place."
Midii had the grace to blush.
"And besides with Trowa gone at least I know you won't go
and get pregnant like Relena," Dorothy said.
The two girls looked at each other and the tension broke,
both of them were suddenly overwhelmed with relieved laughter.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Quatre and Cathrine were pressed
against the door, listening anxiously to the conversation in the other room.
"I can't believe it," Cathrine said wonderingly. "They made friends!"
"Of course," Quatre said, hiding his own surprise. He had hoped for this but still it came as
rather a shock when it actually happened.
Wufei merely shrugged.
"Actually they were more interesting when they didn't get
along," he said, surprising the other two with his words. "I guess that means you've finally tamed
that onna of yours Quatre. Her words
don't cut like swords anymore."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ichiban grunted as his right hand caught on an outcrop of
rock, the sharp stone cutting into his palm and coating it with silty
grit. He swung his other hand up and
grabbed onto the top ledge of the wall and hauled himself up, laying back on
the solid stone and breathing in deep gasping breaths, opening his mouth to
catch the mist of water on his tongue as his heartbeat slowed.
He'd pushed too hard, his anger overriding caution, if not
for that lucky grab he'd be drowning in that swirling nightmare of cold,
roaring water. He could hear sounds
below the wall, sirens, shouts. Richard sat up, intent on flight when his gaze
fell on a figure that seemed to be hovering some distance out over the
hydro-basin. Trowa stood in the beam of
one of the spotlights, hands stuffed unconcernedly in his jacket pockets,
surrounded by the mist that obscured the wires that criss-crossed the water. Casually he started to walk in toward the
wall, keeping his eyes on Richard, never even looking at the wire beneath his
feet.
As Ichiban, stared disbelieving at the seemingly miraculous
display Trowa disappeared again, landing on silent feet behind his prey.
Richard heard the sound of labored breathing behind him and
whirled, arms up in defense against whatever apparition was there in the
darkness. Green eyes, like a tiger's in
the jungle, tracked him in the darkness.
"How," he muttered as a hard fist came flying out of the
shrouded dimness. As he blocked the blow
another hit followed, catching him in the jaw and knocking him back, the
unforgiving stone of the ledge jolting his spine painfully and he tasted blood
in his mouth.
Trowa reached down to fist his hand in the wet fabric of
Ichiban's trenchcoat, drawing him close.
"I'm taking you in," he said.
"It's not over yet," Richard answered, raising his fingers
in an upwards swooping motion in an attempt at a pressure point attack.
Trowa sidestepped and the hand slid past him, the air
whooshing a bit from the missed blow.
He dropped his hand from Ichiban's coat curled his other hand into a
fist, ramming it into the other man's gut.
Richard felt the sensation of flying backward, felt the
sickening certainty that there was nothing beneath his feet as he lost his
footing and teetered over the edge of the crumbling wall for a second before
Trowa grabbed his coat again and hauled him back. Trowa tossed him down onto his stomach, the fall knocking the air
out of him as he felt the snap of a steel handcuff on his wrist.
"Do you ever think that your dear Vice Foreign Minister and
your upstanding agency may not have all the answers," Ichiban said as Trowa
groped for his other hand in the darkness.
"I regret the people who died on that shuttle but without nations and national
armies the economic crisis will continue.
It's inevitable. You can't stop
it. Do you think Midii will admire you
so much when she sees your side doesn't have all the answers? She believed in what I was doing, she knows
what it's like to be poor, to starve, to see death. Those are the things that make people like me and like Midii.
Everyone will lose their faith in what you've done when they find out that
peace does not equate Utopia. I wanted
peace once too, but it's a childish, impossible dream . . . it isn't the
answer."
Richard blinked back hot, angry tears of frustration. He wouldn't be taken. Death was preferable to humiliation and
their self-righteous lectures on peace.
As Trowa's hand finally closed over his free wrist he twisted himself,
sweeping his legs around and knocking the Preventer off balance. Before Trowa could scramble back to him,
Ichiban disappeared over the side of the wall.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Next time on The Price of Redemption . . . Will Trowa
finally come home?. . Diarmid can't resist temptation . . . Heero and Relena
learn to breathe.
[1]Allusion to Triton, god of the sea