Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it? ::grumbles :: Gundam Wing is not mine.

A Fish Out of Water-Chapter Nine

Water trickled down the seagull's beak, but Trowa couldn't tell if it was sweat or just a result of his free for all with Dorothy (Can birds sweat? He wondered.) She moved the point up and down slowly, never taking it off him, but never pushing it into his flesh either.

"You should learn that you can't escape me so easily," she advised him, her voice cold. "I'm not one to give up, as you can see. When you killed the kraken, I sent a storm, when that didn't work, I tricked your friend over there into abandoning you." Her gaze flickered over to Trowa and he could see the loathing jealousy in her eyes.

"And yet," she continued shrilly, "you two still stayed together! You would never leave him, no matter what I threw at you. I wonder," she mused, as if she'd suddenly remembered another bit of mischief, "if he would've kept you around if he knew what you really are, instead of his sweet, innocent little bird friend. Would he have confided in you then? Cause, from what I've learned about you," she pointed at Trowa, "you're not much of a people person- Ahem, merman- are you?"

Trowa glared at her. He was tired of riddles. "What are you talking about? Just get to the friggin' point already, goddamnit! And leave us the hell alone!"

She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Such foul language! But, if you insist, I shall indeed get to the point." She dropped her sword, much to Quatre's relief, only to pick up another exactly like it. She held it in front of him, point facing toward her, as if she were giving it to him, though he very well couldn't hold it in his wings. "And I want you two to know, no one ever said I didn't fight fair." It fell from her hand and plunked against the sand underneath them, below the water.

"Are you going to pick it up?" she asked the animal sweetly. He opened his mouth, as if to answer, but only birdlike chatter came out.

"Oh, of course, how silly of me. You can't fence like that." She raised her hands, stepping to the side as she did so to make sure that Trowa could see. He watched with interest, wondering what she possibly could've had in store for him this time.

* * * * * *

While Trowa and Quatre were dealing with that, a secret meeting was being held in the royal chambers of the Sank Kingdom to discuss recent events. The members included Prince Milliardo and Noin, Lord and Lady Darlian, the princess's foster parents, Wufei and Sally, of course, Pagan the royal butler and the most trusted member of the household, a royal messenger by the name of Walker, who was also the prince's friend, and one other person, who currently had the floor. Guess who that was.

"That was cruel and unusual punishment," Catherine fumed. "You three could be arrested for that." She glared accusingly at Noin and the Changs, all of whom looked guilty.

"Yes, they could be," the prince spoke up wearily. There were bags and purple circles under his eyes. "Except they were under my orders and we only did it for your safety."

Now she directed her glare at him, hands on her hips. "My safety? What about Trowa's safety? There's no reason for you not to send anyone now; we've searched practically the entire ocean for Relena and found nothing. What if the same people that took her got him too? They could both be dead for all we know, and you're just going to abandon them? What kind of brother-"

"That's enough!" Zechs boomed, fed up with Catherine's verbal abuse. Clearly she had hit a nerve. "If I were any other type of king, you'd be dead right now. Luckily, I understand how you're feeling and I'll take your insolence for just fear and ignorance. For your information, I was going to send Wufei and his troops out, that was one of the topics I was going to bring up at this meeting. But since you're so impatient, I'll give you what you wanted. I think it would be best if you go along with them and do their cooking and cleaning. You leave tomorrow morning at dawn. That should teach you to think before you speak, if nothing else."

"Er, sire, on behalf of my men," Wufei began, looking horrified at the prospect of having to endure Catherine's cooking for who knew how long. But Sally pinched him, and he automatically shut up.

"Excuse me, your majesty, but can I offer my services? They may need a healer, and I could keep an eye on Catherine-"
"Done." The prince didn't need any more convincing. "Now get out of my sight, all of you!" The merpeople scrambled to obey, frightened by this tone that their normally kind ruler usually wouldn't use. Only Noin was brave enough to stay by her husband, knowing that his anger would be replaced some time later and he would be in need of comfort.

Sally dragged Catherine out, before she could get herself into anymore trouble. "You get what you wish for," she grumbled in her ear, not too thrilled about having to baby-sit for the impulsive redhead. Only sympathy for her husband had compelled her to volunteer for the job as she did.

Cathy jerked away. "Oh, don't get your seashells in a twist," she retorted, and sauntered off to go pack.

* * * * * *

"Avis converte homo. Avis converte homo. Avis converte homo *."

The words in the foreign tongue mesmerized Trowa as Dorothy chanted them over and over. A peculiar glow had set upon Quatre and his features were distorted, constantly moving so that he couldn't look at him for very long.

"Avis converte homo. Avis converte homo. Resera **!" Dorothy broke off her chanting suddenly with a shout. A cloud of dust or sparkles or something, Trowa didn't know what it was, covered Quatre and all he could see was the bird's shadow. It moved, it flickered in and out, stretching, expanding, changing its shape rapidly. It was like watching a baby grow on high speed. Feathered wings extended and separated into arms and fingers; short sharp claws elongated and became legs. The beak shrunk to a smaller, misshapen point and a pair of pink lips formed underneath. A bald-looking white head grew into silky blonde hair and pale smooth skin. Only two light blue eyes remained the same, the strange feature of a strange bird possibly looking even stranger in this form.

Trowa gaped in awe as these images fit together to create a whole. The figure was dressed in a dark gray-feathered vest and khaki pants that were soaked to the knee, a pale pink linen shirt completing the outfit. Wearing it was possibly the most gorgeous guy Trowa had ever seen (not that he had looked at many guys before, or girls for that matter). "Q-Quatre?"
The merman stared at the friend he'd so long thought of as foul rather than flesh, and the man in its place gazed back with equal intensity. It was a different experience, looking at him at this angle, instead of always having to look up or down. Trowa was still taller than he was, by at least an inch or so, though it was hard to tell because of the position of his tail.

But it wasn't so much the difference in appearance as in mood that Quatre himself was looking for, and he approached his friend, reaching out his hand slowly, as if he was afraid he would flinch. Trowa didn't and tried to give it to him, forgetting its position attached to the wall. Quatre frowned as he remembered that, but made no move to free him, not yet. He clasped his hand, now reaching out mentally instead of physically. Normally he could sense emotions without contact, but he needed to be sure. He was relieved to find that there was no fear in his friend's heart, only understandable confusion and a strange happiness that he couldn't comprehend. Though Quatre could pick out emotions easily enough, the difficulty was figuring out the cause of them.

"Yes, it's me," he said softly in his ear. "I wanted to tell you so badly before, but I couldn't-."
Trowa hushed him. "I know, it's not your fault. I don't blame you." He suddenly lifted his head and Quatre turned to look at what his friend was glaring at. "I blame her!" the merman said loudly, having more than a hunch that she had something to do with it.

Dorothy looked at him innocently. "Who, little old me?" she asked sweetly. "I don't deny it, but right now is not the time to point fingers." She thrust a sword into Quatre's hand. "You owe me a duel."

* * * * * *

By that time, Trowa was tired, really tired. He was annoyed, hungry, pissed off, and sick of being used. "That's enough!" he bellowed, sounding an awful lot like Prince Milliardo, who was probably saying the exact same thing at that exact time. He pulled and ripped the chains that held his arms right off the wall. He did the same with the ones on his tail, and stepped (swam) in front of Quatre protectively.

"I'm sick of this. I don't know what Quatre did to you, woman [Anger had made him channel Wufei.] but get the hell over it. I'm sick of you. Quatre isn't going to get rid of me for a long time, and certainly not for you, so you may as well give up. And if you're still not satisfied and want a fight, than take me on. He saved my life by coming here today, even if it meant having to deal with you. I owe him at least that." The two men exchanged as smile, though Quatre looked somewhat embarrassed in addition to extremely pleased. But then the birdman shook his head.

"No, I can't let you do that. I'll fight you," he declared, looking fiercely at Dorothy. She yawned, bored by Trowa's third and by far sappiest speech ever. "Don't worry, she won't hurt me," he said softly to Trowa, ruffling his bangs as if to reassure him he was still the same loyal bird who would protect him no matter what. He could see now Trowa raising an eyebrow, not at all convinced by his words. But he knew that trying to persuade him would be useless.

"Are you going to give him a kiss for good luck, or are we going to get on with this?" Dorothy asked; rolling her eyes as the two youths blushed.

"As you desire, Miss Dorothy," Quatre said, as politely as if they were attending an afternoon tea instead of a fight that could cost one of them his life. Since Trowa didn't know Dorothy that well, he figured that would be how it ended up, and the though didn't calm him one bit.

The two assumed a guard position, and so far it seemed like an even match, though Trowa didn't know that much about sword fighting (His were a trident wielding kind of people.). The two were of the same height and similar builds, though obviously not the same since they were of different sexes. Both were short and slim for their age, although the way Dorothy carried herself made her seem much taller. How well either of them could fight, however, was another matter entirely. He would just have to wait and see what would happen.

"En guarde!" Dorothy was the first to strike; shouting in another language Trowa didn't know, though this time he could guess what the word meant. She swooped in with a grand upward slash, her footwork hidden, but not impeded by the water.

Quatre blocked it in what seemed to be an easy move, but made every muscle in his body scream. He knew, though Trowa didn't, that Dorothy was a much more experienced fencer than he was; though they were of equal strength. But he'd seen her practicing frequently enough to know she wasn't aiming to kill, or even injure. He struck back and she parried the blow, and they went back and forth like this for some time.

"Tired yet?" she taunted, as he skirted toward the side, out of her reach. Her goal was to get him off balance; but while she was more experienced in fighting, he, even in human form, could function far better in the water. He was as graceful as a swan in this atmosphere, and she couldn't help but admire him for it, though she managed to keep focused.

"Not at all," he said lightly, though he was panting quite a bit. "I enjoy exercising, even though I still think this is ridiculous."
"You agreed to it," she reminded him, ducking his blow and swung her sword at his legs. He jumped to avoid it and landed on his feet with a splash, getting water in her eyes as he did so.

She wiped them with one arm and struck again with the other. He avoided it, having closed his eyes just in time and keeping his sight and aimed at her shoulder. It cut off a few strands of hair before he pulled back, unwilling to hurt her. "Yes, but what choice did you give me? You forget sometimes, it seems, that humans have free will. You didn't use to act this way. Your grandfather spoiled you after your parents died. You can't have everything you want, especially not people." A clang of metal against metal made him wince.

"Why can't I? I'm the most powerful sorceress in the world," she said. It sounded haughty, but it was indeed the truth. And in that moment, Trowa could see her as Quatre saw her: a spoiled brat having a tantrum because she didn't get what she wanted, not an evil being. But he didn't forgive her just yet.

"Because friendship doesn't work like that," Quatre was saying. He looked sad, and sympathetic. "Love doesn't work like that. You don't love me, not really."

Trowa's eyes widened at that statement. He'd deduced what Dorothy had wanted from his friend, it was obvious, but he didn't realize she fancied herself in love with him. He couldn't help but want to correct her.

"What do you know?" she replied, sweat dripping down her face from the exertion.

"He's right," the merman cut in, shouting over the sound of their clashing swords and heavy breathing. "You don't try to make the person you love miserable. That isn't love. You're supposed to want them to be happy, even if it's not with you. I know it's hard." His thought suddenly drifted to Middie and the idea he'd thought of the day before. She would definitely want him to be happy without her; he finally understood that. If only he could make Dorothy realize the same thing.

"You- two," she panted, "don't understand me at all!" She lunged in. Quatre, who had slowed in the hopes that Trowa's words had actually gotten through to her, didn't react as fast as he would have. The tip of her sword embedded itself in his side and snapped, as the horror stricken merman watched, once again unable to do anything to save his loved one.

To be continued.

*Avis- bird

Convertere- change

Homo- man

Avis converte homo- bird change into man

**Resera- Unlock, undo