Midnight Waltz (2/?)

By: LadyDraco

Rated: PG13 just in case.

Warning: Umm.... I suppose none except for the fact that you all should really watch out for Dorothy's eyebrows. They're dangerous!

Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Gundam Wing and even more sadly probably never will. I simply borrow the characters for my own sick, twisted ways. So don't sue...you won't get much.

A/N: And we all love the Quatre/Dorothy mix, do we not? Well, I felt I could make this work, so, here we go. And now ladies and gentlemen enjoy the show. This is a Smoke Break production.

Chapter 2: Dans le Silence de la Nuit

Quatre watched Dorothy climb the grassy hill. Why is she so attached to war? Quatre thought. Dorothy, why can't you tell me? Something has hurt you so. I want to help. Quatre noticed that she had stopped at the top of the hill, which appeared in the moonlight to be a great wave of green, and was now staring at him. He wished with all his heart that she would come back. There were so many questions still unanswered. Quatre knew Dorothy was hiding something, that was why she was so defensive, but as he looked up into her eyes he saw something else. He saw hope. Desire. Longing. And.... fear. Fear of kindness? Yes, these were the things he had felt during their dance. However, there was still something else. Something that escaped definition by such simple terms. But what?

Quatre came out of his reverie in time to see Dorothy turn around and walk confidently away. A false confidence, he thought. He stood there in a daze.

"Dorothy," he whispered with a longing concern that made the timber of his voice strange to his own ears.

A sad, pained smile graced his face. He slowly closed his eyes and gently shook his head. He started out of the orchard, walking slowly to the top of the sloping hill. When he reached the top he turned around for another look at the orchard and all its simple splendor. The view was enchanting. There was no other word to describe it. The moonlight played across the vast landscape filled with trees of all kinds, casting long shadows onto the ground. The sweet fragrance of flowers was on the tip of every cool evening breeze. Quatre couldn't help but give a small sigh. It's so hard to find such a peaceful place in time of absolute war. It would be such a shame if this place were destroyed. With a reserved sigh he turned and walked slowly back to the room he shared with Heero Yui.

Dorothy did not really realize just how late it was until she arrived at her room. When she opened the door her roommates, Katrina and Margaret, were already asleep. She tiptoed in quietly, as not to disturb them. If they caught her coming in at this hour, she would be bombarded with questions she would rather not answer. She quietly walked past their beds and into her own private room that branched off the other girls'. Once inside the sanctity of her own room she sat down on her own bed and removed her white high-heeled shoes, dropping them at the end of the bed. Standing back up she removed her gloves, placing them neatly beside her shoes. She them made her way to the bathroom. A shower, she thought, yes, maybe that will help clear my head.

Dorothy stepped into the warm shower, the water washing over her body in delicate streams. This feels so good, she thought. Pouring a large amount of shampoo into her long hair she progressed to massage it into her scalp until her head was a mass of bubbles and foam. The sweet smell of lavender shampoo drifted up to her in a warm comfortable embrace. The same warmth, she thought to herself, as when I was in Quatre's arms. She stopped abruptly, hands falling to her sides.

"Like in Quatre's arms." She repeated to herself out loud. "What is it about that boy?" she demanded, "Why does he make me feel this way? I am a warrior. I have no place for such foolishness!"

She didn't even realize when soapy bubbles ran into her eyes causing them to water. Salty tears mixed with water from the showerhead streaming down her soft, pale cheeks. And so she stood until the water ran cold.

Once out of the shower, dried off, and with her long blond hair dried, she found her nightgown in a drawer and slipped into it. Her nightgown was made of fine silk, ice blue, that matched her eyes. Perfectly. It fell just above her knees, its neckline scooped down into a semi-circle. This was supported by thin straps that hung delicately on her shoulders. She brushed her long, golden locks once more before tying it back with a ribbon made of the same fine silk as her nightdress. Dorothy turned off the bathroom light and walked back into her bedroom. She glanced at the clock. The bright neon numbers glared back at her, 12:37 A.M.

"Thank God we don't have classes tomorrow." She said quietly, crawling into bed. In a few minutes she fell into a restless sleep.

Dorothy awoke with a start, cold sweat running down her face. She touched a shaking hand to her forehead. What a horrible dream! She thought, Almost a nightmare.

"No," she said aloud, "I haven't had nightmares since my childhood. Not since...my father's death."

The dream came flooding back to her in a rush. She watched the horrific scene of her father's death all over again. She watched his blood being shed over the battlefield, flowing like a river of crimson death. She saw herself crying out for help. Love. Sympathy. But receiving nothing, no one offering help. Then that golden haired angel appeared, his words echoed through her head like a prayer. "You have a deep wound. I want to help you." She shook her head vigorously. What was this boy doing to her?

"I must get out, clear my head." Dorothy muttered to herself, "A walk, yes, I'll go for a walk."

Without another thought Dorothy got out of her bed, walked out of her room, into the hallway, and out onto the grounds of the school.

Quatre just could not sleep. He was too restless. All his thoughts were swirling around the night's events. Something just did notfeel right. His thoughts were being interrupted more frequently by images of Dorothy. He remembered fondly the warmth that Dorothy had brought him while they had danced, and how empty and bereft he had felt when she jerked away. And he still didn't understand why Dorothy advocated war. Why was she so quick to judge me?! Dorothy...

"Dorothy..."

"Quatre." Heero's sharp tone shook Quatre out of his rather odd train of thought, "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh...yes, I'm fine Heero. I was just thinking. I'm sorry, did I disturb you?"

"Hmm" was the only reply he got from the stoic pilot. Quatre looked outside at the harvest moon slowly rising in the night sky. He picked himself off his bed and walked to the glass doors that led to the balcony. The room Quatre shared with Heero had a spectacular view of the Institution's gardens. He stared out of the glass doors, one hand against the glass as if trying to touch something that was just out of his reach.

"Heero, I'll be right back. I'm going to go on a short walk." Quatre said suddenly, "Might help me sleep." Without delay he was out the door and well down the hallway.

Dorothy had no idea how long she had been walking, or where she was walking, for that matter. All her concentration was on one subject. Or rather, one person. Why? Why him? Why now? This has never happened before. This should not happen. This is not happening! She ran a hand nervously through her hair. Dorothy's pace had slowed, and she suddenly realized where she was.

While deep in thought, Dorothy had walked right back into the gardens, and she was now standing on the same dance floor where this torrent of emotions had started. And there at the other end of the makeshift dance floor was the person who had been on her mind none-stop since the early evening.

"Quatre..." she gasped. No! Not here! Not now! And for the first time in years, Dorothy Catilonia experienced panic. I have to get away! I'm not ready to face him, not yet! Dorothy did the only thing she could think of. She ran. For how long she didn't know, but she ran. Through the fragrant grass and flowering trees. She ran until her legs seized and her lungs felt like they were going to burst and her veins pumped battery acid. Still, she could hear Quatre's footsteps getting ever louder behind her. Then she came upon the perfect way to escape. Just ahead of her was a maze of ten-foot tall hedges. She could run there, lose him in the intricacies of the maze, hide at the very center where Quatre would never find her. With renewed energy fueled by her desperation, she plunged headlong into the right entrance of the maze.

Quatre headed towards the orchards, blindly hoping that Dorothy would be there. He started off at a walk, slowly through the silent school grounds, and then he broke into a running jog. His mind was swirling, all he could think about was getting there. He wanted, no, needed to see her again. To make her explain everything, to help ease her pain, to bring back the happiness he knew she wanted so desperately.

Suddenly he stopped. Quatre had reached the dance floor in the orchard. There, framed in a beam of moonlight, was the one he had sought. She was wearing nothing but a nightdress of pale blue that complimented her pale skin, long thin legs and bare feet. Her long hair tired back in a ribbon, but not yet restrained from fluttering in the wind. Quatre realized, in that moment, where they simply stared into each other's eyes, just how beautiful she was. He saw her eyes widen with shock, as her pink lips murmured his name. Quatre took a step forward, hand outstretched, reaching for her. What happened next was so unexpected he was caught completely off guard. Dorothy turned and ran. Before Quatre knew what he was doing, he found himself running after her.

He chased her for what felt like an eternity. Calling her name, telling her, begging her to stop, but in vain for she seemed not to hear his pleas. They ran through the orchard, through its many gardens full of fragrant flowers and blossoming trees. She ran and he gave chase until they had passed into a part of the garden Quatre had never seen before. Suddenly a maze of hedges rose up before him. This seemed to give Dorothy a sudden burst of speed as she made for the maze, hair flying wildly behind her. In that instant of flying hair and falling ribbon he lost her around an edge of the maze. Quatre kept running, I can't loose her. Not now. I have to keep going. I have to find her! He shot forward, but too late. Dorothy had already disappeared into the maze.

Quatre stopped just at the entrances to the maze. There where two entrances to the hedge maze, one to the left and another to the right. Two entrances. That seems familiar...I know I've heard about a maze with two entrances before. Quatre stood in thought; I don't have time for this! Which one do I take? If I go right...but he stopped just as he was about to enter. His heart was telling him, left. He should go left. There was one thing Quatre always believed in, trusted, and that was what his heart told him was right. So, against what his mind was telling him would be the most logical path, Quatre took to the left entrance running at a dead sprint, around corners, down straight paths. Left, then right, around corners, twisting ever closer to the middle. As he ran down one straightaway, he could hear harsh breathing just on the other side of the hedge. Dorothy!

He put on a sudden burst of speed taking a left turn, letting his heart guide him, even though the sound of her breathing was getting further and further away. He took another right, then ran down another straight, and then turned once more to the right and emerged into a courtyard. In the center was a beautiful fountain with four angels of stone sitting around its edge, water spilling out of a jug that each carried. There were rose bushes encircling the small courtyard with the most exquisite roses of blush pink and deep blood red. To the right of the fountain was a bench made of intricately carved wood meant for two. Quatre's gaze came to rest on an opening in the maze opposite him, and there, beyond the fountain, across the courtyard, the one person Quatre had wished with all his heart and soul would be there...

Quatre drew in a shaking breath. "Dorothy." Her name came out as nothing but a tremulous whisper.