Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. The Great Gatsby belongs to F.Scott Fitzgerald.

The Great Yuy- Chapter 5

"He was left with his singularly appropriate education; the vague contour of Jay Gatsby had filled out to the substantiality of a man."

-Nick, on the creation of Jay Gatsby from James Gatz, The Great Gatsby, F.Scott Fitzgerald

5 June AC 202

0500 hours

Counter: 13:30

Heero woke on Sunday morning to darkness outside and a performance inside. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and saw Quatre closing the window so that he could put on the air conditioning, singing "The Rain in Spain" quite loudly to himself.

"What the f-?" Heero started to say, but Quatre's startled gasp silenced him.

"Heero!" he scolded, sounding appalled. "A gentleman doesn't curse like that."

Heero scratched his head thoughtfully, trying to get his sleep-deprived brain to comprehend what exactly the man was talking about. Then he remembered what he had brought upon himself and sighed with resignation. "I'm sorry," he said grumpily. "I won't do it again."

"See that you won't." Quatre scrutinized him with pursed lips, as if there was something he saw that he highly disapproved of. Most likely there really was.

"What?" Heero asked, the examination making him feel quite uncomfortable, and a little nervous too. Suddenly entrusting this "mission" to Quatre didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. "What?" he repeated impatiently when his friend didn't answer the first time.

"Hmm," Quatre murmured, not really answering, though what he did say did pretty much fit the question. "I was right. We definitely need to start with the hair first."

Heero gulped. His hand went automatically to his disordered locks. They were particularly in disarray from a case of the dreaded "bedhead." But he still didn't think it was really bad. "Hair?"

His new mentor nodded solemnly. "Yes, and after that we can move onto clothes. It's a good thing I have connections," he commented. He beckoned for Heero to get up. When the soldier didn't move, he said, "Get dressed. We have a lot of work to do and not enough time. Come on, move it."

Feeling strangely like he was at boot camp (only not as fun), Heero reluctantly got out of bed, mumbling, "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this."

0530 hours

Counter: 14:00

"Abdul's driving." Trowa burst into the room without any salutation. "And you know how grouchy he gets this early in the morning. We really ought to- hey, where's Quatre?" he asked Heero suddenly. The soldier pointed from his seat on the bed. A gray-clad bottom poked out of Heero's closet where Quatre was putting away his things and trying to find something decent for his friend to wear.

"Nothing," he declared, standing up. Even disappointed, he still had an awfully cheery visage for that time of day. "Not a single nice outfit. How did ever you survive private school? Did you burn everything after you transferred?" before Heero could reply, he continued, "Oh well, you'll just have to borrow Trowa's clothes then."

"What!" The normally taciturn clown was all too vocal in expressing his objection, a string of expletives that seemed too much for Quatre's well-bred ears coming out of his mouth. Undaunted, the gentleman clamped his partner's mouth shut, strangely not coming down as hard on him about the cursing as he did Heero half an hour before.

"Now, now. We're here to help Heero, with every resource we have available, even if it means sacrificing a few of our own things."

Trowa raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do I have to sacrifice my clothes? Why can't he wear yours?" he questioned, as soon as he was free to speak again.

"Because you're the same size," Quatre reasoned, "and Heero looks bad in pink. Cheer up," he added, when the grumpy expression on Trowa's face didn't disappear from his joke. "This will be fun; except for the fact that there's only two of us, it'll be like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."

Heero raised his eyebrow at this. Apparently, whatever doubts Quatre had had the night before about completing this project in a week had completely disappeared. This morning, he was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready for the challenge, while they were still exhausted. Already, Heero and Trowa both predicted that they'd be even more tired before the day was out. Unfortunately, they were right.

0600 hours

Counter: 14:30

"Now Heero," Quatre began in a lecturing tone as they exited the limo. "Paolo came in today especially because I told him it was an emergency. Normally, he doesn't work on Sundays, and usually not at the last minute. But he's a nice guy, and said he would do it as a favor just for me. So behave, all right? And that goes for you too, Trowa."

The clown snorted. "I'll behave if he does."

Heero looked at his friend curiously. Trowa's mood had progressively worsened, especially since Quatre announced their first destination. Why, he wasn't sure, but looking at this mansion-sized beauty parlor (Not a barber shop, not a hair salon, but a beauty parlor), his mood really wasn't improving either. The Perfect Soldier had never seen a hair-cutting place with a perfectly landscaped front lawn before. And the building, oh, the actual building, which was actually this person's private home as well as his workplace. It was painted snow white, with strings of Christmas lights lining the roof for decoration, and a curtain of ivy perfectly draped over the sides of the house, as if it had been put there on purpose, arranged in just the right form and just the right length. A cement path cut through the garden, lined with hedges, connected the street with the outdoor porch. It looked like somewhere Martha Stewart would've felt very at home in.

Heero wasn't sure about Trowa, but he certainly felt uncomfortable. He was considering running for the hills, when the front door swung open.

"Monsieur Quatre! What a pleasure to see you!" A muscular man with blonde highlights and a distinctively French accent ran out to greet them. He kissed Quatre on both cheeks in the European style.

Heero blinked at them and then glanced back at Trowa, who was glaring furiously, turning as green as his eyes. It finally clicked in his brain what was troubling his friend. "Oh," he said quietly, just so he could hear. "I didn't know."

"What do we have here?" Paolo tore himself away from Quatre and advanced on Heero. "My, my, my. No wonder why you said it was an emergency," he exclaimed, examining Heero's coiffure with disgust. Now it was his turn to start glaring.

"Don't touch me," he growled, but the man bravely ignored him.

"Come in, come in," he led them down the path, up the porch steps and inside, nearly dragging Heero by the hair. Perhaps it was the pictures that lined the wall of different celebrities and their distinctive hairstyles. Perhaps it was the strong order of hairspray that filled the room. Whatever it was, Heero had a feeling for one of the first times out of many that he had made a big mistake asking for Quatre's help.

0700 hours

Counter 15:30

Heero couldn't keep his hands off his hair from the moment he stepped out of the salon. He clung to it as if he had just lost his best friend. Really, it wasn't that bad. Paolo had in fact done an excellent job. He washed, blow-dried, trimmed and combed until it actually looked like hair, instead of a short mane. But to Heero, it was as if a piece of his soul had been removed. He didn't realize that that was just the beginning of it all.

"We're here!" Quatre sung out. After five cups of specially blended, rejuvenating tea in the waiting room, he was filled with even more energy than before. Trowa, on the other hand, had consumed the same amount of coffee and was still as grouchy as ever. Of course, that could've been because Paolo had been hitting on Quatre throughout, without missing a single snip. It made Heavyarms' pilot want to snip something on him. And it certainly wasn't his hair. But of course, that would've been rude.

Heero stared up at the large building in front of him. It was about the size of a landing field, spanned three floors, had two levels of parking lot, and was that a Ferris wheel he saw behind it? It wasn't like anything he had ever seen, nor wanted to see.

"A mall?" he asked, his heart sinking. As if the haircut hadn't been enough.

"Umhm," Quatre replied, seemingly unaware of the fear in his new protégée's eyes. "The best on the colony. You can't exactly wear Trowa's clothes forever."
"I'll say," the cranky clown put in. If he were in costume, he'd probably have his sad face on. "He keeps stepping on my pants."

The Gundam pilot glanced at his feet. He wasn't stepping on them, per se, but they were a bit long. "Well, I guess," he began doubtfully. "But I can't afford a lot right now."
Quatre looked at him briefly as if he thought him simple. "Well, of course it's on me. Don't worry about it. If I'm going to be your teacher in this, it's up to me to supply you with what you need. I'll take care of it."

"Well…" Heero paused thoughtfully. Quatre's nature was a generous one, and he wouldn't expect anything in return. But Heero had his pride too. "All right. But I will pay you back when I get the money. No buts," he added, before he could protest.

Quatre grinned; Heero knew him too well. "That's fair. Now come on, we've got over a hundred stores to go to before it officially opens. I called upon my special Winner privileges just for you." Cheerily, he skipped ahead of them, leaving Heero staring with his mouth wide open.

"Did he say 'hundreds'?" The soldier asked incredulously.

Trowa nodded. "Yep. And when Quatre says over a hundred, he means over a hundred. Are you sorry yet?"
Heero's face fell. He thought he'd been exaggerating. Oh dear.

0800 hours
Counter: 16:30

While Quatre and Trowa were bringing Heero to his torture session, er, hair appointment, the others were still snug in their beds. By the time breakfast was served at 8 o'clock, and all had trickled down to the dining room, they had still not returned. Needless to say, this was a cause of some worry to them all, especially Quatre's sisters.

"I can't believe he left without telling anyone," the eldest, Iria, said worriedly. "I hope he gets back soon." Though her little brother was a grown man, and she knew better then anyone how capable he was of taking care of himself, she still couldn't help being a little over-protective.

"I'm sure he will," Catherine reassured her. "Besides, Trowa is with him, so I'm sure he's fine." The two girls exchanged an understanding smile. When their siblings had first introduced them, they hit it off right away. Quatre was especially glad to see this, as Catherine had become considerably warmer towards him when she realized how much he was adored by his elder sister, who repeatedly assured her of his good character.

"Yeah, they'll be okay." Hilde put in from her seat next to her husband, who was eagerly awaiting his meal. "But what about Heero and Relena? They're both missing too."

Slightly less than fifty jaws dropped simultaneously. No one had quite expected to hear that.