Disclaimer-I own nothing and nothing is mine.

Shout-outs-

Constant Reader: The fact that it's Pearl Harbor Day has nothing to do with the events, otherwise, stuff would be happening to Heero. I picked that day because it was the first day of Hanukkah, already into the school year, and the day I started writing. It IS odd, though. "Facts" are the stereotypical teenager talk about boys, girls, make-up, how much they hate their teachers/parents/the slut next to them, junk reserved for mediocre teen movies. "Truth" is my belief that teenagers are deeper than a bunch of hormones, and that comes out in my dialogue. The "facts" that I asked for were facts on the religions and diseases. It'd be insulting if I mess up the religious activities of Jews and Muslims, or use the wrong symptoms and treatments for Cathy's disease. I've gotten books, but additional information is appreciated. When someone says to an author, "Do yourself a favor and write something original", said author tends to take offense, especially when the story IS original (Who else has made Hilde Jewish? How many fics have Middie in them?), and the person did not read the whole thing. That's not criticism. That's being rude. I would appreciate it if you didn't write things like "It's obvious you've worked hard on this and what-not", or "I have hope for you yet" because, even though I know it's not intended, it comes across as condescending.

Lynn, Macu-Knight, Hellcat666, Solo, Nicole, BradyBunch5429, Ender Winner, Elly, and Ritsuko Akagi: Thank you for your great reviews.

Bleaky: You've given me an idea…

Pushpitake: Yes, I did use a translator. The Jews were NOT tortured because of religion, but because Hitler wanted a convenient scapegoat for the depression Germany was in, and the Jews were it. The Nazis weren't Catholic. They disliked Catholics, as well as Jews, gypsies, Slavs, cripples, and homosexuals.

Shao Jiang: "Sieg heil" means "Victory well-being", and "Sieg hiel" means "Victory got". I suppose either spelling might have been correct…But anyway, it's a term used in WWII among Nazis and Fascists.

Author's Notes-"Salat al-jumah" is the compulsory prayer meeting on Friday for Muslims. I couldn't find the time for it, so I made it sometime between 3 and 5. My source says that only men are required to go, and since I'm sick of Stereotypical!Islam, women go, too, if they want.

December 7th, 2004, Part 4

5: 02 PM—LONG DOJO

"Lemon…see-through in the sunlight," Nataku sang, swinging her head back and forth with the rhythm, eyes shut to keep the mundane of the real world from the utopia of music. "She wore lemon…but never in the daylight. She's gonna make you cry…she's gonna make you whisper and moan…"

"But when you're dry…she'll draw you water from a stone."

Nataku gave a small jump and turned around. Wufei was standing behind her, his eyebrows raised.

"U2 again?" Wufei stated more than asked, glancing at the dangling ear piece not attached to Nataku's ear.

"They're a good band," she said defensively, pulling the CD player out of her jacket pocket and turning it off.

"You play them all the time. I've memorized that entire Zooropa CD."

"Oh, well, excuse me. Heaven forbid I play music I like. Suck it up." She pointed her finger into his chest and pressed him backward. "If I ever DO lose my mind and marry you, you're gonna have to get used to U2."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll see what happens."

"Are you threatening me, Meilan?" he asked, smirking at her.

"Are you flirting with me, Wufei?" she shot back. She had started getting used to him calling her by her hated real name. From time to time she would remind him to call her by her nickname, but since her arguments never worked, she was choosing to pick her battles.

"God forbid." Centrifugal force took over as he swung his keys around his finger and into his palm around the key ring. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Nataku said, staring wistfully at the empty space where her own car usually sat. It had broken down the other day and had been towed into the local MAACO. Duo's Industrial Education class was working on it, and things were going quite smoothly, as Duo reported to her. She wasn't very reassured. Nor was she very happy that her grandfather insisted that Wufei take her to the school for the game. He'd said it was to "improve their relationship". Nataku's arguments that their relationship was irreparable had fallen on deaf ears.

"I'll drive back," she said, yanking open the door as Wufei unlocked it.

"Oh? And who said you could?" Wufei walked around the back of the car to the driver's seat.

"I said I could," Nataku responded. "This is America, Mr. Chang. I have equal rights in a relationship. So, if I say I'm gonna drive, I'm gonna drive."

"It's registered to me, Meilan. I have ownership rights."

Nataku coughed into her hand, a cough that sounded remarkably like the word "Sexist."

"Oh, will you shut up?"

"Make me," she dared, flickering her eyebrows up and down in a challenge. Her head ducked under as she sat down in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

Wufei pulled open the driver's door and got in. He shut the door and stuck the keys in the ignition. "How about whoever has a perfect run-through on the field drives back."

"Challenge extended. Challenge accepted." Nataku had to laugh at her Ross Geller imitation. After a few seconds, Wufei joined her.

"You know what? If we were a movie, people would be squealing "AAAAAAAAAWWWWWWW so cute they don't even know they're in love" right about now," Nataku said.

"People are strange," Wufei commented, glancing over at her from the driver's seat.

"Still, we'd make a good movie. "Two people, bound forcibly, find love in the most unlikely of places: each other"…and then they die. "I'll never let go Jack, I'll never let go"…"

"And then she let go," Wufei deadpanned. "For the millionth time, she let go."

"And people wonder why I don't want to marry Mr. Personality over here?" Nataku wondered aloud.

"You just don't know when to let something go."

"You just don't know when to stop being an..."

"We don't need course language, Meilan."

Nataku snorted, then propped her elbow up on the side windowsill and rested her head against her curled fingers. "I wonder who'd pay to see that movie?"

"Relena would."

"Yeah, she would," Nataku said, laughing. "She loves that sappy romantic stuff. Bet'cha she'd drag Heero along. Like a "first date" thing if she ever asks him out. And Dorothy would go along to throw popcorn at them in the middle of the most romantic love scene."

"That, I believe," Wufei acknowledged wittily.

5: 15 PM—F-WING

Dorothy tapped her pencil against her notebook and looked up from where she was sitting on the floor, leaning against her locker. A handful of people were just beginning to drift in. She was always everywhere early. She liked being ahead of the game. It gave you security, and she'd never had much security to begin with.

She was staring at her notes from before, with very little attachments to the words written previously, save the squiggly lines she had drawn in the margins out of boredom. She had called her cousin to ask to talk to his fiancé, Lady Une, but they hadn't been at home. The name couldn't be a coincidence. Middie herself had said she'd had a cousin named "Lady". It had taken Dorothy a few periods to remember that she knew a "Lady Une". Dorothy couldn't figure out why it had taken her so long to remember. Perhaps the mystery of Trowa and Middie was just too intriguing?

Dorothy knew she had, as other student would say, "no life", to be studying the past lives of an old friend and a new acquaintance, but as Dorothy would say, "Who cares?" She had chosen to take Psychology for a reason. She entertained some ideas of becoming a psychoanalyst in the future, seconded by her dream of becoming a computer engineer, and thirded by her dream of joining the military

Dorothy looked down at her notes again, but all the words were meshing together into one big pile of letters. She shut her notebook forcefully and plopped it onto the floor space next to her. She needed more information before she could make any headway.

"Hi, Dorothy."

Dorothy looked up to see Quatre standing over her.

"You're here early," Dorothy commented.

"Yeah, salat al-jumah didn't take very long, so I could get back home and here quicker than usual."

Dorothy made an acknowledging noise in her throat. She glanced back at her notebook, and then at Quatre.

"Quatre, how much did Trowa tell you about when he was in France?"

Dorothy could see Quatre stiffen. Instantly she knew that her question wouldn't lead to any answers.

"You have to ask Trowa, Dorothy. I'm not gonna tell anyone what he told me, unless he says I can."

"He's really got you whupped, hasn't he Quatre?" Dorothy teased, raising her eyebrows.

Quatre's face dropped into a half-angry pout. "Does everyone think Trowa and I are together?"

"Let me put it this way. No one would be surprised if it happened," Dorothy said flippantly, picking up her notebook and standing up, turning while she did so to open her locker.

"Why are you asking me, anyway?" Quatre asked.

"Just wondering, really. 24-19..." Dorothy slammed her knee into her locker, opened the lock, and pulled open the door. "Don't tell me that, if you were me, you wouldn't be curious about what happened today." She fitted her notebook in between two of her text books and shut the door again, twisting the dial so it locked.

"Yeah, I would be, but…"

"Quatre!"

Quatre suddenly stumbled as an arm descended on his back, forcefully shoving him forward. Quatre regained his footing and turned around. One of the larger Tuba players was standing by him, a malicious, impish grin on his face.

"Sorry to startle you, Quatre. I know it's rude to shove a lady."

Quatre turned around and looked at Dorothy. "Anyway, Dorothy, don't ask Trowa…"

"Aw, how cute. Protective of your man."

"Don't ask Trowa about it. He doesn't like talking about it."

"Talking about what? Your daily make-out sessions?"

Dorothy pushed Quatre away with a sweep of her arm and stepped forward. The Tuba player was two feet taller than she was and loomed over her menacingly with a stupid grin on his face. Dorothy opened her mouth, a distraction for what she was about to do.

The Tuba player was soon howling in agonizing pain, and Dorothy turned back to Quatre, smiling.

"Dorothy, that was…"

"Satisfying? Enjoyable? The most entertaining thing you've seen in years?"

"…a bit overboard," Quatre finished, looking slightly embarrassed.

Dorothy made a face. "I don't get why you let people make fun of you like that, Quatre."

"What does fighting with them do?" Quatre signaled for Dorothy to follow him as he went to his locker, which Dorothy complied with. "I'd rather not have to beat anyone up just to stop them from making fun of me."

"You're just like Relena," Dorothy said despairingly. "Why do you think she's always getting rocks thrown at her window? Because she won't fight back. If that girl was jumped, I'll bet my life's savings that she'd give them all her money. And then she'd give them advice on where to go for therapy for kleptomania."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Quatre said, turning the dial for his locker combination. "I was jumped once, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Dorothy said. She had seen Quatre the next day, his face and arms purpled in some areas, with an odd mixture of triumph and sorrow in his expressions.

"Well…I didn't like having to fight, but I couldn't let myself get beat up."

Dorothy nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. You thought you might die if you didn't fight back. Your mind went completely blank. You just got so scared and mad that you had to do something. So you beat the "shite" out of them," Dorothy smirked at her play on words.

"Well…" Quatre looked embarrassed. "Maybe."

"You're an interesting piece of psychology, Quatre," Dorothy said, eyeing him. "Can I use you for my next report?"

Quatre laughed. Dorothy was always fascinated with Quatre's laughter. It was never plain and simple, out-and-out laughing. It always just barely betrayed an underlying hurt, laden down with weariness and loneliness yet void of shame.

"Why'd you come down here, anyway?" Dorothy asked, watching as Quatre opened his locker.

Quatre began digging in the bookbag he had carried into the school. "Aside from an excuse to walk away from that guy, I did my homework on the bus so I'm putting it away." He emptied a white binder into his locker, then shut the door and locked it. "Hey, Relena!"

Dorothy turned around to see Relena approaching them, her uniform slung over her shoulder on a hanger.

"Are you okay, Relena?" Quatre asked, seeing up close that Relena's eyes looked red.

"Yeah, just…someone threw a rock at my window again," Relena said, bringing her clothes around her shoulder to her front.

"I'm getting an odd sense of déjà vu," Dorothy muttered. "Did you get hurt?" she continued, clearly.

"No, I jumped out of the way in time." Relena slung her clothes over her arm. "Dorothy, come with me?"

"Sure. 'Bye, Quatre." Dorothy followed Relena into the bathroom, leaving Quatre to stand alone, staring at a spot on the floor, wondering why everyone seemed so intent on attacking his friends today. First Hilde and then Relena, and the Tuba player's obnoxiousness, and the people who had given Iria dirty looks when she walked out of the mosque wearing her hijab. Just who else was going to be targeted?

"Quatre?"

Quatre turned around at the unfamiliar voice.

"Middie?"

The blonde girl looked nervous; she was clutching her necklace as she looked at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Relena told me that No-…Trowa is in the band. I came early to see if I could talk to him before he went on. I have to leave soon."

"He's not here yet."

Middie sighed and looked at Quatre searchingly. "He really told you everything, right?"

"Yeah, he did."

"No-Name…Trowa never talked even when we were friends. He would always just say that he didn't feel like talking after what happened when he was a baby." Middie sent Quatre another searching look. "He never told me what happened when he was a baby. Did he tell you?"

"Yeah. We—me and the others—all know the general story."

"And the details?" Middie pressed.

"Just me."

Middie bit her lip, and then shook her head. "That's too out-of-character for No-…Trowa. He doesn't trust people that easily." She shook her head again, this time sorrowfully. "I had the world's biggest crush on the Human Rock. It took him months to even hold a normal conversation with me. I don't think he ever really trusted me completely. And I guess he was right not to." She looked up at Quatre with eyes that pleaded for forgiveness while shining with defiance. "But he knows I had to do it. If I hadn't squealed, my father would've died! What did he want me to do? Does he think I liked spying on the Captain!"

"No, Middie…no." Quatre looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and then leaned in closer to Middie, his hands on her shoulders. "It's not like that. He knows you had to do it. I think he's forgiven you. But he can't forget that the Captain died. I guess he thinks that if he stays away from you, he can eventually forget and move on, you know?"

"I wish he had the guts to say that to my face instead of having you say it," Middie huffed, her face now pink.

"He didn't ask me to tell you, it's just what I think. And Middie, I think you're both doing it the wrong way. I think you both need to talk it out. You're not gonna get anywhere if you just…"

"Quatre! Cheating on Trowa with a girl? Man, pick a side and stick with it, why don't'cha?"

Quatre's face blanched as Middie's eyes widened. Why now, of all times, did someone decide to crack a gay joke?

"Are you…and No-Name…boyfriend and boyfriend?"

"No!" Quatre exclaimed vehemently. "Don't listen to what anyone says, Trowa and I are not going out."

"Is he…?"

"No. Trowa's straight."

"Are you straight?"

Quatre's face flushed. Why was this an issue with everyone, for every single day of his life? Why did he have to answer to Middie, of all people?

"No. Quote-unquote, I'm about as straight as a circle." Quatre winced slightly at the memory of two people commenting on him years ago. Two Geometry teachers, just for the cruel irony, it seemed to him.

Middie bit her lip. Quatre's first instinct was that she was suppressing some comment that she thought might offend him. But a small snort escaped Middie's mouth, followed by a barely intelligible giggle.

"What? What is it?"

"Oh, God, I'm so pathetic," Middie laughed. "I'm standing here talking to you, knowing full well that No-Name is straight, and all scared that he's going out with you." She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. Quatre had a feeling it wasn't laughter that moved her now. "He left seven years ago, and I'm still in love with that frickin' Human Rock." She looked up at Quatre, tears now streaming down her face. "But he might as well be with you, he'll tell you everything that he wouldn't tell me, even though you deny being with him and it's so frickin' blatantly obvious that I'm still in love with him. Oh my God!"

"Middie, Middie, it's okay." Quatre tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Just…come here."

Quatre pulled her way into the gap between a set of lockers and the double doors, and gently guided her into sitting on the heating vent located there. "Just cry it out here, okay? No one can see you, and when everyone gets here no one will hear you, either. It'll be too loud."

Middie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "You're good at this," she said, choking on a sob.

"I know what it feels like," Quatre said soothingly.

"Why, have you ever been in love with him?" she sniffled while laughing bitterly.

Silence greeted her question. Middie wiped her eyes again and looked into Quatre's face. Something in Quatre's stricken eyes clicked in her brain. Realization dawned on her face.

"Oh dear God, you have."

"Middie…"

"And let me guess," she interrupted. "You still are. You and I are in exactly the same boat. We both love him. The only thing different is that I call him "No-Name" and you call him "Trowa". But…he hates being called "No-Name" and…and he likes being called "Trowa"…" Middie buried her face in her arm. "God, I'm going to lose Trowa to a guy."

"Middie, don't jump to conclusions like that. I'm not in love with Trowa."

"Liar."

"…And even if I was, Trowa is not in love with me."

"Seems like it to me!" Middie shouted, looking up. "You say you don't love him, but he still tells you everything. He knows I love him and he won't tell me jack squat."

"Middie, it's not like that. It's just the circumstances."

"Sure. Whatever." Middie stood up and wiped her eyes again. "Look, Quatre, thank you for trying to help me out. It must be weird for you, whether you want to admit it or not. I'm going to the bathroom and then I'm going to leave. I'll talk to No-Name later. I'll be sure to call him "Trowa"."

Middie turned away from Quatre and walked across the hallway towards the bathroom, unconsciously feeling Quatre's eyes following her until she turned into the bathroom. The moment she stepped in the bathroom a fresh sob emitted from her lips.

Dorothy and Relena stopped talking immediately and looked at her. Both were in various states of uniformed; Dorothy was pulling on her overalls and Relena was buttoning her jacket.

"Middie?" Relena asked softly.

"What? Can't a girl cry in public every now and then?" Middie turned towards the sink and turned on the faucet. She caught some water in her cupped hands and splashed it on her face.

"What happened?" Relena asked.

"It's about Trowa," Dorothy stated plainly.

"How…?"

"I have better ears than you do, Relena," Dorothy said, tapping the side of her face, before seizing her shoulder strap and fastening it. "And better instincts, too."

"Yeah, it's about Trowa," Middie half-laughed, half-cried. She wiped her face with her sleeve and turned to look at the girls. Dorothy looked up, having successfully fastened both shoulder strap clasps. "How long has Quatre been in love with him?"

"Since Sophomore year," Dorothy deadpanned, ignoring Relena's indignant cry of "Dorothy!".

"Do you think No-Name…Trowa…is in love with him, too?" Middie asked.

"To be perfectly honest, I think he is and doesn't realize it yet," Dorothy stated bluntly.

"What about you, Relena? Being brutally honest, what do you think?"

"I think that I…I agree with Dorothy," Relena said, attempting tact. "At least about Quatre. I don't know if Trowa loves him back or not."

Middie made a small, guttural noise and turned back to the sink. She began straightening out her hair by running her fingers through it.

"Are you all right?" Relena asked.

"I don't think she is," Dorothy said, walking towards Middie. She stooped at her side and leaned over so she could see Middie's face at a glance. Tears were again forming at the corners of Middie's eyes. "Come on, Middie, don't cry. If you do, Relena and I'll have to stay here with you and we'll miss the Anthem. Relena's Drum Major; she can't afford that."

Middie looked at Dorothy with a look of resentful anger. Dorothy rested her elbow on the sink counter and propped up her chin on the balls off her palm. With a completely straight face Dorothy opened her mouth and with a small bounce of her jaw bit her pinky fingernail, and cocked her eyebrow.

Middie laughed. She wiped away her tears with her three middle fingers of both hands.

"Thanks for your sympathy," she said, looking at Dorothy with eyes that still shone but were finally dry.

"Works like a charm," Dorothy said, straightening up with self-satisfaction.

"Which you have plenty of, I'll give you that," Relena allowed. "Middie, I've honestly never met someone who can change your mood better than Dorothy can. Why is it so hard to stay mad at you?"

"Because I am just the mistress of charm and grace," Dorothy said sarcastically. "Middie, I think you should talk to Trowa, unless you want this to turn into some mediocre soap opera. Which would be interesting but very, very clichéd."

"Quatre said that, too," Middie conceded.

"God, what an idiot," Dorothy said, rolling her eyes. "Telling his rival for Trowa's love to work it out with him. That boy is too nice."

"Aren't you Quatre's friend? Why are you talking about him like that?"

"Because, being viciously honest, I think Quatre and Trowa are going to end up together no matter what, and I'm giving you fair warning." Seeing Middie's face go red, Dorothy continued. "I also think that you need some kind of closure. That's why you should talk to Trowa."

"And why do you care?" Middie shot at her.

"Because you're interesting."

"I'm what?"

"What a lovely way to become friends with somebody," Relena muttered, straightening the fingers in her gloves.

"Relena, what does she mean?" Middie asked.

"I don't understand what she means all the time, either, so I can't really help you there," Relena said, defeated.

"I mean that I'm interested in you," Dorothy said.

"Are you coming on to me?"

"No. But I'm a Psyche major, and I want to see if this actually helps people. I want to see if jealousy really overcomes love or if every romantic movie on Earth is telling the truth."

"Thanks for making me into an experiment."

"At least I told you what I was doing. I didn't tell Relena that I was studying her."

"Yes, I only heard about it when Heero got suspicious," Relena put in. "But it was just about what I thought of the war, so I didn't really mind much."

"O gracious and benign one," Dorothy deadpanned.

Middie laughed again. She wiped the final tears from her face and managed a shaky smile. "Thanks, this was helpful."

"Are you sticking around for the show?" Relena asked.

"Oh, no, I have to leave." Middie said. Dorothy cocked her eyebrow.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" Relena pressed. "We—me, Dorothy, and the others—are getting together afterwards at the Friendly's. It might be the best way to talk to Trowa, if you can pull him aside."

Middie looked down at her watch. "I might be able to meet you there, but I really have to go. I'm almost late."

"For what?"

"Work. I have to be there at 6, it's 5: 30 now."

"Oh man, glad we got here early, then. We have to be on the track at 6: 15," Dorothy said.

"I'll bet the others are here by now, too," Relena said. "Middie, want me to tell Trowa that you were here?"

Middie shook her head. "No, I'll talk to him later. Thanks again."

"Anytime," Relena said.

"See you around," Dorothy concluded, as Middie waved her hand and sojourned from the bathroom, in a slightly nicer mood than when she had entered.

5: 35 PM—F-02 BAND ROOM

"I see…" the Band Director, Mr. Luvsmit said, eyeing Hilde.

"It's the truth, I swear it," Hilde said.

"Oh, I believe you," Mr. Luvsmit said reassuringly. "I just wish I couldn't. I wish people would get over this nonsense."

"Yeah, you're not the only one," Duo muttered from beside Hilde.

"Hilde, you know that it's necessary for a band to look uniform, so I can't let you march," Mr. Luvsmit sighed resignedly.

"At least let me sit with the band in the stands," Hilde pleaded. "I'll even help the Pit Crew. Just let me stay with the band."

Mr. Luvsmit stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I think…the situation warrants it. Yes, Hilde, you can sit with the band."

Hilde broke into a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"In fact…Hilde, you know how to conduct. If Heero and Relena don't have any problems with it, I think we can let you conduct the last song. They're your friends, so I doubt they'll have too big a problem with it."

"That'd be great!" Hilde exclaimed elatedly, her face lighting up. "What should I do? Should I march out with the band, what?"

"No, you just wait in the stands and I'll signal you to get on the conductor's stand. Strictly speaking, this is taboo band-wise, but I'd say what happened to you is even worse."

"I'm worried about her safety, " Duo interjected. "If someone will attack her house in broad daylight, someone might attack her when it's dark and it's too crowded and noisy to hear her."

"I will personally make sure that she stays safe when I go to the stands," Mr. Luvsmit assured. "Until then, am I right in saying that her parents are here?"

"Yeah, they're here," Hilde said unanimously with Duo, resulting in a weak and equally simultaneous giggle from the pair.

"My father and sister are here, too," Duo said. It had been his experience that it was easier to simply call Father Maxwell and Sister Helen with the terms familiar to most students. An explanation required his telling of his adoption, a topic he did not relish in, and also mandated his explanation as to why a Protestant minister was called "Father" and why there was a nun under said denomination. Most people did not seem satisfied with his clarification that James Maxwell was called "Father" due to a misunderstanding when people heard Helen call him "Father"—since he was, in fact, her biological father—and no one had bothered to stop even after the truth was revealed, since James was the kind of person who commanded the respect and adoration accorded to a Catholic "Father"; and that Sister Helen was a nun simply because she wanted to be.

"I'm sure they'll look after her," Mr. Luvsmit said. "Go and find Heero and Relena, I need to talk to them."

Duo and Hilde nodded and mumbled their gratitude and turned towards the door.

"Thanks for your concern, Dad," Hilde said sarcastically, shoving open the door.

"Oh, the gratitude I get for looking out for my girlfriend," Duo muttered, equally acerbic.

Hilde pursed her lips to the side of her face and rolled her eyes jokingly, punching him in the arm. "I'm happy you're worried about me."

"Then why are you so down on me telling Mr. Luvsmit about it?"

Hilde paused for a moment, both orally and in walking. One of Duo's attributes was that every once in a while he made her really stop and think. "I…I guess I'm so used to taking care of myself that anyone trying to help me seems like they're being overbearing. I don't like being controlled. I don't even like being protected. It's annoying to me. It's horrible, Duo, but when you helped me escape from Trant the first thing I felt was resentment."

"I understand, believe it or not," Duo said, reaching out his arm to link with hers. "I hated when I was first adopted because I was so used to looking out for myself and the other orphans that it was condescending when someone suddenly expected to take care of me. But…you know…it's okay to need somebody every once in a while."

"Mm." Hilde looked down at her nails. Just a few hours earlier she had been all ready to be weak with Duo. Even now, the mental image of her dog dying, mutilated, made her nauseous. She didn't even know if her dog was still alive; the veterinarian had not called yet.

But the memory of her life in Germany was even more powerful. In her old neighborhood, anti-Semitism ran rampant; some families still had swastika flags hidden away in their houses. Her school life had been horrible. Her few friends were forced to desert her by their parents, either because of their own prejudice or because they feared for their children's lives if the hung out with "that Jewess". When she cried in school, she was bullied mercilessly for her "weakness", and everything from name-calling to book-stealing to rock-throwing to actual life-threatening from older students had happened to her while she was still in her first year of school.

"Babe? Still with me here?"

"Huh?" She looked up quickly. "Oh…yeah, I'm still here, Duo. Let's go find Heero and Relena. Actually, I'll find them. You still need to change."

Duo glanced at her. "You look really pale."

"Duo, stop worrying about me for two minutes and change. I promise I won't suddenly die if you leave my sight for that long."

"Knock on wood," Duo said, rapping against Hilde's head.

"Oh, knock it off," Hilde said, batting him away playfully.

"I'm trying, but it seems to be glued on pretty tight," Duo responded, pushing her head.

"Just go get changed!"

"As you wish." He gave her a peck on the cheek followed by an even quicker hug, then waved at her as he headed towards the men's bathroom. Hilde watched his retreating form for a few minutes. Then she turned to find Heero and Relena.