AN: Sorry about the wait, but I've got two other stories I've been working on, and they've been eating up my time. I hope you enjoy it, I'm sorry it's so short, and there's going to be another long wait before the next chapter.

Rules of Engagement, Part II

Bremin, 1243 hours, Saint Valentine's Day, After Colony 206

"Relena! It's wonderful to see you!" Dorothy Catalonia exclaimed. "You look lovely, and your gentleman companion is quite dapper." She surveyed Relena and Heero with a smile. Relena was wearing a simply cut pale blue gown while Heero stood at her side in a classic black tailcoat over a brocade vest and white tuxedo shirt, with a white ruffle at his neck and white gloves completing the outfit. Dorothy herself wore a red gown, which was rather more ornate than Relena's. Dorothy's expression softened. "I was so sorry to hear about the attack yesterday," she said, "especially your chief of staff. But the important thing is that you are alive and well. So tell me, Relena, how did you justify coming here today?"

"Well, the Foundation still has a great deal of political influence," Relena said, "so the official reason is that I'm 'come a-courting,' as they say."

Dorothy laughed. "And the real reason?"

"I felt like going to party, and I dragged Heero along with me."

"Shirking your Presidential duties, Relena," Dorothy shook her head in mock disappointment. "What are we going to do with you?"

"Why don't we mingle," Relena suggested, "and talk about anything except politics."

"I doubt you'll be quite that lucky," Dorothy said. "You are the President, after all. However, I think we can keep things to the more enjoyable kind of politics." She smirked.

Relena sighed. "I hope so. By the way, your last letter was most unsatisfyingly short of information."

"Oh, yes, that reminds me," the blonde woman replied, her voice filled with wicked glee as only her voice could be filled. "Our new Chief Representative would like to meet with you."

"Why aren't you the Chief Representative, Dorothy?" Heero asked. "Your personality is certainly forceful enough."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult," Dorothy said, leading them toward the tables reserved for the more important guests. She answered, "The membership of the Foundation, you may have noticed, consists primarily of middle-aged to old white rich aristocratic men, with the occasional young white rich aristocratic man thrown in for variety. No penniless nobles or white rich aristocratic women need apply, with a pittance of exceptions. This means that the Chief Representative is usually the highest-ranking old white rich aristocratic man. You only got the position, Relena, because virtually everyone expected you to be a mere figurehead controlled by my grandfather. After you left, of course, Treize Kushrenada had charisma in spades, legions of loyal followers, and a well-deserved reputation as a brilliant military commander. Since then, we've gone through a string of forgettable officeholders, and I, as a woman, am unofficially barred from the position." By that time, the three of them were approaching a table of old white rich aristocratic men.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Dorothy said, "I've brought President Darlian to see the Chief Representative." The cluster of aged men parted with a soft murmur to reveal the seated form of Marquis Weyridge.

He had aged in the eleven years since the Eve Wars; a few spots had appeared on his brow, and his hair was now thin and white. Other than that, he was exactly as Relena remembered him.

"Marquis Weyridge! It's such a pleasure to see you again!" she said delightedly, stepping forward.

"Please, Ms. President, call me 'Grandfather,'" he said, his voice, like his eyes, giving no hint of his advancing age. "And what should I call you?" he continued. "'Queen' is out of the question, but I'm not sure that 'Princess' is much better."

"Grandfather, there's no need to be so formal," Relena told him. "Just plain Relena is fine. If anyone must refer to me by a title, Princess Relena will do, since I'm attending as a member."

"Very well, Relena," Weyridge replied, smiling. "Might I have this dance?"

Relena smiled back. "Of course. Just like old times."

As Relena and the marquis headed for the dance floor, Heero took a moment to scan the balconies. His faith in the Romefeller Foundation's security was almost nil—he had, after all, personally penetrated it with ease several times in the past—but having designed its present deployment pattern, he trusted it enough to allow the Presidential Security Detachment fill in the gaps in the Foundation's arrangements. Speaking into the throat mike concealed by the ruffle at his neck, Heero said, "This is Eagle One. All agents report in."

Voices buzzed in his earbug: "Two, in position."

"Three, in position." And so on through many other voices, always the same message. "Give me Dove's location," Heero ordered.

"On the dance floor with Lion." That was Four.

"Good. Keep me informed of any unusual developments. Eagle out." Heero turned and saw Dorothy watching him.

"Walk with me," she said, and led him around the perimeter of the dance floor. "Doing anything for Relena this Valentine's Day?" the blonde asked.

Heero nodded. "This."

Dorothy sighed. "This doesn't count. You're doing it with her, not for her, so it's not the same thing. Same question."

"Yes."

Dorothy's eyes lit up. "Oh? So what is it?"

Heero remained silent and stony-faced.

"C'mon, I won't tell! What is it?"

Heero maintained his silence, but allowed a small smile to cross his face.

Dorothy deflated. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No," Heero confirmed.

"Fine," Dorothy sniffed. "Be that way."

"I will," Heero replied.

When Marquis Weyridge and Relena returned from the dance floor, they found that their table had been deserted. Weyridge eased himself into a chair, and Relena took a seat across from him.

Weyridge looked at her seriously. "Relena, I know you must not want to deal with politics this afternoon, but there is something I must say."

Relena steeled herself, but the old man's words were not unpleasant.

"As you know, the political power of the Foundation has waned considerably. The framers of the Constitution wisely included passages that prohibit us from ever again gaining the kind of power we had during the Eve Wars. We are not prohibited from holding elected office, as your example attests," the old man said, "but never again will we be able to rule from behind the scenes. In the face of these realities, the Foundation has decided to no longer seek to regain the power of feudal lords as it once did. Instead, we now seek to support the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. Should you have need of it, Ms. President, you may feel free to call upon us, and we will give you whatever financial aid we can. I believe there are even a few mobile suit component factories out there somewhere we haven't finished converting yet."

"Thank you for your generous offer, Grandfather," Relena said quietly. "I hope I won't need to take you up on it."

"As do I," Weyridge said, equally quietly, "but I felt obligated. After all we went through, to fail now…"

At that moment, Dorothy and Heero returned.

"And where have you two been?" Relena asked. "Heero, neglecting your duty? I could have been attacked, and you would never have known it."

"Actually, the PSD is watching this area like hawks. I most certainly would have known it. And I must say that I doubt you'd be attacked here."

"You would've doubted I'd be attacked in the middle of a Cabinet meeting, too," Relena pointed out. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

Heero, somewhat uncharacteristically, was the one who broke it. "Dorothy, Relena would like to know if you'd be interested in a position as her chief of staff."

Dorothy looked surprised. Relena's glare, while no match for the ones Heero could produce, was searing.

"I suppose I could," Dorothy said. "I've been trying to find something to do with my time, you know. It's very boring, being an unemployed aristocrat."

Relena let out a breath, and her glare faded. "Thank you, Dorothy. I really appreciate it."

Heero's earbug buzzed. "Sir, Eagle Eleven. There're a group of five men headed your way from the main entrance, and it looks like they smuggled in some air guns. I can't get a clear shot from here, and there're scattered across the floor anyway, so firing at one would alert the rest of them."

"Roger," Heero said. "I'll secure the President. Once I have, open fire. If I fire before she's safe, open fire. If they fire, open fire."

"Roger that, Sir. Good luck."

"Good hunting," Heero replied. He noticed Relena looking at him strangely. "More assassins. PSD spotted them. Marquis Weyridge, is there a private, secure room here on the first floor? I'd really rather not risk going up the stairs," Heero indicated the grand, sweeping, staircase, which was completely devoid of people.

"First floor conference room," Weyridge said. "It's just behind the stairs. The doors locks from the inside, but we keep it open when we're not using it."

"Roger," Heero said, grabbing Relena by the wrist and pulling her along behind him. When they reached the door, he wrenched it open and pushed her inside, turning to survey the crowd behind him. They were becoming agitated; and he saw five men moving toward him through the mass of people. Darting inside himself, Heero slammed the door shut and locked it, praying to anyone who might be listening that the door was bulletproof.

"PSD, this is Eagle One. The President is secure. Open fire," Heero said. Sniper rifles began to fire, and Heero heard the answering paf! of the assassins' air rifles.

In a matter of moments, it was over. "Assassins neutralized, Sir." Heero started to move to open the door and had gotten as far as unlocking it before he thought better of it and deactivated his throat mike. Then, for once, he and Relena were alone. "Relena," Heero said, his voice soft and gentle, his eyes equally so, "this may seem an odd time to tell you, but… I love you."

Relena smiled. "I know, Heero. I love you, too. But you know that."

Heero took a deep breath, reached inside his tailcoat, and withdrew a small black box. He walked to where Relena was standing, knelt, opened the box, and held up the ring for her to see. "Relena," he whispered, "will you marry me?"

Relena stood stock still for a moment, stunned. Recovering and taking a breath of her own, she replied with a smile, "Of course I'll marry you, Heero. I'd begun to think you'd never ask." Heero smiled a small, grateful smile and slipped the ring onto her finger. "Now, stand up," Relena instructed him. Heero did so, and Relena stepped in close, her arms going around him, and kissed him.

Their passionate embrace was spoiled, however, soon after it began. "Oh, my," Dorothy said dryly from the doorway. "If the tabloid reporters could see this..."

"Who was that on the phone, honey?" Lucrezia Noin Peacecraft asked as her husband re-entered Excelsior Squadron's waiting area.

"Relena," Zechs said. Legally, he was Milliardo these days, but "Zechs" was just so much easier to shout out in the middle of combat that everyone called him Zechs anyway, except Relena. "She had extraordinary news which she authorized me to share with you, on the condition that you inform absolutely no reporters."

"What happens if Duo tells a reporter?" Wufei asked.

"Funnily enough, I asked her that exact question. Heero, should Duo divulge the information to a reporter, will personally hunt Duo down and kill Duo in an unspecified but I suspect highly unpleasant manner."

"Yeah, whatever. He'll have to find me first," Duo waved a carefree hand as he lounged on a couch. "So what's the big news?"

"Heero proposed to Relena, and they're going to get married," Zechs said, grinning.

"What!" Noin and Duo chorused, Duo sitting bolt upright. They continued, still in unison, "When did this happen?"

"Today."

"That's so romantic," Noin said.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Figures. He always pretty unoriginal, at least when it came to stuff like this. Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I need to call the pope and make sure Hell's frozen over, or I'll owe Dorothy a million dollars that I don't have."