Title: A Letter

Characters/Pairings: Dorothy, Quatre, Wufei, 3+4, 5+D

Rating: PG-13

Notes: In my attempt to make a Dorothy centric fic, I ended up with this.

Dorothy knew that society probably wouldn't like how she was smiling. One was not supposed to smile when one received news of a death. Oh, but she did smile.

Tilting her head to one side, she tapped the letter on the table in front of her. It was sent to her from a distant relative, a cousin twice removed on her father's side, she believed. She briefly wondered why they had sent her this letter, but imagined it was out of some sense of duty.

But the real question was, should she attend the funeral? It wasn't like she had any warm feelings towards the deceased person, and she was sure that she wouldn't be welcome, or even expected.

That clinched it. If only to surprise, to annoy, she would go.

But she certainly wouldn't be going alone.

"You want me to go to a funeral with you?"

"Of course, I don't find anything amiss with that. Why, do you?" Dorothy questioned.

"It's, well, yes. I've never been invited to attend one. I just went along with my father. I never knew most of those people, who died."

"Then it won't be any different, you'll come, pay your respects to someone you've never met and who was a most deceptive and malicious person when alive."

"Uh... if she was like that, then why are you even going?"

Dorothy pauses, then smiled, her shark smile. "Because, my dear Quatre, I want to. I suppose and no doubt you'll be offended, but I want to dance on her grave."

There was a pause. "You're serious aren't you?"

"When am I not? Come on, Quatre, it'll be fun. This will get you out of a board meeting, or a meeting with clients and into the fresh air of Versailles."

"The funeral is there?"

"Yes, she was a decendent of a French king, I believe and they have this ancestral chateau there." She tilts her head to one side, "You know, I think I may be next in line to inherit it. We have to go, Quatre!"

He sighs.

They were the last ones left. Every other person had left, giving Dorothy a last look and then usually shaking their heads. It seemed, among her family, Dorothy was not particularly well liked.

Quatre coughed discreetly. Dorothy turned and gave him a questioning, annoyed stare, before staring back at the newly dug grave. "What?" She barked.

"Why exactly are we staying...? I know you had no feeling for this woman, and..." Quatre paused and stared dismally at the dark clouds, "I believe it's going to rain soon."

There was silence for a second, before Dorothy muttered, "Is any body watching?"

It started to rain as Quatre peered around the grave yard. "No." He said shortly, regretting not bringing an umbrella. "Every body has left."

"Good." Shedding her coat she passed it to him.

"What are you doing?" Quatre asked, positioning the coat over his head. One of them might as well keep dry, he mused.

"You're so forgetful, Quatre. It's a good thing you're pretty." Dorothy remarked, patting his cheek.

"Thanks," he says dryly.

"And... I'm dancing. I said I would, didn't I?" Dorothy raised her arms to the sky.

Quatre repressed the urge to swear. "You do realise, that you look insane?"

"Takes one to know one, Quatre."

"That was so juvenile." He mutters, shivering slightly as the rain started penetrate Dorothy's coat. "Can't you could up with better come backs?"

"When you say something witty, I will." Dorothy ran a hand through her hair and shook it out.

"Your dress will be ruined. And..." he looked closer. "I gave you that dress! It cost a small fortune! You bullied me until I gave you that dress!"

"I never did say thank you, did I?" Dorothy tilted her head to one side and smiled.

"No." Quatre murmurs shortly.

"Oh, well. Too late now."

"It is getting late." Quatre said, staring at his watch as his brow twitching sporadically.

"Now, that makes you look mad! Really Quatre, if you don't calm yourself down, then you might have a heart attack, and then I would be caught up in a most unfortunate misfortune. I would have to wait in a dreadfully white hospital, or you could be dead... but, I'm certainly not going to attend another. I filled my quota."

"Uh... That really made no sense Dorothy. It was complete and utter stupidity!"

"Maybe, maybe. We're leaving now."

"Finally."

"Want to get drunk?"

"Ah... why not? Might as make something out of this trip."

"So you weren't here for my company?"

"Now, this is why I don't go drinking with Trowa."

"Why?"

"Because, poor man, can't hold his drink for the life of him. It would be pathetic, if I didn't have to take him home, and well, he does make a cute fuc - drunk."

"Stop whining about having a relationship, Quatre." Dorothy muttered.

"Oh, so you've - "

"Yes, yes. Perhaps I shouldn't have such high standards?"

"I don't think so... Hmm... date less eh?" Quatre mused, rubbing his chin.

"You'll soon be ball less, if you don't stop..."

Quatre snapped his fingers, "I know the perfect person!" He nodded and turning his bright smile on the rather gloomy Dorothy.

"Who?" Her voice was guarded.

"You know, Wufei Chang?"

There was a delicate pause. "Isn't here still mourning over his wife? Or that doctor, Sally Po?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What I always found strange, was that he was already married and widowed at fifteen. You never sought to ask, Quatre?"

"I thought it was personal issue and declined not to touch the subject with a ten foot pole. But, come on, he doesn't hit women. You could ask him!"

"The formation of a great relationship I'm sure... But, I'd better decline."

"Sorry, too late. I've already set up a date."

"When?"

Quatre smiled. The smile that Dorothy hated because it mirrored her own smile so perfectly and she knew that was not a good thing.

"I thought it appropriate. He's going to be piloting the shuttle back to L4."

"Sometimes, Quatre," Dorothy murmurs.

"Yes?" And he even sounds smug.

"There are times where I wonder..."

"Uh huh?"

"How far your nose can go into other people's business."

"Call it payback, for going to that dreadful funeral."

"I hate you."

"But you be saying that after the birth of your first child? I think not!"

"No, I think that is the best time for me to be screaming that, I can just blame on the drugs."

"You're evil."

"Thank you."

"I try."

"I don't."

And they both smile at each other.