The receptionist stared up at me with a queer look from behind her enormous desk. However, she pressed the intercom button to announce me, another strange, bemused little look in her eyes. I gave her a smile that I realized was unintentionally cold. People had told me that my smiles were chilling, but there was nothing I could do about it. The more normal, warm, and heartfelt I tried to make my smile, the creepier it was. So I smiled another cold smile as she began to speak.

"Excuse me sir, your have your 12:00 appointment here to see you," she said unsurely.

He paused for only a second. "Send them in, please."

She hung up the phone, surprised, and nodded towards the big oak door to her right. "If you please…"

I nodded a confirmation at her and started towards the grandiose door. I pulled it open and stepped inside. My shoes were muffled by the beautiful, plush carpeting under my feet. The office was large, beautiful in its simplicity. There was a bookshelf with binders of all sorts and sizes. On the opposite wall were two large black file cabinets. Near the center of the room was a black couch with a glass table set up before it, a simple plant in the center. There were two comfortable-looking black leather chairs facing a desk that had no rival in size, no match in craftsmanship, and no tie in beauty.

He was there, sitting with his head down, submerged completely in his paperwork. He hadn't noticed me yet. He finished signing some documents and read them over once more, setting them aside and reaching for a stack of papers that were on the edge of his desk. I knew what they were. I had faxed him my resume early this morning. He hadn't looked at it yet, let alone through it. The coversheet was simple, his name printed and a small note asking him to look over the following resume if he was interested.

"Please come in," he said, still not looking up to see me. Now he took the papers, thinking he could skim through the stack quickly before I realized he hadn't had the time to do it beforehand. "I apologize for my rudeness, I wasn't-"

His voice trailed away when he read the name that was written on the resume. He was clutching the papers tightly now, jaw dropping slightly and shock seeping into the clear blue-green eyes. He finally looked up at me.

"Dorothy?"

I gave a hesitant smile. "Hello Quatre."

He was staring at me, over me, as if to make sure I was real, really here, standing in his office before him.

"I can't… there are too many questions, I don't know which one to start with." He blinked, looked again, and then composed himself. He met my gaze, a small smile playing at his lips. The one he did start with was not the one that I had imagined. "How have you been?"

"Okay," I answered after a pause. "I know you're well."

He gave a small laugh and stood, tossing the resume down. He walked around his desk to perch himself at the edge of it, hands slipped casually in his pressed pants pockets, and he regarded me again. "You look great. It's been a long time."

I nodded, taking in a deep breath. "It has." He looked at me waiting, and I hesitated before speaking. When I finally did, it all came out in a rush. "I came because… well, I came for a lot of reasons and I should have come before. I read a few days ago that you were hiring here at your L2 headquarters and I finally found the excuse I needed to come in and see you. Maybe, if I finally got myself down here, I'd be able to-"

"You're hired," he cut me off.

I stopped and looked up at him, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"I said you're hired."

"You haven't even looked at my resume."

"I know what you can do, Dorothy Catalonia."

I looked him over again. Quatre Raberba Winner hadn't just grown physically. He had grown in many other ways. Gone was the childish innocence and naivety, the idealistic dreams and the fanciful whims. Here stood a man, prepared for the gruesomeness of life on all levels, happy and confident in his world. I gave him a smile, which he reciprocated. He looked down at his watch.

"Why don't we get some lunch and talk salary?"

The restaurant was a nice affair with soft music and private, secluded tables. They sat us immediately in a comfortable corner, easily overlooked and took our order quickly. The food was prompt and delicious. It was obvious that Quatre had influence in this place. We chatted over all the business affairs first. Salary was quickly decided on. He asked if I had an apartment or house on the colony, to which I said no. He told me that I could stay in a company suite until I found something.

"What exactly am I being hired to do?" I asked as I ate my salmon.

Quatre swallowed before answering. "Like I said, Dorothy, I know what you can do. I know your strong points, and your weak ones. I'm not looking for a secretary or an assistant to the financial department. You'd be VP of operations and director of public relations." He began listing all the requirements of the job. He looked at me when he was through listing the things expected of the prestigious position. "I'm asking you to be my business partner, my second in command. I'm glad you came along Dorothy, because I don't think anyone else would fit the job."

There was silence for a while as we finished off our plates and wine.

"Aren't you going to give me some pamphlets or something? I mean, what do I know about the inside workings of the Winner Corporation?" I asked.

"Everything there is to know, save some technicalities. You don't fool me, Dorothy Catalonia. You never come unprepared."

I smiled. "When do I start?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"No."

The waiter cleared our plates for us and just like that, business was over. Quatre turned to me. Now the conversation would become personal.

"Why are you here, Dorothy?" he asked. "I mean, I understand that this is a good job opportunity, but, why are you really here?"

"Don't you know?" I asked quietly.

"I think so." But he didn't give, he just waited.

I sighed. "I came because I had to. I came to apologize." There was a long pause. "You told me once I was kinder than you. I still think you're wrong."

"I don't," he responded.

"I'm sorry," I said after a long while.

"I know Dorothy. So am I." I met his gaze, which he held for a few serious seconds, and then he smiled. "Where did you go?"

"A lot of different places. I traveled for a long time, never really settling down. For a while, I was on Earth, in France, working as a manager for a law firm. I jumped around from place to place. So long as it had access to the weekly news, I was fine. You don't realize how much of this stuff in the news is crap until you research it yourself."

Quatre laughed. He asked more questions, which I answered with growing anxiety. After a few minutes, it was too much and I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Why don't you ask me that question Quatre? The one we both know should be asked?" He stared at me as my walls crumbled to the ground and I leaned forward, continuing in an intense, barely controlled whisper. "What gives me the right to come back? What business do I have in a world of peace, a world I almost ruined? Why should I sit here before you, alive and unharmed, when I almost took your life with my own hands?"

There was a heavy silence as he stared at me coolly. After a pregnant pause, he didn't ask. He answered.

"Because I want you to."

The office that was given to me was nice, the decorators that came to dress it up were not. They wanted something light, cheery, and ultra feminine in the office. I didn't. I told them what I wanted, they'd scoffed as if I were the most unfashionable being alive and had begrudgingly obliged. Little did they know that during my younger years in school I had taken two years of mandatory classes in interior design, fashion design, and decorating. They took my "suggestions," as they called them, and ran with it. In the end, they managed to slip in a few items, not of my taste. I eyed them coldly, but said nothing let them have their small victories here and there.

The company suite was spacious and had a fabulous view over a grandiose lake with a ferry that ran a track around it a few times a day. I didn't bother to unpack. I found an apartment that suited my taste before hand and had made an offer. I was moving in two days after I had started working for Quatre. I was given an assistant, a sweet little redhead named Nadia that just graduated high school. She was naïve, bubbly, talkative, a bit air-headed, and every time Quatre was around very, very attentive to him. He pretended not to notice, was very kind to her, but for the most part treated her for what she was. A young admirer, fanatical and flirty.

I'd been there only a short period of time, very short, and already my work was piling up. I hit the intercom, buzzing Nadia to tell her I'd be back, and got up from my desk. My and Quatre's offices were the only two on the fifth floor, either office at one extreme of the narrow hallway. However, hidden between the two offices was another small hallway that led to the bathrooms and connected our offices. I opened this door, walked across the hall and opened Quatre's door after two knocks. The office was empty and I remember him telling me he was going out to lunch. I shook my head, walking in without a sound.

On the corner of his desk were the papers I had asked him to sign off. They were adorned with his light, professional handwriting and had his airy signature on it. I grabbed the stack of papers, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear as I scanned them over quickly. I nodded to myself satisfied, and I turned to leave…

And froze.

I had only seen the face once, but it was engraved in my memory. Here, with the bright sunlight coming in through the large, scenic window, the face looked very different from the first and only time I had seen it. I tried to move, swallow, anything, and found I could do nothing but think what he could possible think of me.