Quatre burst through the double doors of Memorial West, bypassing the memorabilia of the soldiers that were saved in this very hospital during the Great War. He made his way towards the surgery ward and was stopped by a security guard at a desk.

"Name?" he asked, bored.

"Quatre Rebarba Winner."

The man was about to ask another pure formality before sending him on his way when something clicked and he glanced at something scrawled onto a clip board.

"Mr. Winner, you've been pre-cleared. Here's your pass." He handed Quatre a white key-card and motioned through the double doors behind him. "He's in there."

He? Quatre gave a preoccupied nod of appreciation and stepped through the set of doors behind the guard. The surgery ward was almost empty at this hour. Only emergency surgeries were being preformed. There was one man, standing with his back to the doors, watching the TV set put in the upper right hand corner of the room.

The man turned, having heard the soft footfalls behind him. This, in and of itself, was a feat to be admired because Quatre had learnt long ago how to tread almost noiselessly. But this was to be expected because the man standing before him had learnt long ago how to detect a noiseless footfall. He had thick, unchecked, shaggy brown hair that flopped over the nape of his neck and down his forehead into his even, unwavering eyes. His deep, cobalt blue eyes were usually cold and imposing, like ice, but they sparked with a deep warmth as they settled on Quatre's familiar face.

"Heero Yuy," Quatre said, a smile crossing his lips. It was weary, but genuine and truly appreciated. "When Une said someone would be here to meet me, I never expected it to be you."

Heero gave a small smile in response. "Me neither, but I'm the one who found her."

Quatre's brow furrowed. "Tell me, Heero."

Heero glanced at the door where Dorothy Catalonia had disappeared, bloodied and broken. He'd been walking down Main, head hung low. Another night he hadn't been able to sleep. They'd been coming less and less, but they still came. He had to walk, clear his head. That was when he'd heard the powerful whine of an engine, protesting at being pushed too hard. Then came the splintering of glass, tires screeching, a sharp honk, a tremendous crash… more glass breaking. He broke into a run, following the sound.

The scene exploded around him. The black BMW was crumpled and destroyed. Glass had rained down over the sidewalk, the hood, the driver. He caught a glimpse of pale blond in the seat. Stepping closer, he recognized the face. Dorothy was unconscious and slumped in an ever-growing pool of blood. Glass was strewn in her lap, her hair, embedded in her skin. There was a muted voice coming from the one working speaker.

"…Catalonia… Dorothy! Are you there? Answer me Agent Catalonia. Goddamn it… Dorothy!"

Heero rounded the car and forced open the passenger-side door. The driver's side was mangled and useless. Totally inaccessible. He flicked the talk button on the car's steering wheel for the inlaid phone.

"Une," he said.

"Yuy?" the voice was angry with confusion. She didn't understand what was going on.

"I'm taking her to a hospital." Heero rummaged in Dorothy's pockets until he found what he was looking for. "I've got her phone. Call me."

He stuffed the phone into his pocket, ripped out the control system and took out the hard drive. He shoved that into his pocket too. Then he gently pulled Dorothy out by her arms, trying not to lodge anymore glass into the prone, bleeding girl. He hefted her up into his arms, blood staining him. He came up to a large SUV parked on the street nearby and shifted Dorothy in his arms to get at an electronic keypad in his pocket. He wiped the computer of the car with a click and the doors unlocked. Heero maneuvered her into the back seat and hopped up into the front just as the phone rang.

Heero looked back at Quatre. "She's been shot in the base of the neck. She had specialized glass in her car."

"Bullet proof?"

"Apparently not 'proof' enough, but it might have saved her life. The glass slowed the bullet considerably and retarded its trajectory. If my guess is right, it was aimed at her temple. It got her neck."

"When is your guess ever wrong, Heero?"

Heero sighed, glancing once again at the door.

"I tried to ask Une, but she never answered," Quatre said suddenly, arms crossed over his chest. "Why did the Preventers call me?"

Heero's deep blue eyes cut into his clear green ones.

"She was just a couple of miles from your house. She was going to you, Quatre."