Title: The Devil Has Blue Eyes

By: Aina Song

Fandom(s): Gundam Wing

Genre: Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

Rating: PG-15

Warning(s): Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

Pairing(s): Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

Reviews: Yes, please.

Author's Note: (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so without the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

Teaser: He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

Chapter Fifteen

When he returned to his room Quatre saw that Cathy had placed clean clothes on the bed. In spite of how she felt about his way of dressing, the newly washed and ironed shirt and trousers lay folded neatly for him.

Mariemeia giggled as he picked up the clothes, and Quatre winked at her before stepping behind the bathing screen to change. Against his will he imagined Heero's eyes and wondered how they would look if the blond came downstairs wearing a fine new suit, but then he quickly brushed the thought away as he tucked his shirt into his worn and faded trousers.

"I like your hair," Mariemeia said shyly as he stepped from behind the screen.

Quatre laughed, sitting down next to her legs and leaning closer, letting the strands of his hair fall forward over his shoulder in an invitation for her to appease her curiosity. The girl shyly reached with her hand, and her fingers threaded through his tawny strands.

Gasping, she drew her hand back. "It's so cool and smooth…"

Chuckling again under his breath, he straightened away and began binding his hair into a gypsy's tail. "And how are you feeling this morning, beautiful?"

"I feel good," she whispered timidly. "I… I shouldn't have hid there. Missus Saunders told us not to go outside. But I wanted to find a good place. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Knotting the leather tie, Quatre dropped his arms and looked at her, pretending to think it over. "Well… Far be it from me to invite the wrath of heaven by getting angry with one of its angels."

She smiled, a faint rose coloring her cheeks.

"But Mariemeia," he wondered, hiding a slight frown. "What did you mean about going outside to hide? Don't you remember where we found you?"

She looked at him strangely, then shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders.

"We found you in a hidden room in the library. You remember it, don't you? How you pushed the brick on the fireplace and the bookshelf swung open?"

"No." She was frowning at him as if she didn't understand. He could see she remembered nothing about the hidden panel.

"Where exactly did you hide, sweetheart?"

"In the carriage house," she replied firmly. "I ran outside without anyone seeing me and hid in the carriage house."

"But Mariemeia, that's impossible. We found you in the library."

Her eyes were wide and innocent. She was as confused as he was.

Quatre took a slow breath, not wanting to scare her. "All right. Tell me what happened. Start from when you found your hiding place. Then we'll figure out the rest from there."

She nodded, eager to make him understand. "I went into the carriage house, and I saw the shiny carriages. One of them even has glass windows," she added with a hint of excitement. "I only meant to stay in the carriage house. No one would find me there."

"I'm sure you're right," Quatre said, gently tucking a few strands of vibrant red behind her ear. "What happened then?"

"I sat on the floor and waited. And… and I scratched on the floor, making letters and numbers in the dirt."

"Go on."

"There was a big handle in the floor. I found it when I moved some of the dirt away. It was a door," she whispered, looking at Quatre with a scared look in her eyes. "I… I know I shouldn't have gone down inside. I know I shouldn't have."

She was almost in tears. Quatre pulled her close, cradling her head against his shoulder. "It's all right, Mariemeia. We all do things we shouldn't, sometimes. But I know you learned your lesson. What you did was dangerous; you might've been hurt very badly, you know."

"The… the door closed behind me; I couldn't get out. I was so scared. I don't know how long I walked. It was so dark and cold…"

"It's all right," he whispered into her hair. "You're safe, now."

She pulled away from him, fear lingering in her big blue eyes. "Y-you won't tell Missus Saunders, will you?"

"Absolutely not," he smiled gently. "It's over now; there wouldn't be any point. But promise me you'll never do anything like that again."

She relaxed then, with a whispered little sigh. "I promise."

Quatre would ask Cathy later about the hidden door in the carriage house. There had to be some sort of passageway beneath the estate, or perhaps a storage area. But how Mariemeia had ended up in the library at the far end of the castle was a real mystery.

There was no time to think about it now. He knew Heero was downstairs, waiting for them.

~o~

Heero Yuy was outside, standing beside a shining black buggy. Heero smiled as they came across the front loggia. Mariemeia's eyes grew bright as she looked first to Quatre and then to the fashionable little carriage.

The blond could sense Heero's eyes on him - surveying his worn clothes, no doubt. But to his credit, the darker man said nothing as he took Mariemeia's small hand in his and helped her up the steps into the open carriage.

"My lady," he said, with a low bow to her.

Mariemeia giggled and, with a move that brought a soft smile to Quatre's lips, she took her faded dress in her hands and spread her skirt upon the seat before sitting down.

But then Heero turned to Quatre. With a challenging quirk of his brow, he held out his hand to the blond. Quatre narrowed his eyes and refused to rise to the bait, knocking the hand away and following Mariemeia into the carriage without another look in the darker man's direction. He swore he could hear Heero's soft laughter as the door clicked shut behind him.

They pulled away from the castle, and Quatre breathed a deep sigh, sinking back against the seat. Two minutes with Heero Yuy, and the blond felt he had exhausted all his energy for the day. Yet Mariemeia seemed to deeply enjoy the ride, and so Quatre smiled and listened to her enthusiasm, not wanting to spoil it for her.

The orphanage was not what he had expected - a large white mansion with a columned front porch. Children were playing on the wide front lawn, and they seemed as happy and carefree as any children.

Mariemeia hesitated, moving closer to him on the seat. Quatre felt a rip tear into his chest at having to leave her that day. Kindred spirits. It was almost as if he'd left a part of himself as well.

But Heero was especially good with her. He spoke tenderly and patiently as he helped her down from the carriage.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Quatre asked her.

"No."

"I'll come to see you Saturday. Would you like that?"

Immediately her eyes lit up, and she looked at Quatre with a faint smile. "Yes, sir."

"We'll go to town and wander the market street," he offered, trying to think of something she could look forward to until then.

"Oh! Can we buy you some new clothes?"

Heero lowered his head, trying to hide the grin on his handsome face. He bit his lower lip as he glanced up at Quatre, his dark blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You know something, beautiful?" Quatre answered her, though his gaze was locked on the darker man before him. "You've got yourself a deal."

~o~

Neither he nor Heero had much to say on the trip to Darlian House. Yet it was not an awkward silence. Quatre admired the budding colors of spring and the well-kept homes along the way. Heero seemed intent only on his driving.

Darlian House was on the outskirts of the small town. Quatre took one look and liked it immediately. It wasn't as grand and imposing as Rosemont Castle, but it was just as fine and elegant. The bricks of the house were a pale, sun-warmed tan. The long, low front porch was supported by huge white columns, and at each end, early roses twined in perfumed cascades onto white trellises.

Relena heard their carriage and came out onto the porch to greet them. Quatre thought she was breathtaking with her light brown hair pinned in curls atop her head. The mint-green dress she wore set off her eyes and showed her lovely willowy figure to perfection.

"Quatre Raberba," she greeted, coming toward him with a welcoming smile. "I'm so glad you came."

Remembering her encouraging response when they'd first met, Quatre did as he had done on that night and made a grand performance of bowing to her. "Your humble fool, milady."

She giggled and pulled him upright, hooking her arm through his as she led him through the front door. Next to her, Quatre felt drab and decidedly young and awkward. She was the epitome of a gracious southern young lady, and for the first time he began to truly see how inadequate his own upbringing had been.

But Relena and her mother were both kind, neither mentioning his way of dressing, or even seeming to notice.

As they went into a small parlor just off the entryway, Quatre found a surprise waiting to greet him.

"M-monsieur Merquise…"

"Zechs," the man replied, rising from a chair with a subtle quirk of his lips. "I thought perhaps one more familiar face could not hurt."

Quatre swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. Somehow, the older blond's presence made him feel less a stranger, and Quatre sensed he knew that.

Zechs sighed, drawing Quatre into a brief, polite embrace. "Seeing you again is a welcome pleasure."

Quatre stole a quick glance toward Heero, wanting to see the darker man's face when he realized that not everyone regarded Quatre as either a child or a nuisance. But Heero's hooded eyes revealed little as he watched them. There was only a slight, amused smile on his lips.

The afternoon was close to perfection. Quatre had never been made to feel more at home. It seemed Missus Darlian's new attitude toward him was to remain, and it made him feel hopeful. Relena proved yet again her exuberance, flirting outrageously with Heero and then with Zechs. Monsieur Merquise was much too old for her, but it seemed not to bother her one bit. And Zechs seemed to enjoy it tremendously, though one would never guess from his perfectly poised mannerisms and that ever present half-smile.

Quatre found himself so caught up in their conversation, that when Relena asked about his life as a gypsy, he immediately started to regale them with a tale about Rasid before he caught himself. He mentally cursed himself, horrified he had forgotten to be careful. Missus Darlian had stiffened noticeably as she rose from her chair.

"I-I'm sorry, Missus Darlian. I wasn't thinking…"

"It's all right, child," she said, more kindly than he expected. "Everyone in this room knows about Rasid. We are all friends here. Besides, he is one of the reasons I asked you to come today."

"He is?"

Missus Darlian went across the room to a massive walnut desk and opened one of the drawers. When she came back she handed a small, framed picture to Quatre. "Do you recognize this man?" She asked quietly.

He was much younger, his expression more carefree than ever. But there could be no mistake.

"Rasid," Quatre whispered, emotion thick in his throat.

"You see, Heero," Missus Darlian said, turning to him. "It is Rasid. Now can you deny this is the boy Treize lost so many years ago?"

With a heavy sigh, Heero placed his cup on a nearby table and stood up. "I have never said he did not know Rasid."

"But-"

"Missus Darlian," he said quickly. "I appreciate your feelings, but there's been enough speculation. If you don't mind, I'd prefer to wait until the investigation is concluded."

The room grew very quiet, and they all sensed that the pleasant afternoon had come to an end. Quatre still held Rasid's picture. It was great to see him again. Ever since Quatre had come to Rosemont his life had been filled with a new excitement, and he'd hardly had time to remember the nomadic life he'd had with Rasid. But the picture brought it all back with a clarity that stole his very breath.

"You may keep it if you like, Quatre," Missus Darlian said quietly when he attempted to hand it back to her.

"I-I would," he stammered, bringing his hand back. "Thank you. I didn't have a picture of him, before."

"I'm afraid all this talk has spoiled your fine smile," Zechs lamented, coming to stand beside him. "Would you like me to take you home? We could go round by way of the vineyards. You said you enjoyed the sight."

Heero stepped forward, surprisingly fast. "That's not necessary, Zechs. I'll take him home as planned."

"No," Quatre argued, standing to face the older blond. "I think a ride with you is just what I need."

"But lad," Missus Darlian began. "Monsieur Merquise is on horseback… surely you don't intend…"

Quatre's spirits lifted immediately, and he didn't care at all how it would look with both of them riding one horse. A ride was just the thing to shake the gloomy clouds from his mind. "I'm ready," he said, turning to Zechs with a smile.

Zechs laughed, a soft chuckle that rumbled deep in his throat. "Then let us be on our way."

Quatre didn't look back, didn't want to see the disapproval in Heero's eyes. He truly had been acting the fool, thinking the darker man might ever accept him as he was. Perhaps it was time to stop reaching for the impossible.