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 Eighteen

He couldn't sleep. The dark visions behind his closed eyes were too vivid and too disturbing.

He saw Heero, saw the stormy depths of his eyes and the angry look on his handsome face. He heard Heero's whispered words again and again. "Damn you… damn you." And Quatre was torn between misery at his reproval and exultation at remembering his kiss.

He knew Heero had kissed him for all the wrong reasons; there had been no pretense of affection. He had meant to punish Quatre, to prove to the blond that his attentions to Zechs were wrong.

If only Heero knew how unnecessary it was. How could he imagine anyone would prefer Zechs to a man like himself? But of course, now more than ever, Quatre felt he could not let Heero see that. The blond dared not let him know how deeply he was affected by the darker man, by that searing touch.

Groaning, he flung the covers aside and went to stand at the windows. It was then that he saw the light again in the upper level of the castle. A quick jolt of energy raced through him as he stared at the dim, flickering lights.

The young gypsy had sensed from the beginning that all was not right in Rosemont Castle. It nothing he could put his finger on, exactly, more a feeling than anything else. There were too many words unspoken, too many glances that had gone unexplained. He couldn't be certain what it was, but instinctively he knew the light in the tower had something to do with it all.

Quatre left a lamp burning in his room and hurried into the deserted hallway and toward the wing of the castle where the tower stood. As he neared the library he hesitated. It was pitch dark there, and in the middle of the night that part of the castle was deserted.

He recalled the day they'd pulled Mariemeia from the hidden room here. As he opened he door and stepped inside he could not resist a glance toward the hidden panel. There was another mystery that had gone unexplained. As soon as his father was better, Quatre intended to ask him about the castle and whether there were underground passages.

Slowly he crossed the room to the narrow spiraling stairway that led to the tower. On the second landing there was a door. He opened it cautiously and was met immediately by a cool gust of wind. Quatre could see that this part of the tower was surrounded by four open breezeways; he approached one and looked down.

The wind in his ears made all other sounds impossible to hear. He looked for a moment upon part of the castle, able to see even in the darkness the number of gaunt chimneys and quaint dormers with their pyramidal dunce caps. There seemed to be large black holes in the rooftop, but on closer examination he saw it was only where the courtyards and gardens lay.

Another stairway led upward to the third landing and yet another closed door. This time Quatre did not open the door, but stood outside on the stairs, listening. He could see the light beneath the door and knew this was the room he had seen from across the way. He heard it then, the low rumble of another man's voice. Drawing in a quick breath he stepped back, afraid whoever it was would open the door and find him there.

But then he recognized the voice. It was Treize Khushrenada, his father, who spoke. The older man sounded mournful, almost prayerful, and Quatre could make out his words quite well.

"He's a wonderful boy, Leia. You would be proud of him. He seems to have all the qualities you held dear. I wish you could see him."

He was speaking of Quatre, and his words left the blond with a bittersweet ache in his heart.

"I'm going to stop drinking," he said, his voice coming nearer to the door. Quatre stepped back into the shadows, not wanting to be found there, spying on him. "He says I must do it for myself," Treize continued. There was a touch of laughter in his voice; "So I won't bother telling him that I could not do it if it weren't for him." He laughed aloud then, a sound that lifted Quatre's heart. "He has your spirit, my sweet, your stubbornness. He makes me feel alive again."

Quatre could hear his father's footsteps come close to the door, then turn and retreat again. Why had Treize come here? Was this a special place for him and Quatre's mother?

Treize's footsteps stopped. "I've come to bid you farewell, my sweet Leia," he said softly. "I will always love you, and for the first time I feel that wherever you are, you know that. I hold no more bitterness toward you or Rasid. I am at peace… and I want you to be. But Quatre Raberba is right; I have wallowed in my own pity for far too long. And I've hurt those who've loved and taken care of me. There was never anything between Hiromi and me, my love, not while I was married to you. But afterward, when you left… she was so wonderfully kind to me, so sweet and caring. And you know how much I loved her boy. Now it's time for me to repay them by being the kind of husband and father I should have been all along. It's no longer merely a duty, but something I want to do. Quatre Raberba made me see that… and that being sober is the only way I can accomplish it, the only way our lives will finally be happy. It's what I want… and I know you would want it for me too." There was a quiet resolution in his voice. There was sadness too, but more than anything Quatre heard the determination, the ring of strength in his words that told the blond he meant it.

"I won't come back to the tower, my sweet, to this place where we so often surveyed our home. But you chose another life, and now I must also. This room has too many memories of the past, and my life must now be for the future." His footsteps moved again toward the door.

Quickly Quatre ran down the stairs to the open air of the second level. He hid behind the stairwell there, waiting until his father had descended. He did not want to embarrass Treize by revealing he'd been overheard. Treize came slowly down the steps, pausing for a moment to glance out one of the open windows. Then, with a contented sigh, he opened the door and went down to the library.

So he was the one who had come to the tower. Quatre wondered how many times in the past year his father had come here. But the blond's curiosity was not satisfied; he wanted to look at the room and see for himself where both his parents had stood in the early days of their marriage to gaze with pride over their own small kingdom.

Quatre let himself into the tower room. Because of the wide windows the tiny area was bright, allowing him to see the gleam of a nearby lamp. He lit the wick and turned with a sharply indrawn breath to an easel that stood in one corner of the enclosure.

He felt as though he was looking into a mirror. This portrait of his mother was very different from the first he had seen. There was a wild, erotic look to it - not only in her, but in the dark, windswept background as well.

Her hair was fashionably short, reaching just above her shoulders, but was blown back from her face by some fierce unseen wind. Her blonde curls looked wild and unruly, which explained the untamable attribute of Quatre's own hair. And in her eyes was a joyful mischief that was missing in the more staid, respectable portrait downstairs. Behind her the sky was black and stormy, illuminating the pale green rows of the vineyard. Quatre felt hypnotized by the painting, and by the woman.

Treize had placed the portrait here, in this special place. And he came here for comfort whenever he felt the need. Quatre wondered if Hiromi knew of this room, of his father's undying obsession. The entire upper room of the tower was like a small shrine to Leia's memory.

There was a sparkling cut-glass bottle standing in the midst of various pieces of jewelry upon a lacquered table. Quatre touched his fingers to its heavy glass cork, carefully lifting it away, and a poignant scent of orange blossoms was released, dominating the room. Tears filled his eyes as he turned back to the portrait, powerful memories of that same scent from somewhere long ago rising to the surface.

"Mother…"

He only barely resisted the impulse to steal the perfume bottle, if only to have her scent with him always. But he reluctantly replaced the glass cork and turned away.

Once back in his room, he blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. He wanted more than ever to find her, wherever she might have been. Of course, there was the possibility she had died. That was what Rasid had always said. But now he couldn't be certain that hadn't simply been a story his guardian had concocted to soothe a lonely child.

Quatre was determined to find her, but it was not something he felt he could burden his father with - not now, after Treize had said his final goodbyes to her. And Zechs was not familiar enough with this country to be of much help. That left only Heero. But how was Quatre to approach him after what had happened tonight?

Just thinking of the darker man made Quatre shiver beneath his covers - that, and the way Heero had kissed him. The blond would have to steel himself to confront the other man in a businesslike way and not let Heero see how he affected him. For he sensed Heero Yuy was the kind of man who enjoyed his power, enjoyed any advantage he might have over someone. He was bound to see and recognize Quatre's attraction to him. Quatre hated the thought of that being used against him.