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 Twenty-Two

He fell asleep again sometime near dawn, just as the birds began to rustle and sing in branches of the huge old oaks surrounding the castle. He didn't wake again until mid-morning. Remembering the outing, he jumped hurriedly from his bed and bathed quickly. He dressed once again in his old clothes, telling himself it would be for the last time.

He found Hiromi in her room, sitting peacefully in a rocking chair near the window. A basket of sewing was in her lap. She glanced up at him with a patient smile. "Ah, there you are. Are you feeling better?" She asked with a touch of concern in her eyes.

"Yes, thank you," Quatre said. "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by sleeping so late."

"Of course not, dear," she smiled. "It is your trip, and I was only too happy to let you sleep after your terrible night. Have you eaten yet? Let me have Chang bring you some breakfast."

"No, please," he shook his head before she could rise from her chair. "That's not necessary. Just give me a minute to run into the kitchen and then I'll be ready."

She nodded. "I'll tidy myself up a bit and meet you in the entry hall."

Quatre could smell the aroma of baking bread in the hallway before he reached the kitchen. The scent made his stomach growl. Sally was just pulling a pan from the oven and she looked up as he came in. "Well, child, where have you been? I've hardly spoken to you since that first day. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm fine. But I'll admit to being a bit hungry; I could smell the biscuits all the way down the hall."

She laughed. "I'm always glad to hear someone appreciating my cooking. Set yourself down here. I'll get the butter out of the cooling well." She brought a blue earthenware dish that contained a mound of pale creamy butter glistening with moisture. Then she poured tea for Quatre, and coffee for herself, and sat across from him.

"I've been wanting to talk to you, anyway," Sally said.

"What is it?" He asked, swallowing a sip of hot tea.

"I heard what that woman said to you yesterday… that Dorothy. Pay her no mind, lad. She didn't know your mother at all."

"D-did you?"

"She was a fine woman, I can tell you that. Everyone thought the world of her. Now, I don't know why she felt she had to leave, but there must have been good reason. Because she loved you and your father more than anything in the world. And don't let anybody tell you any different."

Quatre had the tiniest bit of trouble swallowing his mouthful, due to the sudden lump in his throat. His eyes stung wetly, but he blinked back the tears as he looked up and met her gaze. "Thank you, Sally, for saying that."

She reached across and patted his hand. "Just telling the truth. Now, you'd best not keep the Lady Khushrenada waiting much longer. Besides, we can't wait to see you in all your new finery."

Wufei was coming down the hallway toward the kitchen just as Quatre was rushing out, and the blond nearly collided into the man in his haste. But Wufei was apparently very light on his feet, for he twisted his body back against the wall in the last instant, his mouth quirking in amused recognition as he allowed Quatre to pass. "Morning, young sir."

"Good morning, Wufei," he laughed, passing him by. "Goodbye, Wufei!"

The man turned in the hallway to watch him go. Wufei was smirking and shaking his head as if in disapproval. But Quatre knew better.

Hiromi was waiting for him in the entry hall. She looked beautiful, with her shining brown hair brushed upward beneath a little hat of red. Her dress was of some delicate shimmering material that looked expensive. It was navy, with narrow stripes of red that ran down the skirt and outlined the narrow collar. A row of tiny red buttons went from her collar to a point just below her waist.

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning around and holding out the skirt as she saw his look.

"Yes," Quatre breathed. "Y-you look…"

Her smile grew as she realized he was at a loss for words. "Why, thank you, dear. But today is about you, so let's see what we can't do with it, shall we?" She took a delicate ruffled umbrella from a stand near the door. It was made of the same striped material as her dress.

The rain and fog had cleared, although moisture still dripped from the trees along the road way. Sometimes their carriage would brush a limb, sending a spray of raindrops into the air around them. The pale rays of the sun turned the drops into sparkling dots of crystal.

They stopped at the orphanage for Mariemeia. She was ready and waiting for them. When they pulled to the door, she ran out and was stopped by one of the matrons. The woman laughed at her, whispering something into her ear, then gave her a little push toward the carriage.

Mariemeia walked decorously to the carriage and stepped inside like a delicate little doll. They waved to the matron as they pulled away and settled Mariemeia beside Hiromi on the soft leather seat.

"What did she say to you, beautiful?" Quatre asked from his seat opposite them.

She looked at him shyly. "She said to remember that I was a lady, and that ladies don't run."

It was a perfect day. Quatre almost forgot the terror of the previous night in the warm glow of the spring morning. Hiromi surprised him with her spontaneity and good-natured laughter. Away from the gloom of the castle she was a different person. The only time the blond saw her become upset was when the man in the small tailor shop took off his glasses and looked Quatre over with a smirk of disbelief.

"Mister Clemons," Hiromi said quietly in her coolest, most sophisticated voice. "This is Quatre Raberba Khushrenada, Treize Khushrenada's son. I'm sure you will want to take very special care of his needs."

"Yes… Yes, Lady Khushrenada," the man stammered. "Yes, of course."

They spent hours in the shop, picking out the finest materials, taking Quatre's measurements… He was turned and prodded, looked at from head to toe. Mariemeia giggled nearly nonstop at his obvious discomfort, and when Hiromi insisted on buying two dresses for her as well, the little girl seemed ready to burst with joy.

It was a busy day, and when it ended and they took Mariemeia home, all of them were happily exhausted.

"Goodbye, beautiful," Quatre called as they drove away. "I'll see you again next week."

"She's a sweet child," Hiromi said as she leaned wearily back against her seat.

"Thank you for being so kind to her."

"Think nothing of it," she said modestly. "I wish I could help all the children at the orphanage. I know what it is like to be alone, without a home…" She broke off, looking at him with a tremulous little smile. "I suppose you've wondered about your father and me."

"Yes," he said simply. "I have. I'm afraid I chewed him out about you. Did he tell you?"

"Yes, he did. And he apologized to me for all the years of neglect."

"I suppose I was too blunt…"

"No, dear," she shook her head. "I should thank you. I believe you are a miracle, come to save us."

Quatre frowned at her, waiting for her teasing laughter to follow.

"I'm serious," she said. "If you had not come, your father probably would have died with the melancholy still upon him. And I'd have felt guilty for the rest of my life because I could not help him."

"Th-then things are better… between the two of you?"

"Yes," she said in a breathless little whisper. "Better than I ever dreamed possible." She paused, smiling. "Of course, it will take time. He's still terribly weak and in poor health from the years of neglecting himself. And there may be days when he will fall back into his old habits. I pray not, but he might. I only wish… I mean, I'd like you to consider me family, too. Is that asking too much? I know I can never take your mother's place…" She stopped and looked down at her hands in her lap, as though afraid she'd said too much.

"Hiromi. I already consider you family." He shrugged, embarrassed. "You and Zechs are the only ones who… who welcomed me as openly as my father."

"The others will come around, dear… Heero, too." It was as though she could read his thoughts.

They said no more about it the rest of the way home, but enjoyed the warm spring day. The back of the buggy was loaded with packages, and more would be delivered after some final adjustments were made.

They had just entered the hall when Wufei came hurrying toward them. "Mister Quatre Raberba," he panted. "Mister Yuy wishes to see you as soon as you arrive. He's in the library."

Quatre glanced at Hiromi, who smiled and nodded. "I'll see you at dinner," she said. "Please don't forget; I'm sure your father will love to see you in your new clothes."

The blond went directly to the library and knocked on the door. Despite the bright spring day, the library as usual was dark and bathed in shadow. The small windows let in almost no light, and the dark wood panels seemed to absorb what little there was.

Heero stood near the fireplace with a sheaf of papers in his hands. He turned as Quatre came in, and the look in his eyes was different that the blond had seen before. He felt a lurch in his stomach, wondering whether the darker man was angry with him for some reason.

"Heero?"

"How was your trip?"

"Fine. What's wrong?"

He laughed softly, "You do believe in getting straight to the point, don't you?"

"Blame it on living with a caravan of gypsies who enjoy picking into each other's secrets."

"Is that so? Interesting," he said. He sat on the corner of the large desk and then tossed the sheaf of papers onto it. "The investigation is complete."

"And?"

"And… I'm afraid it's inconclusive as far as proving who you are. Rasid Darlian was indeed the man who raised you, and he did take Treize's son away from Rosemont. He was seen only a few weeks later traveling in a caravan with a young child whom he claimed as his son. But as far we can tell, Rasid raised you alone. The question still remains as to what happened to Leia Khushrenada. Did Rasid take the son to her and help them to escape somehow? It would seem likely, would it not? And if he did, then who are you?"

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

"How so?"

"You have proof Rasid took Quatre Raberba. I spent my entire life with him, so I must be that child."

Heero gazed at him noncommittally.

"Oh," Quatre muttered. "That's right, you don't believe me."

"Then what happened to Leia? No one who knew her would believe she freely gave up her only child."

"I-I don't know… I barely remember her. Rasid always told me my mother was dead."

"When we first met you said you didn't remember her."

"And I didn't, then. But something recently has helped me to remember."

"What was it?"

"Her perfume. I found a bottle of her perfume, and the scent brought back a few memories. I do remember her. I remember her holding me, and I remember the scent of orange blossoms."

Heero looked at him for a long while, slowly asking, "And where did you come upon this perfume bottle?"

"In the tower," Quatre admitted, seeing no reason to lie.

"Treize's shrine," he nodded with a little snort of derision. "And did you see the portrait?"

"Yes." The blond looked at him oddly, noting the change in the darker man's tone of voice.

"What did you think of it?"

"Well, I… I thought she looked so alive in the picture, so vibrant and…" The knowing glint in Heero's gaze caused him to break off.

"Sensual? Erotic?"

"Y-yes, I suppose."

"Zechs painted it."

Quatre's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What?"

"Yes, warabe," the darker man said with a slow, arrogant smirk. "Zechs, your quiet, staid gentleman. He painted that torrid portrait of Leia one hot summer when he visited here. You saw in his work what I told you before, didn't you?"

He had said Zechs was in love with Quatre's mother, but the blond had not wanted to believe it. But now there was no way to deny it. In the wildness of the portrait was a sensual, pleasure-loving woman who seemed to be looking with teasing, loving eyes at the artist. Zechs' own vision, the way he had chosen to see Quatre's mother.

Quatre felt his legs grow weak, and he stumbled back and collapsed into a chair. "I can't believe it…"

"Believe it, kawaii."

After a long moment, he lifted his head and focused his gaze upon the darker man before him. "I had intended to ask you… about my mother. Was there any news of her during the investigation?"

Heero stood and walked around the desk toward him. "Nothing. It's as if she vanished from the face of the earth. There were no reports of her anywhere after that last day she was seen here at the castle."

Drawing in a slow breath, Quatre lowered his head again, disappointed and more than a little hurt by the lack of information.

Heero reached forward and lifted the blond's chin, sinking to his knees before the blond to look deep into his eyes. "I almost believe you care, warabe."

"She's my mother," Quatre snapped in a fierce whisper. "Of course I'd care."

The darker man gave an unexpectedly tender look. "I'll make a deal with you, then."

"What kind of deal?"

"I will say nothing negative about the investigation to Treize. He's already said he believes you to be his son, so I'll let him continue to believe it. I will say nothing else to dispute your claim. As you said, after all, it's a distinct possibility - even though it was not proven."

"All right," Quatre said slowly, leaning back into the chair with narrowed eyes. "A-and what would you want in return?"

A slow smirk crossed his face as he surveyed the faint flush of color in the blond's face. "Candid, as always." He stood, drawing back a step to put a respectable bit of space between them. "But no… I'm not in the habit of bargaining for that. It might surprise you to know that when I take a lover, it is because they want it as much as I do."

Heero turned and walked around to the sheaf of papers. He tossed them into the fireplace and lit a match to them. "What I want," he said, turning around again, "is your promise that if you're lying, you will never reveal that lie to Treize."

"I'm not lying!" Quatre shouted, jumping to his feet. "Why can't you get over yourself and accept that?"

"If you are lying, you must never tell him, do you hear me? It's too late for that now… it would kill him." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the stonework of the fireplace. "He's coming out of the darkness for the first time in years. And as much as I hate to admit it, we owe that to you. All I ask is that you behave as his son, with love and respect to both him and my mother."

There was a hint of pain, of vulnerability, in Heero's dark blue eyes that he couldn't hide in that instant. It surprised Quatre, as well as his own sudden, strong urge to erase that look of pain forever.

"I promise."

Author's Note: Omigod, still not there yet? Had faith, mine readers!