standard disclaimers apply
III
The study door, when she next went by, was open. Relena and Wufei were gone; Quatre was standing, leaning against the back of his desk, quite alone. She went in.
Quatre was quiet. Dorothy found the silence agreeable; she felt a stirring of affection at the sight of him staring up at the ceiling, apparently so lost in thought that he didn't even notice her as she moved about the room, switching on lights and putting things in their place, just so. When she arrived at his side, she went so far as to rest her head against his shoulder.
Six weeks after her father died, when Dorothy was eleven years old, she'd carried out her first experiment with masturbation. It was carefully planned: she had recently and covertly acquired a small vibrating dildo for the purpose. She had reached the age that adults - men, to be specific - were beginning to pay attention, to look at her as if she might, one day, become someone of interest. Who mattered. Her newly widowed mother had just returned them to her own childhood home; unable to face the demands of the estate alone, Galina Catalonia had sought refuge with her father, Duke Dermail. Dorothy was left largely to her own devices in this new house, which was as she liked it. She kept her father's pistols underneath her bed and covetously opened the case to touch them every time she was alone. The sight of them filled her with determination and a delicious sense of anticipation for her adulthood, when the guns would fit her hand and she would achieve whatever she set out to do. She brought them out to look at briefly before she began her experiment. She wanted to be prepared for whatever lay before her.
She stripped naked and lay for some minutes with the vibrator squeezed between her legs and waited for something to happen. Eventually, she began to grow bored and wondered just what the big deal about all this was supposed to be. She began to regret her purchase - the vibrator had been expensive, and there were other things she would have been happy to spend the money on. She almost didn't catch it when the sensation between her legs began to change, it was such a slight thing at first, and then it kept threatening to slip away. But once she could tell there was something more to be had, she persisted, fidgeting until -
"How would you like to get a dog?" Quatre asked her, and Dorothy tumbled from her reverie.
"What good would a dog be on a colony?" she replied, a little huffily. She would have withdrawn backwards, but Quatre reached out and caught up her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.
"Plenty of people have dogs in the colonies. They're good pets, aren't they? If we had one, it could keep you company whenever I'm not here, for instance. I've never had one myself, but I've often thought I might like to. They're so heartening to be around. Heero said something along those lines to me once…"
So this was about Heero, Dorothy realized, and almost laughed. "I don't think we need trouble ourselves with getting a pet just yet," she said, "and certainly not a dog, not here. Dogs need more than can be found on a colony. They need a purpose, a job to do. You can't deny a creature its purpose, you know; it's cruel. And if you do try, sooner or later the animal will turn on you."
Her father had kept a pair of greyhounds up until his death; Dorothy had grown up with those dogs. Whenever he was home General Catalonia would take them out on long hunting trips while Dorothy quietly burned with jealousy. That was how dogs ought to be kept, not as lapdogs to be coddled and stroked. After the General's death, the day before they had finally departed the family home to reside with Duke Dermail, Galina finally couldn't bear it any more and ordered the two bitches shot. At the time, it had felt like the murder of the last piece of her father, but looking back now Dorothy was certain it had been the right thing to do. Duke Dermail was not a hunter; the animals would have had no place in her grandfather's home.
A frown was creasing Quatre's brow, she saw. Reaching out, she ran her hand over his face and smoothed it away. "What did Heero have to say, then?" she asked him.
"Oh, it was nothing much. We'd just returned to Earth and an Alliance squadron were nominally holding us captive. Really, they didn't care; there was very little of the Alliance left, at that point. They let us go out onto the beach with their dogs and Heero encouraged me to play with them. It's the feeling I remember more than anything else. The freedom, that letting go of tension. I hadn't given myself permission to do that. I needed it. I was…so grateful. We escaped that night because the captain purposefully left only the dogs to guard us. I'm sure he knew they wouldn't bark at our movements. This was right before we came to Cinq, actually. Right before you and I met for the first time."
"Feeling sentimental?" she teased.
He laughed quietly, the sound barely more than a breath of air, and turned into her, reaching round to enfold her into his arms. "Grateful, still," he murmured into her neck.
She felt a tentative flush of something spread through her at the words. The room was so quiet, so distant from everything else that had happened, was happening. Suddenly breathless, she whispered urgently, "Oh, Quatre, if only you and I were the only two people in the world, I really feel I could be almost happy." It was the truth. Removed from everyone - Trowa, Berta - her would-be judge and jury of society peers and secret backstabbers on Earth - she felt…better. Kinder. Whole. How could Quatre be like this all the time, she wondered enviously. It was unfair. She had only this little room. They would never really be alone, for all his arms squeezed her with the seeming promise that they might.
She thought back to that first, fleeting pulse between her legs when she was eleven. The way it had expanded, bubble-like, until it - until she - had finally, wonderfully burst with an intensity that lifted her clear off the bed. She had felt so hot afterwards; her entire body drenched with sweat. She couldn't stop trembling. She'd lain atop her bedcovers feeling her body sing until she'd fallen fast asleep.
"I don't know what to do about this business with Heero," Quatre said to her.
When she'd woken up, someone else had been and gone from her room: They had covered her naked body with a sheet. The dildo had been removed from her grip; she found it neatly put away inside a drawer. For an awful moment, mortification had paralyzed her. Caught. What would they say to her? What would they do?
Then she thought again of her father's pistols, waiting for her to be strong enough to wield them. Defiance stirred in her chest.
Whoever had come into her room sought to shame her, but secretly. It was a coward's way, the methodology of a person too afraid to face her down. She was the one with power, with victory in her grasp. All she had to do was remain uncowed. After that, it was easy. The knowledge made it so. It was a lesson she never forgot, the power of being unashamed.
Dorothy took a deep breath and came back to herself. "What did Wufei find?"
Quatre didn't answer immediately. His fingers ran up and down her spine, almost absentmindedly. He sighed. "I probably oughtn't to share the specifics. If it was me, I wouldn't like to know it was the subject of discussion before I'd even been informed. You know the main gist of it anyway. The difficulty is knowing how and when to tell him. If we should. After today, I'm feeling especially sensitive to the whole thing. It's…well, the similarities cut close."
Dorothy tilted her head to examine Quatre from the corner of one eye. There seemed so little point in dancing around it; from all that had been said it seemed obvious what had happened. But, delicately, she continued to probe: "Relena said Wufei wants it put in the public realm. It must be of some significance to more than just Heero."
"It's something that never should have happened," Quatre acknowledged, his voice growing stronger with outrage on his friend's behalf. "It was a gross breach of ethics, not to mention law. Wufei and Relena know more about the legality than I do, but it sounds like there would be plenty there to prosecute if the people involved can be found."
"Hmm. And did you offer to tell Heero for them, in the end? That seems like the simplest solution."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, the only reason Relena's so opposed to telling Heero immediately is because of her relationship with Wufei. Don't tell me she wasn't just up here hinting at your being the best person for the job, it was obvious when I spoke to her yesterday that was what she really wanted."
Quatre was staring at her, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. It was really a most gratifying expression. "Her relationship with Wufei?" he repeated. "You mean…she's left Heero? I had no idea! Why, they never even hinted!"
"Didn't they? How peculiar. She was very up front about it yesterday, with me."
Quatre was clearly still flabbergasted, but there was irritation there, too; he disengaged himself from her to pace the study. "If that's all it takes then I'm happy to do it, of course, but I wish they would have said something!" A moment later, "I can understand, I suppose, why they didn't. It's certainly a delicate enough situation…"
"That should suit you well," Dorothy murmured, at which Quatre let out a short bark of laughter.
"I'm glad that makes one of us who thinks so," he said, pulling a face. With a sigh, he sank down into the desk chair, grimacing again when his eyes landed on whatever was displayed on his computer screen. Dorothy walked around to take a look; Quatre didn't stop her.
"You've been researching your mother!"
"I don't have your talent for it," Quatre replied, gesturing dismissively at what he had found. It was government records accessed from the local L4 database: birth certificate; marriage certificate; death certificate. "This doesn't tell me anything."
"On the contrary. You just don't know how to read the story."
He caught up her hand and threaded their fingers together. "Tell it to me, then?"
With an indulgent smile she tapped the screen by the marriage certificate. It backed up what Berta had told her. "Sixteen years old when she married your father. A young girl still, wouldn't you say? What did she see when she looked at him? It's not so difficult to imagine, is it?"
"Well when you put it like that…" Quatre said with an abashed laugh. He gave her hand a squeeze, running his thumb gently over hers. "You know, when I was looking at it before you came in, none of that occurred to me. It was just a document on a screen, confirming the date of a marriage; completely meaningless. But you take one look, and suddenly there's a human being there. You are remarkable, you know? I know I say it a lot, but it's true."
"I've had practice." She smirked at him. "Did you think, when you and I met in Cinq, that I hadn't found out all I could about you beforehand?"
He returned her grin. "And did I live up to your expectations?"
"Oh, yes. And then some. You and Heero both. Your commitment to your battles… I could see it in you from the start… It was your willingness to die that made your lives burn so brightly. You were beautiful."
He didn't pull away, but she immediately sensed she'd made him uncomfortable. She thought she knew why: This was the closest she'd come to repeating the sentiments she'd once expressed to him on Libra. Quatre had thought all that long put to rest. "I never wanted to die, Dorothy."
"Of course not! That would have spoiled everything. But you were willing to, for your cause."
He didn't answer for some moments. When at last he did, his voice was muted. "It was a long time ago. We're at peace now. There's no need to take risks like that anymore."
"Yes." She, too, let some time go by before she asked, "Would you fight again, if it ever came to it?"
Quatre let out a heavy sigh. "I think about that often, but truthfully, I don't know the answer. The Gundams have all been destroyed. I don't know what else I would be able to offer without Sandrock. And we've made so much progress. I don't know what it would take to make me fight again." He met her eye and gave her a sad smile. "Let's hope we never have to find out, shall we?" He didn't ask her if she would ever fight again. Perhaps he thought he knew the answer. Perhaps he didn't want to know. Perhaps he was afraid. Perhaps he should be. Instead he said, "You were going to tell me, earlier, what else you'd found out about my mother."
"Oh, yes. Before Miss Relena interrupted us. Here, allow me." She took over his computer for a few moments. The documents were readily available on the L4 database; immigration papers for Thibaut Raberba. Photograph, date of arrival, place of origin all neatly laid out for any budding researcher. "Quatrine's father."
Quatre looked at the information eagerly, then back to her, waiting for her to elaborate. "What do you make of it?" she prompted him.
At the challenge, he leaned forward in his seat to study the information again, looking every inch the devoted pupil hoping to impress teacher. "He was a young man when he emigrated. There's no reference to dependents, so presumably he was still a bachelor at the time. We should be able to locate a marriage certificate to confirm that without much difficulty. AC 152. Let's see, industry was booming then, threatening to outpace the mining yields on Earth for the first time. I suppose he came hoping to make his fortune."
"He looks the ambitious sort, doesn't he," Dorothy agreed, contemplating the face shown in the photo. "He was the second son, so it would have been in his best interest to strike out on his own."
"I suppose he must have done all right for himself, if his daughter and my father ran in the same social circles. It would have been challenging, though, with the travel embargo starting only two years later. He would have been cut off from his family on Earth, then."
"The birth of a true colonist," she offered, "tying his loyalties to outer space. Cultivating success in the face of hardship. You're doing very well. You see? It's not so hard."
"I still think you're better at it than I am. It's easier getting a read on people when they're in front of you and you can engage in conversation." He paused, briefly. "'A colonizer turned colonist,' you said earlier. What did you mean by that?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Dorothy peered at Quatre sidelong, trying to gauge his seriousness, but the question seemed entirely genuine. "The same thing could be said about you, you know, Quatre. You must understand your own place in this world."
Her husband frowned, just faintly. "I think I have a pretty good idea of that."
"Before they came to space, your family was the same as mine," Dorothy told him. "Conquerors. You could have been in Romefeller."
He scoffed, gently dismissive. "We've never been nobility. The Winners have always been entrepreneurs and tradespeople."
Dorothy laughed. "Every noble family starts somewhere. With services to the crown, usually. You don't think you would have earned your place amongst the elite, had you stayed on Earth? The cream always rises, after all. Perhaps you weren't nobility, but you were never common. Don't pretend. Your ancestors went to the Middle East and Africa as colonizers, and they profited from it. They most probably thought to come to space as the same. It must have come as a terrible surprise to find that, out here, they were only colonists after all."
"That's enough now," Quatre said quietly. He clicked out of the database and turned off his computer screen.
"Have I offended you? Oh dear."
Quatre swiveled in his chair and met her eye without blinking. His lips curved subtly upwards in something not quite a smile and not quite a smirk. Dorothy was reminded, once again, that this was a man she had been unable to defeat even when she'd managed to impale him on her sword. Something curled in her belly with the thought, something pleasant, but also not.
She never did find out who had been inside her room that day, who had removed the dildo from her hand. No one ever mentioned anything to her.
In front of her, Quatre stretched, breaking whatever moment lay between them. His fingers laced together high above his head before he rolled his neck from side to side. Then he stood and patted her gently on the shoulder. "Would you give me a moment, Dorothy? I have to think on what I'm going to say to Heero, if anything. Oh, and Wufei is staying to dinner, by the way."
"He's still here?" Dorothy exclaimed.
"Well there didn't seem much point in him going only to come straight back. I invited Relena to stay too, but she had a teleconference with a few of the European delegates to prepare for."
"That's beside the point. Quatre, you're his host; you can't just leave him to wander the halls of his own accord."
Unconcerned, Quatre shrugged. "I'm sure he and Trowa are keeping each other company. Trowa's practically family, you know that. Besides, Wufei's not one to mind that sort of thing; I'm certain he'd rather I focus my attention on this right now."
"You're impossible," Dorothy told him with a sniff.
He tilted his head, eyes sparkling, as amused as if she'd cracked a joke. "I hope you can manage to forgive me?"
She stepped in a little closer, staring him down, musing, "I suppose I'll have to clean up your mess first."
His hands came up to rest gently on her hips. "You're entirely too good to me, Dorothy."
"Hmph. You can save your thanks." She slipped from his grasp and made her way to the door. "Figure out what you want to do about Heero. I'll look after your guests."
"I'll see you at dinner," Quatre called after her. "Berta's got a lamb cooking."
How extravagant, Dorothy thought sourly as she made her way back down the stairs.
After eliminating both the sitting rooms, she spotted Wufei out in the garden. Trowa was not with him, Quatre's predictions proving unfounded. She observed him for a moment through the French doors before venturing out. He was seated beneath one of the orange trees, his face turned towards the fountain. He appeared to be meditating.
Dorothy had heard tell of his colony, his clan, but it was difficult to know where fact ended and rumor began. The banishment of the infamous Dragon Clan from their homeland a century ago had made them the stuff of legends. And A0206 was notoriously isolated in the long years prior to its eventual destruction during the war. The result was a population out of sync with the rest of the Earth sphere. Hardly anyone on Earth these days looked the way Wufei did. The Alliance had seen to that. Chang Wufei looked like he might have stepped out from the pages of a history textbook. He would have made a fascinating study, but Dorothy was aware it was ill-mannered to stare.
"I must apologize for my husband's rudeness," she said to announce herself.
Wufei's eyes flicked open and he appraised her in a glance. "I don't follow you."
"Why, leaving you alone like this, of course. Don't you even have Mr Barton here to keep you company? But this is a golden opportunity for the two of us to get to know each other. Won't you take a walk with me?"
"If you insist. But I am not troubled by being alone, as you can see."
"No? But you must forgive me for being curious about you. This is the first time we've met, you see, and who knows when I shall have another opportunity to converse with you like this. A little tete-a-tete just between us. I must seize my chance while I still have it."
Wufei stood with a single smooth motion and gestured her to precede him. Dorothy led him on a circuit around the cloister enclosing the garden. For the first lap, neither of them spoke. She walked with her hands clasped loosely behind her back, casting glances at him from time to time. He had a proud profile; walked with his head held high, facing straight forward with an almost studied determination.
"Treize Khushrenada was my cousin," she told him presently.
Did she imagine the tiniest stutter in his step?
"So I have heard," he answered coolly, giving away nothing.
"You killed him. And when you did so, you single-handedly ended the war," she observed in the same level tone. When he remained steadfastly silent, she turned to him and caught up his hand in both of hers. That elicited a reaction; he gawped at her, fish-mouthed. "Please, Mr Chang, don't think I'm saying these things to cause bad blood between us. Quite the opposite. I admit, when I first learned of his death at your hands, I thought the end had come for me, too. But only a true warrior could have sent Treize to his grave. He would have had it no other way, I know. So you see, I long for us to be friends."
With coldly precise movements, he removed his hand from hers. "I am not a man with whom many wish to be friends." She caught the slight sneer in the way he said that final word, friends, but she would not be dissuaded.
"Then perhaps they do not see what I see."
"They see what is there to be seen," Wufei said sharply. "They see a man who disgraced himself and his colleagues and who must work before he may redeem himself."
At that Dorothy had to smile, ducking her head slightly. She leaned in close to Wufei's ear, as she would a confidante, and murmured, "But that's not how everyone sees you. Is it, Mr Chang?"
He stared at her. "I don't follow your insinuation."
Her smile broadened. "Why, Miss Relena, of course!"
For a moment, he only continued staring. Then, scoffing, he turned and resumed walking. Dorothy fell into step beside him. "Her feelings for you are obvious, you know. It's so refreshing! To see her so in love. You must consider yourself most lucky, to be loved by such a woman. How I wish you could have seen her this afternoon and heard the way she spoke about you."
"Enough!"
"Oh, Mr Chang…you're not embarrassed, are you? There's no need, I assure you. It was so inspiring, how protective she was of you. Like… Like a mother bear defending her cub. Why, I think if she could have emptied out the entire contents of the wine cellar before you arrived, she would have!"
Wufei was no longer at her side; when she turned, she saw an expression of agony flashing cross his face. "That's what she thinks of me, is it?" His face was distant, his voice muted; Dorothy had to strain to catch the words. He seemed, for a moment, to have forgotten her existence. "She has so little faith in me as that." He let out a short, choked laugh before continuing to mutter to himself, "Well, and so she should; how could it be otherwise, when I have no faith in myself?"
He blinked and seemed to come back into himself, looking up at her - straight in the eye, as if coming awake - then turned on his heel and walked back into the house. Dorothy followed close behind. Without hesitation, he opened the door to the smaller of the two sitting rooms, then went directly to the built-in cabinet along the far wall in which Quatre kept his spirits.
"You've been here before," she observed with some amusement. It was clear Wufei knew exactly where he was going.
"Once," he acknowledged. "Many years ago. When I was still…"
He broke off and extracted a bottle; and after a brief examination, poured himself a glass, downing it in one.
"Oh, that's vile," he gasped after he'd swallowed, grimacing. It didn't stop him from pouring another and throwing that one back as well. He met her eye again after the second glass, a challenging glint in his eye. "You don't wish to stop me? For Relena's sake?"
Dorothy shrugged a single shoulder. "You're a grown man. You make your own choices. Am I your keeper? I think not."
That provoked another laugh. Wufei turned back, poured a third glass, then stepped away from the bar. Dorothy's eye fixed immediately on his hand. It was perfectly steady. The tremor that she'd noticed earlier was gone as if it had never been. "So here you have it," he said, gesturing at himself with his glass, "the fallen man. If you aren't going to stop me, you could at least leave me alone to my vices."
"No," Dorothy decided. "If this is the choice you wish to make, then you should at least be brave enough to do so publicly. You're not the sort of man to hide and skulk in the shadows, are you?"
The twist of his mouth spoke volumes. "Indeed not." He crossed over to an easychair, slouched down into it, then raised his glass to her. "Cheers, then. It would appear I am at your disposal. Just as you wished."
Already the alcohol appeared to be affecting him. Wufei's limbs were noticeably looser, his face slack; his breath hanging ponderously in the air. He even blinked more slowly. It was just possible, Dorothy thought, that his other inhibitions may have relaxed as well.
She took a seat across from him on the low sofa and watched him curiously. He stared back at her, not even bothering to hide his sneer. "You're a strange woman," he said at length. "With strange ideas."
"Am I?" she asked with a delighted laugh. "Tell me more."
He scoffed at her amusement, gesticulating at her with his glass. "The way you talk. Who talks like that? And who wants to be told they're strange?"
"I doubt you'd be offended, either," she pointed out with a graceful smile.
He shook his head in apparent bemusement, then turned aside to noisily slurp his drink. His eyes closed and then he said out loud, apparently to her, "I shot a civilian."
"I beg your pardon?" Dorothy could not quite contain her surprise at the suddenness of the admission.
"I said, I shot a civilian," Wufei repeated more loudly - almost too loudly. "You looked curious, I presumed about my departure from Preventers."
"Oh, that. Yes, I admit I was curious." She smiled again, though Wufei's eyes were still closed and he could not see her, then added, "Though I typically find it more rewarding to fill in the blanks myself. But by all means, please do tell me about it if you wish."
"If I wish," he parroted with an amused snort. Eyes opening, he met her gaze boldly. "And spoil your fun, you mean? Gladly." Smirking to himself, he leaned his head back, slouching down into his chair as if he hadn't a care in the world. "I aim to be an honest man from now on. Yes… An honest man." He took another small sip from his glass. For a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of him swallowing.
"Your colleagues betrayed you, I think," Dorothy said into the silence. "I imagine you - a Gundam pilot, a true warrior - meant to burn so brightly, reined in by Preventer like some common beast of burden. It breaks my heart."
"No." Wufei's denial was flat and unemotional. He took a noisy breath. "My colleagues gave me more than I deserved. I have always received far more than I deserve."
Shifting to a somewhat more upright position in his chair, he levelled his gaze at Dorothy. "As you are no doubt amply aware, I am a drunk. An alcoholic, Sally called it. How I loathe that term. Medicalizing people who simply lack the willpower to control their actions - pathetic." He sneered. "Well, there came a point I was drunk at work more often than I was sober: I do not think it will come as any great surprise to anyone to hear that. I was drunk on a mission, in fact, endangering the lives of my fellows and the people I was sworn to protect under my Preventer oath. In truth, that oath means very little most of the time; Preventer missions rarely involve civilians. In the particular case I am referring to, however, there were hostages. I was very angry. Sally was demanding we leave the scene without fully neutralizing the hostiles. She was correct, of course. But as I said, I was angry. I did not see the sniper. But he saw me. Sally took the shot that would have severed my spine if it had hit. That damnable woman…" He trailed off into a whisper, bravado faltering. Dorothy thought she spotted tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.
She cracked a tiny smile. "Such dramatics. One would almost think she'd died." On the contrary, Sally Po was, as almost anyone could tell you, alive and well; the esteemed Deputy Chief of Preventers. "I thought this was supposed to be the story of how you shot a civilian."
Wufei returned her smile with a brittle, awful grimace. "I thought you'd like to savor all the details."
"What was it, then? A case of revenge gone wrong? You tried to avenge your fallen partner, and instead you hit one these hostages you were meant to have freed?"
"No. No, this was some time later. Sally and I were grounded for three months while her shoulder healed. I spoke to her only once during that time, while she was still in hospital. I went to apologize." Wufei's lip curled with distaste. "I craved her forgiveness. And I thought, for some reason, she would give it. Instead, she made me admit I had been drinking that day. She made me admit how much I had to drink that day. I would always tell myself that it was just a little, just enough. Of course that wouldn't fly with Sally." He sounded almost fond of her, Dorothy reflected. "She gave me an ultimatum. After she told me she was ashamed of me. And that I was a liability. That I could no longer expect her indulgence in covering for me. One chance, she said. To get help and sort myself out."
He chuckled, humorously contemplating his glass, twisting it to and fro so that the liquid inside caught the light and sent strange patterns dancing across the walls. "And would you believe, it worked… At least until it didn't matter anymore."
Dorothy drummed her finger impatiently against her leg. She couldn't fathom what would bring Wufei to tell her all this, but she wished he would get on with it. For all his efforts at appearing distant from it, the tale was clearly an exercise in self indulgence, and she the unwilling captive audience. But she would sit through it if she must, if it would bring them on to other things, of greater interest. She widened her eyes and tilted her head, fixing her expression into one of polite curiosity. "Pray continue," she begged him, a little stroke to his ego to speed them along.
His eyes fixed back onto her, his expression heavy with disdain. She met this placidly, untroubled, cradling her own feelings close to her chest and finding a quiet pleasure in the secret. The silence lengthened and intensified until, eventually, Wufei shook his head, breaking it off. "I did as she asked," he said simply. "I did not wish to - to…"
A stirring of realization grew in Dorothy's chest. "You loved her!" she accused with a little thrill of triumph.
Wufei appeared taken aback by her words, but, tellingly, did not deny them. "I wanted her faith in me to be justified. But - I was weak. As I have always been weak." A fist clenched in his lap, he trailed off into silence. Dorothy waited. She did not have to wait long. With another ragged indrawn breath, Wufei continued: "I avoided her after she returned to work, while we were still grounded from fieldwork. But I took all those ridiculous pamphlets she tried to give me. And I did as she asked. I…refrained from drinking. I felt ready to face her again by the time we were assigned our next mission. She would interrogate me before each one. Blasted woman." He swallowed. Leaned his head back against the antimacassar again, covered his eyes with one hand as if exhausted. "There were…whispers. Mobile suit production, or so it was feared. The details do not matter. What matters, is that I shot a civilian. He was only an engineer. I thought, for a moment, he was carrying a gun. But it was only a wrench. An unfortunate irony that, even sober, I could not tell the difference."
"Hmm." Dorothy sat back, calmly folding her hands together in her lap as she observed Wufei across from her. "So. By your own reckoning, by the time of this incident you were fully recovered from your previous…troubles."
He scowled at her. "What are you implying?"
She blinked back at him, innocently. "You're the one who said you were weak. I'm merely trying to figure out what you meant by that."
"I… Preventer was all I had. Complying with Sally's request was all I could do. It took all of my strength. Those months felt interminable. It sickens me to think of myself then. Does that answer your question?"
Dorothy wet her lips. "And in all that time, between your partner's injury and this incident, could Sally really not see your difficulties? You do not mean to say that through all this she simply remained happy to accept your word that you were fine." She gave a derisive sniff. "I'll say it once more: your colleagues betrayed you."
Wufei hissed in outrage. "You were not there."
"No, but you've laid it all out so perfectly!" she exclaimed, hiding her laughter behind a hand. Wufei glowered, then looked stubbornly away, saying nothing. Dorothy sighed. "What was it like?" she asked in an effort to recapture his attention, leaning forward in her seat. "Killing Treize, I mean."
She watched his face go white. His fingers spasmed around the glass in his hand and he did not answer. "Oh please, Mr Chang," she pressed, "I only want to know you. I want to know the man who managed to send my magnificent cousin to his grave."
"There is nothing to know," he gasped.
"I'm grateful it was you," she said softly, her voice only just above a whisper; reverent. "A Gundam pilot. It must have been… It must have been glorious."
Wufei surged back to his feet. For a moment he just stood there, his motion arrested. Then, as if for want of anywhere else to go, he returned to the bar, although he did not immediately refresh his glass. With his back to her, he said, "I can assure you, it was not."
Dorothy sat silently. She did not remove her gaze from his back.
"Can you really be so stupid? He was only a man of flesh and blood. He died like any other man. Your magnificent cousin. There is no dignity in death. Not for anyone."
For just a moment, her throat tightened on itself. Wufei's argument was a familiar one. Then she forced herself to smile.
"I did not mean to distress you."
"I am not in distress! I - merely wish to be left alone with my thoughts."
"Oh, is that so." Dorothy straightened her skirt over the sofa. "Quatre is alone with his thoughts at the moment, too. Did neither you nor Relena think to be so direct with him as Miss Relena was with me yesterday afternoon? But I have solved your little problem for you, you'll see. I'm sure Quatre will speak to Heero for you. He merely needs some time to think of what to say."
"It seems Relena has told you a great deal," Wufei observed after a moment's pause, his voice cold.
"Mere trifles, only. Oh, dear. Wasn't she supposed to? But you see, it's all worked out for the best. For how else would you have convinced Quatre to do what you need him to?"
Something shifted in the set of Wufei's shoulders, betraying a sudden vulnerability. "You think he will?" he asked her.
"Most assuredly," she replied to his back. "Unlike me, my husband has a natural penchant for always doing what is right."
Slowly, Wufei returned to his seat, appearing lost in thought. Sinking down into the chair, he looked again at the glass in his hand, as if seeing it for the first time. He put it down on the side table a bit too heavily, pushing it decisively away. Dorothy stood up and retrieved it, sniffing at the remains of the liquid inside, recoiling slightly at the strong anise scent.
"The Maguanacs gave this bottle to Quatre. It was a wedding present. They said it was to welcome him into manhood. It's a positively ancient tradition, apparently. Older than any of the nations whose names we still remember from that area. They distilled it themselves; it's made from figs."
Wufei's eyes tracked the glass as she moved; she lifted it and took a tiny sip, barely enough to wet her lips. He watched her swallow. She knelt down by his chair and leaned in close, close enough for her breath to warm his cheek and stir the stray tendrils of hair around his ear. "I feel we are kindred spirits, you and I."
Wufei would not meet her gaze, instead staring steadfastly forward; the only indication of his awareness of her presence was the erratic jump of his pulse, which she could see against the skin just below his ear.
"Do you sense it, too? You were meant to burn so brightly… Do you not feel it? The brightness inside of you? Yearning to be free?"
He pulled back and glared at her. "What is the point of this useless flattery? Spit it out, woman, whatever it is you have to say. Speak plainly."
"As you wish," she murmured. "Miss Relena thinks she knows what's best for you. But you alone can decide that. It doesn't matter if Trowa and Quatre, if the world believes you have lost your strength - you can prove them wrong. I know how strong you must be. I know the strength it would have taken to kill my cousin. I know it's in you, still."
As if moved by a power beyond his control, Wufei's hand went to the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He fingered it as if to reassure himself the contents were still inside. Dorothy's eyes fastened on the movement.
"What have you got there?" she asked him.
He dropped his hand at once and frowned. "None of your concern."
"Of course not; merely my own dear interest. You have piqued my curiosity, you see." She smiled up at him coquettishly. "Do please tell me, don't be cruel."
Again his hand went to his pocket, this time reaching in and drawing out a slim manila envelope. He didn't open it, merely ran his hands across it, compulsively checking every seam. "This is everything I have," he said. "All the evidence I gathered of - of what happened to Heero Yuy."
"That little folder?" she scoffed. "Let me see it."
"Certainly not!" he barked, snatching it away from her and bundling it back into his jacket pocket. "It never leaves me. I won't risk it."
"But…you must have another copy somewhere. A digital one, at least - for safekeeping?"
Wufei blew a dismissive breath out through his nose. "Nothing digital is safe," he told her. True enough. Firewalls could only go so far; she had made use of that fact herself during the wars, and from what she had heard, the Gundam pilots even more so. She tilted her head thoughtfully, nodding in acquiescence of the point and pondering the knowledge that he'd given her. A single folder of evidence, the sole copy in Wufei's possession at all times. It might be impossible for anyone on Earth to get their hands on the information that way, but could it be considered safe? In such a circumstance it could surely only be deemed as secure as its guardian. How very interesting indeed.
Dorothy longed to press him on it further, but before she could open her mouth to do so, a bell rang from deeper within the house, summoning them to dinner.
It was the formal dining room this evening, not the hidden nook where she had dined with Trowa and Quatre previously. The meals could not have been more different. Berta had laid the table with the best china and crystal; it could easily have accommodated double their number, but she had attempted to minimize the lopsided effect of their small party and foster an intimate atmosphere by doing away with a place setting at the table's head. She stood by as they seated themselves before politely asking, "Will you be having wine, sir?"
"Not tonight, Berta," said Quatre hurriedly. Odd, to see him so embarrassed; it made him speak rather more sternly than was his wont.
"Actually," Dorothy interjected, "I'll have a glass." The blithe words drew a look from her husband, which she calmly returned. "A Bordeaux will go nicely with the lamb, if you have it, Berta?"
"Yes, my lady. Of course." Berta tripped over the words, her eyes flicking repeatedly to Quatre, all too aware of the tension she had unwittingly provoked but unsure how to resolve it or whose word to follow.
In the brief pause while Berta hesitated, Wufei added, "I will have one as well." He spoke decisively, but softly, as if that would make his statement less noticeable.
A startled silence fell.
"A-are you sure that's a good idea, Wufei?" Quatre tentatively asked after a moment. "We have plenty of soft drinks. I was going to have cucumber water, or I know Trowa is very fond of Berta's mint tea…"
Wufei met Quatre's eye without flinching, daring comment. "I'm sure. One glass won't hurt." Dorothy did not deign to mention the three that he'd already consumed.
Quatre looked to Trowa, unsure what to do, but he received no help there; his friend seemed equally uncertain, watching everything through narrowed eyes but apparently unwilling to intervene. He seemed to become aware of Dorothy's attention and twisted slightly to return her look, his head tilted thoughtfully to one side. She felt a smile twitch at the corners of her mouth, then deliberately turned away.
"You may serve, Berta," she told the maid, who still stood wringing her hands and waiting for direction. She started back into motion at Dorothy's command, casting one last glance at Quatre as she did, but he made no further protest.
A somewhat strained silence hung over the room in the wake of Berta's departure. Having got his way, Wufei no longer seemed quite sure what to do with himself and sat stiffly in his seat without looking at anyone.
With the ease of many years' practice, Dorothy turned to her husband and suggested with more enthusiasm than she felt, "Quatre, dearest, why don't you tell us what you have planned for this evening?"
"Oh! Trowa and I had thought to go out tonight. Wufei, maybe you'd like to come, too? It's been an age since we've all seen each other. It would be good to have the chance to talk, don't you think?"
As he extended the invitation, Quatre cast a questioning glance at Trowa, who nodded and spoke for the first time: "You should join us, Wufei."
"I - all right," Wufei agreed cautiously. "If you are certain. I do not wish to intrude. But…you are correct. It has been a long time. Perhaps too long."
"That's settled, then," said Quatre, sounding relieved. "We can go after dinner. Trowa's always discovering some new place he wants to show me whenever he visits-"
Trowa snorted a laugh. "They're not hard to find. You just don't run in the right circles, Quatre."
"-and we always have a good time," Quatre finished with a pointed grin. Berta returned with the serving tray and the smile tightened as she poured glasses of wine for Wufei and Dorothy, but he didn't pass comment; instead clearing his throat and asking, "So what have you got in store for us this time, Trowa?"
Trowa rolled his eyes indulgently, but obviously did not have to think very hard to come up with an answer. "I passed by somewhere that looked interesting earlier today. Aurelia's? Do either of you know it?"
"Only from driving past. I've never been inside."
"I don't know L4 very well," admitted Wufei, looking uncomfortable again. He appeared to Dorothy's eye to be at great pains to avoid reaching for his glass; indeed, he seemed determined not even to look at it, fixing his attention instead on an ornate salt cellar at the far end of the table.
"They seem to run an interesting program of events. For instance, tonight is apparently the L4 regional harmonica championship. Could be fun. Seems a decent sized venue, so we should be able to find a private corner if nothing else." He broke off to thank Berta as she laid a plate in front of him and removed the warming lid.
"Will there be anything else, Ma- Mr Winner?"
"No, thank you Berta. I think we can take care of ourselves from here."
Yet another silence loomed as Berta left again. Glancing around the three men - three Gundam pilots - surrounding her, Dorothy did not doubt that she had at least something to do with it. There were things they could not, would not say in front of her. Even Quatre, who made a point of declaring at every possible opportunity how much he adored her, trusted her. Even he would not include her in this soldiers' intimacy.
Wufei cleared his throat and indicated the lamb on his plate. "This is very good. Is it imported?"
"Oh." Quatre visibly cheered. "Yes. We brought it back with us following our honeymoon. It's always a pleasant change having access to Earth-reared meat; you can tell the difference, can't you?"
The conversation limped along in that vein until the dishes were cleared, with a discussion on how the state of L4's livestock and breeding quotas compared to the other clusters. Dorothy could not have been more bored. She sat silently and sawed through the meat on her plate more vigorously than she should, her knife scraping against the china with a jarring screech before she finally set it aside.
Wufei was deliberately sparing with his wine, she saw, drinking only half the contents of his glass before setting it aside. His lack of subtlety was the only amusing thing about the meal. Yet, absurdly, Quatre appeared reassured by the display. Disappointing - she had thought him smarter than that.
Still, Dorothy stood and clasped her hands behind her back and smiled like a good wife should when it came time to bid her husband and his guests goodbye. On the whole she thought she'd been behaving rather well when Quatre took her by the elbow and gently led her aside. She gave him a wide-eyed stare. "Yes? What is it? Your friends will be impatient to be going."
"Perhaps you should come out with us, too."
"Me?" Dorothy exclaimed and stifled a laugh. "Oh, no. No, I think I'd rather not."
Quatre stroked her arm from her shoulder to her elbow and back again. "Dorothy, you haven't left the house since we arrived."
She held herself very still under his touch. "What of it?" Her forced lightness sounded strained.
"It's not like you. It's not healthy. What's the matter? Are you having a bad reaction? I know the colonies can frighten people at first, when they're not used to them-"
"I'm not afraid," she gasped in shock. Did he really think her that pathetic? "Who put that idea into your head? Was it Trowa?"
"No! Of course not. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
A sharp breath escaped her nose without her permission. "No," she agreed with a sneer, "you never mean to upset anyone." She turned inside the cage of Quatre's arms and with tightly controlled movements began to straighten his collar. "You're always so considerate, aren't you? So solicitous. Always so concerned for the needs of others. Well, know this," she hissed, leaning in close. "I don't need you! Why must you be so kind all the time, anyway? All this - this trying to look after me - you're smothering me!"
Quatre looked utterly taken aback. He stared at her with the wide, wounded eyes of a loyal dog that's just been kicked. Well, good. "I was only trying to make sure you're all right."
"I am perfectly well," she told him coldly.
"All right, then." He dropped his arms and stepped back from her. "I don't know what time we'll be home."
"That's fine."
He shifted awkwardly, then reached out and briefly squeezed her hand before heading towards the door. "Good night."
Dorothy looked down at where his fingers had touched her and felt a surge of regret twist in her gut. Why did she always have to say such things?
He was almost gone. "Wait, Quatre!" she called after him. He looked back. She couldn't meet his eye, so she stared at the floor by his feet instead. "I meant what I said. I don't need you. I'm… here because I want to be."
He smiled at her, a wordless promise that all would be well.
How she longed to believe him.