Disclaimer: *Cackles*

Everyone who has reviewed and appreciated the fic, thank you so much!! It has been my greatest joy to see the reviews and get the emails, and I'm extremely happy at the reaction. (Giddy, really).

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Although this was a crucial point in her career as doppleganger to herself, Relena found her time tended to disappear, evaporating into a surprising number of days - these, naturally, became weeks and toppled into months.

January remained an old reminder of the past year, a sour spot in her memory - it was coupled with the rest of her first semester in Linden High. But it passed with nothing becoming an obstinate growth impairing her to move on.

Lena, she found, was getting along just famously; liked, but inconspicous. Another person, another student - an added set of feet to walk the halls, one more laugh to add to the mass. The dear girl had Denna and Lark, the latter a small bulldog of a guardian, loyal to all who she liked, the former a smiling version of the term 'groovy' - someone to dance a waltz and eat falafals with.

Lena bought an ocarina just a week ago. She wore the same clothes she started out with at the beginning of the year. She danced when she felt the urge to and drank frappuccinos while skipping downhill. At the mentioning of them, she rented the Child's Play movies, thoroughly shocking herself with the visionary effects and huddling down in a blanket on one end of the couch.

Relena came to love Lena. Lena, although subdued in character and speech to a strange level, was so nice. Comfortable. She was glad to be the one to wear Lena, like a favorite pair of socks - this she had, too; Lena recently became the proud owner of flamingo socks with the big toe section separated from the others.

Yes, Lena was a 'dear', as Denna liked to put it.

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But Relena's life, the true side of the two, was steeped in strained
relations. All would have gone more or less smoothly if one considerable threat were not present: Nigeria was not to be Nigeria anymore. It was part of a joint contract in mid-merge to become the militaristic Nation of Africa, and the NA now refused the former agreement of complete Pacifism.

How can a country protect itself if Pacifism really turns out to be a failure? What if it became a flop, a deadened branch extending from the ashes of wartimes? These were the questions that acted as justification for the new government being set up in Africa. And these were the questions they presented the Earth Sphere United Nations (ESUN) with when asked what they planned. Obscure but plainly against the grain, the NA steeled itself to show its resolve.

Than again, Relena could not have expected the world to bend to the principles of Pacifism. She only hoped they would see the truth she saw in it and that they could work together to bring this truth out into a working whole. But her hopes stopped at a boundary where other's made up their minds about the subject.

The actual topic to approach was acceptance of this new country, this form of government she had meant to banish from use. This had a forked path of actions for her to follow along. As it was, if the (new) Nation of Africa resisted any type of treaty to become allies with ESUN, she would have to rise against its leaders and their ideals under the pretense of potential threat to Earth and the Colonies. Her resistance would not strike her as wrong, since she could not keep herself from tensing at the thought of a government run by the power of its' army and navy.

Or, if the NA decided to, it could live on as that, using its army in service of the entire world - maybe even the colonies, if the need rose (Relena prayed for it not to).

This was, though, a very thin possibility. She disliked the way the NA's rulers had wrenched the power of an entire country, a vulnerable country at that, into their hands by destroying former government leaders. This was sending a very dark and threatening message to all government leaders, and these were somehow directed especially at the members of the Earth Sphere Alliance. (They being most prominent at the time).

Relena guessed the question to be: Could she accept this new nation, with the correct reasons and agreements, or would she reject it?

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There were so many illusions about power that flew about freely in the
society of the present; the views of the public had come to these
conclusions: the former Gundam pilots, though now having disappeared, had been a unified force fighting a personalized battle and the many cabinets of Romaefeller and that its opposing political enemies were sly and back-stabbing - Cinq had fallen to Romaefeller, to serve as a reminder of this.

They did not know. If they had, it might have broken out in a confused, riotous clamoring of questions that could really go unsurfaced. Things that needed to be laid to rest would be pulled into the glower of inquisitive eyes again and dragged out needlessly.

The Gundam pilots, former, had not been a unified force as so many thought. Each came with the thought that they, having been suitably prepared, were alone, with no one to help them but themselves and their only companions - the Gundams.

They were willing to work with each other, some more than others, but the result would be that each had succeeded in their own way. That the people they would have died for grouped them together in one category was an ignorant way of not acknowledging their achievements.

But it had been their people; the wars had been finished with, their respectable enemies defeated - some not, but these were particular
characters with a very personal score to settle with the assorted pilots. Peace had come, with its own sacrifices, and they had been given lives again.

Among so many, the characters of these pilots were twisted to fit a certain stereotype. One was the brain, the next was the judge, etc. This was a very unjust system of labeling, although they felt indifferent to it. Sally glanced at the back of her comrade, his head bent over something that had his attention completely. As long as he would live, he would never believe himself to be one of the Gundam pilots. He had the needed strength and skill; there was nothing more to it. Nataku had let him pilot her, she had been his savior.

Although this was a very strong interpretation of what he thought, Sally believed it to be so. He had, except for the rare occasion seen most in the downhill run of the war, fought on his own, separate from any other. In a way, he had been the most secluded, the most lonely, the most needy. His past, beliefs and hopes tied into his battle strength; the only way he would let himself pass such strict judgements on others, such as life or death at the hands of Nataku, occured if he felt the Gundam would let him.

He might be harsh and gruff with the people around him, critisize hypocrisy and continue his starched advice of right and wrong, but this he did with himself first of all. He was painfully righteous and strict with himself, above all others.

If he did not follow what he told others, he thought he would be best off dead. Sally was never sure if she agreed with him, but this earned him a grudging, reluctant respect among the workers.

She saw this pass and only wondered that he, that the others, could see
this and still smile. In a way, they adored the people they had saved - the could allow some mistakes on their part, if not as grievous the past ones.

The most misunderstood were the pilots; she hoped that they at least found consolence at starting out again and becoming something other than what they had been. In truth, each had that they would die - to find that every single one of them had lived with limbs in tact and minds still there was a shock. They had not quite given that much thought to what would happen afterwards.

Sally gave herself a small grin and picked up a pen; oh, she could have told them. She could have told them their lives were not to be ended just then, but she had not wanted to spoil the surprise.
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Mariemaia, at hearing the three knocks at the door, turned from the kitchen and wheeled herself to the entrance. Her lap kept warm by a comfortor thrown over it and a pillow trapped between the chair and her back - it was aching as of late - she opened the door with little difficutly. It was not quite designed for wheelchairs and her arms were not yet long enough to reach it without some practice.

When she had wheeled herself far away from the doormat to let her new guest in, she gave but a surprised glance that quickly hid itself in the calm, matter-of-fact in her eyes. Eyebrows barely moving up, her expression remained even, mouth a quiet little wonder, completely neutral.

"Dorothy. Come in." She gestured to the furniture. "It has been a while."

Shutting the door behind her, with her back leaning against it, Dorothy shrugged. Dressed as she was in the Preventers' desired gear, she looked the picture of military intellect but for the obviously misguided air about her. Mariemaia, priding herself on her ability to detect these things in all people, promptly jerked her head at a sofa.

"Dear cuz, what's on your mind?" She asked, her voice still. Dorothy made herself comfortable, first crossing her legs, then resting her elbows on the top of the sofa, then uncrossing her legs and overlapping the ankles. She tried various positions till one pleased her while she answered.

"Much. Time has flown with minor obstacles of late." The answer gave Dorothy a suspecting jerk of an eyebrow from Mariemaia, who regarded her with as much cool collection as she usually did.

"Really." Mariemaia set her hands on the wheels of her wheelchair and came nearer. Dorothy met Mariemaia in a hard gaze, each unwanting and uncaring of the piercing stare they were given. "Then why is there anger in your eyes?"

Dorothy, now lying on her back with her boots propped up on the other armrest of the sofa, jerked her head up, letting the stare drop in turn for the ceiling. Her mouth, before as careless as her limp hands had been, clenched in a thin line.

"I thought I kept emotions from my eyes well enough for none to see, especially a child." She gave tartly, a fist lying on her stomach - the fist was, of course, hers and hers to keep.

But Mariemaia only nodded with satisfaction; she was right.

"Oh, you are angry." Leaning forward, the little girl set her chin in one propped up hand, staring unnervingly at Dorothy. "Might I know why?"

Dorothy's fist paused from moving altogether for a moment then slowly tumbled to her side. Her body conformed to the sofa cushions; she gave no answer and did not seem ready to give one anyway. Even her head slid to the side a little, tilting in such a way that she just caught the line where ceiling met the wall opposite her.

"I do not think that is any of your concern, Mariemaia." She spoke the name candidly, making the girl in front of her straighten. She had very rarely heard Dorothy speak her name directly to her; as much as a ridiculous, somewhat silly novelty this was, it shook the ground she was now basing Dorothy's anger on.

Again, though, she leaned forward.

"This has nothing to do with work; you would not even complain if it was so. Who is it?" Besides being as harshly voiced as anyone even slightly related to the Catalonia family, although still sweet and unnaturally childlike in tone, she possessed a queer sense of guessing. And the knowlegdge of the undercurrents of politics sorted through the facts she gathered quicker than in the mind of a normal child.

Dorothy pressed stray fingertips to her forehead.

"No one." Mariemaia curiously glanced her over; tense, but she came for some reason, so she would continue to pry.

"I don't believe you at all."

"That is entirely up to you."

"Why did you come?"

"Why indeed?" Mariemaia bristled ever so lightly, as much as her composure would let her. She had really been very loose and actually happy before this visit.

"Than get out." She pointed to the door with a strict index finger. "Now."

Swallowing, Dorothy remained on the sofa, but with the flat of her hand pressed against her eyes. Her closed eyes. Her breathing came out nearly without sound and she seemd to ignore the demand. The little girl almost expected her to demand Mariemaia leave, regardless of this being her own home, but nothing happened. Mariemaia, after some seconds of keeping her finger pointing at the door, let it fall to thump against the side of her wheelchair.

The strained in Dorothy's eyes told her it was a 'who' and not a 'what.' Mariemia only knew of a few who could affect anything of or about Dorothy. She would even go so far as to say these few people were the only ones Dorothy allowed to affect her so.

"Oh, Dorothy." The hand lifted; two eyes stared at her. The little girl suddenly was given to understand the situation; such quick realizations only came when it was given in a quick, chance moment she might have overlooked and only felt had she not seen it that very second.

Mariemaia pressed her hands against the armrests of her wheelchair, attempting to at least lift herself into a straighter posture than before. She strained her neck and shoulder muscles, but was not built to endure that weight below her waist. She fell.

If her knees hit the ground, she would not have been able to tell, and if her feet slapped against some railing on the wheelchair, she would only have known through a bruise the next day. But arms awkwardly encircled her, coming from under her own arms, and lifting her back into the wheelchair with some effort.

And Dorothy did not move from sitting, kneeling, almost, at her cousin's knee and staring up at her unmovingly. Had it been anyone else they might have - would have - excused themselves rapidly with the uncomfortability the look caused, the intense strangeness of it all too much. Dorothy's hands slid from Mariemaia's back to the girl's lap, cupping her knees loosely.

"Why?" She asked, as though pondering the very meaning of the word to herself. "Why? Why?"

Mariemaia, although still as though nothing had happened, held her hands high enough from Dorothy not to touch her. This intimacy had always involved an inanimate object they both happened to catch; but being this close, face to face, was truly intimidating. She did not want such personal relationships.

But Dorothy did not give her a choice about the matter, instead laying her head down on the girl's lap without a sound or bothering, oddly mipslaced or misguided look. And the weight itself was really not intimidating, and the softness - her hair was soft, even if it was only because it was soft by nature - thawed the sudden, unfamiliar edge of the experience.

And Mariemaia lowered her arms, unknowingly scowling as if highly suspicious about something she did not understand, and finding that not understanding was a great burden to her mind. Dorothy's head on her lap was so different, and so...completely foreign.

But it was a gesture meant from, so to say, from the heart and read off from emotions. Thank heavens she had not cried - Dorothy would not have cried, anyway, for even in this state she would have scoffed sincerely at the suggestion - or whimpered, or something of the like.

This was actually not that bad. Mariemaia's scowle lessened; it was all becoming a welcoming feeling.

She was needed.

Dorothy needed some sort of comfort.

She was needed for comfort.

Really not an action she would have expected to be required of her, least of all from this person, Dorothy, the only one who seemed to have contact with her on the same level of mental capacity. And with that last thought, Mariemaia placed her hands around the crown of Dorothy's head in a gentle, unsure touch.

It was a good feeling, this being needed sort of deal. She began to stroke the head and the soft hair, and Dorothy seemed to freeze to keep her from stopping.

How was it that this was comforting for them both?

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This chapter gave me a surprising amount of difficulty, which is why I couldn't post it sooner (I would have weeks ago, otherwise). First, half of the chapter just disappeared to Lord knows where, but I got some of it back and rewrote the half involving Dorothy and Mariemaia. But I almost had an anxiety attack at seeing part of the Wufei-section erased, that nearly did me in......

Since this a long weekend for me, I'm probably going to make one or two more updates besides this chapter; I should be finished with my DBZ fic and the second yuri chapter for "Caught" by the end of this week, hopefully.

Oh, please review and thank you for all the commentary so far!!