Disclaimer: No, no, no, no, NO!-unfortunately....
Surprise - I got a little tired of Heero and Duo being the last
additions to the Preventers' force everywhere. So here's a booster
package; Heero and Duo aren't the only ones with ambition.
For the last 3 months I have not been able to update anything,
and now that I've found somewhere where I can (SCORE, I love them
school comps!!), there is definitely going to be more. I think
this will be one of the few mass-uploadings I'll do, though.
*Vixen, you have been a huge help and fun as heck, I tip my hat
to thee!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"Lady Une? Someone is here to see you, ma'am." Glancing
up, the Lady dropped the pen onto the table and leaned back into
her chair. With a quick glance at her wristwatch (8:32 PM), she
nodded for the secretary to bring them in.
Eyebrow raised, she spoke a cordial greeting in as little a surprised
manner as possible.
"Please, sit down, Miss Catalonia." Dorothy bowed her
head, but watched the Lady from the slits her eyes had become,
the blue in them sparkling dangerously. Rolling her shoulders
in the suit she wore, she slowly walked closer till she stood
in front of her desk.
"They haven't told you my reasons for coming?" She mused
out loud. Lady Une titled her head questioningly.
"No, your visit is unexpected." Dorothy frowned slightly,
displeased. Shrugging, she retreated a few steps and fell into
a chair, bringing around a briefcase and setting it in her lap.
Wordlessly, she opened the flap and took out a manila folder,
setting the briefcase on the ground.
Slipping the folder onto the Lady's desk, she gave her a tightlipped
smile. While Lady Une picked it up, feeling the weight of it in
her hand, she spoke.
"I came to Cinq not more than two weeks ago on a whim; through
a fluke, and chance, I had an opportunity given to me." Lady
Une let her eyes slide from the folder, packed with papers, most
of which were forms, to Dorothy with quiet bewilderment.
"Yes?" She asked coolly. The tightlipped smile disappeared,
replaced by grim sincerity.
"I have filled out the application to become a member and
agent of the Preventers."
The folder dropped, joining the forlorn pen on the table surface.
Lady Une stared at her, at that timeless, ageless face. For what
seemed to be minutes, they shared a hard look that didn't break
till she turned away, lacing her fingers together and resting
her chin on them.
"Miss Catalonia, I have no idea where to begin." Defiance
flaring up in her, Dorothy clasped her hands in her lap.
"What do you mean?" Her tone was clipped, and Lady Une
turned back to her.
"I had not known you were thinking of joining."
"I was not."
"Then how did this come to be your decision?"
"I simply decided it would be." Faltering, Lady Une
groped for something to drag a more distinct reason from her.
"Have you really thought this through, Miss Catalonia?"
Dorothy leapt from her seat, still managing to leave her expression
blank and controlled. Leaning forward, she dug the palms of her
hands into the table.
"Yes, I have." Lady Une raised her head to meet the
girl's eyes.
"I see." Dorothy watched her tensely, dismissing the
idea of sitting down again the moment it entered her mind.
Lady Une cleared her throat, finding the heat of that intense
stare unneeded.
"I am only surprised to here this; don't take offense to
what I have said." She fingered the edges of the manila folder,
the corners of her mouth turned up. "But, with some thought,
I can guess, and understand, some of your reasons."
Looking up, she noted that Dorothy had taken a step back, though
remained close enough to the desk.
"Did you have any thoughts as to what you would like to work
in? Any preferences?"
Smirking, the blonde flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder
carelessly.
"I am willing to start from the bottom and work up to where
I want to be." But Lady Une shook her head, pushed the chair
back and stood up, one hand on a hip.
"You have much knowledge and many useful qualities that the
Preventers can use; it would be a pure waste of your talents to
assign you to a lower level4. But I am sure that I have something
to your liking and ability; give me a moment." Dorothy nodded
her approval, interested in what Lady Une would be able to bring
out.
Bending to a drawer in her desk, she pulled it open and leafed
through, concentration straining at her to find something. Her
hair softly falling over her shoulder, she flipped through till
she found some possibilities.
Straightening, Dorothy glanced at the small pile she had collected
in her search. Lady Une lay them onto her desk, shuffling through
till she had them in an order that appealed to her. Gesturing
for Dorothy to take a seat once more, she herself sat down.
"Take a look at these and give me your opinion." Dorothy
grasped one sheet of paper, pulled it from the rest and began
reading. Quietly thinking to herself, letting the silence spill
in between them, she considered each carefully, at her leisure,
weighing the choices in her mind.
One had an opening on a council as advice administrator for a
branch of the Preventers used as a battle tactics information
center. Another was a chance to help at political conferences
and work out of the limelight but with important personalities;
the possibilites ranged from instructor to sergeant, guard to
historian. But none peaked Dorothy's interest.
She handed the papers back to Lady Une, allowing disappointment
to spread across her face.
"I am sorry to say that I'm not interested in those possibilities."
She murmured distantly.
"How peculiar. I thought these might be your style."
She innerly cringed at it being dubbed her 'style.'
An uncomfortable stillness settled in, soaking into their skin
and muscle as they waited for ideas to come.
Lady Une picked up a sheet of paper from the folder Dorothy had
brought with her and began to read. Her chair creaked when her
weight shifted, easing farther in to the stiff cushioning, perusing
each line.
Setting it down some minutes later, she halted, raised her eyebrows
in thought. Next, she bent down to open a different drawer, pulled
something else out. Regarding it with curiosity, she pushed aside
the papers she had out before and slid this one along the surface
of the table towards Dorothy.
Snatching it up, she, as well, read it. A line of puzzlement built
across her forehead; she glanced up to Lady Une, who waited expectantly
for an answer at this last resort then went back to reading. Her
eyes followed each letter, left to right, and back again.
She didn't notice a finch's shadow flitter across the light from
the window behind the Lady; when her foot moved and knocked over
the briefcase, she didn't even pause her reading to react. Suspension
strung through her, firing her mind.
Several moments later, Dorothy's first, true smirk pulled at her
lips and stretched it into appreciation. The hand holding the
paper, stapled to some other applications and gripped tightly
between her fingers, floated to her knee.
"Yes." Lady Une nodded with satisfaction, her eyes bright.
"I admit, I'm glad." She picked up the pen and gave
it Dorothy.
"You sign in only three places; fill every blank space out,
please."
While Dorothy did was told, Lady Une explained some points to
the job she would soon take on; she was to live in the Preventers
Headquarters, traveling only on business. Her rooms were new,
but not furnished; she could only have a limited amount of luggage
brought in, though. Except for at times of privacy and leisure,
she was to wear a professional suit made for her position. Under
her charge she would lead, direct and teach perhaps fifty employees,
most newly admitted to the organization.
"...and you will have to attend the first conference on the
Vice Foreign Minister's campaign traveling across Cinq. It's only
the first, not too far from here, but surveys show it will be
the most publicly watched. You are to be a representative of the
Preventers and your branch.
"Truthfully, I would've gone if it had been crucial; this
will be for appearances and assurances to the people only, though
- on our part, anyway - so I won't. Since your tasks can wait,
the entire position only recently brought into working order,
this can fit into your schedule easily."
Dorothy reached down for her suitcase and shut the copies of her
contract into it, the beat of her heart a costant thrum in her
ears and neck. Few questions were asked before she took her leave;
a schedule would be rung up and delivered to her once she was
settled in.
It had happened, and she didn't feel a seed of remorse or spite
for herself or what she had done begin to grow. Following directions
to receive her wardrobe, she silently marveled at having gotten
this far in less than a couple of weeks....
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
A tense hush, broken only by the patched hum of muted, lowered
voices, had spanned over the crowd seated in the open green of
Memorial Park. Set above the heads of people was the stage, created
overnight and patrioticly clothed in Cinq's flags and banners,
the bunting draped elaborately over the edge, on which sat perhaps
thirty chairs and two podiums, one on the left and one on the
right. At the moment, the stage was unoccupied, leaving the audience
to find their seats and ready themselves.
Behind the crowd and around the stage, cameras had been stationed
and the different teams of crew men from the Media were finding
the ideal place to camp out and film.
Though the stage had been added on for this event, and would be
taken down after, the park was really just the area behind the
Capitol Building; the stage linked to it, and behind the doors
leading inside where the slightly anxious politicians and representatives.
Relena was one of them. Though a melancholy mood had settled into
her, the usual feeling of nervousness had taken to her stomach
once more. Fanning herself with the notecards on which was her
speech, she glanced around for some friendly faces to stand by
with; finding none, she began to pace the length of the backstage
area, the small heels of her shoes rythmiticaly clacking against
the wooden boards.
She was to review the recent events that had taken place to start
this trip for her and her ministers, then list some of the actions
taken and prophesized by the Nigerian terrorist group, and so
on. A lengthy speech, she didn't trust herself to peek out of
the curtains at the faces swimming out there, as she had before.
Turning on her heel to head the other way again, she caught sight
of an all-to-familiar head walking from her. With hastened steps
she managed to come alongside her, and, discovering that it was
really the person she had hoped for, smiled a little to herself.
"Good morning, Dorothy." The blonde stopped, and Relena
quickly searched over the different uniform she was wearing.
"Good morning, Miss Relena." The blue eyes peered at
her, the lips pressing into a curt smile. Sweeping towards her,
Relena perceived the impression Dorothy was enjoying her role,
whatever it was.
"I see you are uncertain today." Her smile, though not
sympathetic, let a touch of cynical humor come through, "Show
them your elegant smile, Miss Relena."
The familiarity of that line! Dorothy brushed one hand against
her hip, dragging the fingers along the embroidered hem of her
dark green jacket. Relena thought she looked much more impressive
in the knee-high, black leather boots and green clothing than
in her usual wear; she hoped Dorothy's decision, however quick,
had been the right one to make her look as devious as she did.
Relena reached up with one hand to push away a small coil of hair,
but found none. Having to remind herself of her hairstyle, she
let the hand drop.
"I will." Smiling, she continued, "Dorothy, what
are you doing here? I didn't think the Preventers would send you
here as a representative."
"You should read your reports a little more thoroughly, Miss
Relena." A coy touch added onto Dorothy's smile. "I
am the agent mentioned and referred to as 'Cat.'"
Relena's smile grew wider. She glanced around at the people surrounding
them.
"Do you know anyone here?" Dorothy nonchalantly craned
her neck to see around, eyes flashing from face to face.
"Only a few; Io and Davis, some others who I would like to
overlook, and..." She let the sentence trail off, her expression
dubious and clouded. Relena would have asked her to explain if
someone hadn't come up to her elbow and asked for assistance.
She apologized and broke away from the blonde, hurrying to one
of the rooms the stage connected to, leaving Dorothy to stew with
herself.
Glancing over her shoulder at the disappearing presence of Relena,
she again searched the faces to make she hadn't made a mistake.
She hadn't. He was here, for some reason.
A predator's waiting look on her, she slowly meandered toward
a group of people, hands clasped behind her back. Her boots making
dull thuds on the floor boards, she came to them as unexpectedly
as possible.
"Good morning, Mister Winner." Her tone was expressionless,
and Quatra let his true surprise flood his smile. He extended
a hand, eyes fixed on hers.
"Hello, Miss Catalonia." He gestured to the man who
he had been talking to, who was now studying Dorothy's countenance
with interest.
Dorothy turned to him, nodding a greeting, and shook hands with
him as well. Quatra excused himself from the man and glanced back
at Dorothy.
"I had no idea-"
"A recent arrangement, Mister Winner."
"You joined the Preventers?" He asked, a mixture of
interest and question in the way he glanced over her suit. "I
never saw that coming."
"Neither did I." They began to walk down the corridor,
past small groups of people murmuring with each other, talking
about whatever came to mind. She explained as much as she could
about what she had done, leaving out anything that could be counted
as a personal reason. But Quatra seemed to see right through every
evasion he countered by her.
Each door they went by had been closed, locked. When they came
to one that wasn't, Quatra bent down to close it himself. But
he paused when he had taken a brief look inside.
Peering down the hall, right and left, he opened the door a little
wider. Sticking his head in, Dorothy could only raise her eyebrows
and wait. And when he quietly slipped past the door, she only
shrugged and followed, not quite wanting to leave the conversation
right then.
It was a large, closet-like area where instruments were stored;
cellos, a piano, the needed pieces of an orchestra. All were in
cases, slightly dusty, but well-kept. Quatra wandered around the
room, not noticing the thick, dead air that hadn't been circulated
in years, or the way Dorothy just kept back, close to the door,
which he had partially shut at coming in.
There was only one window; it had an amazingly thick layer of
grime on the glass panes, muddying the view, letting the sun shine
through in haziness and highlighting each swirling mite of dust.
The ground was concrete, old, and Quatra's shoes sounded dainty
to her ears with each step he took on it.
Funny, really. Dorothy shook herself, diverting her eyes from
the slim shoulders to the door. Though cramped and unclean, this
little place seemed complete with him in it, even comfortable.
For some reason, beyond her minds' ability to tell why, she liked
it. She liked the tranquility he brought with him.
Biting her lip, she stared out of the crack into the hall, and,
seeing a shadow come towards them, silently shut it with one hand.
Quatra looked to be in his element; she didn't feel in the mood
to disturb him.
Now, the dark mellowed any sharpness an object had possessed when
they first entered; all was soft and curved. Tired of her guard
over the door, Dorothy left and took to Quatra's side, looking
over his shoulder. He didn't notice, his alertness having been
canceled by the warm familiarity of everything in the room.
She bent over his shoulder, her hair slipping and falling from
her back to graze his arm, and set her mouth near his ear. Now
he noticed, jerking back a little, but she only gave herself a
small smile. Her breath blew onto his neck, and he glanced back
at her, puzzled. At seeing her intently watching his hands near
an instruments' case, he turned back, his lips pulling upward
in a happy grin again.
"It's a violin." He stated softly. She nodded, and he
felt her chin bump against his shoulder. If he had turned, she
would've seen a small blush grow across his cheek, but he kept
himself from doing so. With both hands, he clicked open the case,
his grin growing at seeing the violin revealed.
But he didn't move past that. Dorothy, still close, pulled a little
more forward till he could feel the right side of her body lightly
pressed against his back.
She reached forward with an arm, guiding his hand to the neck
of the instrument, and lay it there, her hand over his.
"No one is going to stop you, Mister Winner." She breathed,
retreating to the left and giving him room. Bewildered, he looked
up at her, tilting his head slightly. But she only gave him a
smile, one that he couldn't unravel and translate into emotions.
She urged him on with a nod of her head, her encouraging smile
still there.
Licking his bottom lip, Quatra pushed a curl of hair behind his
ear and further stared at the violin. Then, picking up the bow,
he wrapped his fingers around it meekly and laid it under his
chin. Even before the bow had touched the strings, they hummed
to him. They hummed so pleasantly, so gently.
Closing his eyes till his eyelashes shadowed his line of sight,
brushing against his cheek, he played. Dorothy listened without
a word, leaning her weight against a table, her hands grasping
the edges to keep her balance. The silence only made the notes
of the violin seem all the sweeter; although she had known Quatra
had much musical talent, she hadn't ever heard him play.
Now, in a small room just three feet from his side, she was glad
to hear this now. Rising and falling, the sounds hung in the air
for the shortest of moments before vanishing. When her nose itched,
she kept herself from sneezing, anxious that it would hurt the
delicacy in which Quatra released the voice of the violin. Anything
to keep it going.
The dust settled, a tiny, extremely thin layer coating her suit.
Her hands felt numb from being frozen in the same position for
so long, and she couldn't tell just how much time had passed.
She was sure they would have to leave soon, make an appearance
with the rest on the stage. But she couldn't leave right then.
Let them wait.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I wrote this with a friend in mind; for you, Juu-chan! Good gourd,
I can just picture Dorothy putting the moves on Quatre - for her
to be able to do that something normal to them both had to be
put in there. The instruments came right in handy, ne?
Please review! (Bribes of marzipan await).