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!

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"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....
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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.
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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).