Disclaimer: I own nothing of Gundam but the memories of the contentment they bring...

Ooh. How'dja like the way I left off the last time? *evil grin* sorry, I'm in a purely mischievous mood tonight, soo...what can I say but...bwahahahahah- *choke, cough, sputter* I think something went down the wrong way. *makes a face* Great. Ruin my evil laughter. *pouts* Anyways, here's da um...one two three four... *indecipherable muttering* eighth! See I can count! Eighth part of my fic! Enjoy greatly, people!

The combatants squared off against one another, the woman smiling with cold confidence, the two men fiddling nervously with their whips...no one had told them they were to deal with a psychopath. And how could they do it without killing her in the process? Suddenly, she seemed to grow weary of waiting for an offensive attack, lunging at them with an unconcealed thirst for revenge, her blue eyes, normally ice, blazing with exultation as her sword found its mark, imbedding itself to the hilt in the man's shoulder. He gave a numbed cry, dropping his whip even as Dorothy yanked out the blade, grabbing another would-be attacker by the throat.

"Always a bad, bad idea to harm those close to me...dear." His eyes bulged out as he gasped for in a futile attempt to breathe as he clawed helpless at her tightening fist. Suddenly a stab of pain at her side made Dorothy hiss, though she did not release the man. "Damn! I should have killed you when I had the chance!" The other guard had grabbed the pick, stabbing her in the side even though he was still on his belly, face tight with pain and terror.

She kicked aside the weapon and slammed her foot against his head, knocking it against the unyieldingly rocky ground. This time, he stayed still, unmoving but for the slight rise and fall of his chest. She turned her attention back to the man whose throat she had in her hand. "Now...tell me what I should do to you..."

"Enough!" An authoritative figure strode onto the scene and Dorothy smiled cruelly to herself.

"Why, Mr. Luir...coming out to witness the day's entertainment, are we?" Dorothy literally purred, still not releasing the guard. Her blade gleamed a wet crimson, flashing a deathly warning to the man. It was held only inches from Quatre's prone body in an unmistakably protective gesture, almost like a phoenix mantling over its young.

"Catalonia..." There was an answering growl in his voice as he glanced at the damage she had caused to his employees, two men unconscious on the ground and the last still choking from her deathgrip. "Really, Miss Dorothy, must you disturb everything in my well-oiled machine?" The veneer of sophistication was there, but his expression portrayed one of keen frustration as a tick started at his temple.

"Of course, Mr. Luir. What else would I do for fun?" She countered, watching him warily. Several men were detaching from their individual positions to come forward slowly to surround her and Quatre. If she surrendered, it was quite likely that she and Quatre would both die. If she kept on fighting, she would die. The third option was to keep him talking...something that Dorothy did very quickly, though she didn't lose her calm. She smirked and tossed her dust-covered hair. "Besides, you should thank me, you know. I just stopped your guards from killing your greatest asset."

A black brow rose over silver eyes. "Really. Miss Catalonia, I'm dying to know how you figure this."

"Simple, Mr. Luir. Consider who Mr. Winner is. The heir to Winner Corp, one of the largest manufacturing and retail companies in the known galaxy. Now, consider who he is to a few very important people. An acquaintance of Mr. Heero Yuy, who is a Gundam pilot, a trusted friend of Miss Releena's Dorlain, the epitome and leader of the World Sphere Alliance, and my" She gestured to herself with a mocking curtsy, "protector and savior aboard the Libra four years ago. Now...if he ever died on this misbegotten dirtball, do you think any of us would ever hesitate to destroy you?" Dorothy laughed unpleasantly. "Best hope that I get to you first, Mr. Luir. Yuy would not bother with a fair fight."

Luir's complexion had turned somewhat pale beneath his tan, though he covered it well. "Nonsense. No one will ever find out about our operations, Miss Catalonia. You put too much confidence in your friends." An animal can smell fear. There was fear in his eyes, real fear and uncertainty; Dorothy pounced on it with the cold accuracy of a cat toying with a mouse.

"Is that so, Mr. Luir?" A cultured brow rose over her own eye as she mirrored his cool confidence from before. I've got you now, Luir. You're fear gives you away... "You think you can ever sleep well knowing that Yuy is out for your blood trail? Or that Miss Releena would ever stop scouring the universe for you? What does she have at her fingers? The Preventors? The rest of the Gundam pilots? Even the colonies bow at her fingers, Mr. Luir. You're already a dead man. You just don't know it yet. Now...if you kill Quatre," Dorothy's face hardened into diamond, "You will have just lost the final bargaining chip you possess."

"No, you-"

"Miss Releena might not like it that you kill me...but Yuy," She smirked again, "Frankly, Yuy doesn't give a damn about me, Mr. Luir. After all, I've tried to kill him on more than one occasion. Heero cares about those he considers friends, though...or maybe Trowa Barton will get to you first. Do you know Quatre's the only one that's succeeded in getting him to laugh? And Barton does not laugh." If anything, Luir got paler, his hands, which had been clenched, fell limply at his sides as he tried to imagine what the famed pilot of HeavyArms would do to him. He did not like it.

Luir hesitated for a moment, the brusquely gestured for the guards to take Quatre into custody. "Bring him in. We'll doctor him in-"

"No." Dorothy's saber arm raised again. "You see, I don't trust you, Mr. Luir. I will take him into my care and you," She gestured with her saber, "will bring exactly the medicines, water, and food that he needs. If you attempt to poison him or otherwise drug him," Eyes glinted, "I will bathe in your blood and use your innards as my sponge...while you are still alive. I will cut out your heart, and I will marinate it slowly in garlic and red wine. Then, and only after I've tortured you in every single possible way that I can, will I allow you to die, slowly."

He was sweating now, and not from the heat of day either. He nodded curtly, then paused. "Miss Catalonia...release my guard immediately." Dorothy smiled in ill-concealed victory as she turned her head to regard the man in her fist thoughtfully. He was turning slightly blue around the lips, his tongue trailing as he tried to take in more air.

"Of course...Mr. Luir."

***

Quatre moaned feverishly, tossing his head side to side. He was bundled in grudgingly given sheets and Dorothy smiled at him, concern written on her face. "Sh...Sh...Sleep Quatre. You're safe..." She wrung out the water in the bucket, carefully letting it dribble into Quatre's mouth. "You'll be all right...I'm here." She felt the shadows at her back, and ignored them, all her attention centered on the ill man.

He had grown so thin, his skin peeled and bloody from lashes and the harsh lacerations of rock. Dorothy held his hand, soothing the restless movements of his fingers. There was no trace of blood fury and madness that had been coursing through her only a second before. The saber was discarded at the foot of her bed...or Quatre's bed now. Her hands, gentle and loving, carefully cleaned at his dirt caked wounds, prying the stiff dirt encrusted coveralls off to dress him in something warmer, and less harsh on the skin. I've found you now...nothing's going to hurt you.

"So...this is the pilot of that Sandrock Gundam, eh, Doll-child? Or should I go back to callin' ya Miss Cat'lonia?" Dorothy looked up at him, a residue of compassion on her face even as her mask slipped back on.

"Really, Chris. That is hardly necessary, now is it?" Dorothy glared at them in mock annoyance. "I give a little performance out there and you're ready to fall at my feet?" Chris laughed, as did the others as they took up positions around the room, watching the usually ruthless woman tend to someone else with unconcealed tenderness.

"So," Siara broke the silence, leaning against the doorjamb. "You two's lovers?"

Dorothy started, then glared at her. "No, Siara, we are not." Not that you wouldn't mind if you were, would you Dorothy? "We are merely good friends." Too bad you weren't closer.

Quiet, you foolish voice!

Siara smirked, not at all fazed. "Sure look like lovers t'me, Doll."

Tor agreed, tapping the side of his head. "These eyes m'be getting' old, Doll-child, but they still see more'n 'friendship' w'you's two."

Dorothy sighed. How could almost total strangers read what even her close friends only suspected? She smiled at them wryly, brushing back platinum blonde bangs from Quatre's anguish twisted face. Her heart almost broke as she instinctively sought to soothe the frown off his face, stroking his cheek gently. "He thinks I'm kind." Dorothy raised her eyes to them. "He thinks I am a kind person. Nothing more."

"Kind?!" Chris barked a little in disbelief, "Nuttin' else?"

Dorothy shook her head, returning her gaze to his pale face. She smoothed the crow's feet that had developed at the corner of his eyes. "Nothing more, nothing less." There was a tinge of barely perceptible sadness in her voice. "He said that four years ago, just before he told me to continue to live. I didn't want to then. I wanted to die...go out, in a blaze of glory." She laughed, a little chokingly, "I was so foolish..."

"You's a kind person, Doll." Siara put a work roughened hand on Dorothy's shoulder, "You just dunno hows ta express yerself yet, tha's all. Ain't hard ta see y'love 'im."

Dorothy smiled wearily. "I am a Catalonia, Siara. In our family, it is known that a Catalonia only loves once, no matter what she leads others to believe. In that one time...it is an eternal love."

"So why you don'tcha tell 'im?"

"There's another part to that saying." Dorothy's eyes hardened into ice, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. "Catalonias never find love."

Author's note: Oooh. So how's that for romance? *twirls happily* So that's it for now. Rhiannon, you may NOT kill me!! End me...she says...*grumble grumble* So, tell me what you think guys! I'm always open to r&r!!