Disclaimer: The usual stuff.

Author's Notes: I know some of you...okay, most of you were confused in the last chapter. Don't worry. I had hoped you'd be;) Enjoy this next chapter, and thank you for all your support and encouragement!

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To Dance Beneath the Diamond Sky
by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Something arrived in the mail for you yesterday."

Duo glanced up from his huge brunch of pancakes, ham and fresh fruit to look at his father across the dining room table. He swallowed a mouthful, fighting the rising excitement in his throat. "Is it from..." he started.

Robert gently cut off his son. "It's not from her."

"Oh." With a sigh, Duo speared a piece of pineapple. Suddenly, he had to wonder if he could choke down anymore of the pre-workshop feast his mother had spent so much time making for him. Wanting to hear from Hilde, needing to see her face, feel her lips against his....he was starving not for food, but for her.

Sarah lowered her coffee cup. "Show him, Robert."

"We haven't opened it yet..." Duo's father reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a long envelope. "But both your mother and I have a good feeling."

Duo accepted the letter without a hint of enthusiasm. He instinctively glanced at the return address. New York University...

His fork hit his plate with a metallic clank. "Oh shit," he breathed. The NYU application. He could barely remember filling it out and sending it off at the start of the school year. It had mostly been to get his school's guidance counselor off his back. Apparently, ballet was not a viable career choice....or at least it wouldn't look good on the old woman's track record if she didn't try to get absolutely everyone into a four-year university.

He tore into the letter and fumbled to unfold it. Violet eyes scanned the first few lines. A moment later, Duo lowered the sheet of paper and looked at his parents. They were both quiet, watching him. Waiting.

"Well?" Sarah finally asked, twisting her gingham napkin.

"I got in."

"Oh sweetie!!" His mother pushed her chair back; her arms enfolded her only child. "I'm so proud of you!! We both are."

Robert nodded. "NYU. Quite an achievement." The smile on his gently aged face was wide as he sipped his coffee.

"Mom...Dad." Duo shook his head, replacing the letter in its envelope. "We've talked about this. I don't want to go to college."

"We know that, Duo." Sarah brushed her son's bangs off his forehead. "Your father and I want you to do whatever makes you happy. But...now that you know you can do it....do more than *just* dance....will you at least consider it?"

Duo looked down at his plate. "Don't you mean now that I don't have Hilde holding me down?"

"Duo, don't put words in your mother's mouth."

He looked up at her with apology in his eyes. "Sorry, Mom. Tell you what. Can I just get through the workshop tonight? See what kind of offers I get, and *then* I'll make my decision. Okay?"

His parents exchanged a look. "It only seems fair," Robert finally said. "After the workshop then."

Duo went back to his food, the acceptance letter tucked underneath the corner of his mother's hand-painted plate. So much was going through his mind that he forgot one tiny little thing.

Namely who had applied to NYU with him.

****

By the time Heero got through talking to his lawyer, a man in the same firm that handled his trust fund, it was close to five in the afternoon. It had been a long day dancing around the lawyer's questions about his reasons behind attacking the French man. According to James McMillian, Esq., if Heero didn't provide some sort of defense, his chances of fines, probation, or even prison time looked good.

It didn't sway him, though. The secrets were Relena's; he would protect them as long as he protected her.

He took a cab back home, giving him just enough time to pack up a few things before heading back to the theatre. In his bedroom, as he grabbed his shoes, he paused for a minute at his bed, still rumpled from the previous night. Heero reached out and picked up the photograph of his mother.

"Will you be watching tonight?" he asked her. She smiled back at him as he put her picture back down. "I hope so."

Arriving at the theatre only fifteen minutes before the call time, Heero was immediately approached by three or four corps members in various states of dress. All were eager to hear about his alleged arrest the night before. He brushed past his classmates with barely a word, heading for the dressing rooms.

"Yuy!" As soon as he strode into the boys locker room and heard Duo Maxwell's voice, Heero turned around and started back out. "Hey...wait!" Completely without modesty in only a pair of thick-woven, coal-black tights, the braided dancer caught up with him just before he escaped out the door. "Dude...did you really get arrested?"

Heero readjusted his grip on his bag, still holding the locker room door open with the other. "It's a long story."

"You did, didn't you?" Duo shook his head. "Damn. Well, I guess you had a pretty good reason for whatever it was you did."

"Why do you say that?"

"Cause..." The other dancer lifted his bare shoulders. "You don't do anything for nothing."

"He's right about that." The soft, feminine voice ejected into the conversation had both boys turning their heads towards the hallway. Relena stood a few feet away, her arms casually folded over her grey warm-up leotard. "Hi," she continued, almost shyly.

As Heero moved towards her, Duo made a great show of attempting to cover his exposed chest...and the generous bulge in his tights. "I'm just...so embarrassed, princess!"

Relena flashed an all too brief smile. "It's all right, Duo. I wasn't really looking." Her eyes locked with Heero's as he pulled her into his arms. Before she could say anything, his mouth captured hers in a deep kiss.

"And now I'm a third wheel." Duo watched the couple for another second before releasing a breathless sigh. Silently, he excused himself and disappeared back into the locker room.

"Heero...." Relena twisted her lips away from his. Her cheek rested on his arm as she caught her breath. "I need to talk to you about something."

He kissed her sweet-smelling hair. "What is it?"

"Last night...after I left your place..." She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her thick lashes were wet. "I went home. I...he was there. Waiting for me."

She could feel every muscle in his body tense up instantly. "Relena." He pushed her back a bit to look at her face. His eyes were concerned, but with a hint of frost at the very centers. "Did he hurt you? Tell me...if he touched you, I'll..."

"I'm fine, Heero. Honestly." Relena's hand cupped his cheek before slipping down to his collarbone. "He didn't hurt me."

Heero shook his head. "You shouldn't have talked to him, Relena. I can fight him, but only if I know that you're safe. And you're not safe if you're anywhere near the bastard."

"I can't sit by and watch him ruin your life because I didn't have the guts to stay in Paris and fight back. I ran to America and I got you involved and it shouldn't have happened!" Relena wiped at her moist cheeks. "So...I asked him to drop the charges against you."

"Relena..."

"Hear me out." She licked her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. "He said that he would."

Heero blinked. "What did he ask for in return?"

"Just one thing," Relena whispered. Her gaze lowered to the floor.

"I should have killed him," Heero said a long minute later. His fists balled up; his frame shook with rage. "How fucked up is he to think that..."

"Mr. Yuy." He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of their dance instructor. Treize clapped a hand onto Heero's strong shoulder. "You're a damn lucky man."

Still caught up in his anger and outrage, a scowl descended onto Heero's brow. "What?"

"Chevalier? Dropping the charges?" The older man chuckled. "Saved everyone's asses, I'll tell you that. Next time you get it into your head to hit someone, pick a man with his fingers in fewer pies, please." He looked at his prima ballerina for the evening. "Shouldn't you both be warming up?"

Relena delicately cleared her throat. "We were just about to. Thanks." Nodding, Treize moved off down the hall. Her attention returned to Heero. "It's not..."

"I don't believe it." He shook his head. "I don't fucking believe that you..."

"I didn't," Relena said. "Heero. Heero, look at me."

His horrified gaze met hers. "You let him....after we..."

"We're really going to have to work on this trust thing," she snapped. "I didn't sleep with Jean-Paul. I won't say that I didn't consider it for the briefest second in a crazy moment when all I could picture was you losing absolutely everything you've worked for since you were six years old just to protect me. Me, who can't even stand up for myself against my alcoholic mother! I didn't need to think about it any further." She paused. "I had a plan. And it worked."

Heero raked his fingers through his hair. "Relena...it's not trust. I just..." He stopped. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure what I would have believed a few minutes ago if I had been you, Heero." Her expression softened. "Let's just forget about it."

He nodded, but then frowned. "Wait. If you didn't accept his terms...why am I suddenly out of hot water?"

Relena hesitated a moment before swinging her leather bag off her back. She reached into it and pulled out a seven-inch chopping knife.

"What the fuck are you doing with that?!" Heero hissed, trying to press it back into her bag and out of plain sight.

"I'm tired of running, Heero." Her head swung back and forth, the long, golden strands of her hair brushing across the slopes of her breasts. "I've been his prisoner ever since he held me down on the studio floor back in Paris. He's nearly ruined everything good in my life. Dancing....you..." Relena's chin snapped up; her eyes bored into his. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to kill him. If I wanted to kill him, I would have done it last night."

Heero swallowed. "What happened last night, Relena?"

"He actually thought I was just going to jump into his bed," she started a second later. "Like the two times he tried to rape me, I had just been playing hard-to-get or something." Her laughter was short and bitter. "I told him I had to get ready and he believed that, too. While he was waiting...I slipped into bed with this. It was just sitting in the dish drainer, as if it had been put there, just for me."

"Then what did you do?"

Her eyes were glassy as she told the rest of the story. "He came into my bedroom, taking his shirt off as he walked. I had the covers pulled up to my chin with my hand on the knife underneath them. When he started to climb on top of me..." Her throat closed up and her eyes closed again.

"I think I understand." Making sure the knife was tucked away, Heero wrapped her up in his arms. "What did you threaten him with?"

"The truth," Relena replied, her words muffled by his neck. "The whole and nothing but. In an American court." She sniffed. "It helped that I had the knife to his throat the whole time."

Heero held her tighter. "And it worked."

"He packed up and left before the sun rose. And I guess he made the appropriate calls to the police. So, yes. It did."

"Shit, Relena...you could have been so hurt."

"I wasn't," she reminded him.

"And I never would have forgiven myself."

Relena shook her head against his chest. "I couldn't have lived with myself if he had won." She pulled back slightly. "But it's over now. He's out of the picture." Her lovely lips turned up in a pure smile. "We're free."

"We're free," he repeated, holding her face between his hands. After a soft kiss, he released her from his loving grip. "Thank you."

"Why aren't you two warming up?" Dorothy Catalonia cruised down the hall past them, her nose turned all the way up. "You're not so good that you don't have to, you know."

Ignoring her, they kissed again. Finally, Relena drew away. "The nervousness has returned."

"No nervousness." Heero traced her full bottom lip with his index finger. "You're my swan princess. I won't let you fall tonight...or ever."

Relena's tears welled up once more. "I'm so glad I fell in love with you, Heero Yuy."

"And I'm just damn lucky." He smiled, boyish bangs flopping over his forehead. "Nothing standing in our way anymore, Relena."

She started to walk backwards, holding his hand until the last possible second. "Nothing in our way."

****

"Millardo!" After taking a fortifying sip of her Bloody Mary, Helen pulled a pair of diamond earrings from her jewelry box. She had only managed to attach one before she remembered that her son and his fiancee had left for the theatre an hour earlier. She took another long sip of her drink to clear her thoughts.

The noise that had prompted her to call out for her oldest child returned a moment later. Helen blinked and shook her head. Drink in hand, but only one spike-heel shoe on her foot, she started for her bedroom door, searching for the source of the noise in what should have been an empty apartment.

Empty, at least, after Jean-Paul had disappeared during the night. She sighed and drank again. Men were nothing if not fickle.

Helen wandered in the hallway, staggering with her uneven steps. "Miles, is that you? Is the limo ready to take me to the theatre?" Her words were slurred, but in her mind, they sounded perfectly sober.

She rounded the corner into the parlor and came face to face with Jean-Paul. "Oh!" Caught off guard, she dropped her glass. "You bad man. Startling me like that." Her hand tried to slap him playfully, but missed his arm by a mile. "Where have you been?"

He reached out to steady her. "Relena..."

"Yes. The...the workshop." Helen grabbed onto his arms. "We're going to be late."

"Ma petit cher." Jean-Paul's hands moved up to tangle in her carefully coiffed hair. "Belle..."

"My hair, darling. You're mussing it." Helen tried to pull back, but his fingers were too deeply tangled. "Jean-Paul..."

He fisted handfuls of her hair, yanking at her scalp. "Why do you fight me still, cher? You never believe that all I want is to be with you forever."

Relena's mother pushed at his chest, crying out in pain, but he was too strong for her, especially in her drunken state. "What are you doing, Jean-Paul?!"

"Let me be with you!" His face, twisted beyond recognition, descended towards hers. "I will forget everything you have done to me."

"Let me go!" Helen screamed, fear suddenly sobering her up. "You're hurting me!"

Jean-Paul shook his head. "You hurt me more, cher. My Relena...ma belle." He released her hair; his hands clamped around her throat. The diamonds on her necklace dug into her white skin as he tightened his grip. "If I cannot be with you....no man will."

Helen Estelle Peacecraft Dorlian would never get to see her only daughter dance the part she had always dreamed she would. A few minutes later, her lifeless body fell to the oriental carpet alongside her Bloody Mary glass. As she lay there, staring up at the ceiling without seeing, and her daughter slipped into her feathered costume across town, her murderer hailed a cab and directed it towards Lincoln Center.

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To Be Continued