Disclaimer: Oh, just say it to yourself. You have it memorized;)

Author's Notes: A long chapter to make up for the last, short one. This was a very, very hard chapter to write, but fortunately I have a massive paper due soon that I was trying to avoid, so I managed to get it done. I hope you enjoy it. Well....maybe "enjoy" isn't the right word. Let's put it this way, I promise that the next chapter will be out soon. Love to you all!!

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To Dance Beneath the Diamond Sky
by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Dance every performance as if it were your last." -Erik Bruhn

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"Mr. Peacecraft! Jake Manheim from the Times Arts and Entertainment. What did you think of tonight's workshop as an example of your company's dance academy?"

Millardo ignored the flashbulbs going off in his face as he answered the reporter's question. "Once again my good friend, Treize, has proven that he is this city's foremost dance instructor. His work with the students has been inspiring, as we've all seen in tonight's incredible performances. As an example of my company's work, I couldn't be prouder."

"Mr. Peacecraft, is it true that your half-sister danced the role of Odette tonight?"

"It is, yes."

Beside him, Lucrezia spoke up where he could not. "She is an exceptional dancer, as are all of our advanced students."

"So..." The Times reporter addressed them again. "Are she and her partner shoo-in's for next year's company roster?"

"The new company members will be informed later tonight." Millardo smiled tightly. "That will be all for now, ladies and gentlemen."

As the reporters grudgingly allowed the couple to slip out of their grasp, Lucrezia squeezed his hand. "You handled that very well."

"They shouldn't be asking about Relena like that," he scowled. "Like I only cast her because she's my sister."

"People always suspect the worst, darling. It's human nature." She kissed his cheek sweetly. "Treize will love what you said about him."

Millardo lifted one shoulder. "He likes seeing his name in the Times. And Mother will like the bit about Relena. At least she'll like seeing 'Dorlian' in black and white." He frowned. "Where in the hell is that woman, anyways?"

"Probably somewhere between her fourteenth cocktail and the toilet bowl," Lucrezia replied. "I can't believe that after everything she claims to have done in the name of Relena's career, that she'd be so out of control as to miss the biggest night of it."

His frown didn't dissipate. "It's not like her." Reaching into his tuxedo pocket, he withdrew his cell phone. "I'll call the penthouse; maybe Magda can get her sober and down here before Relena comes out."

Lucrezia sighed softly, but said nothing more as she readjusted the fringed shawl around her arms and he dialed.

A minute later, Millardo pulled the phone away from his ear. "There's no answer."

"Maybe she sent Magda home for the night."

Millardo replaced his phone in his jacket. "Maybe. I just..."

"You just what?" She slipped her hand into his. "What's wrong, love?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I can't place it. I just feel like something's not..." He stopped, forcing himself to smile. "It's probably nothing." Millardo glanced at his Rolex. "I hope Relena doesn't take her usual half-hour shower. I'd like to get business out of the way."

Lucrezia grinned behind her hand. "Perhaps she and Heero are helping conserve water..."

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, there were no photographers around to capture the look on the Ballet Conservatory Director's face.

****

Relena was, indeed, taking her time in the shower; the hot pressure just felt too good on her overworked muscles. When the water had soothed away every last ache, she soaped up her long hair with Heero's favorite vanilla-scented shampoo.

She closed her eyes as she massaged her scalp, remembering the time she had found out that particular tidbit of information. Lying in his arms, the night after their dinner with Trowa, Quatre and Duo...he couldn't stop touching her hair, burying his face in it, inhaling like it was the only air he could possibly breathe.

The memory of the rest of that evening's events warmed her more than the water rinsing her hair clean. She turned the shower off and reached for her towel. Wrapping it around her wet body, Relena stepped out of the stall, refreshed and more than ready to be with Heero again.

Her classmates had already cleared out, obviously eager to get to the lobby and await Millardo's announcement about his choices for the open company spots. She smiled ruefully. It really didn't matter anymore whether or not she made it. Thanks to Heero, she had proven to herself that she was a good dancer, perhaps even better than just good. That was all she had ever really needed.

Shivering in the cool air of the silent locker room, Relena quickly dried herself off and wound her hair up into the towel. After pulling her bag from her locker, she dressed just as fast, stepping into a short Versace evening dress a few minutes later. Her arms bent around her back as much as they could to do up the zipper.

A hand closed around her wrist. Relena jumped, but before she could do anything else, she felt the zipper being moved, closing the back of her dress. "Heero?" she guessed, more than a little desperate hope in her voice.

"I killed you," the person behind her said in flat French. "I killed you, cher."

Her eyes flew open in sheer terror. "Jean-Paul!" Instinct propelled her forward, away from him. She spun around, clasping a hand to her bare throat. "Oh my god..."

"I killed you," he said again, his eyes completely glazed over. "I put my hands right there..." He pointed to where she was clutching her own neck. "And you closed your eyes...forever."

"What are you...what are you talking about?" She swallowed heavily. Her fright was so great that the French words were barely audible. "I told you...leave me alone, or I will tell everyone what you..."

Jean-Paul's eyes closed briefly and when he opened them again, the distant look had been replaced with one of perplexion, somehow even more chilling. "But you were onstage tonight. Dancing. Dancing for me...." A slow grin spread across his face. "You came back to me, cher."

"You're insane," she whispered in English.

He shook his head, clearly even more confused by her words. "But you have. You are right here, ma cher. Ma belle..." Jean-Paul took a step towards her.

"Stay back!" she cried. "There are so many people in this building..." *Heero is just down the hall,* she added to herself. "All I have to do is scream and every single one of them will know what a perverted, crazy bastard you really are!!"

"I watched you tonight, ma petit Relena," he continued, moving even closer. For every step he was taking, she took another backwards. "Even dancing with him, you were magnifique! I watched you..." He licked his lips. "You look so beautiful when you are wet, cher."

"Oh god..." Her next step was as far as she could go; her back was now pressed against the cold metal of the lockers. "Heero..."

Jean-Paul's eyes flashed. "Do not call for him. You are mine. You came back to me! Just me!!"

She balled up her trembling hands as hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Stop it!! Go away!! Please...leave me alone!"

"Ma cher...you could not leave me. Even in your death." He slammed one hand against a locker next to her head. "You are mine forever."

****

Heero closed up his locker and reached into for his duffel bag for a pair of black socks. Sitting onto the bench that ran between the rows, he pulled them on, shaking back his freshly washed and dried hair. He was stalling, giving Relena the ample time she had asked for to make herself what she called "presentable." Quite frankly, he liked her however it was that she happened to be at any particular moment, be that perfumed and coiffed or rumpled and sated...wrapped in his bedsheets after...

That sort of celebration would come later, he reminded himself, if she was so inclined, which he had a feeling she would be. Only that night, he was not going to let her get away from him before the sun came up.

After he stepped into his shoes, Heero stood and tugged at the tie around his neck. It was a gesture of pure impatience; the forty-five minutes he had spent away from Relena were just about enough. He zipped up his bag and checked to make sure his costume was hung in the proper spot on the boy's wardrobe rack, before starting for the locker room doors.

The moment his hand touched the metal bar, the door swung at him, forced open from the other side. Heero managed to jump back just in time before the door could deliver a powerful blow to his nose. Duo and Hilde appeared from the hallway, holding hands and laughing at something.

"Oh man!" Duo exclaimed when he realized what had almost happened. "Sorry!"

Heero's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sure you are." He blinked at Hilde. "It's been a long time." Old guilt welled up anew within his chest. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said, smiling brightly. "Well, a lot better at least." There was a pause. "You were amazing tonight, Heero. You and Relena both."

He inclined his head, accepting the compliment. "She'd be honored to hear that from you."

"I owe her some apologies first." Hilde cleared her throat. "I've been out of the loop...but are you two...?"

"They are!" Duo exclaimed, gleefully. "And I never even had to resort to Plan C."

"Plan C?" Heero cocked an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't you be picking Relena up right about now?" the braided dancer continued rather quickly. "I bet she's waiting for you."

Heero nodded, shifting the duffel bag strap that lay over his shoulder. "Everyone's already left here, so you two can make as much noise as you want. The walls are soundproof."

A blush inflamed Hilde's cheeks; Duo merely rolled his eyes. "It's not like we can do anything that would get her cast wet." Her embarrassed stare swung over to him. Catching the furious undertones in it, Duo attempted a chuckle. "I'll just be getting my shower now..."

Her hand made sharp contact with his firm ass after he planted a kiss on her cheek on his way to the showers. Heero was already out the door, heading down the hall towards the girls locker rooms.

****

Trowa ran his fingers through his lover's silky blond locks as he came down from the peak to which the shorter boy's talented mouth had just sent him. "Quatre..." he murmured. "Je t'aime."

"And I, you," Quatre replied, standing back up and brushing off his knees as Trowa pulled himself together. The dark corner of the backstage area was the perfect place for a quick tryst, but Quatre's demure nature had begun to take over, and the fear of getting caught no longer seemed as exciting. "We should go mon'aime. I want to see our Relena."

After readjusting all the pieces of clothing that Quatre had done such a good job of undoing, Trowa took his lover's hand and kissed the back of it passionately. "But I have not made you cry out my name, Little One."

Quatre cupped Trowa's cheek. "Later. I promise that..." He stopped suddenly upon hearing footsteps behind them. Both boys looked just as Heero Yuy stepped into the light from the nearby open door that led to the wings.

"I thought I heard voices." Heero moved towards them. "Are you lost?"

"We are not being lost," Quatre replied, quickly running a hand over his mouth to brush away any possible evidence of their lovemaking. "But thank you."

"Quatre, right?" Heero nodded at the couple. "If you're waiting for Relena, I was just going to get her."

Trowa's hand pressed into his. "We are waiting in lobby then." He smiled at his friend's boyfriend. "Trowa and me this night enjoyed your dancing."

Heero nodded. "I appreciate that." He backed up a step. "See you later then."

Once the American dancer was gone, Quatre let a pent-up breath go. "I think that my English is making much improvement," he told Trowa, beaming.

His lover kissed him suddenly. "Everything you do is perfect, Little One."

****

Fear, cold and sharp, bit into Heero as he stopped in front of the doors to the girls locker room. He froze for a moment, beads of sweat breaking out along his hairline. The backstage hallway was empty and silent, but inside his head, a thousand voices screamed at him for reasons he could not understand.

"Relena," he said out of nowhere. Heero swallowed and wrapped his hand around the metal handle of one door. With one fluid movement, he pulled it open. "Relena!"

The first thing he heard was a muffled whimper and the sound of something hitting a locker on the very far side of the large room. The sound grew louder.

He moved into the room on numb feet. "Relena! Where are you?"

There was another whimper, even louder and even longer; a chill ran down his spine. But it was nothing compared to the feeling in his stomach a moment later when her voice cried out to him. "Heero!! Help m...." She was quiet way too abruptly.

His duffel bag hit the floor and he was off and running through the maze of lockers. "Relena!" His cry echoed off the walls. "I'm coming, Relena!" She had slipped and fallen. She had hurt herself. She was in pain. She was dying. Too many visions of the way he might find her pummeled him from every dark place within his mind.

Any of those images would have been easier to deal with than what he saw as he turned the final corner.

He had her down on the floor, her head jammed up against the leg of the long, wooden bench. Although Heero could see much around her attackers body, he could see that Relena's dress had been ripped down the front. One breast lay exposed. The man on top of her held her wrists captive underneath the bench. It was his legs that had managed to pry Relena's apart; he lay between them now, his free hand working at the fly of his tuxedo pants.

The man's head swung around upon sensing Heero's sudden presence, his face all-too recognizable. He snarled like a startled animal. "Leave!" he ordered in French. "We want to be alone."

Heero didn't speak a word of the language, but then his comprehension of English wasn't even all that great at the moment. His entire six foot frame of youthful muscles shook uncontrollably. "Get the fuck off her," he said, his voice throbbing with rage. "Before I kill you."

"Heero..." Relena whispered, tears flowing into the tangled, wet locks spread around her head.

Jean-Paul seemed to understand the younger man's words; he removed his hand from between his and Relena's bodies, but did not release her wrists. "She is mine," he said in English. "She came back to me!"

Without wasting another second on words or thought, Heero lunged forward, grabbing the French man by the black coat on his back. As though he weighed no more than a single brick, Heero threw Jean-Paul off of his girlfriend's body, taking much satisfaction when the man hit the bank of lockers and landed in a crumpled pile on the floor.

His rage switched to worry within a matter of seconds. Heero bent down to help Relena up. "Are you all right?"

Her legs were too unsteady for her to stand without his support. She could not speak through her sobs; she could only lean against him and cry. As he held her, he tugged her dress over her bare breast. "Shh..." he soothed, as best he could. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jean-Paul slowly pulling himself back to his feet. "Hold on, baby." He guided Relena to the far end of the bench. She clung to him frantically. "I have to take care of something."

When he had gently pried Relena's arms away from his neck, Heero turned on her would-be rapist. "I should have killed you when I had the chance, instead of just bruising your nose."

Jean-Paul rotated the shoulder that had hit the lockers. "She does not love you," he spat. "She is my Relena. My belle. I killed her and she came back to me!"

Heero shook his head. "Fuck. You're fucking crazy."

In the seconds that followed his statement, Jean-Paul flew at him, fists raised. Heero was more than prepared; he ducked the first punch and delivered a powerful kidney shot with his elbow as the man stumbled past him. Jean-Paul cried out in pain and dropped to his hands and knees.

Seizing the opportunity, Heero grabbed the man's hair and pulled him into a kneeling position by the thinning strands. "If you walk out of here," he hissed. "You never think about her again. You leave, you disappear, you forget that you ever knew her. You won't exist to us anymore and I swear to god, we will never, ever regret it."

"Relena," Jean-Paul muttered between clenched teeth, reaching out to her. On the bench, Relena wound her arms even tighter around her violated body.

"No!" Still holding him by his hair, Heero punched him hard and fast and ten times worse than in Treize's office. "You don't say her name. You don't get to say her name. Got it?!" Blood trickled from the man's nose. "Got it?" Heero repeated. When the man still said nothing, he raised his fist again as a warning.

"Oui," Jean-Paul finally conceded. Heero released his hair and the man fell back to the ground.

Taking a step back, Heero breathed in and out. He brought his shaking fist up to rub at his mouth. "Get the fuck out of here while you can." A moment passed before he turned around, turned back to Relena. Her eyes were blood-shot and wet; she had been watching the whole thing.

He was kneeling next to her before she could even blink. He smoothed her wet hair away from her face, his own eyes growing red with the extremity of his emotions. "Relena...I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry...I didn't get here sooner."

"I'm okay," she lied for his sake. He stared at her for a moment before circling her slender body with his arms. His cheek pressed up against the ripped fabric of her dress; when she touched his back, she could feel the contractions of his silent tears. "Heero..." She closed her eyes for a moment, holding him as much as he was holding her. "I'm..."

She stopped suddenly as her eyes opened. The sharp glint of silver blinded her for a split second. Her bag, lying open on the bench a few feet away. A hand reaching into it. Relena blinked.

Jean-Paul pulled the knife, the very knife which she had foolishly thought could erase him from their lives forever, out of her bag with cold ease. She fisted handfuls of Heero's shirt. "No..." The French man smiled at her.

Heero lifted his head from her chest. "What's wrong?" The fresh terror in her eyes compelled him to turn his head to see what it was that inspired it. But it was a moment too late.

The blade slid into Heero's side as though he were a soft stick of butter. His quick motions had only bought him seconds, although had he not tried to move to avoid Jean-Paul's attack, the knife would have been plunged straight through his spinal cord. Heero looked down at his body; his white dress shirt absorbed much of the blood, but some of still touched Relena, smearing across her bare legs.

He looked up at her as Jean-Paul fled, having pulled the knife back out of his body. "Relena." His face twisted in pain as he slumped over, clutching at his wound. "I'm sorry..."

It was Hilde who found them only a few minutes later, breathing heavily from the painful task of running with her injury. What she saw on the locker room floor made the blood drain from her face. "Oh my god..."

Relena was bent over Heero, cradling his head with her arm, her other blood-stained hand pressed against his ribcage as though she were holding him together. She was shaking, but talking to him in as calm a voice as Hilde had ever heard. "Keep looking at me, Heero....don't you dare close your eyes...I'm right here and everything...everything is going to be...just fine. Heero...Heero...no, don't look away!!" She addressed Hilde suddenly. "Call 911. My cell-phone is in my bag."

Hilde reached for it and dialed with trembling fingers. She blinked back tears. Duo was off running after the man who had emerged from the locker room just as they were heading towards it, a bloody knife in his hand. As much as she only wanted to be thinking about Heero's injuries, she couldn't help but worry about her impetuous boyfriend's safety.

"Can you hear?" Relena asked Heero. "Hilde's here and she's calling for help. You're going to be fine now." A tear dripped off her nose and landed on his pale cheek. "Just hang on, Heero. Please...hang on."

He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was completely dry. "Relena..."

"No talking. Save all your energy," she instructed.

"I know who we are."

Relena shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I know...who to compare us to." His voice was barely above a whisper, but he kept going, determined to get his thought out while he could. "Gomez...and Morticia Addams."

In spite of the horrible situation, Relena let out a quick laugh. "What? Why's that?"

"Because..." Heero swallowed; the strong taste of blood was heavy in the back of his throat. "He loved her so much....he would have done anything for her." His eyelids drooped. "He'd die for her..."

"Heero." She shook his head gently. "Look at me." But his eyes didn't open. "Heero..." She shook him with more force. "Heero!! Please, Heero...please. Open your eyes!!!" A sledgehammer crashed into her chest. "Heero!!!"

"Please hurry," Hilde whispered to the 911 operator. "I don't think he's going to make it."

****

To Be Continued