Disclaimer: Characters are not mine...blah, blah, blah. You know the drill.

Author's Notes: Thanks for all the continued feedback;) I'm glad you all think that ballet + Gundam = something not entirely crappy. I was worried myself;)

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To Dance Beneath the Diamond Sky
by Kristen Elizabeth

****

"Are you having fun?"

Heero looked down at the blond girl who had her arm wrapped around his shoulder as the club's singer belted out a fast tune. "It's been an interesting night."

Relena frowned. "Is that all? You're telling me that you're not having one bit of fun? Not even a smidgen? An iota? No fun?"

He blinked, taking in her flushed cheeks and slightly slurred words. "You've been drinking."

"I had one little amaretto sour while you were in the bathroom," Relena scoffed. "I'm hardly drunk." Her fingers curled around the back of his neck. "I'm just having fun for the both of us." There was a peal of laughter from a few feet away where Duo and Hilde were cutting a rug. "Now, *they're* drunk."

Heero shook his head. "Maxwell is always like that."

"They really dance well together." Relena smiled. "And they look good, too."

Without warning, Heero dipped her. "We can do better."

Her loopy smile fell. "Is that what dancing is to you? A competition?"

"Not always," he replied, pulling her back up.

"When is it not?"

Heero's gaze darted back and forth between her blue and violet flecked eyes. "When I'm having fun."

"Are you having fun?" she repeated her earlier question.

"I'm here. I'm dancing with you." He turned her; somehow she managed to keep her balance on her heels. "What more do you want?"

Her happy buzz fading, Relena stopped moving with the music. "Nothing. I don't want anything from you, Heero."

"Hey!!" Duo pushed across the dance floor toward them, dragging Hilde with him. "Switching partners time!"

"Duo...I don't want to..." Hilde began. But it was too late; Duo had already made the switch and had his arm around Relena's waist. She sighed and looked up at Heero. "Having fun?"

Now across the dance floor, Relena's good mood was rapidly returning as Duo took over spinning and dipping her slender body. "So," he called out over the music. "Making any headway with the tight ass?"

"Not a bit," she shouted back. "He's an ice cube."

"Then you'll have to melt him." Duo spun her around before doing the same.

Relena laughed. "And just how do you propose I do that?"

He dipped her low, lower than Heero had dared to. "With your sizzling personality."

She threw her head back; her long hair pooled onto the floor. Duo yanked her back up and her arms wound around him in a tight hug. "Thank you, Duo."

"For what?"

Relena kissed his cheek. "For being you."

Back on the other side of the dance floor, there was a witness to the innocent kiss. And she didn't like it at all.

****

"All right, cool cats and hot dames...get your asses on the floor for another of your favorites." The lead singer pointed to the band to begin the next song.

Hilde shook her head and clasped the underside of her chair with both hands when Duo held out his arm to her. "No. I refuse to dance anymore."

"Oh come on! Don't tell me you all are tired!!" Duo put his hands on his hips, effeminate, but he hoped, effective. "It's barely three-thirty!"

"Duo..." Hilde glared at her boyfriend. "We've been here for four hours now. We're hot. We're sweaty. We all smell like an ashtray. And quite frankly, we're ready to go."

Relena nodded in total agreement as she held her thick hair up off the back of her neck. "My feet hurt. My pointe shoes are more comfortable than these." She gestured to her three inch heel, strappy sandals.

Heero stood up from his chair. His hair was damp with sweat at his temples and his evening shirt clung to his back and chest. "I'm leaving."

"Every party has a pooper and this one has three," Duo muttered. But he let himself be led out of the club by the undone bow tie around his neck.

The street outside was still busy; it didn't take Heero long to hail two cabs. "Thanks, pal," Duo said, clapping the other boy heartily on the back. "Hilde, you're with me. Yuy, you and Relena take the other."

Relena glanced at Heero. He didn't seem to have any objections to the plan. After all, they were both headed uptown, to Park Avenue. "All right," she agreed.

Duo opened the door to one cab and made a deep bow towards Hilde. "After you."

She folded her arms tightly over her chest. "Duo...I can just catch the train. I don't want to..."

"Shush!" He pressed one finger to her lips. "It's my money. Well, my parents, actually. Let me worry about it." Hilde closed her mouth and slid into the cab with great reluctance, Duo behind her. Before he shut the door, Duo grinned at Heero and Relena. "You two don't do anything we wouldn't do." The door closed and the cab took off to Brooklyn.

Relena licked her lips, tasting the salt of her perspiration. Their dancing had been fast and furious. When Heero danced, he was alive. He held nothing back. It had been a struggle to keep up with him, but one she had enjoyed immensely. Now, however, the usual Heero had returned. Cool and detached. Still, he held the door open for her and gestured her inside.

When they were both in the cab, Heero addressed the driver. "Two stops...." He looked at Relena.

"67th," she supplied. "67th and Park."

Heero continued. "And then at 72nd and Park." The cab jolted forward into the traffic flow.

It only took Relena a few minutes to work up the nerve to speak. "I had fun tonight." Heero nodded curtly. "You really are an amazing dancer." She paused. "How long have you been dancing?"

"Since I was six," Heero replied after a moment.

"Me, too." Relena smiled. "You must have been adorable back then." Heero lifted his shoulders. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

She let out a breath. "I never know what to say to you, Heero."

"Maybe you shouldn't try."

"Is that what you'd like?" she whispered a minute later, when she had recovered from the emotional punch to her gut.

Heero's reply was even longer in coming. "No," he finally said. "You're just the only person who's ever tried so hard. To talk to me."

Relena coughed lightly. "What about your groupies in ballet class?"

"I don't even know half their names. We've been dancing together for two years, but I couldn't tell them apart if..." He stopped, suddenly aware of how much he was saying. "It's different. You're different."

She glanced out the window. "Thank you."

At long last, the cab pulled up outside of Relena's building. "Well," she said. "I guess this is goodnight." Heero said nothing, so she opened the door and slid out. He shifted over and followed her out. "Heero?"

His breath swirled around his face in the early morning air. "I'm not gay," he blurted out.

Relena smiled. "I'm glad."

"My whole life has been about dancing. And nothing's ever gotten in the way of that," Heero continued.

"The last thing I want is to be in your way."

Heero shook his head. "It's too late." She waited for the kiss for a long minute; the moment called for a kiss. She even closed her eyes in preparation. But it never came. "Goodnight," Heero said instead, as he got back into the cab.

Relena sighed, turned on her heel and walked towards the front entrance. "Hi, Martin," she greeted the night doorman.

Martin let her into the building with a wink and a smile. "Nice looking young fellow, Miss Relena. Your boyfriend?"

She watched the cab pull away from the curb and continue up Park Avenue. "You know, Martin. I'm not even sure I can call him 'just a friend'."

****

From mid-town Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge, Duo employed every trick in his book to get Hilde to talk to him. He shifted on the backseat of the taxi to see her better as they crossed the river. "Baby...if you could just tell me what I did to make you mad, then I could..."

She turned her head away to stare out the greasy window.

He slumped into the slightly smelly seat. "Great...the silent treatment. What, are we two again?"

"I'm not sure, Duo? Are we? I didn't know you when you were two; maybe you were the world's biggest flirt then, also."

"Flirt??" Duo sat up. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hilde pointed a finger at him. "Don't you play dumb with me! I hate it when you do that! You were flirting with her all night and you know it, so just admit it!!"

"With Relena? You think I was flirting with Relena? Babe...come on! I thought we settled all of this the other night..."

"Yeah, well...before the other night you weren't holding her hand and calling her your princess," Hilde muttered.

Duo spread his hands. "I'm trying to get her with Yuy!! Would I be doing that if I were interested in her as anything more than a friend....which, by the way, is fucking insane since I'm completely crazy about you!"

"You have a funny way of showing it."

He opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but the spark of anger died. "Do you know something? You're adorable when you're jealous."

In the front seat, the taxi driver whistled under his breath. The boy in the backseat had just made a major error in strategy.

Hilde's eyes narrowed. "Do you have any comprehension of just how condescending and insulting that was?"

Duo blinked. "It was?"

She threw up her hands. "I don't even know what to say anymore!!"

"I don't understand what you're so pissed about!"

The cab pulled up next to Hilde's apartment building. The sound of an ambulance siren whirled in the background. "Listen," Hilde said, getting out of the car. "When you've figured out why your girlfriend is pissed at you for calling another girl your princess and posing for pictures with her and holding her hand at the ballet and letting her kiss your cheek....give me a call." The door slammed shut before Duo could reply.

"Hilde..." He reached for the door handle to follow her.

"Better not do that," the cabbie advised him.

Duo frowned. "Why not?"

"Women need a cool down period. No point trying to talk to them when they're that riled up." The burly man pulled away from the curb and made a U-turn, heading back for the city. "Where you going again?"

"Chelsea," Duo replied. He sighed. "I just don't get it...how could she even think I'm interested in Relena like that?"

The driver shrugged. "Men'll never figure out a woman's mind. She's a pretty little thing, though. Bit too skinny."

"She's a ballerina." He ran a hand down his face.

"I like a woman with some meat on her bones. Soft...you know." The cabbie made a turn. "My first wife was dancer. Strip club...had no tits until I paid for..."

Duo tuned the man out. In his mind, he replayed the night's events. Could she have really misinterpreted everything he had done in regards to Relena? He rubbed his eyes. There was only one way for him to convince Hilde that he had no interest in the new dancer beyond friendship.

He would have to get Heero Yuy and Relena Dorlian together if it was the last thing he did.

****

"Relena..." Quatre's voice was fresh and awake when she called him at four AM, New York time, a far cry from the sleepy tone she received when she called any earlier. "Est que vous?"

"Oui, it's me," Relena smiled into her phone. "I just got in. It's four in the morning here."

Quatre made a tsk-ing sound. "Too late, cher, too late. What keeps you out at night?"

"Dancing."

"Je vous..." Quatre laughed. "You go on the date, bien?"

Relena rubbed her aching feet. "Not exactly. It was a group thing."

"A group thing," he repeated.

"Four of us went out to a club after the ballet." She sighed. "It was really fun."

"And you dance with who, cher? What lucky man?"

Relena flopped back onto her pillows. "He's just...a guy. We have ballet class together and we go to the same school."

"Your pas de deux partner? The Duo?"

"No...Duo is just a friend. But Heero..." She stopped.

Quatre's laughter was soft. "You wish to be more?"

"Oui," she admitted. "But it won't happen."

"Ah...petit. He is like me?"

It was Relena's turn to laugh. "Actually, no. He's definitely straight."

"C'est merveilleux!"

"No. Not really..." she continued. "He's not interested. All he thinks about is dance."

She could sense Quatre's disappointment over the phone. "Oh, cher. You find another."

Relena nodded. "When I get back to Paris and I'm with the company..."

"Cher," Quatre began before abruptly stopping.

"What is it? Quatre?"

Quatre sighed. "You know I change class after you leave, bien? I can not look at that man now, but I want to hurt him for you. But...Trowa stay. He is not man of change."

"I remember." Relena smiled at the memory of Quatre's tall, quiet lover.

"Trowa tell me last night...Jean-Paul being...how do you say...given a better job. With company. He will no longer teach class."

Relena's face paled. "Are you saying....that he's working with the company now? My company??"

"Je suis desole, cher. I am sorry."

"But..." She shook her head. "I was counting on getting a job with the company. I could come back to Paris, but I wouldn't have to see him anymore. If he works for the company....what am I going to do?"

Quatre sighed again. "I did not wish to be bringer of sad news, cher. But you should know."

"Non...non, non, non..." Relena closed her eyes. "This isn't fair!"

"Je suis desole," Quatre repeated. All he had to offer from so far away was his sympathy. "Je souhaite qu'il y ait eu quelque chose que je pourrais faire."

She stopped listening to him, no longer in the mood to think in French. He was going on about wishing he could something for her, but she knew there was nothing for him to do. The decisions had all been hers and she had made the wrong ones. Not pressing charges, running to America, naively thinking she could return to Paris someday without having to deal with what had happened to her.

"It's all right, Quatre," Relena finally said. "I'm fine. I promise."

"You still come back to Paris, cheri?"

Her eyes were glassy. "No. I can't go back now. As long as he's there...I can't ever go back."

****

Heero let himself into his father's apartment as quietly as possible. There were no lights on; he breathed a little easier, assuming the older man was already asleep. He locked the door behind him and started for his room.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, rolling in here at four AM like you owned the fucking place?"

He sighed and turned around to see into the dark parlor. The metal lines of his father's wheelchair shone in the moonlight from the open window. In the chair, where he had been stuck for twelve years, Ethan Yuy glared at his son. He didn't seem drunk, but then, alcoholics rarely did.

"Sorry, Dad. I forgot that you're the only one who does the rolling around here."

Ethan wheeled closer to him. "You better shut that smart lip, boy."

"Or you'll do what, Dad?" Heero crossed his arms. They played this game ever so often. He always won; he was eighteen, strong and healthy. His dad was fifty, paraplegic and under the influence.

"You and your mother...just the same." His father pounded the arm of his wheelchair. "Smart mouths, both of you! And fucking dancers, too. Is there where you were tonight, boy? Prancing around in your tights?"

Heero lifted his eyes to the fresco on the molded ceiling. "Yeah, Dad. I was prancing. Go to bed, okay?"

"Don't you fucking order me to bed like I was a fucking child!" His father's face became red with rage; he wheeled even closer, but Heero showed no signs of fear, but braced himself for the first blow. "What's that smell on you?" his father asked. He sniffed. "Perfume. Perfume and cigarettes?"

"Um..." Heero pulled at his dress shirt. "I was out. That's all."

"With a girl." Some of the anger melted from Ethan's face. "Well...this is a first for my little fag."

Heero calmly placed his hands in his pants pockets. "Don't embarrass me with such cute nicknames, Dad." He bypassed his father's wheelchair and continued on to his room.

"Don't you walk away from me, boy!! Hey! I'm talking to you!"

He shut the door to his bedroom, bolted it for extra measure and released a long pent up breath. His fists clenched. Without hesitation, he strode across the room, past his neatly made bed, past his state of the art computer, past his personal barre and weights, all purchased with the money from the large estate his mother had left him before she hung herself by the banister in their old townhouse.

He didn't know just how his mother had known her husband well enough to place Heero's money in a trust fund, accessible only to him on his sixteenth birthday, but he was grateful. The money had paid for his ballet classes and private school tuition. Had it been up to his father to decide how the money was controlled, he would have gone to public school and taken hockey lessons. With these thoughts, he headed straight for his punching bag.

Five minutes later, his knuckles were raw and he dripped with fresh sweat, but his anger was under control. Heero wrestled his shirt and tux jacket off and threw them across the barre. He wanted to dance, but he was too angry to remember the steps he needed work on. And, he had to admit, after spending four hours turning, lifting, dipping and spinning Relena Dorlian, he was too wound up to concentrate, anyway.

So, he flopped onto his bed and lay still for several minutes to catch his breath. His dad had been right about one thing; he smelled like her perfume. But he had no desire to shower. He could still smell her on his clothes and skin as much as he could feel her slender body on his hands and still see the occasional glimpse of lace she had accidently flashed during some of the more risque swing moves.

Relena Dorlian was messing with the world he had spent twelve years trying to patch back together. Heero turned his head to one side, to see the framed photograph of his broken family on his nightstand. His mother, a ballerina and more beautiful than life, his father, before the car accident the night after his mother's suicide that had forever robbed him of the use of his legs and his subsequent drinking, and then him, six years old, only dancing to please his mother.

He reached out a hand and turned the picture down like he did every night before sleep claimed him.

****

To Be Continued