Kitty's Fan Fics

We Belong

Chapter 1

Author: Alexa

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply

Author's Notes: Help! I'm becoming obsessed with making Dorothy and Quatre a couple...then I figured, hey, if Phoebe can write angsty fluff, so can I! Of course, it's harder for me, considering I hate fluff, but hey, I'll give it a whirl...Also, most of this song was inspired by the song, We Belong, by Pat Benatar (that's where the name comes from, don'tcha know...)


Dorothy watched them dance. She was always watching. Watching them dance. She was so tired of it. She had always been the one watching. Watching them dance. Quatre. And her. It didn't matter who "her" was. It was always some girl, some little rich girl, out to get more money. Some girl who didn't care for him at all. But tonight. Tonight it was worse.

He was dancing with Relena. All night. He had at the last party, too. She watched them dance and talk, their faces smiling and happy, Quatre blushing from time to time, Relena looking stupidly gentle. Didn't she still care about Heero?

Didn't matter. They found each other. The rich and powerful always did, and always got together, and stayed together. And both Quatre and Relena were very rich and very powerful. She thought about it...the head of the Winner family and Vice Foreign Minister Dorelain. Pacifists, both of them. The former Queen of the World and a former Gundam Pilot. A formidable pairsome. And what was she? The war-hungry girl who had stabbed him. She knew he wouldn't want her now. She sighed and got up to get a drink of punch, her black skirt swishing around her legs.

Quatre watched her. He was always watching her, whether she knew it or not. What could he do, though? She probably didn't want him. A girl stabbing him was rarely a good start to a relationship, that much he knew. But it had been so long...three years. And he'd forgiven her long since. He'd forgiven her for anything she might do when he met her. His goddess, a violent and beautiful thing, long fair hair, blue eyes, even those odd eyebrows were gorgeous to him. Their difference of opinion in war didn't matter; he understood her. And despite what she said, he knew she understood him.

He was dancing with Relena, and forced himself to listen to what the Vice Foreign Minister was saying. Someting about roses...what?

"What was that?"

"She likes orange roses," the brunette stated firmly.

"Who does?"

"Dorothy, silly. I know you like her. You're been staring at her all evening, and you haven't heard a word I've said about the proposal." Quatre blushed. "It's ok, it's only natural. But if you care..." Relena stopped and lowered her hands. She looked at him seriously. "You need to tell her. This has got to be tearing her up. I know it." Quatre watched Dorothy walk outside, a cup of punch in her hand. "Go on, shoo!" Relena said, smiling and grabbing another man's hand. She began dancing, giving Quatre no chance to refuse her.

She hated them. Hated them all. Stupid rich people. Stupid powerful people. Stupid parties. She smiled automatically at everyone as she passed them, accepting and receiving compliments and comments without really hearing what was being said. Always on autopilot. She stepped outside on the balcony and looked out. So many she missed space. For a while, it had almost been like they were friends...but now, they were nothing. Sure, they said their hello's, their polite how are you's. Big acheivement. She drank some of the punch, rolling its juicy cool inside her mouth, trying to loosen up.

Every hair in her eyebrows stood on end as the balcony doors opened. Suddenly the cool air felt crowded, and the noise from the party floated out. She felt smothered again. She turned angrily, to see who had distrupted her solitary contemplations.

"Quatre...I mean, Mr. Winner..." She began, the anger immediately seeping away.

"Miss Dorothy," Quatre said, ever the polite gentleman.

He couldn't help watching her. The way she leaned on the railing, her hair trailing down her back, her bare arms resting on the cool surface of the cold iron. The way her neck bent upward, her eyes drank in the stars and reflected each and every beam of light. She was wonderful. Almost perfect.

He didn't know how long the two of them stood there, her watching the stars, him watching her. Then he noticed the reflection of Relena waving at him, motioning for him to go and talk to her in the glass. He shook his head wondering what he was doing, then slid the door open and stepped out.

He could see her back tense up immediately as the sounds of the party wafted out. When she turned, he was certain for a moment that she was going to hit him. He stood stock-still, waiting for it. After a moment though, she spoke.

"Quatre...I mean, Mr. Winner..." she trailed off. He watched her lips, hypnotized.

"Miss Dorothy," Quatre began, walking over to stand beside her. "I was afraid you might be cold out here."

"No, I'm fine..." she seemed sad. "I'm used to the cold."

"Or lonely. All by yourself," he finished. Oh please let this work...

"I'm used to being lonely," she looked down at her arms. They were covered in goosebumps. He wanted to hug her, hold her tight, keep her warm his way. He didn't. Instead...

"Would you like to see the gardens? They're just down these stairs, and they're lovely this time of year. Especially at night," Quatre said. Dorothy nodded, and they walked down, wandering aimlessly through patches of lillies, petunias, gardenias. Morning glories hid their faces from the dark, roses folded up, waiting for the dew. Bluebells clung to vines. They wandered for some time through the gardens, all of them beautiful.

She shivered. The gardens were lovely, and though she and Quatre weren't actually speaking, she didn't want to ruin the companionable feeling by asking to go back.

"Would you like my jacket?" Quatre asked suddenly.


"I asked if you'd like my jacket. You're shivering."

"But then you'll be cold," Dorothy pointed out, always practical.

"No I won't, I'll be fine. Here," he said, removing the heavy black wool item and placing it firmly over her. She relished the smooth feel of his hands on her shoulders, however brief.

Part of him had wanted to go along with it. Part of him had wanted to leave her cold, to watch those lovely shoulders shiver gently, prove that she was as human as he hoped she was. Prove that she wasn't made of ice, as he'd feared. But he'd done it.

He knew that even if nothing ever happened, he'd always remember the smoothness of her bare shoulders, the gentle curve of her neck. They walked a while longer, still in silence. He was cold now. It didn't matter. She seemed alright now. That mattered. He smiled to himself in the dark as he relived the feel of her shoulders and arms.

"We should probably head back now," Dorothy broke the silence this time. "They'll certainly miss the host of the party, though not me." It was a petty thing to say, and Dorothy knew it. She was relieved when Quatre's only response was to turn around and head back.

They were halfway back when she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" Quatre was visibly confused. "Miss Dorothy, if I've done anything to upset you, I apologize."

"Stop being so kind to me! I tried to kill you, ok? Do you know what that means? You're the only person who understands me...and at that moment I really, truly wanted you dead. I hate myself for it, and there's not a day that goes by when I don't curse myself for it. I tried to kill you. The only person who understands me. The one who talked me off my cliff, the one who took the gun from my mouth. The one I love." Her voice was so soft now that he had to strain to hear. "I tried to kill you. It was wrong, I regret it, and I'm sorry."

Her eyes welled up and she scrubbed them viciously with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry..." she turned, unable to deal with her emotions, and ran, fast, in the other direction.

"Here," Relena said. "She left this for you. I'm didn't go so well." She seemed at a loss for what to say.

"It's fine."

"No, I really am sorry. It's terri-"

"I said it's fine. Leave it alone." They were silent as he folded up the jacket. He had to think. He had to talk to her, to figure out what was going on. He had to tell her the truth.

"Relena?" He asked softly.

"Yeah?" She seemed hesitant to answer him. He didn't blame her, after the way he'd snapped at her a moment ago.

"Will she be at home tomorrow?"

"No. She's..."

"She's what?"

"She's heading out to the L4 colony. Said she needed a break."

"Hm...Can you go? I have some packing to do...Rashid, call and get me the first flight out of here in the morning."

"Where to, Master Quatre?"

"The L4 Colony."

"Yes sir."

Outside, Relena smiled at the light shining from Quatre's window.

Dorothy sat under the tree. She looked at the stone in front of her. She shook her head at the memorial to her father, wondering what he would think. She, a member of the Romefeller Foundation, his daughter, raised by Duke Dermail, unable to cope with her stupid feelings. Angrily, she grabbed some rockes and began flinging them randomly at the tombstone.

"You left me alone..." she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "You left me alone with that--that--that monster...expected me to be fine. You left me alone and now I don't know...I don't know how to love. You left me alone." She raised her voice. "You left me alone!" She flung herself back into the tree, sobbing.

Chapter 2