~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mr. Winner, there’s a man here to see you," the secretary said over the intercom.

Quatre sighed and pressed the button to reply. "I’m very busy. Is it important?"

"He says you’ll be glad to see him, Mr. Winner."

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Did he give you his name?"

The secretary paused, then answered, "Uh… the God of Death, sir?"

Quatre stood up. "Send him in!" he said.

A moment later, the door to Quatre’s office slid open, and Duo Maxwell stood framed in the doorway, violet eyes glittering, a big grin plastered on his face.

"Duo!" Quatre smiled.

"Hey, Quatre!" Duo said, strolling into the office and seating himself on the edge of Quatre’s desk. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d come by to see you!" Duo leaned closer then and whispered, "No one can hear us, right?"

"No," said Quatre, curious.

"Okay then," said Duo quietly, and handed Quatre a slip of paper. "I actually came to give you this: the location of the base where the Gundams are being stored."

Quatre folded the paper up and put it in an inside pocket. "Thanks, Duo," he said.

"So," continued Duo, "How’ve you been?"

"Great, Duo. And you?" Quatre sat down and regarded his friend with a smile.

"Just great!" Duo answered.

"And Hilde?"

"She’s great, too," he said.

Just then the secretary entered the office. "Shall I get your guest a drink, sir?" she asked.

Duo smiled. "Coffee, thanks!" When the secretary had left, he grinned at Quatre. "’Shall I get your guest a drink, sir?’" he mimicked. "You’ve really got it made here, Quatre."

Quatre sighed and smiled. "Well, it all comes with a lot of responsibility." He motioned to the stacks of paper on his desk. "I’ve been quite busy lately."

"Yeah, I’d guess so!" Duo agreed. He turned around as the door opened, and the secretary entered with his coffee. "Thanks!" Duo said, taking the steaming drink from her.

The secretary turned to Quatre. "Will you be requiring anything more, sir?" She paused, then cried in alarm, "Mr. Winner!"

Duo spun around. Quatre was clutching his chest with one hand and gripping the edge of the desk with the other, his face contorted in pain. He was gasping for breath.

"Quatre!" Duo cried, rushing to his friend’s side. The secretary ran out of the room and returned a moment later with a bottle of pills. She began to fill a cup at the water cooler in the corner of the room, but Quatre stopped her.

"Wait!" he said. He took a deep steady breath and seemed to regain his composure. "I’m okay now," he told her steadily.

The secretary protested, "But sir, you really shouldn’t be working like this. You need to rest, and the doctor said if – "

"I’m okay!" Quatre repeated sternly. "And I’m not going to stuff myself full of pills at the first sign of –" He stopped abruptly.

Duo looked back and forth between the two of them, and said, "What’s going on here?" He turned to his friend. "Quatre?"

Quatre sighed. "Please leave us," he said to the secretary.

The secretary nodded and left the room. When the door shut behind her, Duo turned to Quatre. "All right," he said. His face was creased with concern. "What is it?"

Quatre swallowed and looked down at his desk. "Have a seat, Duo," he said quietly.

Duo sat in a chair opposite Quatre and waited for the explanation. He was silent when Quatre took a minute to answer.

Finally, Quatre looked up at Duo, signs of tired pain in his eyes.

"Duo," he said, "I’m dying."

Duo’s eyes widened. "What?" he gasped.

Quatre swallowed and looked away again. "I’m sick," he continued. "Some kind of viral infection in my heart. They don’t know what it is…. They say I could even have been poisoned – "

"Poisoned!"

" – although none of my sisters or the house staff if sick…. Anyway, they say there’s no cure…."

Duo didn’t say anything. He sat in shocked silence, staring at Quatre’s averted face. Finally Quatre let out a long sigh and looked at his hands.

"Quatre, why didn’t you tell us?" Duo whispered.

Quatre half-smiled wearily. "I didn’t want you to worry…."

Duo shook his head. "Didn’t you think we would want to know?" He paused. "So none of the others know?" he asked.

"No," said Quatre.

"Not even Trowa?"

Quatre shook his head, and said softly, "I suppose they’ll have to know eventually." He looked away uncomfortably.

After a short silence, Duo said, "Do you want me to tell them?"

Quatre looked at him. "Would you?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure," said Duo. Then he stood up. "Sorry, Quatre," he said, "I told Hilde I’d make this a short trip. But I’ll be back soon," he added. He walked slowly to the door, and turned around. "I’ll call the others when I get home. And if there’s anything else you need, Quatre, anything at all, you know you can always call me…."

Quatre nodded. "I know. Thanks, Duo."

Duo turned to go, but paused, and turned once more to Quatre. "Quatre," he began. He hesitated, and then said slowly, "How long…?"

Quatre looked at him. "Two months, three at the most," he said.

Duo swallowed. "Right," he whispered. His eyes began to sting.

The two friends looked at each other a moment longer, then Duo left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A young woman sat quietly on the shuttle heading to the L4 colony. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she stared unblinkingly into the eternal depths of space, the dark curve of the colony looming on the edge of her viewport.

Suddenly, she realized that there were tears on her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, turning her head to hide her eyes from the other passengers on the shuttle.

I’m so sorry, Quatre, she thought. I was so foolish… why did this have to happen? Oh, Quatre… can you forgive me? A poor lost soul? Will I ever be forgiven…?

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. What had she done this for? In the time she had been onboard Libra, she now saw, she had been a wretched, misguided fool. When she had planned to meet Quatre, and fight him, she had tipped her sword with a slow-acting poison. Even a tiny scratch would have done it… he would have been doomed, even if she had lost the duel.

And Quatre had received considerably more than a scratch from her.

That was the reason she had continued to cry for him, even after she knew that the wound wasn’t fatal.

The wound wouldn’t kill, him, no, but the poison eventually would.

She hadn’t told anyone what she had done. Yet. How could she? How could she tell anyone that she was responsible for sealing his fate? The pain was made all too vivid as she remembered how forgiving he had been. He had never been the least bit angry with her for what she had done to him. He had even asked Trowa to leave him behind and help her escape from Libra instead.

After the duel, he had seemed to understand her better. Indeed, he had been the only person who had really understood her….

And now he would die. She hadn’t had the courage to tell him before, but now she was going to see him and tell him the truth.

Dorothy Catalonia rested her head against the viewport and let herself cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss Dorothy!" Quatre smiled as Dorothy entered the office. "It’s good to see you again –" He stopped short as he noticed the grief-stricken look on her face as she stared at the ground.

"Dorothy?" he asked gently.

She looked up at him, pale and shame-faced.

"You don’t have to pretend, Quatre," she said quietly. "I know about your illness."

Quatre looked at her, and then said, "I’m fine, Dorothy, but you look awful. Have you been getting enough sleep lately –?"

"Don’t say that!" she cried. "I know you’re not fine. I know how serious your illness is." I should. "And no, I haven’t gotten enough sleep lately, because I have had something to confess to you."

Quatre looked concerned. "Confess?"

Dorothy nodded mutely. How was she going to do this?

Better to be brief….

"I did this to you, Quatre."

Quatre looked confused. "I don’t understand. What do you mean?"

"I poisoned you." She looked up at him. "On Libra… my sword… it was poisoned. I was such a fool!" she cried, and turned away so that he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. "I figured that even if I lost the duel, you wouldn’t live –" She choked off, and the tears flowed down her cheeks.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered. "I couldn’t tell you before, but now that you’re sick, I had to…. Oh, Quatre…." Dorothy’s shoulders shook with sobs as she leaned her head against the wall.

After a minute, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Dorothy gasped and looked around into Quatre’s gently smiling face.

"It’s okay, Dorothy," he said. She blinked at him, and he continued. "I know you didn’t mean for this to happen, and it’s clear that you regret what you’ve done. I couldn’t hold it against you."

She looked at him, too stricken for words.

"Thank you for telling me," he said. "I know it must have been hard."

Dorothy looked at him for a moment longer, then burst into tears again. Quatre moved forward and drew her close in a tight embrace. He let her cry herself out on his shoulder; she clung to him, sobbing. When she was finished, she looked into his eyes.

"You’re so kind, Quatre," she said, and looked away. "You’re not even angry…."

Quatre just smiled. "I couldn’t be angry at a friend."

Dorothy looked at him again. She smiled back wanly. "Thank you, Quatre," she said, and drew away from him towards the door. "I’m so sorry." She turned to go.

"Thank you," Quatre said.

Dorothy smiled at him, and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Quatre…."

"Quatre…."

Please show me where you are….

"Quatre…." The ghostly voice continued to call his name.

"Quatre…."

Please….

Quatre turned around again, but still couldn’t locate the source of the voice.

A butterfly flickered past his nose and lighted on a rosebush next to him. All around him were trees, and bushes, and flowers, lots of flowers. A stone path… songbirds…. He was in a garden, but he didn’t know how he had gotten there. He was lost among the winding paths of the place, a labyrinth of dream-like colors and smells that muddled his senses.

There was no way out, but Quatre didn’t want to leave anyway. It was so peaceful, so quiet.

"Quatre…."

But who was calling him? Where was that voice coming from? It was a gentle female voice, drawing him nearer with every call.

"Quatre…."

"I’m coming!" he called back. Some internal instinct gave him the sense that he desperately had – and wanted – to find the woman who was calling him.

"Follow my voice, Quatre," she replied. Quatre turned. Was she behind him now? He was facing a wood, and wandered slowly in among the trees.

"I’m here, Quatre."

Quatre looked in the direction of the voice. Ahead of him there seemed to be a glowing light between the trees. He headed toward the light, and emerged in a sheltered clearing. The ground was covered with moss, and a misty haze seemed to hang in the air, pierced by shafts of sunlight. Quatre realized that there was no birdsong here; it was absolutely silent. He looked to the center of the clearing, and gasped.

There, sitting on a grassy knoll, was the woman. She was slender and pale, and her hair was blonde like Quatre’s. She was clothed in shining white raiment that seemed to flow from her body and into the ground itself. She rose to greet him. "Quatre!" Her smile lit up her face, like seeing him was the greatest joy she could ever have hoped for.

The woman approached him. "Quatre," she whispered, and reached out her hand to him. He took it, feeling warm inside at the touch of her soft skin. He looked up into her eyes, and saw the tears welling up in them. Then the woman reached out with her other hand and ran her fingers through his hair, and, bursting into tears, gathered him in her arms.

"Oh, my dear Quatre," she whispered, and suddenly Quatre knew who this woman was.

"Mother," he whispered back, and buried his face against her shoulder, for he, too, was crying now.

They stood in each other’s arms for several more minutes, rejoicing in the comfort of being so close together for the first time.

Finally Quatre’s mother drew away to look into her son’s face. She wiped the tears off his cheeks with her sleeve. Then she took his hands in hers, and turned them palms up to gaze at them, as though they were beautiful treasures. "I have waited almost sixteen years to hold these hands," she said softly.

Quatre bowed his head. "They have taken many lives," he told her.

"I know," she replied. Quatre raised his head to look at her. "These hands may be stained with blood," she said, and then placed his hands over his chest, "But this heart is as pure as the day you were born."

Quatre smiled, and she smiled too. "You will be joining us soon, my son."

"Us?"

"Your father and myself."

"Father?" Quatre’s eyes grew wide. "Is Father here too?"

"Yes, he is here," she said, and smiled. Then she said, "I wish that… that you could have had a longer life, though." She looked away, and Quatre saw that her cheeks were wet again. But when she looked back, she was smiling. "But when you come, we will be together. And no one, not even death, will be able to tear us apart ever again."

Quatre swallowed. Mother and son wrapped their arms around each other again, and Quatre closed his eyes; he never wanted to let go of her, ever.

But then, when he opened his eyes, it was not her sleeve he was gripping, but his bedsheet.

He raised his head. He had been clinging to his pillow, which was now soaked with tears.

Slowly, afraid to move quickly lest the memory of the wonderful dream fade, Quatre sat up in his bed. The early morning sun’s rays were shining into his room. Quatre got out of bed and walked to the window. He opened it, and let the morning breeze blow on his tear-stained face. He sighed. He ached to hold her again, to be held by her. If only she could be here now….

But, he thought, he would see her again soon enough, and the next time, it would be forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia Noin walked slowly through the park. She walked past trees and flowerbeds, and little children playing, all the time watching. Watching for him.

She stopped. There he is. He was sitting on a park bench, a bright-looking Husky sitting beside him. His head was bowed; he seemed to be sleeping. A light breeze ruffled his blonde hair.

Noin walked up to him. His sisters had said she would find him here. As she approached, he raised his head to look at her. She immediately saw how pale and drawn his face had become.

"Miss Noin!" His smile was just as bright and gentle as it had ever been.

"Oh…" she stammered. "I though you were asleep."

"Nope," said Quatre. He looked up at the trees. "I was listening to the birds."

Noin followed his gaze to look at the leafy green foliage. She hadn’t noticed the birds before, but now she realized that the park was filled with their singing.

Quatre looked at her. "It’s so nice to see you! Have a seat," he said, and patted the bench beside him. Noin sat down, and the Husky trotted over to her and began nuzzling her hand.

"He likes you!" Quatre laughed as Noin accepted the dog’s invitation and began scratching him behind the ears.

"His name is Dusty," Quatre said.

"Hello, Dusty," said Noin. She drew her hand away, and Dusty sat down in the grass at her feet.

"So," said Quatre, turning to her. "It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, hasn’t it? How have you been?"

Noin looked at her hands. "I’m fine," she said.

"Have you been in touch with Miss Relena?" Quatre asked. "It’s been a while since I’ve spoken with her as well."

Noin swallowed. He was just making small talk so this would seem like an ordinary social call, so they could talk about other things, anything but –

"Miss Noin? Are you all right?"

Noin looked at him, into those deep emerald eyes, filled with such purity and youth.

But there was something else in his eyes as well, something strong and consuming that made her want to cry.

Pain. His eyes were filled with pain. Not for himself, but for her, and for the others who had to suffer with him as they watched him waste away. As they watched him die.

Noin looked away. "Please don’t cry, Miss Noin," Quatre said, a tone almost of pleading in his voice.

Noin touched her cheek, to find that it was wet.

Quatre closed his eyes. "I’m so tired of people crying for me. I don’t want them to." He gasped and opened his eyes as Dusty unexpectedly began licking his hands. Quatre smiled weakly at the dog. "That’s why I enjoy being with Dusty," he said quietly, patting the Husky’s furry head. "He can be happy with me. He can play and have fun and not be sad, because he doesn’t know what’s happening to me. He doesn’t know that I’m going to die." Quatre folded his hands, and Dusty whimpered questioningly.

"I’m sorry, Quatre," Noin apologized, quickly wiping her eyes. "I didn’t mean to cry."

"That’s okay," he said.

Noin reached into the pocket of her windbreaker and brought out a sealed envelope. She handed it to Quatre. "Sally Po wanted me to give this to you," she said.

Quatre took the envelope. He opened it, unfolded the paper inside, and read the letter. When he had finished, he was silent.

Noin didn’t say anything. Finally Quatre told her, "She says she may have found a way to save me."

Noin’s eyes widened.

"It’s an operation," he continued. "Very serious, and with a long recovery period. But it could save me."

Noin was speechless. All she could do was smile and try to hold back her tears.

"There’s a catch, though," he said, and Noin’s smile faded. He explained, "My body might be too weak to handle the operation, and… it could kill me."

The following silence was broken by Dusty’s energetic barking.

After a few moments, Noin said, "What are you going to do?"

Quatre shook his head. "I don’t know." He stood up, and Dusty barked again, excited that he had his master’s attention. Quatre turned to Noin. "I’ll have to talk it over with my sisters." Dusty barked once more, and then ran off across the grass.

Noin stood up. "Good luck, then," she said.

"Thank you," Quatre said, and with a parting smile, he turned and followed after his dog. Noin stood for a moment longer watching him disappear behind a stand of trees.

I hope you won’t have to suffer much longer, my dear Quatre.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quatre sat down heavily against a tree, breathing hard. Dusty trotted over and nuzzled up against him. Quatre laughed. "That’s enough for, now Dusty," he told the panting animal. "Let me catch my breath."

Understanding that the game was over, Dusty flopped down on the grass beside Quatre, head on paws. He looked at his master, patiently waiting for the game to begin again. Quatre smiled and patted the Husky’s head.

Quatre closed his eyes and let the sunlight warm his face and the pattern of leaves’ shadows dance across his body. He breathed in the cool breeze and once again listened to the birds singing. He sighed in contentment, and before he knew it, sleep had overcome him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a park bench within sight of where Quatre lay sleeping, sat a man. His face was heavyset and dark, and his hair, already graying despite his relative youth, hung in locks over his forehead. The man was wearing a trenchcoat. He reached inside the coat with a scarred hand, and pulled out a handgun to fit a silencer onto it.

He’d been following his target all afternoon. The man could see the kid’s blonde hair moving in the breeze from where he sat, and there was that dog, too.

He made sure that there was no one around. It was a pretty empty part of the park. Most of the activity in the park was centered around the playgrounds and ice cream stands, not in this secluded area. He stood and walked towards the sleeping youth.

As he approached, the dog’s eyes unexpectedly opened, and the animal growled. It stood up, baring its fangs and standing between his master and the offending stranger. The man snarled and drew his gun.

Suddenly, the dog lunged at the man. A startled yell from the stranger… and then a muffled gunshot. Dusty lay on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his flank.

The man replaced his gun inside his jacket and, stepping over the prone figure of the dog, took a plastic bag out of an inside pocket. He reached inside and drew out a compact needle injector. But when he reached for the boy’s arm, he was rewarded with a swift blow to the gut. He doubled up grunting, and Quatre leapt to his feet, ready to fight the bigger man. He had woken up at the sound of the gunshot, but hadn’t dared move until he himself had been threatened.

The man stood up and eyed the boy. Pathetic. He reached for Quatre’s arm, but Quatre ducked away. The man was faster than he looked, though, and Quatre was soon wincing at the man’s strong grip on his arm.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Quatre demanded.

The man replied by pushing the injector into Quatre’s arm. The boy cried out in alarm. The man sneered at him. "All your questions will be answered eventually," he said. Then he released his grip on Quatre’s arm. Quatre backed away, but stumbled. The drug was already taking effect on his weak body. Soon he lay crumpled on the ground, unconscious.

The man pocketed the injector and slung Quatre’s limp body over his shoulder. The drug had worked pretty quickly. Perhaps they had overestimated the dosage? No matter, he thought. I got what I came for. He headed off to where he’d let his truck with Quatre draped over his shoulder.

Dusty opened an eye and watched his master being carried off by the stranger. He whimpered and moved a paw feebly, trying to call after the departing figures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yreia, Quatre’s nineteen-year-old sister, wandered through the park looking for her brother as the daylight quickly faded. She was very worried. Quatre never came home late, especially after dark when he’d promised to be home by five. She looked across the fields. Where could he be? This certainly wasn’t like him.

Suddenly, Yreia spotted something white, lying in the grass beneath a tree. Cautiously, she approached it. What is that? Suddenly, she stopped short as she recognized Dusty, Quatre’s dog.

Yreia walked over to the Husky, but he lay still and quiet long after he normally would have leapt up barking. What’s going on here? Something’s definitely not right…. Yreia drew closer to the dog, but stopped dead in her tracks, a cry of alarm frozen in her throat.

The grass around Dusty was dark with blood. And, only now visible in the gathering dusk, his side was also stained dark crimson; his fur was clumped together around a nasty wound.

Yreia stood for a minute, heart pounding, feeling sick to her stomach. Suddenly, a cold terror gripped her, and she spun around, crying, "Quatre! Quatre! Where are you? Quatre!" A frantic sob escaped her. Where could he be? She turned once more to look at the animal lying still in the grass. Something terrible had happened here. What could have become of her brother?

Yreia started as Dusty suddenly let out a low whimper. He’s alive! She knelt by the wounded animal’s side and stroked his head. "It’s okay, boy," she murmured. She hastily took her cell phone out of her pocket to call for help.

Quatre…. A tear slid down her cheek. Oh, Quatre. Where are you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ohh…." My head….

Quatre slowly reached up to put a hand on his head. He opened his eyes and looked around the strange room, completely disoriented. Where am I, anyway? He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. He remembered the park, and meeting Miss Noin, and then playing with Dusty, and… had he fallen asleep? How had he ended up here?

Suddenly, he recalled an image of Dusty, lying on the ground. But… bleeding? What…? Then he remembered a big man… in a trenchcoat and… with a needle injector. Needle injector? Quatre looked at his arm. There was a small hole in his shirt, and the skin underneath was red.

The memories slowly began coming back to him. Now I remember…. The gunshot, and waking up to find a strange man with a needle injector waiting for him. Then a small struggle, and then, total blackness. It must have been a sedative. But pretty strong, to work so quickly and effectively so as to temporarily inhibit his memory.

Or, thought Quatre, the dosage they had estimated for me was too strong because my body was weak from my illness. Which means they didn’t know about my illness to begin with….

Quatre rubbed his head. So he had been kidnapped. But who would want to kidnap me?

Quatre sat up. He had been lying on a bed that was set in the corner of a small room. There were no windows in the room, and no other furniture besides the bed. There was a sink and a toilet in the corner. Looks almost like an old officer’s quarters from the early days of the Alliance, thought Quatre. Then, could he be in some sort of military base?

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as a wave of dizziness and pain swept through his body. He quickly lay down again; the drug must have done some damage to his weak body. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious. Looking at his wrist, he discovered that his watch had been taken. Checking in his pockets, he found that his cell phone was also gone. His pockets had been emptied.

Pretty thorough job, he thought. He closed his eyes. His sisters must be worried sick about him. He sighed. Poor Dusty. If someone had found the dog before too long, there might be a chance. If not, though, there wasn’t much hope that he had survived the ordeal. Quatre couldn’t bare the thought of the once energetic young dog lying alone and wounded, his life just bleeding away into the grass. Quatre shuddered. Best not to think about it, and just to concentrate on trying to get out of here.

He closed his eyes. A dull ache had begun to form in his chest. Maybe a little sleep – natural, not drug-induced sleep – would give his body a little time to start healing.

Soon, peaceful rest had overcome him, and he slept deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir!"

The two soldiers stood to attention as their commander entered the room. He was a tall, angular man, but with a heavy build about him. A dark beard obscured the lower half of his face.

"At ease," he said.

One of the soldiers stepped forward. "Commander Aethan, have you reached a decision?"

Aethan nodded.

"We will keep him alive, and continue with operations as planned. A medical examiner should make sure that the drug overdose did not do his body too much harm."

Aethan turned and began pacing the room. The Winner heir had been unconscious for nearly a day now. He hadn’t awoken during the long flight to Earth, as originally expected. He had been left in the confinement quarters prepared for him, but Aethan had been worried. What had gone wrong with the drug? When the boy’s pockets had been emptied, they had found the answer. The boy had been carrying a letter from some doctor acquaintance of his. It provided information that the boy had some kind of deadly disease. The drug must have been too much for his weak body, and he had staid unconscious for far longer than he should have. And if the boy died, their entire plan would fail.

"Any further orders, sir?"

Aethan looked at the soldier. "Yes. You may send the message to the Winner family estate. It is time to set our plan in motion." Then, as an afterthought, "And the prisoner’s rations must be taken to him in case he should wake."

The soldier soluted, and was about to leave the room, when a girl’s voice called, "Please, let me go with them!"

Aethan looked around. "Lorri," he began.

"Please, sir," said the girl. She was young and pretty, just about fifteen years old. Her dark eyes pleaded with Aethan. "I would very much like to see what a Gundam pilot looks like. Please, Godfather?"

Aethan narrowed his eyes. "Very well." He turned to a soldier. "Please escort her to the prisoner’s quarters."

"Oh, thank you!" she cried.

Aethan shook his head. That girl’s curiosity will be the death of her someday, he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lorri began feel a bit nervous as she followed the soldier down the corridor towards the prisoner’s room. She was going to see a Gundam pilot! The very thought of it made her shudder. What was a Gundam pilot like? He must be very different from her godfather’s soldiers, to have earned such a rank of terror. During the war, she had often seen how terrifying the legendary Mobile Suits were to the soldiers on the base.

So would he be ugly? Or vulgar? Would his language be coarse, his body a towering bulk of muscle and strength, able to crush bone with a single fist?

These ideas frightened her. She rather preferred to picture him as the kind of dashing, handsome renegade she had so often seen portrayed in movies: the lone survivor of some lost force, standing his ground and cutting his way through the enemy ranks, fighting bravely to the bitter end….

Lorri nearly bumped into the soldier in front of her before she realized that he had stopped. They were there. The soldier keyed in the access code, and the door slid open. Lorri followed the man into the room, and peered around him, her heart pounding. Then she spotted the pilot.

Her first reaction was one of disappointment. The pilot was not a handsome renegade, nor a vulgar beast. He was just a boy! He couldn’t have been much older than Lorri herself. He was sleeping on the bed, curled up in an almost fetal position, his blonde head resting on the pillow.

Lorri’s second reaction was one of pity. How could this boy, innocent and defenseless, be the target of her godfather’s scheme? He didn’t look at all like he had had any chance of defending himself against his kidnappers. He looked so weak and helpless, just lying there. Lorri then remembered hearing that the boy had some sort of fatal disease. She clenched her fists. How could they do this to him? A poor, innocent boy, already doomed by a terrible illness, suddenly attacked and pumped full of a sedative so that he was out cold for almost a day, and taken away to a strange military base to be held prisoner for God knows how long?

Suddenly, the pilot stirred, and his eyes opened. Lorri gasped. He looked up at her; he seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Their gazes locked, and Lorri couldn’t look away. His eyes were filled with a sort of long-suffering strength, and Lorri’s pity was replaced with fascination and curiosity. The pilot sat up, and Lorri almost took a step back towards the door.

The soldier moved forward, placed the tray of rations on the bed beside the boy, and moved to the door. "Miss Lorri?" he said. Lorri drew away from the bed, but didn’t follow the soldier out the door.

"Wait," she said, desperate to know more about the strange prisoner. "Can’t I stay a bit longer?"

"Sure," said the soldier. He walked out into the corridor. "Close the door when you leave. It will lock automatically."

"But—" Lorri began.

"I’m not here to baby-sit you," replied the soldier, and with that, he clicked the keypad to close the door behind him.

Lorri stood shocked for a moment. She could feel her heart beating relentlessly against her ribcage. Suddenly, she was startled by a voice behind her, and she spun around.

"Huh?" she said dumbly.

The pilot’s voice was gentle and amiable as he replied, "I said, ‘What’s your name?’"

"Lorri," she said. "My name is Lorri." She paused. "What’s yours?"

"My name is Quatre Reberba Winner," he said with a smile.

Lorri looked at him quizzically. How could he be so friendly with her? She was one of his captors, after all. Unless… unless he was lonely. Could that be?

"What are you doing here?" Quatre asked.

Lorri blinked. What am I doing here? "What do you mean?"

"Well, this looks like a military base to me," he answered. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," she stated. She had never thought it strange that she lived on a military base. "My godfather’s the commander of this base. My father used to be, but… he and my mother died in the war."

"I… I’m sorry," Quatre said.

Lorri looked away. "I’m beginning to feel bad about what my godfather has done to you," she said. She somehow felt that she could be very honest with this boy. "Your parents must be very worried about you."

There was a short silence, then Quatre said, "Actually, my parents are dead, too."

Lorri looked up. "Oh…" she stammered. "I’m sorry…."

"That’s okay," Quatre said. He reached for the water canteen on the rations tray, but halfway to his lips, his hand suddenly spasmed, and the canteen fell to the floor. He was gripping his chest and gasping.

"Oh!" cried Lorri. She rushed over to him.

Quatre took several steady gasps, and rubbed his hands together. "I’m okay," he told her.

"No, you’re not!" she said. "It’s that drug they gave you. I heard my godfather say that they had overdosed you. It’s done something to you!" She picked up the water canteen and sat down on the bed beside him. She handed him the drink. "Are you sure you’re all right now?"

He nodded. "I’m fine. I just need a little rest, and then I’ll be okay."

Lorri hesitated. His eyes were looking into hers again; they were so sincere. She stood up. "Okay then," she said. She moved to the door, and turned. "You’re sure?"

Quatre smiled. "Yes," he said.

Lorri opened the door to leave, but smiled at him first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We called you here because we didn’t know what else to do. Quatre always said that we could call you for help if we needed you. The authorities aren’t much help; they don’t really know what they’re doing, or where to look for him. We thought you’d be able to help us." Yreia looked hopefully at the Gundam pilots standing before her.

Heero Yuy looked at the woman before him. She was Quatre’s sister. He could easily see the anguish and concern in her facial expression. He still didn’t understand how one could show emotion so easily; he was still having trouble learning to show his own feelings. Inside, of course, he was extremely worried about his friend. He just didn’t show it.

Duo, on the other hand, was openly displaying his concern. "Well, what did you think we’d be able to do?" Duo asked irritably. Heero looked at his partner. That wasn’t the way to talk to this woman now. Couldn’t he see how distressed she already was? Duo had been in quite an anxious state of mind ever since he’d heard about Quatre’s disappearance the day before. Not smart. Duo was letting his emotions affect his actions.

Yreia blinked. "I… we didn’t know. We figured that you’d know how to go about looking for him better than the authorities…." She looked almost on the verge of tears.

Duo sighed. "I’m sorry," he said. "I’m just real worried about him. I didn’t mean to –" He was cut off as a light blinked next to the message console in the corner of the reception room.

Yreia moved to read the message. After touching a few keys, she turned to the pilots. "It’s on the private frequency," she said. Heero and Duo turned around, even though they wouldn’t have been able to read the message screen from where they were standing.

There were a few minutes of silence as Yreia read the message. Finally, she said, her voice a little shocked, "Heero, Duo, I think you should read this."

The two of them moved over to the screen to read the message:

Heero and Duo were silent after they read the message. Finally, Duo said, "That’s a pretty strange request. What do you think they plan to accomplish by having the Resource Satellites shut down for a couple of weeks?"

Yreia shook her head. "It could do a lot more damage then you would think," she said. "Shutting down the satellites for just two weeks could cause a serious shortage of goods on the colony. Supplies for the colony would have to be shipped in from elsewhere, which would cost a lot of extra money. And shutting down all of a resource satellite’s operating systems is a dangerous and complicated business. Something could go wrong, and it might take months to reprogram them. Even if nothing unexpected happens, it will still take several weeks just to get them up and running at normal capacity again. During that time, the colonists would be starving." She sighed. "Not to mention the damage it would do to the Winner Corporation itself."

"Oh, man," said Duo. "But why would they want to do that?"

"Doesn’t matter," said Heero. "They’re probably ex-OZ soldiers trying to get revenge because they blame the colonies for destroying OZ." He looked at Yreia. "What are you going to do?"

Yreia shook her head. "I’ll have to discuss it with my sisters and the heads of the company. I may even have to speak with the leaders of the colony. This could affect every person on L4…." Her voice broke, and she hung her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Poor Quatre. I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now. But don’t worry… we’ll find a way out of this…."

Heero put a hand on her shoulder. "Try not to worry about Quatre. He’s strong; I’m sure he can take care of himself. You have a big decision ahead of you. You should probably get some rest."

She wiped her eyes. "You’re right. I know Quatre will make it out of this…." She stood.

"Do you think there’s anything we can do to help?" asked Duo.

Heero sat down at the message screen. "I can try to track this message, but I doubt it will work. Its return path has probably been erased."

Yreia smiled. "Thank you both. I imagine you’ll be staying here tonight? Good. Then when you’re finished here, just ring this bell, and a servant will see to your needs." She left the room.

Heero began working on the keypad at the console. Duo sat down in a chair, and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if Heero was still sitting in front of the screen the next morning. He’d seen it happen often enough.

After awhile, Heero grunted. "What I thought. The return path’s been erased." He leaned forward and typed a few commands. "Only a military base would have the technology to do this so efficiently. There aren’t any unmonitored military posts in outer space, so this must have come from the Earth."

Duo opened an eye. "The Earth?" He leaned forward in the chair. "You can’t be any more specific?"

"Give me a minute," Heero replied. Duo sat back again, and soon had accidentally fallen asleep.

He was awakened when Heero called his name. Duo opened his eyes and saw Heero standing at the door. "You can’t sleep here," the Japanese pilot said. "I’ve rung for the servant. I suggest you wait until you’re in your room for the night."

Duo stood up. "Sorry," he said. "So did you find anything?" He followed Heero out into the hallway.