Disclaimer: I don't own GundamW
WARNING: COARSE LANGUAGE, ADULT SITUATIONS
/./I hear a voice say "Don't be so blind"/./
Quatre stalked into his office in a rare bad mood. They were getting closer to finding out who had murdered his father, but every time they got to a certain point, the trail stopped cold. Quatre sighed; right now, he would've preferred a dead end.
There was a spy in his household. It was the only explanation for the numerous dead ends, and the fact that his father's murderer seemed to know just as much about their progress as he did. Quatre sighed again, pressing a hand to his forehead. He now had to undergo a massive upheaval of his household. Cameras would be placed in strategic areas around the house, and he would have to interview everyone who worked there.
Your gifts would be a great boon to us in this matter, Master Quatre.
Quatre winced as he thought of what Rashid had said to him. It was true, using his gifts to look into people's minds would speed things up, but he hated using his gift that way, it seemed like an invasion to him. Something that you couldn't do without their permission.
He would do his duty. He would find out who killed his father, and avenge him. He smiled slightly when Dorothy entered the room. He moved towards her, wrapping her in a glad embrace. She was his safe haven, a constant amusement and comfort for him in a world that seemed to be going to hell.
"Is something wrong, Quatre?" She asked softly, and when he explained to her what he had to do, she stiffened slightly. "I don't think you'll find anything in this house. It could just be another dead end that he's led you down."
"I don't think so," Quatre murmured, as he ran kisses up her neck. "It makes too much sense…"
/./It's telling me all these things, that you would probably hide././
He trailed off in shock as Dorothy's feelings bombarded him. There was guilt, a huge amount of it, and fear. He pulled back from her, holding her at arms length. "What have you done?" His voice was hoarse as images flashed into his head, showing him everything that she had ever held back from him. His hold in her mind was tenuous, but she made no move to stop him. There was a sense of resignation emanating from her, and of relief. Quatre slowed his breathing, and with tears in his eyes, he crossed over into her mind.
He found himself in one of her memories. It was hard to judge how long ago it had been, but however long it was, she was there, waiting for someone in what looked like a fancy hotel room. His gut clenched as the door opened and a handsome middle-aged man walked into the room.
"Dorothy, my dear," the man smiled, and pulled Dorothy into a hug. "It has been too long."
Quatre watched in disbelief, unnoticed by either of them. Was this the incredible guilt he had felt from her? Had she cheated on him? His own memories flashed before his eye, and he found that there were things he had overlooked. Little things like a late arrival or a broken promise that should have alerted him to the fact that something was wrong.
"Father," Dorothy smiled coldly, and gestured for the man to sit. Quatre sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the two of them and feeling ridiculous. He had jumped to an embarrassing conclusion, and the only good thing was that no one had been here to witness it. "How have you been?"
"You know how it is," her father sighed heavily as he sat down. "The battle never ends when fighting tyranny."
"I know," Dorothy nodded slightly. "So what brings you back to me after all these years?" Quatre could hear the edge in her voice, and knew she was angry. He had no idea what she could've been angry at her father for, but he recognised the emotion in her, even when it was fiercely suppressed.
"I have a job for you," the man smiled, like he was giving her a long-awaited treat. "I know that you've been interested in the workings of war ever since you were a child, and I finally have a way for you to make a difference."
"You told me that I had no place getting involved in the war effort." Dorothy's voice was tight as she stood up. "Why are you wasting my time with this?"
Her father snorted. "It's not like you've somewhere better to spend it. You have two choices my dear. You can spend the rest of your life bending knee to that spoiled pacifist princess and her weak-willed, meaningless philosophy, or you could help me with this one assignment."
Quatre watched as Dorothy composed herself, he could feel the excitement emanating from her, and the contempt for her father. "Relena is someone who is worthy of my respect." She said quietly. "You have yet to earn mine. I have no problem 'bending knee' to her as you so eloquently put it."
"If you help me, you could help snap Earth's hold on the colonies. Return everyone to equal ground." Dorothy moved away from her father when he placed his hand on her shoulder. "You could change the course of history, and all I need is for you to gather information for me."
"What do you want me to do?"
"How much do you know about Quatre Winner?" Her father asked softly, and smiled when Dorothy whirled around, looking at him incredulously. "I thought as much," his smile broadened and Quatre wanted to wipe the smug smirk off his face, "I'd heard that you two have a history."
"What does Quatre have to do with anything?" Dorothy demanded furiously. "Who's the mission?"
"Don't you understand, my dear?" Her father shook his head slightly, and Quatre delved into his thoughts. There was greed there, anger, and ambition. There was none of the affection that he was pretending for his daughter though. Only a need for the money that this mission's completion would bring. "Mr. Winner is the mark."
"No," Dorothy whispered, and slumped into the chair bonelessly. "I won't help you."
"Think of it, darling. It would take little effort from you. All you have to do is seduce him, lull him into a false sense of trust. I know you can do it." He patted her knee indulgently before walking over to the mini-bar to pour himself a brandy. "Think of the power and the money there is to gain. You'll be helping the colonies and getting the resources needed to become a woman of substance."
Dorothy's eyes hardened at his last statement, and her shoulders stiffened. And to his horror, Quatre watched as she walked over to her father and took the brandy glass out of his hand, sipping it thoughtfully. "What must I do?" She asked and laughed.
/./Am I… Your one and only desire/./
Quatre pulled out of Dorothy's mind and away from her violently. He gasped for breath, watching her warily as he regained his mental balance. She made no move to help him or to explain her actions, she simply stood there with her hands clasped in front of her, watching him with those brilliantly sharp eyes that he had come to love.
Emotions warred within him as he watched her. He hated her for using him. She had needed a position of power so she could do as she wished, and had used him to do so. He reached for again and pulled her close, delving a bit deeper into her mind. He watched as she betrayed him again and again for her own gain. And little by little anger overwhelmed the hurt that had swallowed his soul.
He welcomed the anger, revelled in it. It was like a protective coat of armour against her treachery and his own reaction to it. He used it to make himself stronger as he faced her, murder in his eyes. "Your father is alive?" he asked quietly, and the edge in his voice made her flinch. "The truth. All of it."
There had been a time when he would have asked for answers, and would have been content with whatever answer she gave, but that time was over. Trust and sweetness would only bring more lies from the woman who stood in front of him, and he was tired of the lies. Demands and force were all he had left for her.
She knew this and when her eyes met his, they were cool and void of emotions. "My father contacted me shortly after the end of the war. He'd been unable to reach me earlier because he was doing highly secret work for the Alliance. He'd been ordered to bring down the head of a powerful colonies corporation."
"Winner Enterprises," Quatre finished for her, and grabbed her, roughly shaking her shoulders. "Your father killed mine, and you never told me. You shared my bed, whispered promises of love and devotion, but you never told me the truth about your father.
"Do you think I'm proud of what he did?" Dorothy's voice was cool and curiously flat. She felt like someone had ripped out her heart, and all that was left was a terrible web of lies that grew tighter with every passing minute.
"I don't know what I think," Quatre snapped, and moved away from her to pace the room. "Why did you decide to go out with me?"
"I was curious about you, and liked you well enough." Dorothy moved to the window, pressing a hand against the glass. She wished he would leave her so she could let go of this indifferent façade she wore. She wasn't sure how long she could act like he meant nothing to her.
"The truth!" Quatre thundered and spun her around to face him. "Your politician bullshit won't work on me. No more half answers, Dorothy. Just give me the fucking truth!"
Something ripped inside her as she lifted her eyes to his face. There was no love there anymore. The gentleness and caring heart that she loved was gone, and in its place was suspicion and anger. Her shoulders slumped, and though her face betrayed no emotion, she was dying inside.
"My father couldn't reach the Winner heir. He needed someone on the inside to finish the job. I agreed…" She didn't finish. He wouldn't believe her if she told him she'd agreed so she would find a way to protect him.
"So you used me," he gritted out, his hands on her shoulders once more. "You used my feelings for you in order to take my money, my position, and my life." His voice broke as he said the last word and once again, he moved closer to her.
"You've used me enough," he whispered, pulling her lips to his. "It's my turn." His kiss was harsh, bruising her lips with his strength. She struggled, fighting against his touch, and he caught her hands, pinning them to her sides as the kiss deepened.
He wanted to wound her as deeply as she had wounded him, to make her feel the pain and emptiness that he was feeling, but even as he let her to the bed, his anger deserted him. His touch changed as he pushed her down, becoming gentle as he stroked a finger down the side of her face and watched with a small smile as her struggles began to lessen, becoming weaker with every passing moment.
"Don't," Dorothy pleaded as his teeth nipped her earlobe, her voice coming out much higher than she would've liked. "I don't want this. I don't want you."
"You're still lying," Quatre murmured, watching her eyes widen as his hand moved to cup her breast. His mouth moved downwards to replace his hand and he smiled bitterly as her breath caught. He could feel the change in her. It was slow, but inevitable, beating against her will like the tide. A fluid surrender that gave way to desire and hit her like a slap.
Revenge, hatred and love were all forgotten as she wrapped her arms around him and he was lost.
/./Am I the reason you breathe, or am I the reason you cry/./
He didn't hold her after they were finished. He got up quickly as if he couldn't stand to be near her, and she watched in silence as he gathered his clothes with quick efficient movements. Neither made a sound as he dressed.
The world had come rushing back to them after they had both reached completion, Dorothy mused and with a heavy heart turned away. Would he ever look at her they way that he once had? She stifled a gasp when he suddenly appeared in front of her, and tossed her robe at her.
"Put it on," he ordered roughly, "you're cold."
"Get out of my head," she whispered back, pulling on the robe, and returning to the window. "I don't want you there."
"You forfeited your right to privacy when you conspired against me." He wanted to give her more than harsh words, and brutality, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The hurt was back, and with it, a newfound guilt.
He wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her, but his pride wouldn't allow it. He would never be her fool again. He knew that if he showed her an inch of mercy, she would swallow him whole.
And a part of him wanted to let her.
She looked so fragile in the moonlight, so hurt, that he found himself reaching out for her despite himself when she spoke.
"I'll never forgive you for this," she refused to look at him, she knew her will would break down if she did.
"I don't need your forgiveness." His hand dropped uselessly to his side, and he took a deep breath as he watched her. "I don't need anything from you anymore."
She turned then, her eyes blazing, and with more speed then he would've credited her with, she moved until less than a foot separated them. "Say that again." She ordered; her voice was low, dangerous.
"I don't need a thing from you." He forced himself to smile and stuck his shaking hands in his pockets. "A common street whore would do just as well." His smile widened and he laughed at her. "Probably even better."
The sound of her hand connecting with his face echoed throughout the room, and he turned his had back to face her, his eyes as angry as hers. "Get out," she hissed, and snarled at him when he grabbed her, and shook her shoulders.
He was shouting at her, angry, furious words that filled the room. She didn't hear a word of it. All she could feel was his emotions as they battered her mind. It was like what she imagined a sledgehammer to the head would feel like. She went limp in his arms, and he let her fall, disgusted with both of them.
He stood there for a moment, looking at her crumpled form. Guilt and remorse rose in him, but he forced down the emotions ruthlessly, making himself turn from her. Apologies surfaced in his head, but he banished them to the back of his mind, and forced himself to walk from the room.
She lay there for God knows how long, waiting for her insides to settle, and when they did, she dressed quietly, throwing the bare necessities into a duffle bag. She didn't want to take anything of Quatre's with her. She left all the jewellery he'd bought her, only taking what she'd brought with her and a ring she couldn't bear to part with.
Her eyes were dry as she hefted her bag, taking one last look around the room. There had been so much love in this room. Years of love, destroyed by mere hours of anger, lies, and pain. Dorothy shook her head slightly and moved out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind her.
"Good bye, Quatre."
Author's Note: The 4xD pairing has always been a guilty pleasure of mine, but I never found that I could write them well enough. I'm hoping that this one will suffice. Some of my beta's took a severe disliking to Quatre, and thought that I made him too harsh. I just thought of how it would feel to find out that the woman you loved had betrayed you and was working to destroy you, and those were the actions that came out of my head. Questions? Comments? Threats? I'm ready!