Author’s Note: I’m trying to get these out a bit faster now the holidays are over. Please review, your input is very much appreciated. LEMON warning in this chapter . . . As always for newbies to my fics: Midii Une is NOT an original character, she is a character from Gundam Wing Episode Zero Manga. Visit my site for details, Most of the details of Midii and Trowa’s past together are taken directly from the manga.

The Price of Redemption
Chapter 5
by Midii Une

He could still hardly believe it was really her, the girl he’d left behind.

“Your hair,” he whispered, trailing his fingers through the tangled mass of strawberry curls. “Midii what did you do?”

“I had to, I’m sorry,” she quavered, the blue-gray eyes circled with dripping black mascara welling with tears and her lower lip trembling as she looked at him almost fearfully, sensing his disapproval.

“Okay, it’s okay Midii,” Trowa said softening, cupping her face in his hands and studying her features again to assure himself it really was her. “Let’s go inside and talk, you’re shaking.”

She shook her head.

“No. Please Trowa. Let’s go away and never, ever come back. Please,” her voice was urgent and her eyes desperate as she glanced up at the windows of the hotel.

His uneasiness increased with her strange behavior. His teasing, sparkling Midii, who’d made such an effort to bring him out of his shell had suddenly retreated into one of her own.

“Please Trowa,” her soft voice begged and her eyes captured his. “I’m so afraid.”

Her words clenched at his heart, he could feel her genuine terror. Across the street he caught sight of a delivery man parking his motorcycle and disappearing into a building.

“Come on then,” he said tugging at her unresisting hand. “Let’s go.”

Wufei jerked awake as he heard a motorcycle gunning it’s engine loudly oustside and the enraged shouts of its owner as it disappeared down the street. He looked at the clock. 7 am. They still hadn’t come back. He was going to have to think of something to tell Sally but he was damned if he knew what that was going to be.


Quatre’s words caught in his throat. They were going to be late . . . but the sight of her made him forget what he’d meant to say, forget about the shuttle, the diplomatic mission, everything but the vision before him.

Dorothy kicked at the dress that pooled around her ankles in irritation. Not right, none of them were right. A soft sound from the direction of the doorway caught her attention and she spun in the direction of the sound, her long, moonlight-colored hair swirling around her like a silken veil on a dancer.

The quick-tempered Catalonia mistook Quatre’s bemusement for amusement and right now she didn’t feel like being amusing. She folded her arms over her chest and huffed in irritation.

“Quatre! Don’t just stand there grinning like a Cheshire cat,” she complained, stamping her silk-stockinged foot for emphasis. “Help me choose a dress to wear to the reception tomorrow.”

She turned and marched into the walk-in closet, her hand riffling over the rows of silk, taffeta, velvet and satin gowns in every color of the rainbow.

Quatre followed her in, wrapping his arms around her waist and nudging her hair away from her shoulder to plant a kiss on the soft, pale skin.

“Argghh, I have nothing to wear,” Dorothy moaned.

“Hmmm, Dorothy, why don’t you just wear this,” Quatre suggested, mischief now blatant in his aquamarine eyes as he felt her tense with outrage.

“This! This? Quatre this is a slip, an undergarment,” Dorothy sputtered. “Men know nothing, absolutely nothing . . . why . . .”

Her tirade stalled as one of his hands caressed the smooth white silk of her slip making her feel warm and flushed and loved. The fierce expression on her face changed to a wistful smile as he moved her in his arms to face him and he leaned towards her to brush his nose against hers.

Their lips touched and it wasn’t long before Quatre lost his shirt and Dorothy’s slip slid softly to the closet floor. She giggled softly and contentment washed over Quatre as he lowered her willing form to the floor. Her laughter was the most beautiful sound he could imagine and his own heart swelled with happiness as he saw her smiling up at him. He knew he that he was finally so very close to healing her broken heart at last.


Crying children and annoyed passengers made a constant din at the L4 cluster spaceport.

“What’s the hold-up,” a man asked the flustered spaceport employee. “I have important business on Earth. What are we waiting on?”

Others in the crowd started mumbling as well, and finally a shuttle company representative stepped up to the PA system.

“Sorry for the delay. You may now start boarding,” the representative sighed in relief as the passengers filed toward the gate in an orderly fashion. She didn’t notice a thin young man wearing dark glasses glancing around at the others nervously and clutching a shopping bag in his sweating hands.

“What do you think you’re doing,” one of her friends asked as she stepped away from the PA and headed back to her office. “We were supposed to hold that shuttle for Mr. Winner and his fiancée. You know the boss was very excited that Mr. Winner was going to travel to Earth on a commercial flight and chose our shuttle line. I wouldn’t want to be you when he finds out what you’ve pulled Linda.”

“What else could I do,” Linda said, her face flushing as she thought of her boss’s disapproval. “We had a terminal full of angry people who were about ready to riot. Let the high and mighty Mr. Winner take one of his own shuttles. It’s all just a publicity stunt anyway. Everyone knows the rich don’t have to travel in cattle cars like the rest of us. Besides the man is 45 minutes late and still no sign of him.”


Trowa tapped softly on the bathroom door, no answer. “Midii? Are you alright in there,” he called, rattling the knob gently. He leaned his forehead against the door and shut his eyes. Was this some kind of strange justice for all the times he’d given Cathrine the silent treatment when things had been going badly during the war? He turned the knob and the door opened into the warm mist. She sat there in the bathtub with her back to him and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief. What was I worried about, he thought. People hardly ever drown in bubble baths.

She hadn’t said a word as they drove away from Brussels. She’d clung silently to his hand when he registered them at the little hotel he’d finally found out in the countryside somewhere. And now she sat silently, her eyes faraway, staring unseeing at the water.

Tiny curls escaped from the haphazard knot she’d pinned her hair into, they nestled against her damp face and neck. The room was full of the scent of lavender and little clusters of glistening bubbles clung to her moist skin.

“Midii,” Trowa said again, totally at a loss with how to deal with her continued silence. “Can you talk to me now? Whatever it is, I’ll try to make it alright.”

She glanced at him then and he could see that her eyes were full of despair. His hand reached out to stroke her bare shoulder, his fingers gliding easily over her soapy skin.

“I don’t deserve you anymore Trowa,” she whispered finally. “I almost betrayed you again. I almost did, I would have--”

She leaned her face on her arms on the opposite side of the tub and hid from him.

“I was careless,” she whispered. “It was all my fault . . .”

She felt the frothy bubbles move around her, sliding over her skin and a wave of water sloshed over side of the tub.

Trowa lowered himself into the water and pulled her close to him, the water precariously slopping out of the tub as he settled into position.

“Whatever you have to say Midii, whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t matter anymore,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her cheek. “Now that we’re together again, everything’s alright.”

She shook her head.

“What happened last night,” he asked. “Where were you?”

“I don’t know how it happened Trowa,” she answered softly. “I don’t know, I can’t remember anything. I can’t talk about it, you’ll hate me again--”

A choked-back sob shook her body and he held her tighter and took a deep breath.

“I’m not a child anymore Midii, I won’t turn my back on you this time, no matter what,” he said slowly. “Last night I walked and walked and I couldn’t find you. That’s when I knew that if I ever did get you back again I’d never leave your side. I’ve changed. You changed me. I can’t live without you anymore. I can’t go back to the way I used to be, back to being alone.”

“Trowa you don’t understand. I keep doing the wrong thing. We weren’t even apart 24 hours and I lied to you and came here. I should never have come here, it was all wrong from the start. No matter how much I love you I always do the wrong thing. Why does it keep happening? Why, when I love you so much,” she said, shaking her head hopelessly, the words she had always wanted to hear from him made less precious by the knowledge that soon he would take them back and leave her alone again.

“Just tell me what happened,” he begged, her unusual despondency starting to scare him. “Tell me what you’ve found out. Is it as bad as Sally expected?”

“Worse, and I haven’t been able to find out the information she needs to stop it,” Midii explained, her senses clearing a little as she considered Trowa’s sensible question. “I’ve made contact with someone from my past who claims to be an important part of the new government. There’s a faction planning to initiate terrorist actions in order to frighten the old nations into dividing once again and forming armies. The economy is in a shambles Trowa, the representatives are just waiting for anything to come up as an excuse to start up military production again.”

“Do the people you’re working with trust you Midii, or are they on to you? Is that it,” Trowa prodded, disturbed by her revelations but more concerned about what had happened to her the day before to make her so upset.

“Yes,” Midii said carefully. “Rich--Ichiban seems to have accepted me back without reservation. It’s difficult for him to doubt my sincerity and I’ve led him to believe I changed my identity to hide from Preventers.”

There was a question in his eyes, scratch that, a lot of questions in his eyes. She sighed softly and continued.

“Yesterday something happened. I was supposed to meet with Eva, a woman who works with my contact. She’s like me, in a way, a spy, an expert in lies and betrayal,” Midii said.

“You’re not like that anymore,” Trowa said comfortingly, twisting one of her curls around his finger and staring at the unfamiliar color of it.

“I am,” Midii whispered. “The only difference is that now I’m betraying him instead of you. I don’t remember, but I must have gone to meet her. You say Wufei said I went?”

Trowa nodded, concentrating on her words. She turned in the tub, putting her back to him and lowering her head. He tried to shift her so she would look at him but she shook him off.

“This morning, when I woke up, I didn’t know where I was,” she continued after awhile. “I couldn’t, I can’t--I spent the night there. There was someone strange in the room, I screamed and Richard came running. He told me what happened . . . she put something in my coffee, I wasn’t myself, Trowa . . . I wasn’t myself, but . . .”

“If he touched you I will kill him,” Trowa said in a voice Midii didn’t recognize.

“He didn’t,” Midii said, putting her hand to her forehead and rubbing her fingers at her temples, trying to force herself to remember the previous evening.

“How do you know he’s telling the truth,” Trowa asked bitterly. “He’s a liar isn’t he?”

Midii was silent.

“How do you know he’s telling you the truth,” Trowa persisted. “You’re lying to him, why are you so sure he’s not doing the same? How can you be sure Midii?”

“Richard wouldn’t, not about this,” she said softly.

Someone from my past . . . Richard . . . her voice had a different quality to it when she mentioned his name.

“Why? Why wouldn’t he,” Trowa asked again, almost not wanting to know. There was so much about her he would probably never know . . .

“He knows me. He knows I wouldn’t be that way, knew the things I was doing weren’t right. He knows how I am when . . . Trowa please, please believe me. It just didn’t happen,” Midii stuttered.

“Why are you trusting him on this, Midii?”

“You were gone, gone for years. I never thought I’d ever see you again Trowa. I hoped and I dreamed of you but I never believed . . . then I met Richard, he made me feel a little like you did. It was during the war, I never thought I had a future with you Trowa . . . I needed someone . . .”

“And . . .”

“Ichiban . . . Richard . . . he wants . . .he wants it to be the way it was.”

His hand grabbed at her wrist, tightening around it like a vise. She looked at him, afraid of what she’d see.

“You are mine and I am yours,” he said. “Did you mean that? Did you say it only to me?”

“Yes Trowa,” she gasped as his grip tightened painfully. “If it had been possible for us to have always been this way I would have been so happy. So long ago when I stepped out of those woods I was so afraid until I saw your face. And then it was like I had been called there for a reason, despite the awful thing I had to do. We were there to save each others lives and I loved you, even though I was just a little girl I knew.”

“Can’t you feel it,” she whispered, her hands sliding up over his shoulders, her face drawing nearer to his as his hands circled her waist and pulled her closer. “We belong together, we keep ending up together even though I am what I am and you are what you are. Let me be with you always, I’ll never need anyone else. Never want anyone else.”

Her eyes seemed to glow with the strength of her convictions.

“I believe you,” he breathed, pulling her against his chest and kissing her.

Her arms circled his neck and their wet bodies clung together, neither one caring that the water had turned rather cold.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured, her breathing changing to short gasps as his hands moved over her and his lips nuzzled at the curve of her neck. “Tomorrow let’s go home to Provence. We were so happy there.”

He covered her lips with his and hers parted, opening to him eagerly. Yes, he thought, they had been very happy there. He remembered the wonderful necessity of sleeping close together on her little bed, the smile on her face when he pushed her in the swing, the lines of her profile as she peeked over her shoulder at him and her long hair flying in the spring breeze. Provence, their special place.

They stopped for breath and looked at each other.

“I love you Trowa, only you,” she said, shivering a little in the cool water.

He pulled her close again, her body weightless in the water, positioning her on his lap so he could enter her.

“Midii,” he gasped. “I can’t get close enough to you.”

She grabbed the sides of the tub with her hands as his strong arms kept her in place guiding her movements, kissing her neck when she tipped her head back in pleasure.


The colony shuddered, reminiscent of an earthquake. Only there was no such thing as those horrific tremors in space. It was one of the things that beckoned people to live on the colonies, the absence of natural disasters. All the colonies had surveillance set up and there was little danger even from the occasional brushes with space debris.

“A meteor shower, perhaps,” Quatre thought trying to come up with a reason for the unexplained movement, glancing at Dorothy beside him as the car they were riding in stopped as traffic backed up and people panicked at the unprecedented occurrence.

Dorothy shrugged, she was still feeling amorous from their recent encounter in the closet and gratified by Quatre’s promise that they would make an unscheduled stop in Paris to do a little shopping. The new delay didn’t upset her at all as these things usually did. She squeezed Quatre’s hand in hers and the look in her lovely lavender-blue eyes could only be called suggestive.

But for once Quatre was unmoved by Dorothy’s come-hither look though he automatically returned her squeeze lovingly. He had quickly come to the awful realization that something was very wrong.

Quatre rolled down the black-tinted window of the Mercedes and stuck his head out, only to hear Dorothy gasp and pull pack on his arm quickly as an ambulance whizzed by, nearly sideswiping their car. Ignoring Dorothy’s pull on his arm he stuck his head back out and saw thick black smoke and red and orange flame in the distance. From the direction of the spaceport.

At that moment the driver opened the window that separated him from his passengers.

“Radio announcer just said an Earth-bound shuttle exploded on the pad at the space port. Lucky for you you were running late Mr. Winner,” he said.

Quatre’s face paled but his mind reacted with the quick instincts of a Gundam pilot. “Drive on the median if you have to but get me to the space port as quickly as you can. I know I can be of help there,” he said, the air of command in his voice jump-starting the driver, who stepped on the gas as the sportscar screeched onto the grass in the center strip and by-passed the gawking motorists who continued to stare unbelieving at the proof of the disaster up ahead.


That voice [1]. Silky and sensual with a sexy hint of Spanish influence, his words resounded low and soft in her ears. Her body reacted pleasurably just to the sound of it, shivers of delight coursing through her and making her run her hands over her arms, arms that bore goosebumps just from hearing his voice.

And she didn’t even know what he looked like. Her passionate nature was easily aroused and in that moment when she first heard his voice, Eva knew she wouldn’t be able to stop until she heard that voice close to her ear like she did now, but with the warmth of his breath on her face and the feel of his hands moving over her.

“Who are you,” she wondered, adjusting the earpiece she wore in an effort to hear him more clearly. They must be almost out of range. The device she’d planted in Marguerite’s purse was very advanced but it still could only transmit sound from a radius of 50 miles or less.

“Who are you,” she said softly aloud. “And why do you content yourself with that pallid, passionless little girl?”

“Trowa,” she heard Marguerite say, her wishy-washy, simpering voice grating on her nerves and deepening her hatred incrementally. “You really forgive me?”

“Trowa,” Eva repeated. “Trowa.”

Her eyes narrowed as she heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing, soft contented sounds and the creak of a bed.

“Midii,” he said, Eva closed her eyes as that voice washed over her again. A voice too full of love and understanding for one so undeserving, she thought. “I’ve come to a decision. I don’t want you going back to Brussels. It’s too dangerous and maybe too difficult for you to betray someone you knew . . . had feelings for. . .”

Eva’s eyes lit up. This was what she had waited for. Marguerite was a double agent, she meant to betray Ichiban. Too good to be true, the dark-haired young woman thought, glancing at herself jubilantly in the mirror. And this Trowa, his voice had the tone of jealousy and hidden anger in it even though his words were calm and understanding. The whole situation was tailor-made to work to her advantage.

Should she tell Ichiban, she wondered. No, she suddenly decided, her own revenge must be foremost. Especially after he had scolded her so humiliatingly, simply because she had put a little something in his dear Deejii-chan’s coffee. But how would she achieve her revenge, she wondered, if Midii and her lover did not come back to Brussels?


Next time on Price of Redemption . . . Dorothy comes face to face with the ghosts of her past at the disaster scene . . . the other pilots arrive in Brussels. . . Trowa chooses between love and friendship.

[1]: Don’t Trowa’s voice actors Kirby Morrow (US) and Shigeru Nakahara (JAP) have the sexiest voices? Close your eyes some time and take a listen! This segment of POR is my little homage to them.--Midii

Chapter 6