AN: Just a
little note of clarification since I’ve been getting mail on this subject
-_-; Yes, I do know that Cathrine is
Trowa’s sister. However, I think that
although we know this to be a fact from scenes in Episode Zero, it is
unlikely that they are aware that they are truly related, although they
obviously share feelings and concern for each other, and that’s how I’ve chosen
to portray them in this story.
The Price of Redemption
By Midii Une
Chapter 12
“She’ll be like that for two weeks,” Hilde whispered,
turning her eyes on Sally, silently begging her to say it wasn’t true.
Sally looked around at the shocked and tired faces,
it was nearly midnight now and none of them had left the hospital or slept,
except Relena. She sat beside Heero now
on a hard, plastic-cushioned sofa and slept heavily against his shoulder. They
didn’t want to hear what she had to say and she hadn’t wanted to say it. At least the news about Quatre had been more
optimistic.
“Isn’t that kind of, well . . .” Duo hesitated, glancing
uneasily at Trowa, “. . . well, kinda
creepy?
Yes, it was, Sally thought to herself. The tubes, the wires, the unnatural cold,
that ghastly blue light. The new
technology did wonders but it seemed so horrible, so impersonal, like some
nightmarish, futuristic hell.
It made her glad she didn’t practice medicine for a
living anymore. She didn’t think she
could stand the day-to-day agony of giving people bad news about the ones they
loved.
Trowa moved past her silently. His movement something of a surprise to the
rest, he had stood in a corner for hours while they waited for any update on
Midii and Quatre.
“Trowa,” Sally protested, her sharp eyes noting his
pallor and that he still wore his bloodstained Preventer shirt. “You did go down to Emergency and have that
wound taken care of?”
“Are you kidding,” Duo said, rolling his eyes
expressively and launching into a full-blown Shinigami-style rant. “If looks could kill you’d be dead for
suggesting it Sally.”
They all looked uncomfortable. Wufei had gotten himself into a one-sided
argument on the same subject with the silent Trowa and had gone out a few hours
back to cool down.
Trowa ignored Duo, as he had ignored Wufei’s
argument that he wasn’t doing himself or ‘that woman’ any good by standing
there and refusing medical treatment.
“Are you saying I can’t go in,” he said, speaking
for the first time in hours and raising dull, emerald eyes to Sally’s face.
“No, I’m not saying that Trowa,” she said
reasonably. “But you’re hurt, you’re
tired and you’re upset. Seeing her now
will only be more difficult. Let me
take a look at your shoulder and at least take a nap first. I’m sorry, but weren’t you listening to
me? It won’t make any difference to
Midii if you’re there or not.”
He’d heard.
He’d heard every word, but he couldn’t get past the hope that he could
go in that room and touch her hand and get some type of response. If only her fingers would move or he could
see her lashes flutter he would know he’d been forgiven. Sally’s words: artificial coma, respirator,
completely shut down skimmed over his consciousness. She would know he was there, she had to know.
The words didn’t prepare him for what he saw.
Midii lay perfectly still in the center of the
room, beneath an eerie blue light that shone down on her white skin. So much white: the sheet, the mattress, and
her face. Her hair, the only spot of
color, spread around her on the sheet, held back from her face with white gauze
bandaging. Machinery hissed constantly
in the room and monitors flashed statistics and readings.
“When the damage is so great,” Sally had said. “They shut down the patient’s body using
drugs to keep them in artificial coma-like state. The machines do everything: control breathing, maintain the
heartbeat and regulate body temperature in a constant environment that
facilitates healing. Midii’s body can
focus on healing, everything else the machines will do for her. It’s a wonderful technology in these kind of
cases although it does seem a bit . . .”
Duo had cut her off with his statement that the
whole thing was just creepy.
Trowa edged closer, unable to reconcile to himself
that it would not be as it had last time.
She would wake up, he would hold her in his arms again. He could beg her to forgive him. The words were already framed in his mind .
. . but the nearer he got to the corpse-like figure on the narrow bed the
farther away her forgiveness seemed.
Her face was obscured by the oxygen mask that
helped her breathe and he studied the regular rise and fall of her chest
beneath the thin white sheet. The eyes
hidden beneath her lids were still; she dreamed no dreams, happy or
otherwise. She merely existed in an
unnatural state of limbo in a place he couldn’t reach her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The pushcart creaked under the weight of the
flowers, more than a hundred pure white lilies scattered through with a dozen
blood-red tiger lilies producing a stunning visual display that resembled drops
of scarlet blood on a field of sparkling snow.
$10,000 resided in the delivery boy’s pocket, his
to keep if the flowers were delivered to a certain party. He kept on moving through the halls, the
scent of the lilies and the creak of the cart announcing his presence as he
continued on without seeking permission from the proper channels. For this kind of pay he’d get the flowers to
the lady in question, a heroine if you judged her by the news accounts. The flowers were certainly from an
admirer. Her story was tragic and her
innocent beauty revealed in the pictures that constantly flashed on screens,
was heartrending . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He felt the stinging first, from a myriad of tiny
cuts caused by shattered glass and splintered stone. “We will make it,” his last thought, his first thought. Was it over? The pain was strangely dull and half his body felt totally
numb. Midii was gone and he was alone .
. .
“Open your eyes,” a familiar voice begged in an
unfamiliar tone. A voice unaccustomed
to pleading, a voice more confident in making demands than seeking favors in a
hushed, wistful tone. But the voice was
one he loved in all its moods and tones.
He complied with its request, the signal to his brain instantaneous at
her command.
Dorothy’s breath caught in her throat as Quatre’s
lids fluttered slowly and he focused his gaze on her face.
And suddenly she couldn’t think what to say, what
to do. Every thought fled from her
burdened mind in her relief and happiness.
“Hi,” she managed.
Hi, she thought, what made me say that? How totally inappropriate, and
on and on her mind raced in giddy, mundane channels as she stared blissfully at
Quatre. He was alive; he’d opened his eyes.
“Hi,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse and
the anesthetic tube they’d run down it during the difficult operation to
reattach his arm. Dorothy felt a tightening in the fingers she held. A smile like a sunrise after a storm
suffused her weary face that was awash in happy tears.
The ominous noises starting to erupt in the hall
outside the door did not exist for her.
Quatre had opened his eyes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The boy stared down the barrel of a gun, too
terrified to move or speak, as the bizarre man with the bruised nose and the
long braid hanging down his back tried to read the card attached to the
flowers. He’d made it so close, made it
to her floor before finding himself in his current predicament. Suddenly the money in his pocket seemed as
nothing as he looked into the eyes of Death himself.
“Shit,” the violet-eyed man cursed finally, tossing
the card to his partner, who sat holding a woman on a couch in the hospital
waiting area. “I can’t read this
Japanese crap. What does it say Heero?”
Relena startled awake and blinked sleepily as Heero
moved to grab the card out of the air.
aki no hiyori o
shide no tabi
[1]
Heero’s eyes narrowed as he shot the boy a
glare. “Do you know what this
says? Who sent you here,” he demanded,
getting up to face the intruder.
The boy shook with fear, the steel-blue eyes even
more frightening than those of the man who seemed to be taking great pleasure
in leveling a gun at his forehead.
“My boss sent me,” the young man said in a
quavering voice. “The order came in
over the computer as well as the payment.
$10,000 to whoever got these flowers to the lady, Miss Une. I volunteered. I need the money.”
“Let him go Duo,” Heero said, his eyes dropping to
the ostentatious display of flowers.
“He is nothing.”
The boy backed away and then ran as if the devil
himself were after him.
“Okay Heero, you read the card so what does it
mean,” Duo demanded, looking uneasily at the flowers. They reminded him of blood on snow.
“A bright and pleasant
autumn day to make
death’s journey,” Heero
translated. “It’s a Japanese death
haiku.”
“Not exactly a well-wisher then I take it,” Duo
said, grimacing. Trouble had the knack,
she certainly did.
Heero looked at Duo in annoyance, the remark
deserved no answer. Without preamble he flipped on his communicator and started
giving rapid-fire orders. “I want a
bomb squad in here now,” he commanded.
“I want all non-critical patients evacuated and all other patients moved
from this floor except Midii and Quatre. From now on see that no one makes it
up to this floor without authorization. Send someone up to take my wife and
Maxwell’s out of here and track down Wufei.”
He signed off, expecting his orders to be followed
without question. Over his tenure at
Preventer he had unconsciously assumed the status of a commander and there was
gossip around the Agency as to whose orders would be followed in the event
Heero’s ever conflicted with Lady Une’s or Sally Po’s.
“You think there’s another bomb,” Duo squeaked.
“No, it’s unlikely,” Heero admitted. “But it’s best to check it out.”
He turned to Relena, expecting her to protest his
order for her to leave but she was quietly gathering her things and preparing
to go.
“May I stop in to check on Dorothy first
Heero? I’m afraid she won’t be willing
to leave,” she questioned, something new and unfathomable in her bright blue
eyes. He suspected she was keeping
something from him, but he didn’t have time to find out what right now.
“I won’t ask that of her,” Heero said gruffly. “But you and Hilde should go back and rest,
I don’t believe there’s much chance of anything happening but there’s also
nothing more you can do here right now.”
“I see,” Relena said, baffling Heero still more
with her unexpected compliance. “But
hurry back to me when you can Heero. I
must speak with you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Maybe it was the feeling of helplessness and the
endless futility of hoping for a peaceful existence. No matter how hard she tried to protect Trowa she always seemed
powerless to shield him from hurt. She
felt again like the child sitting by the side of the road amongst the smoking
ruins of a circus wagon, the still figures of her parents seeming to accuse
her. Her mother’s dying voice choked
with tears. “Triton . . . my baby . .
.”
She hadn’t been able to protect Triton and she
couldn’t protect Trowa. She couldn’t
stop the cycle of pain. War and hate
were stronger than her love. She knew
she was drawn to the young pilot because he reminded her of her brother. But it had been a long time since she had
started loving him for himself instead of as a chance for her own redemption.
Cathrine took a deep breath, striving to be
reasonable one last time.
“I need to get in,” she said in a clipped voice
that belied the emotion seething beneath the surface of her quietly controlled
request.
“Sorry miss,” the uncomfortable Preventer repeated,
squirming a bit under her cold, steady gaze.
“Listen, one of the patients has been getting death threats and Heero
Yuy himself said nobody gets in.
Nobody.”
The young woman raised her violet eyes to the
guard’s slowly, staring at him in disbelief for a second. He wasn’t going to let her go in to be by
Trowa’s side? He needed her, she knew
it.
“You can tell your Heero Yuy to go screw himself,”
she shouted, a sharp crack resounding through the chaos as her hand made
contact with his cheek in a stinging slap.
The officer looked at her in mute surprise as she
continued staring at him, her chest heaving in frustration and rage, her violet
eyes flashing angrily.
“The only place you’re going is to jail to cool
off,” he glared, attempting to imitate his maligned idol Heero Yuy. Nobody hit a Preventer and nobody insulted
Heero Yuy. Period.
Cathrine squirmed as he grasped her arm and
wrenched herself out of his grip.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she shouted, wishing she
could have just one chance to have this man pinned against her target
board. Her eyes glinted as she imagined
the look on his face as her knives whizzed past him. How dare he try to stop
her?
Was there no quiet place left in this city where a
person could find peace, Wufei wondered as his path led him back toward the
hospital. The vidscreens displayed
prominently throughout the city continually flashed the horrors over and
over. He’d even looked up once to see a
home video taken by a visitor to that ridiculous museum. The last thing he’d wanted to look up and
see was himself flat on his back in a disabled mobile suit about to get blown
away by a mobile doll, the video of one of his most embarrassing moments as a
warrior being viewed by millions. It had
been the icing on the cake of a wonderful day.
As he approached the hospital the flash of
emergency lights and the squeal of sirens seemed out of place. Voices bawled over loud speakers and he
could even see one of the less important officers engaging in a loud argument
with a woman. Now what was going on, he
thought in irritation? Would this
hellacious day ever end?
He glanced at the irate woman again and his dark
eyes widened in recognition and he pushed his way through the crowd towards the
scene.
“What’s going on here,” he said, his voice
deceptively calm, his tone hiding the outrage that had filled his stoic heart
when he saw her in trouble.
“Sir,” the officer gasped, backing down. Not many of them really admired Wufei as
they did Heero. His manner was even more intimidating and his holier-than-thou
attitude did not endear him to the peons.
Cathrine was past caring who had stepped in on her
behalf. There was not one person she
wanted to see right now besides Trowa.
The wave of anger was fading and fresh tears of frustration and sadness
overwhelmed her.
“Cathrine,” Wufei said softly, unaccustomed
gentleness characterizing his movements as he touched her shoulders carefully,
turning her to face him.
“He wouldn’t let me go in to see Trowa,” Cathrine
said, her voice puzzled as if she couldn’t understand why someone would stop
her from being with him, now, when he needed her. “Someone said he was hurt, and somebody else said he was just
fine. I don’t know anything and it’s driving me crazy! And Midii
. . . no one is saying anything.”
Her voice changed again, the continual hindrances
in her quest squelching her attempts to regain control of her emotions.
“Why does this keep happening,” she shouted at
Wufei. “Why do all of you people keep
dragging Trowa into this? We just want to be left alone. The war is over. OVER!!! Do you understand?
I hate you; I hate all of you, anyone that fights. It has to stop.”
She sank to her knees as he watched her with a
strange anguish in his heart. The sight
of her as she sobbed into her hands on the harsh, cold pavement stirring
emotions in him he’d never felt before.
It was weak, what she was doing was weak. But she was also right. They had fought so hard in order for it to
end. Trowa and all the rest of them
just kept on sacrificing but it never seemed to be over. He found himself beside her, holding her
tightly in his arms. His lips whispered
comforting sounds into her hair and as she curled against him trustingly. Something melted, the glacier that had
always protected his heart from the encroachments of loving another. This sobbing, needy, wonderful, sweet,
beautiful girl was doing something to him, he didn’t understand.
It was something he couldn’t fight, something for
which there was no defense.
Cathrine felt the soft touch of fingers on her face
and her senses focused on the touch.
Never had anyone touched her so gently, as if she were a glass ornament
threatened by a strong breeze.
“Don’t cry anymore,” a low voice promised in her
ear. “You’re strong, you are. And I am
here. I’ll help you.”
A warm pair of lips pressed against her forehead
and she sobbed again and tightened her grip on the steady rock that held
her. She felt that something wonderful
and unique was happening, even in her sorrow the edges of her lips curved with
an anticipatory thrill as she felt his hands move of their own volition to pull
her closer in a possessive embrace.
She looked up and was lost in black pools that
seemed to hold her very future within them.
She closed her eyes and felt the heavenly sensation
of his lips brushing lightly and reverently against hers, heard his promise in
her heart that everything would be all right now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Duo blinked, the picture he saw framed between the
silently gliding elevator doors had to be a figment of his imagination. Had Dorothy knocked something loose in his
brain when she’d hit him?
He gaped as he saw the card-carrying President of
the Eternal Bachelors’ Club carefully drying Cathrine Bloom’s tears, saw his
fingers linger on the curve of her cheek, saw him place a supporting arm
tenderly around her shoulder.
Saw Wufei, Chang Wufei, doing all these
things. And doing them very well
indeed. Cathrine rewarded his efforts
with a brief, watery smile.
As Cathrine disappeared into Midii’s room with a
quick, grateful glance at the handsome, Chinese pilot Duo ducked his head. He knew that despite the situation he’d bust
out laughing if he met Wufei’s self-righteous gaze right now. It seemed that a certain someone’s
invincible heart had been conquered at last.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Midii,” Quatre whispered, looking anxiously at
Dorothy, unshed tears making his aqua-blue eyes shimmer in the dim light of the
room.
Dorothy bit back her words. She didn’t know and she didn’t care. She knew it was wrong. Quatre had cared
enough to risk his own life but it was that very fact that embittered her even
more against a young woman she’d always found herself hard-pressed to even be civil
to. With friends like Midii and Trowa
did Quatre really need enemies?
“I don’t know.
I haven’t heard anything yet, but they brought her here after the
explosion,” Dorothy said soothingly, averting her eyes from Quatre’s wounded
arm. Trust her beloved to ask about
Midii before wondering about himself.
“How’s Trowa?
Is he alright,” a concerned frown creased Quatre’s forehead as he
concentrated his precious energy on his friends.
Relena’s face appeared over Dorothy’s shoulder and
she placed her hand gently over her friend and Quatre’s clasped hands, giving
them both a soft squeeze.
“Don’t worry, Trowa is fine and Midii just got out
of surgery. Sally expects a full
recovery; she’ll need to stay here a few weeks though. Trowa’s in with her now,” Relena said, a
reassuring smile brightening her face.
Her words almost convincing herself as well as her two friends that all
would really be well.
“You look tired,” Quatre told Relena. “You and Dorothy should both go and get some
rest.”
As Relena had warned Heero, Dorothy immediately
protested.
“I think you’re stuck with Dorothy for the
duration,” Relena smiled again, the expression a bit forced. She was tired, horribly tired and she’d
barely had time to think about the life-changing news she’d had earlier in the
day. Tears stung her eyes. She should be so happy. So very happy. But doubts assailed her from
every side. Doubts about everything in
her own life and the very world she lived in.
“I’ll bring you some things tomorrow morning
Dorothy,” she said, hastily cloaking her emotions. Luckily Dorothy was in no temper to pry or notice that Relena was
rather subdued. She barely said goodbye
before she focused all her attention on Quatre again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Cathrine raised a trembling hand to her mouth to
stifle her gasp of horror. She’d had no
preparation for what she was about to see, not like the others had.
Trowa kept his eyes on Midii’s heart monitor, the
only proof that there was someone still alive in the cold, still body on the
narrow bed. He’d stared at her immobile
face for so long that his eyes were dry and burning but there was nothing and
time moved so slowly in here. The
minutes he’d spent at her side seemed like hours, hours without hope. He’d dared once to brush his fingers
against hers and the cold touch of them felt branded on his skin.
He startled visibly, a tremor quaking through his
body, as Cathrine reached out silently to tug on his sleeve.
“Oh Trowa,” she whispered, gazing down at Midii
with sorrow in her pale violet eyes.
“How did this happen?”
How did it happen?
He hadn’t believed. Hadn’t
believed that someone like Midii could really love him, that anyone could love
him. He wasn’t like other people,
someone who loved and was loved in return.
It was Midii, always Midii that got under his skin and made him believe
he could be like that. And it always
ended in disaster.
Cathrine was speaking but he didn’t hear her words,
only her question repeated itself in his mind.
How did it happen? Her voice
came to him as if through a fog, she whispered softly to Midii, held her hand.
All the things he should be doing but wasn’t.
His heart protested. He could love. He did
love. He loved Midii.
But maybe that wasn’t enough. They were like two people that were meant to be together but had been changed so much by the war they had lived through that now they didn’t fit together anymore. It had changed them so they could never be whole again.
Who had he been so long ago, before he’d become
Nanashi?
“By the time we met it was already too late for us, wasn’t
it Trowa?”
Midii’s words from the past echoed in his mind. He hadn’t really listened to her then, in
his happiness at finding her, his eagerness to be with her at last. He’d been ready to cast aside every doubt in
the overwhelming bliss that loving her made him feel.
It had all been a dream.
Too good to be true. He was a
soldier and that was all, all he ever had been.
Cathy loved Midii, just as she loved him, with her
generous heart that knew how to love.
She’d be there for her as he couldn’t be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The three ex-Gundam Pilots stared at the pile of evidence mounded on the table in front of them. It went without saying that Ichiban had to be found. The flowers had been traced back to him, as if there had ever been any doubt. They filled the waiting area with their sweet, heady fragrance, giving the small room the aura of a funeral home.
He’d been headed to the Moon. It seemed Ichiban knew what he was doing and
he would make a formidable enemy. From
the Moon you could get a shuttle anywhere, it was the biggest spaceport either
on Earth or in space and flights were available even to the burgeoning Mars
colony.
Now it all came down to who would go after him. It was a difficult, time-consuming project
and though all of Preventer would be on alert someone needed to head up the
investigation. And it would have to be
one of the three of them.
Quatre and Trowa were obviously not going to be
available this time.
Heero hesitated on the verge of volunteering. He
was the best person for the job, with his knowledge of computers and his basic
instinct for this type of mission. But
it would mean leaving Relena behind for an undetermined amount of time and that
was an issue. There had been something
in her eyes tonight that called to him and he had noticed the odd tiredness
that plagued her lately. He admitted,
if only to himself, that maybe he shouldn’t be the one to go.
“Uh, Tro,” Duo said, looking up to find a pair of
green eyes staring at them almost accusingly.
Trowa’s eyes scanned the table: Midii’s laptop, a man’s white shirt
splotched with gruesome bloodstains that someone had found at the spaceport and
the small, pale blue card with tiny, Japanese characters, starkly black against
the fragile paper.
He held the card, peering at the writing, the
meaning of the words like steel in his soul.
“Where is he,” he asked, raising his eyes to look
at all of them.
“We’ll find him Trowa,” Heero said, making his decision. He was the only one who could handle
this. “In fact I’ll be leaving to take
care of it right after I stop back at the hotel to pack.”
“A bright and pleasant
autumn day to make
death’s journey,”
Trowa whispered. “I will be the one to send him on that journey. I’ll find him.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Trowa ignored Duo and Heero’s protests as if he’d
never heard them. Wufei silently agreed
with Trowa on this one. It was a matter
of honor after all and no one had more motivation to find and terminate this
threat than Trowa.
The tall Preventer walked slowly down the
hall. Midii was not the only one he had
failed or the only one for whom he wanted to seek vengeance. Carefully he pushed open the door to
Quatre’s room.
Dorothy’s eyes popped open; she had finally started
to doze off, her eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of Trowa’s pale, unhappy
face in the doorway. She looked at
Quatre; he was out again, the result of the drugs and the aftereffect of the
anesthesia from the operation. Only for
this would she leave his side. She had
a few choice words for Trowa Barton and nothing would stop her from saying
them.
She put a slender finger to her lips and shook her
head warningly and Trowa stepped back from the door. Dorothy silently rose from the chair she’d been sitting in for
hours. She longed to stretch her
cramped and tired limbs but her anger drove her immediately out of the room
after Quatre’s best friend.
“Did you come to apologize,” Dorothy said in a low,
angry voice that caught Trowa like a knife in the heart. He turned back towards her slowly.
“Don’t worry, he’ll forgive you. You already know that,” she said, but there
was nothing comforting or kind in her words, only a thinly suppressed rage.
“Yes, I came to apologize and to say goodbye,”
Trowa said, trying to keep his voice steady under the weight of Dorothy’s
wrath. He had been wrong about her
too. She really did love Quatre; she
cared more for his well being than even he did. He should have trusted Quatre’s
feelings for this fiery woman; he had been in no position to judge her.
“Leaving!
Why am I not surprised? Did you
come to ask Quatre to watch over Midii while you’re off playing the clown
somewhere,” Dorothy spat. “If you have
any courage at all you’ll stay here. I
don’t care if I ever see your face or hers again but Quatre cares for you, both
of you and it will hurt him if you leave now.”
“I have to do this, please understand,” Trowa said
softly. “I’m going to find the man
responsible for this. I have to protect
Midii and Quatre too . . .”
“You’d do them a hell of a lot more good if you
stayed here where you’re needed,” Dorothy shot back. “If you leave now you’re abandoning everyone who ever cared about
you. I don’t give a damn about your
little Midii Une. She’s nothing but
trouble. But if you leave I’ll tell her
to wash her hands of you. You don’t
even know how to love someone, do you?
You’re afraid to even try, that’s why you’re going on this mission. If you leave don’t even bother coming back
Trowa.”
She blinked at him disbelievingly as a half-smile
curved his lips and he reached out to bring her hand to his lips and kissed it
gently.
“Quatre was right about you Dorothy,” he said,
looking into her eyes. “You are
kind. You should tell her that. I don’t know how to love her. I never did. She should find someone else.”
He turned and walked away, leaving the angry
Dorothy with a strangely dissatisfied feeling and an odd urge to cry. But her tears would not be for Quatre. She knew that he would be all right. She wanted to cry for Trowa.
Next time on The Price of Redemption: Relena has a talk with Heero . . . Midii
wakes up and decides what to do with her future.
[1] Ichiban’s Japanese Death Haiku found at the
following site: