[Author's Note: This takes place three years after the end of the series | Mild language warning.]

The aero-spaceport was crowded in the late afternoon but the blond-haired young man in a light gray suit was able to find a spot close enough to the baggage claim to snag his suitcase when it came round on the carousel. He checked the tag, affirming that it said Q. R. Winner before he backed out of the way of other souls attempting to find their luggage, then strolled toward one of the magazine shops, intent on buying a newspaper as the first souvenir of his first trip to Earth in two years. The 'port was just as busy as the one he had left from on the colony, and with a laugh to himself he wanted to make sure he had actually left space.
He scanned the headlines of numerous papers, looking for something of interest. One mentioned rainforest restoration, and he spotted a familiar name, so he reached for the issue. Just then a thin woman's voice called out, "Well, well. Quatre Raberba Winner. What are you doing on Earth?"
He stood up and blinked in shock at the figure standing before him in a peach-colored sundress, one hand resting on her hip and the other holding a tan purse. A matching hat was perched over white-blond hair that fell just past her waist, overshadowing a pair of unforgettable forked eyebrows...and surprisingly warm pale blue eyes. "Dorothy Catalonia. It's been a while." He couldn't help offering a smile.
"Indeed. Business spreading to here, I take it?"
He grinned. "Nope. I do get a vacation every now and then, and I decided a visit to Earth would be a nice change. What about you? Traveling to the stars?"
Her face lit with amusement. "Merely seeing a friend off. Vacations aren't in my agenda." The Head of the Romefellar Foundation's Division of Historical Battle Studies gave a wry smile.
"I'm sorry to hear that...But if you could please excuse me..." He hefted his suitcase and nodded politely in fare well, then started to turn away.
"Your paper, Mr. Winner?" She picked up the one he had been looking at and held it out to him.
"Ah, thank you." He grinned sheepishly, taking it from her with another nod. She followed him to the register and pretended to be distracted choosing a package of sweets from the display. After he paid for the paper he headed for the 'port exit, moving slowly so he could skim the rainforest article and walk at the same time. He stopped at a water fountain to get a quick drink and the moment he looked up again he thought he saw a flash of peach...Shrugging, he continued on his way.
Soon he wondered if spaceports on earth were specifically designed so people would get lost in them. Well, if worse came to worse, his limo driver would come searching for him. He followed a group around a corner and glanced behind him just in time to see Dorothy meandering the same way he had come, casually popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth. She didn't seem to notice him, yet her pace slowed. He frowned and briefly wondered if she might be following him on purpose. This worried him for no uncertain reason. He doubled his effort to find the exit -- or else get more lost to prove she was trailing him.
He didn't have to do either, since beyond the next bend lay the large glass doors leading to a sunlit parking lot. Chagrined, he dismissed his suspicion of Dorothy. Now to find that limo...
"Mr. Winner! One more thing..." Ah, then maybe she had been following...
"Yes, Ms. Catalonia?" He whirled to face her with a stiff expression.
She was placing the bag of chocolates into her purse only to fish out a small white card. "Might I inquire if you would be willing to meet for lunch later this week? It will be my treat, seeing as you are on vacation."
He was mildly surprised. "That is a nice offer, thank you very much. I think I would like to accept..." Then he looked at her doubtfully. "But why such kindness toward me, of all people?"
"Honestly now! Why would I not be polite to the richest, most eligible bachelor in outer space?"
A deep blush rose on his face as he took the card with her phone number on it. Her answering smile was more teasing than serious.

"Good evening, you have reached Catalonia Gardens, can I help you?"
"May I speak to Ms. Catalonia, please?"
"Who shall I say is calling?"
"Quatre Winner."
"Right away, sir."
"Thank you." Quatre nervously tapped the arm of the sofa beside the phone as he waited for the owner of the snobbish voice to fetch Dorothy. For the thirtieth time since before reaching for the receiver he wondered why he was going through with this. He had been on Earth for only two days and here he was about to meet with a person who he hadn't seen too often since just after she had almost killed him. The memory made him want to drop the receiver right then and there, but he reminded himself to be civil. After all, that was three years ago and the times had changed a lot. It wasn't like she would try to finish the job...
"Good evening, Mr. Winner! I didn't expect you to call so soon," Dorothy's cheerful voice broke into his thoughts.
"And good evening to you, Ms. Catalonia. I found myself without any plans for tomorrow and decided it would be the perfect opportunity to call you. That is, if you are available..?"
"Just Dorothy, please. Now, let me check my schedule, I'll be right back."
Quatre had the distinct feeling that people were often put on hold at the Catalonia residence. This brought an amused expression to his face, and he spent the rest of the time tapping again.
"You are in luck, Mr. Winner. I have one meeting in the morning that can easily be rescheduled. So, where shall we meet, your country or mine?"
Quatre couldn't hold back a laugh. "Very astute, Ms. Dorothy. Seeing as I am currently staying in Italy, I'd say yours."
"Splendid! We can go to my favorite restaurant in Naples -- and, by all means, Mr. Winner, it won't be any trouble at all for me to come to you. If you don't mind holding again, I'll get the directions to the restaurant."
"Dorothy -- just Quatre, okay?" His smile came through with his words.
"Of course."

Around eleven forty-five the next morning Quatre stood outside the elegant structure of a restaurant called Bella Notte, admiring the gardens that surrounded it as he waited for Dorothy to arrive. At eleven forty-seven a golden hued town car pulled up before the entranceway and he knew it could be no other -- Dorothy still had an ostentatious flare, but at least it wasn't that gold-plated tank he had last seen her driving. The chauffeur came around to the rear door and opened it. The young woman within rose with a fluid grace, her emerald skirt flowing past her knees and her long hair whispering behind her. A filmy veil was wrapped around shoulders bared by a (surprisingly) modest cut spagetti-strape top.
The briefest thought of ducking into hiding skittered across Quatre's mind. Don't be so childish, he scolded himself in time to stop the impulse. She isn't out to get you. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and forced himself to go over to her. "Ms. Catalonia! You're looking lovely this morning." He sketched a half-bow and smiled warmly.
Her answering smile was bright as she looked over his off-white dress shirt, dust-colored slacks and matching vest. "Good morning, and you're quite dapper, yourself. Shall we?" She motioned toward the restaurant door. Quatre nodded and offered his arm. Dorothy demurely accepted, and they looked like any other formal couple dining out...except, if one looked from just the right angle, one could see something smirkish about the young woman's expression, and also something a bit too naive on the young man's visage.
Once inside they were almost immediately greeted by the maitre d', who seemed to know Dorothy well. They traded several words in Italian that Quatre wasn't quite fast enough to translate, but it could have been something about the best table. Then Dorothy announced, "Alfresco" and moments later they were being guided through the luxuriant rooms and then out into the courtyard where only a few dozen tables offered a view of the gardens. Dorothy thanked the waiter and then they were left to mull over the menus.
Quatre grinned sheepishly. "I'm afraid my Italian is more than a little rusty. I appreciate you doing all the talking"
"Not a problem." Dorothy nodded and seemed distracted debating to herself about food. Several minutes later the waiter returned and Dorothy gave their orders. Then they settled in for a wait, both fidgeting slightly. Quatre took care in arranging the napkin over his lap while Dorothy glanced around at the gardens. "You will have to come see my gardens, Mr. Winner. They are much more beautiful than these." Quatre caught the disdain in her voice and looked up at her with one eyebrow raised. She reconsidered what she had said and smiled nervously then proceeded to fuss with her napkin.
Quatre dismissed her revealing moment, focusing his attention on the music trickling from the open doors into the courtyard. A live string quartet, most likely playing from the main dining room.
"Do you think you can play that well?" Dorothy's question startled him into remembering where he was. There was an odd gleam in her eyes.
"I suppose I could, but I'm not one to judge my own skill."
The number ended and a different style came up, slow and lingering. They had a silent agreement to only listen without commentary. Shortly after that their lunch arrived. Dorothy took a breadstick and held it delicately between her hands. "So, I believe we were last discussing which was the better way to attain peace..." She gave a small, predatory smile and broke the breadstick in half.
Quatre hastily swallowed a forkful of fettucine and almost choked. Reaching for his glass of water, he sighed to himself. So that's her game. He took a few calm sips then set the glass down again. His mouth twitched into a smile of its own. "We were rather rudely interrupted from that discussion, weren't we?"
Dorothy's expression remained steady except for her eyes darkening. Aha. That looked like a bit of regret to him. Quatre, one, Dorothy, zip. He hid the glee from showing. Now you really are being childish! He cleared his throat and prompted, "I believe we were both agreed that fighting is a necessary evil."
"Necessary, yes. Evil, no -- the will to fight remains the greatest strength mankind has."
"I would agree to the point that mankind still needs to fight nature's elements like destructive weather and illnesses, but not each other."
"There will always be those with animosity in their hearts. It is an inborn part of human nature that even disastrous wars can't change." She stabbed half a breadstick into the pool of pasta sauce on her plate.
A smile quirked onto Quatre's face, dispelling the tenseness that had settled over them. "A lack of weapons hampers those instincts."
Dorothy regarded him over the end of a soggy breadstick. "Hatred can be a powerful weapon on its own. After all, it can move perfectly peace-minded folk to take a warrior's path." She waved the breadstick nonchalantly, as if shrugging off what she had just said.
Quatre poked at his food and decided not to reply to that one yet. After a few thoughtfully chewed bites he said, "It is still the events in an era that influence a person's instincts. In a time of overall peace, people do not have a strong excuse to fight." When he saw Dorothy begin to raise her fork to object, he quickly added, "Except of their own personal volition; in which case they wouldn't end up dragging all of humanity down with them."
Dorothy was apparently content to leave the conversation as it was, instead concentrating on drowning her pasta with the extra sauce she had ordered. For a while they merely ate with only wisps of music from inside filling the silence. Quatre waited patiently for her next parry, certain she wouldn't rest until she had the last word. As they were finishing up, Dorothy neatly dabbed her lips with the napkin. "So, do you have plans for the rest of the day, Mr. Winner?"
His eyebrows went upward in a brief movement. "Nothing specific, actually. Maybe a little sight-seeing."
"Ah. I have a free afternoon and thought I would go to this lovely outdoor market that is a once-a-month event -- perhaps you could add it to your list of tourist stops?" She smiled, and this time it was genuinely pleasant.
Quatre gave her a frank look, showing he knew exactly what she was up to. "All right, Ms. Catalonia, I will gladly accompany you to the market."

Two hours later found Quatre completely grateful he had accepted Dorothy's suggestion. The market took up a good five blocks worth of city and there were plenty of interesting things to capture one's attention. Acting troops held performances in numerous places and the local craftsmanship offered a variety of gorgeous items. He had already collected two wood carvings -- a hunting cat and an owl -- a silver flute, and an exquisite porcelain teacup with a dragon pattern curling around it. He was turning to find Dorothy when something caught his eye across the way. A quick glance around revealed no Dorothy, but he was sure they would meet up again before the afternoon was out. He headed over to the new booth.
Dorothy was actually only on the other side of the ceramics booth. She saw Quatre go over to the tent-like area she had been wary of. It was draped in a dark blue cloth dotted by shimmering star patterns. The displays seemed too gaudy to her, but apparently Quatre found it interesting. She moved closer, trying to remain inconspicuous. He was picking through small baskets that held, what looked like, pieces of different colored rocks. Dorothy made a doubtful face, but watched curiously when she noticed he seemed to deliberately let his left hand hover over each basket before he took out a piece.
She slipped closer, realizing he was oblivious to her presence. Cupped in his right hand were five stones: grayish-blue, clear white, clear yellow, rich green, and clear purple. He picked up one more that she didn't see then gave the collection to the booth owner to be wrapped up properly. He paid and tucked the package under his arm, then turned and almost immediately walked into Dorothy. A light blush dusted his cheeks momentarily. "Uh, Ms. Catalonia -- I was wondering where you had disappeared to." He managed a smile in spite of his embarrassment. Dorothy made no reply, only shaping her expression into that predative look he recalled having graced her visage earlier.
They spent another two hours wandering the market, after which time they came to a small park and simultaneously decided collapsing onto a bench and watching the world go by was the best course of action. Quatre possessively kept the shopping bag full of souvenirs by his side. He glanced over at Dorothy, who was distractedly rifling through her purse. "Ms. Catalonia...I don't suppose it would be possible for you to join me for dinner? I only wonder if it would be too much trouble, since I wouldn't want you to be late getting home." Having realized she had a whole country border to cross, he felt a bit foolish and ended up staring down at his shoes to avoid her amusement.
But her tone was thoughtful when she replied, "It just so happens that I have a friend nearby I could stay with overnight...I can just drop by and let her know I'm here."
How convenient. A tiny part of Quatre felt exasperated, but he looked over at her, answering her bright grin with a humoring smile. Wish I knew what made me ask her that.

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(c) 2000-2004 Autumn Loweck. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Characters of Quatre R. Winner, Dorothy Catalonia, the Romefellar Foundation, Heero Yuy, and Quinze belong to the creators of the GundamWing series, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, Bandai, and whoever else in Japan involved in this most cool anime.