“Is this you?” Heero said in his monotone voice as he dropped a stack of papers in front of Mouse.

She looked at the picture, a black and white computer printout of a young girl with a name, age, and other information written next to it. The image was several years old but it was unmistakably the person Heero addressed.

He pointed to the name at the top. “This is your name?”

“Yes, that is my given name,” Mouse answered his question.

The Japanese man turned to another paper and held it out for her to see, he then flipped to more printed information; “You knew all of this. Why didn’t you tell someone?”

She looked at him for the first time since he had entered the room and asked, “If I told you would you have believed me?”

“If you knew it was there why didn’t you retrieve the documented information?”

The brunette didn’t answer.

“Why did you leave me to find this?” he asked, glaring at her. His mind went to the previous night when she had given him the first hint of where to look. Heero searched into the early hours of the morning, and still some of the information wasn’t there, pieces of the documents erased or blacked out.

Mouse simply stated, “Someone needs to know and I couldn’t break into the system to find it.”

“Do you do this because you hate this man?” A trace of bitterness could be heard in his voice.

She glanced at him, an injured expression in her eyes, his presumption tearing at her, his cold tone and fierce glare made her uncomfortable.

“Is your only goal in finding him vengeance?” he asked more firmly than before. “Do you hate him so much you would risk your own life to have revenge?”

“Do you think you are the only one who has ever thought their life was cheap?” Mouse asked. Not waiting for an answer she added, “It is true, if it was the only way I would risk my safety to stop him. I have more reason to hate him than any other living person.”

Heero looked at her in amazement; she agreed with him. Could she be saying she did this out of hatred?

“But I do not hate him. My goal is not vengeance.” She turned so her back was facing him and continued, “I have seen what hate can do to the lives of those who live in it. I try to never make a decision out of hate.”

“Then why?”

Mouse pulled a patch out of her pocket, an old Specials lieutenant rank badge; she laid it on the top of the papers.

“What does this mean?” He picked up the badge and looked at it carefully. “It doesn’t answer my question.”

“All the answers are there in those papers. You’re not asking the right questions,” she walked out the door without saying any more.

Heero went to his room, taking the papers with him and making contact with no one in his retreat from downstairs. The answers, he had them, there in his hand, among these papers of statistics, old pieces of news; between the blacked out lines of information, they were there. If everything he needed was there then why was it so hard to figure out what these papers were saying about her? His mind went over every possible question, anything that someone might wonder, what did she want him to ask? What did he really want to know? His curiosity was only more perplexed by what he had found out; her name, age, and date of birth the only information making any sense. He eyed the tuxedo hanging from the hook on the back of his door and rolled his eyes; the thought of wearing that monkey suit on a sultry summer evening disgusted him.

A light knocking sound brought Mouse out of her reverie; the memory of the conversation with Heero, although hours old, was still fresh in her mind.

“Come in,” she said without looking up or moving.

The blond Arabian man walked in, silently looking around and only stepping a few inches past the door. He studied the frame of girl sitting cross-legged on the bed, her naked feet peeking out from beneath her knees, miscellaneous items scattered around her. Her back was straight; her eyes focused intently on what she held in her hand. Something about her just sitting in the room made it feel different, more than a spare room reserved for visitors. The warm sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, lazily shining though the dangling prisms on a lamp placed strategically near the open window. Tiny rainbows danced across the room; sparks of vibrant color gliding on the solid beige walls as the breeze moved the decorations.

“Hello Quatre,” was her cordial greeting, but an indication of sorrow entered the phrase.

The brunette tilted her head a little as she glanced at him, her lips slightly curled upward and her short brown locks slid down her face. The strands curled on her cheek, a stray rainbow wondered across the thin wisps of the feathery soft tresses that ended below her shining eyes. Quatre noticed then that her hair was the same shade of brown as her eyes; inside he smiled at the thought of how it seemed to have a mind of its own.

He sensed the sadness in her voice and walking further into the room he asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Mouse answered. “I was just thinking.”

“About yesterday or tonight,” the blond questioned, sure she was distraught about the threatening message of the previous day. “If you don’t want to go it’s okay.”

“Not thinking, really,” she looked at him, “I guess it’s more like remembering.” Gathering the things lying on the bed she added, “Trying to recall the past.”

A photograph fell to the floor; Quatre picked it up and placed it next to Mouse taking a quick glance at the image: an exceedingly pregnant woman, a young man kissing her on the forehead, and an older woman holding her hand to the other lady’s belly.

“Who are they?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t intruding.

“My mother, grandmother and uncle.”

Quatre glanced at the photo again, “Is she…umm…is that…” he stuttered through his words, not sure if he should ask or how he should phrase it.

“No,” Mouse smiled at him, “my sister Midori.”

She pulled another picture out of the multicolored box on the bed and handed it to him, putting the other things back in as he looked at it.

“Her eyes are lighter than yours.”

“We were very different,” she said. “She looks more like our mother than I do.”

“What’s that?” he asked as she placed a large curved piece of painted glass into the box.

“A piece of a broken plate. When I lived with my grandmother we always had tea together, at the same time, using the same dish set; just the three of us, Midori, grandmother and me, no matter what.” She smiled at the memory and continued with her story, “I dropped one of the plates. I was so upset, I remember how she loved them because they were a gift from grandfather. I never knew him, my grandfather, he died before Midori was born.”

“Mouse,” Quatre started.

“Suki,” she interrupted him and then seeing the puzzled expression on his face added, “My name is Suki.”

“I came to say you don’t have to attend the Dinner with me tonight,” he trailed off as she placed the lid on her box and stood up.

“I don’t mind.” She grinned. “It might even be enjoyable.”

He seriously doubted any gathering of the social elite could be enjoyable, but he had learned that with Mouse involved anything could happen.

“It did seem that my sister pushed you into saying yes.”

Quatre’s sister, acting secretary and matchmaker, was the one who had asked the brunette to attend the event, after a long discussion with Dorothy several days in advance.

“No worries,” Suki grinned and saluted him, “I’ll be on my best behavior--promise.”

She slipped her shoes on, raising her foot to pull the strap over her heel. Quatre was escorting her down the stairs when a servant informed them that someone was waiting for them. Surprisingly, Dorothy was there, looking a little groggy with her nose slightly red, although it wasn’t from illness. She made apologies for backing out at the last moment and explained she was there to help Mouse and Relena prepare for the evening, along with Quatre’s sister.

“Those girls have been up there all day,” Maxwell yawned. “There’s been nothing to do.”

Quatre smiled at him. “They did come out for a short time.”

“To get food,” he said, having a little fun at their expense. “They raided the kitchen. I checked--there’s nothing left.” With a laugh he added, “I tried to see if they were okay but they’re heavily armed with pillows.” The Japanese pilot walked in and Duo turned to talk with him, “You know Relena has a pretty good arm and excellent aim.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I opened the door to the room the girls are in and Relena hit me in the face with a pillow,” Maxwell said, addressing the question.

“You probably deserved it,” Heero told his American companion with a smirk.

“Man, Hilde would love to get me in one of those,” Duo cheerfully stated, trying to change the subject as he watched Heero button the sleeves on his dress shirt.

“How is Hilde?” Quatre asked, making the last adjustments to his tux.

“She’s bored without me of course,” he held his arms behind his head, recalling the phone conversation with her that morning and continuing with, “She can’t wait to have me home and she hopes all of you are doing good.”

Heero glared at his cocky friend, pulling on his jacket and making no signs that he even heard the braided man’s comment.

Wufei walked through the front entrance where the men were waiting and making last modifications to their clothing, he mumbled something that sounded like a reluctant greeting and wandered back out. The Chinese man returned to whatever corner of the house he had been hiding in all day; a relaxing place where he could still see the stairs and front door but no one could see him.

Dorothy came down the stairs, smiling. With a glint in her blue eyes she looked at Quatre titling her head, the long yellow locks of hair following her movements as she stepped to the side and examined him more closely. She straightened his tie, brushed some of the blond hair away from his face, said good-bye, and speedily walked out the door.

The Arabian wondered about her actions; then his thoughts fell to Wufei. Something seemed strange; he didn’t argue about Mouse leaving the protective walls of the house. Chang had said nothing when she agreed to the request and no one had seen him throughout the entire day.

“It’s time to leave. Why haven’t they come down yet?” Heero asked with a tone only slightly above a whisper and an anxious hope to get the night over with.

“You know women,” Duo piped his answer, “they always have to make a grand entrance.”

Without further adieu, Relena appeared at the top of the stairs; holding her long skirt, exposing her feet and ankles, she walked down the steps. The silver straps on her shoes a perfect match to the silver color of her dress, the thin strips repeatedly crossing over the top of her foot. Her golden tresses glimmered in the light, her red lips curled in the most inviting smile, and the creamy white skin on her bare shoulders created an image only seen in paintings. The fitted bodice accented the well-formed curves of her body, the laced ribbon in back giving the impression of ancient times.

Heero imagined that she was what the authors of old had envisioned when they wrote their stories of gallant knights in shining armor fighting to win their lady fair. The heroine in so many books, timeless stories that his childhood had not afforded; a trained assassin didn’t spend time on fairy tales and flights of fancy. She was the princess every young man sought to gain, to win her heart above all others; his princess, the one he had fought for, the one he had won peace for.

She released her hold on the skirt as she reached the bottom of the stairs; the hem hit the floor, sweeping around her feet. Heero pulled at the high collar on his shirt.

Relena ginned, she smoothed the lapel on his jacket, straightened his collar and said, “Much better.”

“Relena, you look HOT,” Duo pointed out, receiving several severe looks from Heero.

“You are looking very lovely,” Quatre complimented her.

Heero slid his arm around her waist, feeling the cool satiny fabric with his fingers.

The braided man faced the stairs waiting for the arrival of the second woman, “Where’s Mouse?”

“She came down before me.”

“I didn’t see her,” he said with a puzzled air. “Where did she go?”

“I’m behind you,” a voice whispered in his ear. She stepped back and said, “I decided not to make the ‘grand entrance’, as you call it.”

Duo turned around to see one very amused brunette, running his fingers through his hair he said, “You heard that?”

Mouse slipped her hand through the arm Quatre held out for her and the two couples walked to the car waiting for them in the front drive.

Under an immense white canopy, an elegantly catered meal was served to the prestigious guests. Brightly colored Chinese lanterns illuminated the area as the sun’s dying rays gave into the darkness of night. Quatre peered over the rather elaborate centerpiece at the elderly man who dominated the conversation, making endless comments since the formal introductions, his wife candidly trying to stop him. The blond Arabian watched Mouse as everyone appeared to take an interest to what she said in response.

At the end of the feast all the guests wandered around, greeting old acquaintances and mingling with each other. Never one to be found in large groups of people, Heero Yuy, preferring his solitude, quietly stepped out of the covered area. Relena felt at ease in this type of environment, long accustomed to the company of her elders. She kept an eye on her brunette friend; the young woman attracted the attention of many, a new face, an unknown story and the mystery of the girl introduced without a surname drawing the curiosity of all. The same man who dominated the table seemed to be monopolizing the crowd around Mouse, watching her with interest. He broke from the group pulling Quatre with him.

“I see you found one of the last remaining princesses.” The older man beamed as he caught another glimpse of the girl. “What former country does Miss Suki come from?”

“She is not the ruler of a former country,” Quatre said, a little confused at why this man was saying this. “Suki is a family friend.”

He looked in the direction where Suki was talking with someone. “She certainly acts like a princess, her charm and grace are that of the highest nobility.” With that he walked away.

Quatre approached Mouse; she was engaged in a conversation with a gray-haired man, a well-known ambassador, one of the few pacifists who [had] survived the war. He talked to the girl in a caring patriarchal tone; she smiled as he talked, feeling comfortable in the gentleman’s presence.

“What nation do you come from?”

Again someone asked her where she was from, the question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind; to the others she simply stated ‘space’.

The brunette hesitated then answered, “I’m not from earth, I was born in the L1 colony cluster.”

He nodded his head approving the answer, as if he knew that was what she would say. “Young lady, I think we have met before.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible.”

“Yes, I’m sure we have.” He thought about the girl he assumed she was, a young brown-eyed, brown-haired child clinging to an older woman, a sad serious expression on her face that was unfitting for a girl that age. “You were much younger, maybe you cannot remember.”

“I fear that you have mistaken me for someone else.”

“Perhaps—but no matter.” He took her hand and kissed it. “You have grown to be a beautiful woman.”

“Would you like to take a walk around?” Quatre asked, holding a hand out for her after the elderly gentleman had departed.

Arm in arm he guided her along the dimly lit paths, the stars sparkling in the firmament, the moon missing from the night sky. They paused for a brief moment watching a pale blossom floating down the little stream, winding its way among the small pebbles; pushed by the flow of the water, it disappeared in the shadows of the arched wood bridge they were standing on. The path ended at an open patio, a granite floor making a half-circle around a fountain, a low balustrade with carved stone pillars along the outer circumference, well-trimmed shrubbery lining the other side. In silence the two stopped there. Quatre stood next to Mouse facing the opposite direction, watching her from the corner of his eye. With the heel of her palms resting on the railing she looked to the sky, scanning the stars. He slid his foot though the gap between the columns, leaning his folded arms on the cold stone.

“Mouse, you must think I am a horrible escort,” when she turned her head to face him he continued with a smile, “I haven’t told you how…”

“Don’t,” Suki interrupted, pushing herself away from the railing.

By all outward appearances she was an attractive young woman, pleasing to look at, but he saw a different beauty in her, something that wasn’t seen on the outside, something that wasn’t obvious. Quatre didn’t know when his respect for her beauty came; he only knew the truth in the words he wanted to say. He though about the day at the beach, the sun sparkling off her wet hair as she beseechingly asked him to swim, her alluring smile that always made him want to know what she was thinking. Although she looked nice in her dress he thought about how great she looked in faded jeans, wearing Duo’s black baseball cap; holes worn into the knees of her pants, her thumbs tucked in the back pockets.

She sat on the rim of the fountain; a giant semi-circle base, clear blue rocks on the bottom, water flowing from the lion head inlaid in the wall, a honeysuckle covered trellis framing the boarder. The sweet fragrance of the yellow flowers filled the air. Green potted trees on either side of the fountain blocked the view of the French doors that opened toward the fountain, more trees lined the walls outside the patio area. Quatre sat next to her, waiting for an opportunity to speak. He watched her run a long slender finger through the water, hypnotized by the smooth back and forth motion.

“The stars seem so far away, and yet they look more beautiful from Earth than space.”

Quatre looked up. “Yes.”

“Is anyone going to miss you?” Suki asked, meeting his eyes as she continued. “We left the party a while ago. Someone may be wondering where you are.”

“If they’re wondering where anyone is they’re probably curious to find out where you are.”

She laughed in response, looking back to where the colorful lights could be seen.

“Do you want to go back?”

The brunette shook her head slowly. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she said, “I think I’d rather stay here. We’ll leave them to wonder.”

“I told them you were a friend of the family,” Quatre confessed.

“Sometimes a family can extend beyond the bonds of blood relatives.”

“You seem to have a connection with your family that I never had,” he said, staring into space.

“I only have scraps and pieces of what used to be.” Her tone was sad. “Fragments of their lives. I can only remember my mother through them.”

“The last words I said to my father were in anger. I never got a chance to tell him I was sorry.” He shuddered at the memory of his father’s death, the thoughts of what he had done, the memories of the Zero system still painful. “I was a big disappointment to him. I wasn’t the son he wanted. I turned against his pacifist views and fought for the peace of the colonies.”

“I guess in some ways no one is what their parents expected,” Suki added with a grin. “I wasn’t the son my father wanted either, but then I never really knew him.”

He knew she understood him and was taking him seriously even though her words were not. Quatre couldn’t hold back a smile.

She took her hand out of the water, flicking her fingers at him, a few drops landed on his cheeks.

“Quatre,” she continued in a low voice as he wiped the water from his face, “I did not know your father, but I know you and if your kindness is a reflection of who he was, your father was a great man. A man who would still care for his son no matter what he did.”

“Maybe you’re right, I only wish I could tell him…” He trailed off in favor of watching her, a far off look in her eyes, an almost longing expression on her face, “Suki, even if you didn’t know your father, he must have been a good man.”

The brunette woman stood up and said, “I’m getting a little chilly. I think I’ll go back under the tent.”

She rushed off leaving Quatre behind. He stood up and walked to the edge of the patio area. “Heero, I don’t think I’ll ever understand her.”

Heero emerged from his hiding spot in the shadows of the trees near the wall. “I must be losing my touch. You shouldn’t have known I was there.”

“I know you too well and we received the same training as gundam pilots,” he said walking to the same path that had led them there.

The Japanese man stepped in front of him, stopping him from following the girl and saying, “You don’t know who she is.”

“Do you, Heero?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Let her go.”

Stepping around Heero, without looking at him, without responding to him the blond man walked slowly back to the large covered area.

“I apologize,” Quatre said when he found Mouse. “I said something that upset you.”

“Please don’t, Quatre.” She turned her head so their eyes couldn’t meet. “It wasn’t what you said.”

“Then it was something I did,” he searched trying to make eye contact with her.

“Don’t try to blame yourself. It’s just…I don’t…” the brunette found it difficult to say what she wanted, her words wouldn’t come. “The way you were talking about your father, it’s obvious you admired him,” she paused allowing him to absorbed the words, “I can’t think of… I don’t remember anything good about my father.”

Seeing how hard it was for her to say this Quatre sweetly smiled and said, “You don’t have to explain.”

The gala event ended with a spectacular fireworks show, the bright colors casting a glow on the spectators, wives clinging to their husbands as the loud explosions echoed through the air. Heero returned to Relena’s side, holding her around the waist, watching her more than the wondrous display, only looking once or twice toward the other couple who accompanied them.

GO TO LIVING LEGACY CHAPTER 7!

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