Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Picture ❯ Chapter 3

{Disclaimer} I do not own Gundam Wing nor have I ever or hope to. Too expensive for my tastes. I'm just playing with them. And yes, I'll put them back when I'm done.

Title: "Picture"

Author: Solitary Rose

Pairings: 1+2, 1X2, 3+4, attempted 13X2, 5+S, 1+H (implied 1xH), D+C

Genre: Drama, AU, Hentai (in Chp. 14 and on)

Rating: NC-17

Archive: http://www.mediaminer.org - type in Solitary_Rose in the search.

WARNINGS: Attempted NCS, Swearing, Lime, Lemon, Shounen Ai, Het, Not a lot of warm fuzzies sorry. Street life, cross-dressing of 02 and 04 *Meep!* Also I altered history; transvestites are legal as are homosexual marriages. If you don't like it, don't read it. Don't flame me later on saying that I want my characters to get fucking stoned. In my own little world this is my dream, please don't bitch. (Also, I've now decided to put the warning on every chapter seeing as how people don't read. -_-)

Feedback: If you want. I don't reply though, sorry.

Spoilers: None - it's an AU. In no way related to the actual story line.

Chapter Three

"Who . . . who are you?" Quatre managed to stammer. He spoke to Dorothy, but his eyes were glued to the Oriental figures at her side. Quatre looked as if he were certain he was about to be murdered at any second.

"My name is Dorothy, as you heard from our friend. But that is not the question. The question is, what are you two doing here? You look like a couple of stray kittens, and dirty ones at that. Just where did you come from?"

"We're . . . we're lost," Duo said.

Dorothy laughed again. "There's no question about that. Where are you lost from?"

Quatre and Duo exchanged looks. Duo gathered his frayed courage and stood rigid, his violet eyes meeting Dorothy's. "If you'll just let us pass, we'll be all right. We'll find our way home."

Dorothy looked at Duo with a glitter of amusement in her eyes. "Likely you'll find your way to some other scoundrel like Mueller, and in no time you'll be bedding every poxy sailor from here to China." Dorothy was pleased to see a tremor go through Duo. She watched as Duo's back stiffened and his chin lifted proudly.

"You'll never see that."

"You have no idea how close you came." Dorothy drew a little closer to the two and the Orientals followed, eliciting a squeak of fear from Quatre. "You don't belong here. You're running away, aren't you? Two lost little lambs loose among the wolves. For a shilling I'd leave you both here."

"We . . . we haven't asked for help. We'll get along just fine," Duo replied obstinately, but his quivering voice belied his words.

"Of course you will." Dorothy laughed again, knowing full well that Duo's answer was sheer bravado. "Are you hungry?"

Just the mention of food made both Duo and Quatre swallow convulsively.

"Come with me," Dorothy said. She turned and walked away with no doubt in her mind that they would follow. With their eyes on the two Orientals, Duo and Quatre filed between them and followed Dorothy. Neither was sure where they were going, but neither had the strength or the courage to put up with any arguments against the two people who could have snapped them in two.

Dorothy led them to a closed carriage. Inside she sat with the man on one side and the woman on the other, while Duo and Quatre sat on the either side of the carriage. Neither boy had any inclination to argue or to question. They knew they could possibly have jumped from the frying pan into the fire, but they'd heard the mention of food and that had been a siren song.

They did not travel far and they did not leave the shadowy side of the city.

The carriage stopped before a huge, double-story warehouse. It sat in a section of similar buildings that formed an open-ended box. The center area was cobblestones and had a random assortment of benches and chairs. It looked like a world of its own. When they left the carriage they did not enter the warehouse by the front doors, which were huge affairs that could accommodate loaded wagons. Instead they walked down a dark alleyway and reached a flight of stairs that had certainly seen better days. Single file they made their way up, with Dorothy in the lead. The silent Orientals followed Duo and Quatre.

At the top, Dorothy removed a key from the folds of her skirts and unlocked the door. Warmth and assorted smells Duo could not name met them. Inside, Duo could make out only one room in the near darkness, but when the man lit a lantern, they could see several open doorways.

What intrigued Duo more than the space was the scent of food. He didn't know what it was, nor did he care. His mouth watered and a wave of dizziness washed over him so strongly that he nearly fell. A strong hand gripped his arm, and he looked up into the unreadable face of the black-eyed man.

He shivered. Hunger and weariness had clouded his mind, and his reactions were slow.

"Wufei" Dorothy said softly, "go tell Cathy to bring some food before our two strays fall down. I'm in no mood to dispose of bodies."

Dorothy turned to look at the woman as the man left. "Sally, I think you better go and see if we can scare up some clothes from the others. A few more ounces of dirt and these clothes are going to fall off them."

Duo stomach cramped as the smell of food got stronger, and the room seemed to waver around him.

"Sit down before you fall." Dorothy snapped the order, but Duo needed no encouragement. His legs were so weak he would have sagged to the floor had a chair not been close by. Quatre fared no better. His face was as white as a sheet, partly from hunger and partly from fear.

The room was silent as Dorothy assessed her two guests. She decided at once that she made the right choice in protecting them. But she was curious about two helpless lambs had gotten into this fix.

Before Duo could master himself, a small form appeared in one of the doorways. It was a small child of perhaps eight. She limped inside on a twisted foot, and when the lamplight fell on her face, Duo saw that although her body was young, her eyes were old. Old and wary and distrusting. Duo smiled at her but the smile was not returned. Instead the girl set the basket between Duo and Quatre and quietly left the room.

That was Mariemaya. She can't talk, but she's not as helpless as she looks. I don't know what's in the basket" Dorothy said, "but you'd best eat. There won't be more until tomorrow."

Duo slid from the chair to his knees by the basket and tore it open. He was so hungry that his hands shook and tears came to his eyes. Inside the basket were a half loaf of bread, some cheese, and several pieces of fruit. Duo tore pieces from the bread and cheese and handed them to Quatre, who uttered an inarticulate sound. Duo fought to keep from wolfing the food down, but still, when the first poorly chewed bite hit his stomach, he bent forward, clenching his stomach as it convulsed.

"Eat slowly and chew well," Dorothy commanded. Her voice was firm and cold; and neither boy saw the combined anger and sympathy that momentarily touched her eyes.

Both boys trembling; tried to obey. After a while they won the battle and the food remained in their stomachs.

When Dorothy was satisfied that they were fed, they were led to a room where a large wooden tub was filled with warm water. They had no way of knowing that this was Dorothy's tub or that she had never allowed its use by anyone else before.

Duo almost groaned aloud as he sank into the water and washed away the layers of dirt from his hair and skin. Quatre, too, was intoxicated by pleasure.

Their clothes were taken away and clean ones brought. The clothing was an assortment so odd Duo realized they were odds and ends. But they were clean, and for now that was all that mattered.

Both boys were exhausted and afraid of getting lost in this unique structure. So they sat quietly and waited. But the wait was long, and soon they dropped off into much-needed sleep.

**** **** ****

Duo drifted up form sleep and stirred. In his dream he was again curled in the warmth of a soft bed. He snuggled beneath the blankets and drew the pillow over his head. Pillow? Bed?

He sat up abruptly. Sometime during the night he had been moved. He felt uncomfortable at the thought. When he looked about, he saw Quatre curled in a ball in a bed across the room from him. Then he realized there was another bed in the room, but it was empty.

The sun coming in the window was pale, and Duo sensed it must be early morning. There was no way of knowing how long he had slept.

He tossed aside the covers and walked to the one window. Using the tips of his fingers he cleaned a circle in the thick dust so he could look out.

The center court bustled with activity. There were children of all ages, urchins in ragged clothes, grown men and woman who looked extremely strange to Duo until he realized they were dressed in everything from rags to rather fine-looking clothes. They looked like a hodgepodge of people thrown together by accident.

Duo could hear the sound of muffled voices coming from a nearby room and he threw a blanket about himself and crossed to the half-open door. When he pushed it open he found Dorothy, Sally, Wufei, and several others seated at a table, eating and talking.

It was Wufei who saw him first, but soon they were all gazing at him. This was first time Duo had really looked at Dorothy. She was pretty in a fairy kind of way. She had even features, a generous mouth and a thick mass of blonde hair that hung to her waist.

Duo was invited to join them for breakfast, and soon he found he was relaxing and truly enjoying the openness of these people. They seemed to have no roots, and to come from every walk of life, yet after a while he realized their roots were that this hodgepodge of people made up a kind of family. And this collection of rough buildings they had lovingly called "the Round" was their home.

They supported each other by any means at their disposal, and he was sure most were a bit shady. He knew one thing for certain: This was a communal affair, and one day, if he and Quatre wanted to stay, they would have to find a way to contribute.

Duo and Quatre had been in the Round for over two weeks, and both knew quite well that Dorothy and all the others were watching every move they made. Duo had the feeling that Dorothy was assessing them as much as she would if she were intending to hire them. Quatre and Duo wondered whether or not they would pass inspection. Both rather wished they would, because they felt a sense of peace and contentment . . . and acceptance here.

It was early in the morning several days later as Duo was dressing that Dorothy approached him.

"Good morning."

Duo spun about, startled at the sound of her voice. Dorothy stood in the doorway; one shoulder braced against it and her arms folded across her chest. Duo wondered how long she had stood watching him before she had spoken.

Actually, Dorothy had been there from the moment Duo had gotten out of bed. She had watched him closely. Always an excellent judge of character, she had no trouble characterizing Duo, an excellent actor, and a boy who could look and act like a person of culture and exude an aura of sweet innocence. He was perfect for what Dorothy had in mind.

Of course, her plans depended on Duo's being persuaded to agree. Dorothy knew that Duo was wary and careful.

"Good morning," Duo replied. "I've never really had the chance to thank you Dorothy."

"That's all right."

"And Wufei and Sally have been so protective."

Wufei is a gentle soul."

"Ah," Duo smiled crookedly at the statement.

"It seems that when he was a babe, he was chucked into the river. A friend of mine pulled him out while he was fishing. We used to call him Minnow but he grew out of the name. He likes Wufei better. He says it's an ode to his heritage."

"You're all so special and you've created your own world here. I admire that. Compared to you all, I'm nobody."

"Everyone is someone. Why did we find you and Quatre in an alley looking like two little lambs about to be a meal for Mueller?"

"It's a long story." Duo wasn't quite prepared to trust anyone with the whole story of where he had come from and why.

"I've got plenty of time . . . unless you plan to leave right now." Dorothy added softly, "You have to trust someone, sometime."

"It's hard to leave when we have no place to go."

"Then you can stay, and perhaps trust will come later."

"No," Duo said quietly. "It's time for decisions now."

He walked back to the bed and sat cross-legged in the middle of it. Dorothy didn't move. Slowly Duo began to explain how Quatre and he had gotten into the predicament they were in. Dorothy didn't interrupt. The older woman was watching him so intently that Duo's nerves stretched tighter with every second. When he finished his story, Dorothy stood still, as if she was considering the implications of Duo's words.

"Why did you not just give him what he wanted? Think of how much you had to gain."

"He was a pig." Duo's chin went up proudly and his eyes glowed with anger. "I wouldn't sell myself to him for a few baubles."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Dorothy murmured. "You're stronger than you know, Duo. Some people never understand that the stronger person bends with the wind and the weak, brittle person breaks. You'll do what needs to be done, and I feel you'll be good at it."

"Good at what?"

"Being believed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Duo replied. "If you think I'm going to do for you what that beast in the alley wanted me to do for him, you're crazy. You can have your clothes back, and somehow I'll find a way to repay you for the food and the bed."

Dorothy's laugh was full and free. "You think I'm a whore?"

"I didn't say that."

"I'm not a whore and none of my people are. The street was my home until . . . never mind about that. You may choose to stay or to go. Either way you will have to learn to do things that are necessary for survival."

"Where do you come from?" Duo asked.

"Who knows? It's not where you come from, but who and where you are." Dorothy finally walked closer to Duo and sat down beside him. "When you ran, did you consider what you were running to?"

"I didn't have time for that."

"You didn't think it would be so ugly or so hard out here, and you didn't consider how you would care for your friend."

"I guess I didn't. But I had to make a decision."

"Are you up to making another one?"

"I can listen. I have few choices, and I don't relish the thought of going out on those streets and starving."

"You could go back and give in, or you could learn how to survive here."

"I won't go back," Duo said stubbornly. His gaze met Dorothy's. "And I will survive. I'll see that Quatre survives too."

"Not unless you learn a lot more."

"I'm not exactly stupid."

"No, just green."

"Perhaps."

"But you are strong and determined, I'll give you that."

Duo knew he and Quatre could not survive on the streets alone, just as he knew he could not go back. He had to swallow both his anger and the pride that would put him and Quatre back in the situation that would drain them life from them both. He had to learn whatever it took to keep him and Quatre safe. He had to.

"Dorothy . . . what is it that you are suggesting we do?" He asked quietly.

**** **** ****

Over the next few days Duo began to learn just what was expected of him and Quatre.

One night, when Quatre and he found themselves alone in their sleeping quarters, they discussed their new friends.

"Duo, they're . . . they're thieves. They're pickpockets. They're I don't know what else!"

Highwaymen, bandits, swindlers, and sundry other things." Duo smiled. "And they only steal from those who can afford it. Better yet, they eat regularly."

"They steal the food they eat!"

"Yes," Duo said quietly, "and they stole the food that fed us and kept us from starving."

"I know. You should see how . . . adept Cathy is," Quatre said, mentioning Dorothy's lover who was teaching Quatre in the ways of the Round.

"I can imagine. Quatre . . . no one stays here that can't or won't pull his or her own weight. We have to learn."

"Learn! To steal!"

"I suppose it comes down to that. We can't live on their efforts; they can't afford it."

"Then . . . you want to join them? Become a thief?"

Duo's gaze met Quatre's steadily. "If it is the only way I can survive, yes. For now. I intend to find my own future, if it means I must do this for a while" - Duo smiled - "then I will be better at it than anyone else."

"Then . . . we'll be thieves together."

As Duo embraced Quatre, both knew that what they planned to do was a breach of their own standards. Yet both knew they had very little choice.

Within the next few months Duo and even a reluctant Duo learned to filch a purse from a man or woman with little effort. But Dorothy taught much more than that. Duo's acting abilities were polished until he could pass for a lady in any circle.

Since most of the lucrative excursions were made in the late afternoon and early evening when shopping and theatre-goers were prevalent, Duo found his mornings free.

On such a morning Duo discovered Cathy and Dorothy dressing to go out. He realized then that Dorothy and Cathy often made these excursions.

"Off again this morning?" he questioned with an innocence both girls could see through at once.

"Yes, mister nosy, and if you want to come along, ask. Don't follow us like you did last week."

Duo had the grace to look sheepish. "You lost me within minutes. I wish I could be as good at that as you are."

"You haven't had a couple of Bobbies on your heels yet. You will in time. Then you'll keep my lessons in mind and learn to vanish." Cathy said teasingly.

"You really don't mind if I come along?"

"No, we'd enjoy your company." Dorothy smiled and started from the door with Cathy and Duo right behind her.

They left the Round, entering a street of houses that were neither shabby nor elegant. Dorothy and Cathy stopped before a large two-story house. But instead of knocking, Cathy opened the door and stood at the bottom of the steps.

"Trowa! Are you decent?" she shouted. A masculine voice came from above.

"No! But that never mattered to you before. Come on up."

"We've brought a friend," Dorothy said as they started up the stairs. "And we don't want him corrupted by your questionable pictures."

"Questionable!" The voice came louder as they moved up. "On second thought, send them up and you two go home."

Cathy was still laughing as she approached an open door and was met by a man who hugged her warmly. Then he let her go and shook hands with Dorothy before noticing Duo.

"Well, well," he said softly. "Cathy, where did you get this beauty."

"You're not going to paint him, so forget it."

"Nobody asked you, Nag," he retorted as he stopped to stand by Duo. "Of course, you'll pose for me. I paint angels better than anyone else."

"This is my brother, Trowa Barton, Duo. Don't trust him an inch."

"Hello, Mr. Barton." Duo smiled up into warm green eyes.

Trowa Barton was tall, well over six feet. He towered over Duo. His auburn hair fell in front of his face, covering one eye. Still, it suited him; his smile was tight-lipped but friendly nonetheless. Duo liked him at once.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, and no, I won't pose for you."

"They've corrupted you. I'm as gentle as a lamb," Trowa protested. "What's your name?"

"Duo, Duo Maxwell."

"Come in, Duo. Let me show you around."

Duo was ushered into a large room, which was brightened by skylights. There was one battered couch on the corner; the rest of the room was filled with canvases of all sizes. He moved from one to the other and realized that all of them were incomplete . . . incomplete, but revealing a rare touch of beauty.

"Why don't you finish them?" he asked innocently.

Cathy remained silent and Dorothy left to go into a back room. Trowa walked over to a table the held a bottle of brandy. He poured a drink, drank it, and then turned to face Duo.

"They aren't good enough to finish. Perhaps if I had the right model I just might complete one."

"Trowa," Cathy said warningly.

"What say you, Mr. Maxwell?" He bowed toward Duo. "Do you want yours to be the first completed portrait by Trowa Barton?"

"No," Duo replied softly. "I might not be good enough to finish. If I posed for an artist, I wouldn't expect him to do half a job . . . unless that was all he could do."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Trowa smiled. "Where did you find this creature, Cathy? He's refreshing."

"The same place where we find everyone else, dear." Cathy replied. "Now, you promised to show me the one you just started, the one you promised to finish."

"Won't work. Sorry to disappoint you, but the girl just wasn't right."

"Trowa."

"Don't worry about me, Cathy," he said quietly, "and stop mothering me." Pitching his voice louder, "Let me take you lovelies to lunch."

Before lunch, Trowa stopped in some local stores to see a few people. They spent a delightful morning and enjoyed lunch, but throughout Duo was watching Trowa and he sensed a feeling of unhappiness in him. On their way home, he asked Dorothy and Cathy about him.

Cathy pursed her lips together and made some non-committal noise. Dorothy sighed "Trowa and Cathy," she said, slipping an arm around Cathy's waist and they turned into a back alley. "Come from a rich family."

"Rich! Then why are you living here?" Duo asked, staring at Cathy incredulously.

"Because, when their father died, all he left was bills and debts. Trowa and Cathy both have enough to live on, but Cathy won't spend any of it. She tried to give it all to Trowa, but he won't take it either. So it sits in a bank account, rotting. She lives here, and Trowa . . . paints."

"It's something that he always wanted to do." Cathy whispered and walked off, away from Duo and Dorothy.

Dorothy sighed, "Their father never supported Trowa's wish to be a painter. It's a big sore spot for him and Cathy."

"But he doesn't . . ." Duo mused, "he just starts to."

"Trowa has some problems. One day he will finish a painting. Maybe then he'll get his life in order and Cathy can stop worrying about him. But, until then" - she looked at Duo with a grim look - "his life is his business, like Cathy's is Cathy's and yours is yours. And, Duo, he's not quite as . . . gentlemanly as you might think. Be careful."

"I'm not interested in the sort of business at the moment, in fact at any moment."

"You have plans, do you?"

"I certainly have. I'm saving every coin, except what I have to contribute to the Round. I'm going to make something of myself if it kills me."

"Just what are you going to make?" Dorothy laughed.

"Someone important, with my own house and servants and everything I want whenever I want it."

"You think you'll be happy then?"

"I know I will. Just watch me."

Dorothy kept her counsel to herself.

The first trip to Trowa's was one of many, for Duo and Trowa became fast friends. Each time he came to visit, Duo seemed prettier to Trowa. Each time Trowa begged him to pose for him . . . and each time Duo refused.

It was over six months before Quatre decided to go along, but he soon learned to enjoy Trowa's company, too. He was entertaining, filled with wit and ways to make Quatre smile.

But as fascinating as Trowa was, Duo was not so distracted himself that he failed to notice Quatre's frequent silences or the way Trowa looked at his friend.

The two boys had taken to visiting him several times a week, but on this morning Duo set out alone. He needed a sympathetic shoulder to lean on, and he really didn't want to worry Quatre. Quatre had never been really good at thievery, so Duo carried the burden of providing for them, and now he wondered how they would manage.

"Duo," Trowa welcomed him when he arrived at his doorstep. "Come in. You look like a stormy day."

"I feel like one," he said. He walked inside and the saw the canvas that Trowa was working on. When he moved around in front of it, he stood for a moment in shock. The he spoke quietly. "Trowa, it's beautiful. And . . . you finished it. What a lovely gown. Quatre looks like a grand lady."

He looks every inch the grandest lady. I've not painted anyone more perfect, and I'm rather proud of it. Would you believe that I've not only finished another painting, but sold it as well?"

"Well, at least some of us has some money," Duo replied as he tossed his cloak across a chair.

"I'll share some it with you."

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked suspiciously. "I don't need handouts. There are always strings attached to that sort of thing."

"There are strings on this one too."

"I should have known. Forget it. I'll find a pigeon with a full purse today."

"Not that kind of string."

"What then?"

"Pose for me. Let me paint you and I'll give you whatever you would have taken on the streets. It will only take a few afternoons. Come on, Duo pose for me."

"In these rags? Do you think I want a picture of myself dressed like this? No, Trowa, when I can afford a pretty new gown I'll do it. But not like this."

"I have dresses here. What do you think Quatre wore when he posed for me? I have a selection for my models to wear. There just might be one in your size."

"But - "

"Duo, I promise I'll do a portrait you'll be proud of."

"All right, all right. Where are the gowns?"

"In the next room. I'll set up by the big window while you change."

"I don't know what to do with my hair. I certainly won't look like a lady like this."

Duo's hair hung to his waist, tied carelessly back in a braid with a ribbon. It was a riot of copper and gold, with some small curls framing his face.

"You'll look enchanting. Every lady wears her hair in one complicated arrangement or another. You will look so different that anyone who sees this portrait will fall in love with you."

"Good Lord, I don't want that. I'm doing this for a few coins and for you. Promise me you won't display it." He was terrified that if someone bought it and hung it, Treize Krushrenda might see it. He might track down Trowa . . . and ultimately him.

"All right. I'd rather keep it anyway. Go and change."

With an exasperated sigh, Duo went to the next room. Closing the door between him and Trowa, he began to look for the gowns. To his surprise there was a closet full of them. He found three dresses that were close to his size. One dress was white with pink roses embroidered on it. But it was too pale for his skin. The second was a shimmering, deep violet, and the third was a navy blue.

He chose the violet one and changed quickly. When he walked back into the room, Trowa stood immobile and watched him walk toward him. It was as if when he donned the dress he donned an aura of gentility, for he looked every inch the sophisticated lady he was pretending to be. Duo had let his hair of the braid and had tied it part of it back with the ribbon so that it cascaded down his back and rippled with his every movement.

"Duo, you are beautiful."

"Thank you, Trowa, but we'd better work as fast as we can. If I sit here all day, Dorothy is not going to be too happy."

Trowa had placed a chair close to the window and draped it with silk flowers. When Duo sat down they made a perfect background against which his skin seemed to glow and his hair sparkled with life.

Trowa moved him this way and that until he found a pose that pleased him, as if Duo had suddenly seen something that drew Duo's attention. One arm rested on the arm of the chair, and one hand held a single, perfect red rose. Pleased, Trowa went to the canvas he had set up and began to paint.

After two hours Duo became stiff and restless.

"Hold still," Trowa commanded brusquely.

"Trowa, I'm tired. I've got to move."

Trowa sighed, put down the palette and brush, and took up a cloth to hang over the painting.

"Why are you covering it up? I want to see it."

"No. Its bad luck to see a painting before it's finished."

"That's not true." Duo smiled.

"It is so. Ask any artist."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes." Trowa smiled. "So don't try to peek. Come on, I'll give you a glass of wine and you can rest for a while."

"No, thank you." Duo said abruptly. "I . . . I don't drink spirits." He remembered all too well what had almost happened to his resistance the last time he drank. He had no intention of such a thing occurring again.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry, it seems. But I have to go."

"Here are the coins I promised. You won't have to go hungry."

"Thank you, Trowa," he said softly.

"Duo, would you be angry if I asked you to take a few more coins . . . for Quatre?" he added hastily. "I . . . I know he's no good at . . . his chosen profession. I don't want to see him get caught." His words were said almost reluctantly, as if he didn't want Duo to question him.

"All right, for Quatre."

"Thank you."

"I'd best go now."

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"And the day after?"

"Trowa, you know I'll only be able to pose as long as your money holds out. When it's gone we'll have to fit this into whatever time I can spare. Quatre and I need to bring in money to the Round, at least until we can find our way out of here."

"You're dreaming, Duo."

"Why?"

"I've seen a lot of people end up in the streets. I've never seen anyone find a way out."

"Well then, there has to be a first time for everything, doesn't there? Quatre and I are not going to spend the rest of our lives grubbing for food. One day, one way or another, we'll get out of here."

He looked down at Duo's eyes and after a while he smiled. "Funny, but all of a sudden I have no doubts. I'll expect you tomorrow."

There were several tomorrows, for Trowa was putting his heart and soul into this painting. This portrait was near completion, and Duo was relieved. Another day or two and he would be finished sitting. But first, he wanted to see what Trowa had achieved.

He sat very still, allowing his mind to drift, dreaming of his future, while Trowa worked in silence. He had never felt as pleased with anything in his life as he was with the portraits he'd done of Quatre and Duo. For the first time in a long while he felt the sense of redemption his painting had originally given him.

Neither he nor Trowa was aware that a man had climbed the stairs and walked into Trowa's studio. He stood watching both the painter and the remarkably beautiful woman . . . no, man that Trowa was painting.

Duo sensed him first, but refused to speak or even acknowledge his presence. After a while Trowa became aware of the stranger, too and stopped working to turn and face him.

"I'm sorry." His cultured, warm and very masculine voice said. "The door was open and I took the liberty. I am looking for Trowa Barton. I've come to discuss the painting you did for Lady Anne.

Without an invitation he came to stand by Trowa, studying the painting. He gazed at it for so long that Trowa grew tense.

"Remarkable, both the person and the painting. You are a master, sir. Is it commissioned?"

"It's mine," Trowa replied. He knew that Duo was growing a bit nervous.

"I should like to purchase it."

Duo made an involuntary movement then turned his frigid gaze away.

"I'm sorry, it's not for sale."

"Even for a hundred pounds?"

Both Trowa and Duo were shocked to silence, and then Duo gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

"There's no price, sir. It's not for sale," Trowa said firmly.

"I see. Let me leave my card. I like your work. I will return." He bowed slightly toward Trowa and Duo; then he left. Trowa and Duo simply looked at each other in shock.

"A hundred pounds," Trowa whispered.

"Trowa, you promised."

"It's not for sale" - he grinned - "but you don't mind if I gloat over the offer."

"No," Duo said smiling. "Now, I really have to go."

Duo changed his clothes and left Trowa's quite unaware of the man who sat in his carriage across the street and gazed at him with surprise. He had expected a lady to come down and a street urchin had appeared. Milliardo Peacecraft smiled to himself. This mystery bore some looking into.