Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing and am writing purely for pleasure.

Many thanks to Kaeru Shisho, for editing, ongoing encouragement and for liking the original idea. 54321......

Beautiful:

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Oscar Wilde.

It was so beautiful from Earth, the night sky. Beautiful, and it seemed like he was the only person who noticed. Certainly, none of the people he'd left in the hotel room cared about such things; not unless it might be possible to stick price tags on the stars and sell them at a hefty profit.

The stars, at least, weren't for sale.

Even on the balcony, he could hear Iria saying all the polite, proper things to the Winner legal team, thanking them for their help in this difficult situation, and apologising for keeping them so late.

He should be in there with her, thanking them all gracefully for organising his life, and clearing up the shambles he'd made of it.

'Quatre. When you've quite finished sulking out there, we have things to discuss for tomorrow.'

She was using that voice; that sweetly reasonable, elder-sister voice that had reproached his shortcomings for his whole life. The heir to the Winner family shouldn't expect to miss a special maths class just because his best friend was having a birthday party – even if there were going to be clowns and conjurors, and he shouldn't dream about going on a road trip with college friends when she'd organised an internship for his holidays.

He shouldn't be lurking on a darkened balcony, under all the stars, wishing his life was different. And he couldn't, after all, stay there for ever. Instead, he gave one last, longing look at the sky and went back inside.

'I don't want to do this.' He said it very quietly, a tiny, token protest flung against the destiny that had been decided for him the moment it was known that his mother was going to give birth to a son.

Iria frowned. 'Well, you should have thought of that. We've discussed this, Quatre. It's the best way. Probably the only way, at this stage. If you're unhappy, it's your own fault. We all need to face responsibilities at some point, and you've been indulged for far too long.'

'She doesn't want to do it either.'

His sister's mouth pursed disapprovingly. 'Relena is a well brought up young woman, fully aware of the duty she owes to her family. Unlike that troublesome brother of hers.' She looked like she would gladly have elaborated on the subject of troublesome brothers, but refrained. Such impressive self-control.

Even after twenty-three years of being schooled in that particular talent, Quatre still had his occasional moments of rebellion. 'I like Zechs.' The little spurt of defiance fizzled out as soon as he'd said it. He did like Relena's brother; he'd considered him as a friend, albeit not a terribly close one, but Zechs hadn't bothered to contact him in over a month. He hadn't bothered to return any calls and Quatre had no idea what he'd done wrong. 'He probably won't like the idea of his sister making an arranged marriage.'

Iris sniffed, sitting up even straighter. All the Winner children had had correct posture drilled into them by their very proper English nanny, who had equated a straight spine with moral fibre and virtue. Quatre was slumped in his own chair, chin in his cupped hands.

'Fortunately, it's none of his concern. I see no reason why you two shouldn't find moderate happiness together. She's pleasant, intelligent, charming. She should make you an excellent wife.'

'If I wanted one, I'm sure she would. Except I'm not interested in women.'

'We are all painfully aware of that fact,' Iria snapped. 'It's the reason we're in this mess to begin with. Father tolerated your….peculiarities, and asked only a measure of discretion from you in return.'

'There's nothing wrong with being gay,' Quatre said quietly. There was, though. At least, there was on L4.

'Really?' she demanded. 'Really? Tell me that if the media find out what's going on, and the Sanque Chamber of Commerce decide they don't want to do business with us.'

'They won't care,' Quatre told her, knowing it was useless. He'd tried saying all of this before. 'It's a liberal country. Homesexuality's been legal here for years.'

Iria snorted; a very unladylike sound. Once, he might have teased her about that. Once, of course, he mightn't have caused her to make a noise like that in the first place. 'We'll see how liberal and tolerant the people here are if they see naked pictures of you and your boyfriend plastered all over their morning papers. And those nauseating letters. I've no idea what possessed you.' She shook her head. 'If you must indulge in those sordid affairs, can't you at least choose men who won't blackmail you?'

'It's not Jordan. It's his new boyfriend, who's a gay rights activist. I've told you all of this,' Quatre said wearily. She was right; she was always right. He'd been a fool. He'd been just eighteen, and madly in love for the first time and Jordan Taylor had been the centre of his universe, his shining star, for three perfect months.

'And need I remind you that homosexuality is a crime on L4; you'll be facing a prison sentence and the other board members at WEI will never permit you to attend another meeting. Both of which will kill Father.' She shook her head briskly. 'I won't let that happen. Now, I've spoken to our lawyers while you were out here moping. If the worst comes to the worst, and they refuse our deals, we'll just claim the pictures are good forgeries. We may need to find some way to discredit them too. It shouldn't be too difficult to find something against two gay men, and if we can't buy them off, we'll look at that option.'

'They don't want money.' Quatre closed his eyes, trying to block out the world for even two seconds. There was no point saying anything like that to Iria; for his sister, the sun rose and the stars shone for money. 'It's the principle of the thing. They know I'm gay; they think I should stop hiding in the closet and be honest.'

'Ridiculous.' Iria looked down her rather long nose at him. 'Anyway, once you've announced your engagement to Relena Peacecraft, no one's going to care about some squalid accusations.' She shuffled some papers in front of her. 'I printed out your schedule for tomorrow. It's probably better for you to keep a low profile for a few days, while we sort all of this out. You can't make the announcement notice until Relena's mother gets back from the United States so I've cancelled most of the interviews I had planned except one.'

She handed him a printout. 'It's at 10 am with a journalist from the Sanque Financial Times. It's the most highly regarded paper in this country, and it's also widely read over the rest of Europe. This Mr. Chang will mainly be asking you about the business side of things, but you could slip in a comment or two about Relena. We don't want the announcement to come out of nowhere; that might look suspicious. Just mention the time you've spent together when she visited L4 with her father, and how much you're looking forward to seeing her country. The people of Sanque should like that. Is that clear?'

Quatre nodded. 'I don't exactly have much of a choice, do I?'

'At the moment, no. You don't. I've called those people Father knows, the Noventas, and they'll be glad to have you to stay for a few days. It would look rather odd for you to simply disappear but this way we can say you're visiting old family friends. Rashid can drive you down tomorrow.'

'You think of everything,' Quatre said dryly. This was it then; he was being exiled while Iria sorted out his the shambles he'd made of everything; sent off to stay with people he hadn't met for years.

'Well, somebody has to,' his sister retorted. 'Their estate is apparently in the middle of nowhere. Hopefully, you'll manage to keep out of trouble there.' She stood, placing one hand in the small of her back and stretched. 'There is one other thing. I spoke to Father this morning about your position and he agrees with me that there is no reason why you shouldn't take over as CEO in the next couple of months.'

'It's too soon.' It came out in an appalled whisper. 'Iria, please. I'm not ready for that. I can't.'

'You will,' his sister said inexorably. 'Quatre, we've delayed this for long enough. You know that the Board has only ever tolerated me on a temporary basis, until you were capable of taking over.' She walked over and ruffled his hair; something he'd always hated. 'No more excuses, little one. The AGM is already scheduled for the start of June; this can be the first order of business. There will have to be a vote, naturally, but it will only be a formality.'

Quatre closed his eyes. This was it. He'd been managing to delay it for some years now. He'd wanted to finish university and then he'd wanted to gain experience. You couldn't avoid destiny for ever, though. Or Nemesis.

'I thought we might invite Relena to visit L4 that week,' Iria continued. 'Naturally, she won't attend the meeting itself, but I'm sure the board members and our sisters will want to meet her. Such a very suitable girl for you.' She hesitated, taking a deep breath and Quatre gave her a curious look, despite himself. His very direct sister normally didn't beat around the bush.

'As CEO of Winner Enterprises, you must be totally above suspicion. The slightest breath of scandal could be totally disastrous. I'm sure there's no need to say this, after what's happened this week, but you do realise that your sordid little liaisons will have to stop. I mean that.' She nodded, apparently satisfied that her little brother was sufficiently scarlet. 'You see, you haven't been nearly as discreet as you think, have you? I know exactly what you get up to when you sneak out of the house on your little night-time excursions.'

'What exactly do you know, Iria?' Quatre snapped at her. 'That I prefer catching to tossing? That I like it rough sometimes? Just how closely have you been monitoring me?'

'There's no need to be coarse.' Iria's colour rose delicately. 'I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same. You want to be fresh for the interview tomorrow and it's late. If you want to go for your usual walk, Rashid will accompany you. I've asked him to wait outside your suite.'

'Am I to consider him as my jailer or my bodyguard?' Quatre asked coldly and had the brief satisfaction of seeing her blush.

'Of course not, Quatre! I'm thinking of your safety; you are free to come and go as you please, but we don't know this city, and it would be better for you not to leave the hotel alone. We don't know if it's safe to go about after dark, for instance.' She leaned over and gave him a brief peck on the cheek.

'This is all for the best, little brother. I'm sorry, but you know we can't live our lives to please ourselves. WEI always has to come first. You were brought up knowing this.' She sighed. 'Father allowed you so much freedom in the expectation that it would make it easier for you to accept responsibility, having had your fun. I think he was wrong, but either way, this is the way things are. The people of our colony depend on the Winners for employment and stability, and we need to increase our trade with Earth. If this treaty with Sanque goes through, it will be a wonderful thing for L4.'

A wonderful thing for L4, Quatre reflected. Of course, his sister was right. Their colony had tried to isolate itself for too long; they needed to rejoin the rest of the universe and Iria had spent years arranging this deal. It was just a shame it required human sacrifices to succeed.

He'd been brought up to know his duty, apart from those three wonderful months he'd been permitted to spend on Earth, just after his eighteenth birthday. Three months of freedom in exchange for a lifetime of duty and responsibility.

Marriage to Relena would never be more than a business transaction. He liked her well enough, but there would never be more than that. Still, he would remain faithful out of respect to her. At least, she deserved that much.

A faithful husband who didn't love her and was marrying her because she was convenient.

Not exactly every girl's dream, Quatre reflected sourly, wandering back out on to the balcony. The city lights were shining brightly now, the stars dimmed in comparison. There was a whole world out there and he was supposed to be happy for the rest of his life with a few treasured memories.

They were all tainted now anyway. His and Jordan's promises to stay together hadn't lasted for long. On Quatre's return to L4, he'd been swallowed up by the greedy organism that was WEI, that was to be his whole life, and the 'phone calls and emails and gradually become shorter and more sporadic.

They'd kept up occasional contact though, even if their lives had gone in polar opposite directions. He'd counted Jordan as one of his few friends.

He had until two weeks ago, when he'd got the first email. It still hurt. That day at the beach had always been one of his happiest, fondest memories; himself and Jordan and a couple of bottles of wine. The first time he'd ever tasted alcohol. When Jordan took out the little digital camera he'd posed and then helped his lover figure out how to work the remote function and take pictures of the two of them together.

Two blond boys on a sunny, deserted beach, flushed with first love.

As Iria had said, he'd been damnably stupid. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if those pictures ever became public. He really didn't want to think that the first person he'd ever really loved was prepared to betray him like this.

It all came down to love and betrayal and duty. That was it. He'd had his brief taste of forbidden happiness, five years ago, and he'd have to spend the rest of his life atoning for one mistake. There was such irony there; he was being forced into marriage with a girl he didn't love, whom he hardly knew, because he'd fallen in love at eighteen.

'I am sorry,' he whispered to the stars. Not quite sure what he was apologising for. Existing. If his mother hadn't died bearing the son his father had so desperately wanted, then Iria would have inherited WEI as the oldest daughter. The Board, the family mightn't have liked but they wouldn't have had a choice.

If Quatre hadn't been born, if he'd died at birth, they'd all probably have been better off.

'I'm sorry.' He leaned over the railing of the balcony and Sanque glittered below him, spread out like a gift, seductive as sin. A whole world that he'd never be able to experience, except from behind a phalanx of bodyguards and assistants and flunkeys.

It would be so very easy just to fall.

Quatre let go of the railing and took two very deliberate steps away from the edge. No.

No.

He could go out, of course. Trailing Rashid behind him. Not much of an escape. Quatre nibbled his lower lip, considering. But spending the night here, alone, was not particularly appealing either. Not in this mood.

He could stay here, he could go out with Rashid, or he could….go out without Rashid.

The third option was definitely preferable.

He just needed an escape route.

The waiter who delivered his dinner twenty minutes later was clearly flattered that the young man in the penthouse suite was so appreciative of the rapid service, and delighted with his large tip. He was also more than willing to discuss the layout of the hotel, and reassure Mr. Winner that, in the (highly unlikely) event of a fire, that there were a number of alternative ways out of the hotel other than the main foyer.

Ten minutes later, Quatre was slinking down a staff corridor, smiling his most charming smile at a couple of chambermaids, before slipping out a side door. He'd taken a wad of notes from the safe, and left his cards and ID behind. Never leave a paper trail; Heero had taught him that. For a couple of hours, he could be an anonymous tourist, instead of Quatre Raberba Winner.

He'd even left his 'phone; something that would definitely get him into trouble if anyone found out. He'd left it behind at the last minute, seduced by the heady prospect of no one being able to contact him. He had nothing but a sheaf of deliciously crackling bank notes. No sisters, no retinue of assistants and executives and bodyguards.

Freedom!

It was eight o'clock. He'd need to be back by midnight or so, but that left plenty of time, and he wasn't really sure what to do with these last few hours of liberty.

They'd arrived two days earlier, and hadn't left the hotel since, except for a short stroll the previous night in the hotel grounds. It was a nice area, though; with its paved, cobble-stoned streets and prettily manicured flowerbeds.

It was too early to go to a bar or a club; Quatre thought, drifting up and down the same street and catching sight of himself in a shop window. Just another executive dawdling on his way home from the office.

That isn't me. That's not who I want to be.

The shop he'd stopped at was a barber's, which seemed as good an omen as any.

Why not?

'Hey,' a young Asian man swept the door open for him. 'What can I do you for?' His eyes swept over Quatre's neat blond hair. 'Please, tell me you want to change your hairstyle.'

'I don't want it cut off or anything. Just styled differently.' He made a face at his reflection in the mirror. He'd worn his hair like that, more or less, since his first day at school, when Iria had combed it neatly back from his forehead and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

'My pleasure.'

There was a little trimming and a lot of mousse and gel and various other products applied. It took about half an hour, in the course of which Quatre learned the other man's name was Brian, and that he'd opened his own hair salon, his dream, two years previously, and that he seemed to love every aspect of his life.

'Wow! Is that really me?'

'You bet.' Brian crossed his arms, Cheshire-cat smug. 'Can't beat the just-got-out-of-bed tousled look, I always say. You actually look like a young guy now, not like you're trying to add ten years to your age.'

Quatre grinned at himself. Iria would have a fit if she could see him like that. The WEI board members would have coronaries.

'Can you recommend a good place to buy some clothes?'

'Clothes that go with your hair, or clothes like the ones you've got on?'

'Clothes that go with the hair,' Quatre said promptly.

'Right answer.' Brian beamed. 'Smart or casual? And how much d'you want to spend?'

'I just want to go to a bar for a drink or maybe a club to hear some music. The money's not important.'

'Wow. Another right answer. Listen, once you go out the door, take the next right and then left to Victoria Street. There're some nice boutiques down there.'

Quatre nodded. 'I was going to have dinner somewhere after. I don't know if you'd be interested in dining with me when you close the shop?'

'I'd like it, but my boyfriend wouldn't be too happy.'

'Oh!' Quatre blushed. Nicely done, Winner. Perfect. 'I'm sorry. I didn't know.'

'Don't apologise. Not every day I get hit on by a blond bombshell. If you're serious about the club, don't go to the Lemon Tree; it's a meat market and you'll be eaten alive. Stardust is probably your best bet; they get a nice crowd and they have live music sometimes. It's a pretty hang out for singles; you'll have no problem hooking up with someone if that's what you want.'

Was it? Quatre wasn't sure; he wasn't actually sure how the dating scene in Sanque worked, whether a nightclub would have private rooms for when the dancing become more intimate.

'Stardust.' The name was probably a good omen. It wasn't nine o'clock yet. He could buy some casual clothes, have a quick dinner somewhere and a drink at the club. Maybe even dance a couple of times if he met someone nice. Possibly more.

And then go back to the Sanque Sheraton and comb out his hair and take off his new clothes and be Quatre Raberba Winner again.