When Quatre Met An Angel…

Part One of the Pretty Women series

**February 14, A.C. 200

**L-6 Colony Cluster

**Neo-London

Storm clouds billowed ominously overhead as Quatre took to the streets, wondering what else in the world could possibly go wrong. The very day seemed to undermine him, starting with his very unpleasant wake-up. He was roused at first by nightmares, then he realized he was soaking wet. This was because his waterbed had inexplicably sprung a leak during the night. He would have to replace the carpet. Then he got ready for work only after slipping in his shower. He ran out of gas on the way to his office building and had to call for help as well as reschedule a rather important meeting. And to top it all off, in the middle of the day, when he was most looking forward to seeing her, Catherine Bloom called him to tell him that she was breaking up with him. For Chang Wufei, one of Quatre's dearest friends. Shortly after that rather disconcerting phone conversation, five of his twenty-nine sisters decided to vid-conference him to invite him to celebrate his birthday with them. They also asked him to bring along the "mystery girl" they'd been hearing so much about, all insisting that they were dying to meet her. They hung up before he could inform them that his "mystery girl" had broken up with him.

They'd be disappointed if Quatre showed up alone again, as he had for the past five years. Therefore, he found himself in a real predicament, considering his transport left in a few hours and he was single again. Where in the world would he find a girl who would agree to "go out" with him for a week without getting emotionally attached? So many women were throwing themselves at his feet, begging for even the smallest bit of attention…but they would want to remain by his side. He needed someone unknown, someone unimpressed by wealth but intelligent and funny. He needed a miracle.

Glancing up at the threatening, churning sky, Quatre cursed himself again for forgetting his umbrella and began to walk down the street, preferring exercise over a limo-ride. The city stretched out and up from his position, people billowed in and out of the street-side shops, strode confidently up and down the street, and greeted each other in a myriad of languages. All around him the city was alive and thriving. Cars whooshed by, busses transported tourists through the lively city. It was all Quatre's crowning triumph. In four short years, after hours of pure, hard labor, he'd put together a small cluster of colonies dedicated to those from the British Isles. Funded purely by his family business—a resource satellite business with strong ties to both Earth and the colonies—the colony was already beginning to flourish and grow. Money which had been spent in putting together and managing the new colonies began to come flooding back in, and Quatre found himself even richer than he'd been before he'd started the enterprise. Not that profit had been part of his end goal. He sought to appease the agitated former-country after hearing rumors that the English wished to reestablish England as an independent country rather than remain a section of the Earth Sphere Unified Alliance. Thankfully, the plan had gone well, the rumors had quelled, and peace had continued much as it had since the end of the Eve Wars.

Lost in thought, trying to find a solution to his problem and not really paying attention to where he was going, Quatre rounded corners and strolled down streets before unconsciously stopping at a small park near the city's center. He slowed his pace to a leisurely stroll and lost himself in the serenity of the quiet scenery. He was so lost in his surroundings that when the sky opened up and the rain poured down on him. Blinking, he looked up and groaned. It was the last thing in the world he needed, and he shivered in his now-soaked lightweight jacket. Shivering, he started to walk toward a semi-sheltered bench when the rain stopped pounding on his head and shoulders.

"You look like you need this," a voice murmured, sounding amused and warm. He turned and looked down into a pair of pure, deep-blue eyes. A glorious mane of honey-in-shadows brown hair and a beautiful, youthful face surrounded those brilliant eyes. That hair brushed petite shoulders, and perfectly shaped, sweetly colored lips curved up into a small, charming smile. A simply manicured hand held the umbrella that was now keeping the rain from falling directly on him.

She was, Quatre decided, the most beautiful living being he'd ever seen.

"Thank you," he replied, returning her smile. Hers brightened in response and the change made her eyes crinkle slightly. He couldn't believe that out of the wreckage of the day, this angel had appeared before him.

"Well, we can't have the universe's most powerful and influential man catch cold now, can we?" the woman asked, chuckling. His smile lost some of its luster.

"So you do recognize me."

"Only from the billboard," she answered, pointing over his shoulder. He turned to see his smiling face plastered on a billboard just visible through the trees. He grinned in spite of himself and turned back to her.

"I hope you don't listen to all the things you hear about me," he told her. "By the way, I'm Quatre."

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Angel. And if you think that I believe for one second that you're sweet, kind, intelligent, resourceful, and funny, you've got another thing coming," she answered, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Ah, then you've discovered my true nature. I'm in reality a low-life sleaze who preys on women and hates small children. Not only that, but I don't know how to read, I'm about as interesting as a log, and all my good looks are a result of having a top-of-the-line plastic surgeon," he agreed, thinking that her name fit her perfectly. She certainly was an angel. "Did I mention that two plus two is six?"

She laughed out loud and nodded. "I always did consider myself a good judge of character," she said teasingly. Unable to think of a response but delighted with the company just the same, Quatre offered his arm and led her to the half-sheltered bench.

"Well, since you're such a good judge of character," he murmured as they settled, "perhaps I could convince you to help me out with a problem."

"That, Mr. Winner," she replied, eyeing him with a slight smile, "depends on the problem."

Slowly at first, but with growing confidence, Quatre explained his whole situation to her. Angel smirked a little and poked him in the chest.

"Let me get this straight. You're going to pay me five thousand dollars to prance around for a week acting like your girlfriend in front of your family, even though we're complete strangers?"

"I think I can trust you, and if I can't I have ways of dealing with that. Besides, our being strangers is a plus. We won't get too attached to each other," he argued. She snickered at him.

"You mean I won't get too attached to you," she replied, giving him a pointed glance. He smiled slightly and shrugged.

"Something like that, yeah. Anyway, are you interested? The relationship would be strictly professional. I swear that the farthest I'll go will be a peck on the cheek," he promised.

"Scout's honor?" she asked lightly, the teasing twinkle returning to her eyes.

"Scout's honor. Unless, of course, you decide that a small kiss isn't enough, at which point I would feel duty-bound as a gentlemen to appease your desires and—"

"Now, now…don't go getting your hopes up, Winner," she warned, and he laughed at her.

"Damn," he replied. "We leave in about four hours. Until then, how about lunch?"

"What about packing?" Angel asked.

"Hey, I'm Quatre Winner—I'll just buy you a week's worth of clothes. We'll take care of that after lunch. Besides, I've got to groom you into a lady before we show up at my sisters' door, or they'll be suspicious. Plus we can go over the things that we'd feasibly know about each other if we really were dating."

"All right…so where are you taking me?" she asked. He glanced at her, noticed a gleam in her eyes that he hadn't seen before, almost as if she knew something he didn't and was finding it terribly amusing.

"Well, I really don't feel like a stuffy, stuck-up restaurant, and I know a good place that will still have all the stuff we need for me to teach you formal table manners…have you ever been to O'Malley's?"

She burst out laughing. "I practically live there. Louie O'Malley was a surrogate dad to me during the wars while my father was away. Sometimes I still spend the night in the back room."

"Good, then we're agreed?"

"Agreed," she responded, and allowed him to lead her out of the park and down the block to the familiar and welcoming sight of O'Malley's Restaurant.

O'Malley's was a brick building that appeared to be much older than it was. It was run by an English couple who had seemingly befriended everyone in Neo-London. Louis O'Malley and his wife Elizabeth were in their late forties/early fifties, and were particularly dear to Quatre. Apart from having taken him in over the past few years, they'd given him council and insight. The restaurant itself was the most popular in the colony, attracting people from every single class distinction. The food was exquisite and the company warm and carefree. Whatever your worries, you forgot them as soon as you stepped through the door. It was something Quatre had come to appreciate when he sought refuge from a particularly grueling day at work. The furnishings were homely and quaint, making one feel as though they were lounging in a living room rather than a restaurant. There was a nice bar and comfortable, well-used booths. The interior was slightly dimmer than the outside room, but the lower lighting was warm and comfortable. There were leather chairs and comfortable old stools, some couches and a few televisions. There were bay windows with booths tucked nicely into them, offering a view of the not-too-distant park and the city's skyline. It was the place that Quatre had come to think of as a second home. No matter what the hour the restaurant was open to him, and he'd spent many late nights in comfortable silence, letting the perpetual peace of the place filter through him.

He spotted Louie as soon as he opened the door, and Liz only a moment after. The couple rushed over, smiling brightly. Louie clapped a companionable hand on Quatre's shoulder and smiled broadly.

"I see you two have found each other," he said. "I was starting to wonder how you always managed to show up at different times. I was just telling Lizzy that I thought you'd unconsciously planned it all out."

"Louie," Angel said warmly, accepting the older man's kiss on the cheek and warm hug. "It's good to see you. Liz, you're looking radiant."

"We found each other today," Quatre told them both, releasing Angel's arm in order to embrace Liz lightly. "At the park. She offered her umbrella when it started to rain."

"Ah, so I see," Liz murmured, glancing at the umbrella in Angel's free hand. The younger woman smiled up at her.

"Let's sit in my usual," she requested, and the older couple led the younger to a booth in one of the windows.

"Get out," Quatre murmured as Louie and Liz retreated back to the kitchen. "This is where I always sit."

"Go figure." Angel smiled and shrugged. "Told you I was a good judge of character. So, Mr. Winner, just how big is your family?"

"I have twenty-nine sisters, most of which are married. I think there's…oh, about fifty nieces and nephew," he replied with a laugh. She gaped.

"Fifty? Christmas must be hell," she commented.

"Can be…you try finding fifty different toys. And I always get stuck Christmas shopping a day or two beforehand because of my hectic schedule."

"Sounds to me like you need a vacation, Winner."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "You're starting to sound like my sisters."

"Good, maybe they'll like me. So, what's so special about this week? I'd of thought they'd have you over for a holiday rather than a nondescript week in February."

"My birthday's on the twentieth. Ironically," he added with a smile, "it will be my twentieth."

"Happy birthday," she replied, glancing up at him with a smile. She opened her mouth to continue, but Louie reappeared and started to set the table—complete with three forks, three spoons, two glasses, several knives, and an intricately folded napkin.

"Ah, you read my mind," Quatre told the older man, and Louie smiled at him.

"Why else would you show up here with a girl. I remember when you brought Catherine in for a lesson…it certainly made for an interesting evening."

Quatre smiled at the memory, though it made his heart ache. It had been a night nearly a year ago, and he'd escorted Cathy to this place for a similar lesson in dinner-table edict. It had taken her a while to grasp, especially with them both laughing so hard. Their relationship had been so young then, and so innocent. He'd loved her so much, but something had gone wrong. True, they were both only eighteen, but he was more than ready to commit to her, for the rest of her life if she'd wanted him.

He sighed as Louie left them again, and Angel studied his fallen features. He was certainly a gorgeous specimen. It was no wonder why he'd been named the 'Universe's most Eligible Bachelor' last month. His hair, meticulously cut though adorably messy, waved softly at the nape of his neck. Little curls tempted her fingers to play, though she kept her hands firmly in check around the stranger. His crystal-clear aquamarine eyes expressed his emotions very readily, making it easy for her to guess at his feelings. His hands were big, but delicate. There were telltale scars, a reminder that those hands had seen rough days, days much rougher than those that any normal aristocratic boys had seen. His shoulders, much broader now then they'd been back when he and his companions had been plastered all over the news during the war, looked good encased in a business jacket. They were wide and gave him a mature, attractive look. She guessed that underneath the perfectly pressed and crisp white button-up, his chest was firmly muscled. She had felt the strength of his arms when he'd escorted her to the restaurant. His face had lost the baby fat he'd retained just four years ago, melting away to reveal a strong jaw and high cheekbones. That face had matured to beautiful perfection, retaining some of the endearing childish charm from his younger, battle-ridden days. He had become, in summary, an Adonis. The perfect man. He was enough to make any pulse jump. He'd even grown a few inches in the past few years, reaching a nice, even height of 5'8".

Yes, he was perfect. He looked every bit the aristocratic, important businessman he portrayed. But already she could see that it was in fact only an act, and that the real Quatre was a simple, easy-going young man who worked too hard and played too little.

"Catherine's an old girlfriend, I take it," she commented lightly, sipping at the water before her as she spread her napkin in her lap. He glanced up at her and straightened his shoulders.

"You guessed it. You have great posture," he added matter-of-factly.

"No good trying to change the subject," she said, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "Want to tell me about her?"

"She's my best friend's sister. We'd been going out for a year. She dumped me today and left me high and dry this week…and to top it all off, she dumped me for a good friend of mine."

"Ouch." Angel winced sympathetically. "Tough break."

"You're telling me. And I think I still love her in spite of it all."

"Well, she must have been beautiful to catch your eye. And funny." Her eyes sparkled. "And a better judge of character than me, even."

He chuckled softly, appreciatively. She was trying to lighten the subject without making it into one big joke. Not only that, but she didn't jump on his side and start bashing the ex, either. It was an admirable facet to her interesting personality. And he still thought she was harboring some secret from him, something that she didn't seem quite ready to reveal yet.

"She was all of that and more, but she's in love with someone else. And it's not like they both don't deserve to be happy."

He flashed her a smile then, one of his killer, "everything in the universe is all right because I'm here," smiles that made Angel's heart thump against her chest almost painfully. He brushed the subject off with a shrug and leaned forward to explain the forks, spoons, and knives, then the glasses and the courses. She caught on very quickly, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, what do you think I should know about you, Winner? Apart from the fact that your twentieth birthday's in six days, you got dumped on Valentine's Day, and you're rich as all hell," she asked. He laughed softly.

"Well, for starters, you can call me Quatre and not Winner. My sisters will probably think that your using my last name is a little strange. And is it Valentine's Day? I hadn't even realized. Wow, that really kind of sucks…" He frowned thoughtfully, and Angel laughed at him.

"Don't worry, I'm all alone today too. And I'm only calling you Winner to keep it from getting too personal. I'll drop it when we're with your sisters."

"Right…well," he murmured, leaning in close and resting his chin on his laced fingers, "I like long walks on the beach in the moonlight, and candlelight dinners in the park…"

"If I didn't know any better, Winner, I'd think you were hitting on me," Angel replied with a laugh, also leaning forward.

"Who, me? I wouldn't know how to flirt if I took a class from Duo," he told her point blunt. She laughed again.

"Why do I get the feeling that this 'Duo' character is American?"

"Accurate guess. He is American."

"Okay, seriously…what else should I know?"

He grinned. "I really do like walks on the beach, and I don't mind candlelit dinners, either. I enjoy classical music and I play the violin, the piano, and the flute among others. I know a myriad of hand-to-hand combat styles, including several forms of martial arts, and I work way too much. I happen to love England. English is my second language…uhm…I love animals. I also enjoy the theatre and opera. I like novels and I'm a history buff when I get the free time…"

She smiled, intrigued and all ears. He had seldom come across such a keen listener. "You're obviously good at your job. How many languages do you speak."

He thought about it for a minute, ticked off the various languages on his fingers. "Japanese, though I admit brokenly, a little bit of Chinese, Arabic, English, Latin—quite fluently, I might add," he pointed out with a grin, "and French…a little bit of Spanish, but only because of the Latin and French."

She whistled softly, impressed. "I speak Arabic, though I'm a bit rusty. I know a wee bit of French, too."

"If you don't mind my asking, where are you from? You have a west-coast American accent, but your features speak differently."

"You're pretty observant, Winner…I'm actually English and Arabian, though I spent the majority of my childhood on L-2, hence the accent. I ran into Louie and Liz about seven years ago," she replied.

"Arabian? On which side?"

"My father's." Suddenly that secretive gleam was back in full force. She smiled at him knowingly, almost teasingly.

"All right, what is it?" he asked, unable to resist asking any longer. She laughed.

"You're actually very good friends with my father. You've been friends for…oh, seven or eight years in fact," she told him.

Quatre stopped to think about that. "The only people I've known that long are the Maganac."

"Right," she said with a nod. "My father's one of them."

"I give up…you don't really look like any of them," he told her after a minute. She burst into laughter again.

"Then this is really going to shock you." She paused for dramatic effect and he squirmed impatiently. Finally, seeing his suffering, she leaned in close and whispered. "Rasid Kurama."

He sat back in his chair, completely and utterly shocked. "You're kidding me," he breathed. "I didn't even know Rasid had a daughter. How come we've never met?"

"When my father decided to unite the Maganac and fight the Alliance, he sent me to hide with some family friends to keep me safe. Louie and Lizzy took me in not long after that, and for safety's sake my father and the other Maganac kept my existence on the down low. They didn't want the Alliance to discover me and use me as a bargaining chip."

"And I didn't meet them until after that. Does he visit?"

"Regularly, especially now that the war is over. And I visit him, too."

"I take it you got your mother's features," he commented, and Angel laughed softly at the observation.

"Down to the eye color."

He had to admit she was good company. The week would definitely be bearable with her around, and there was no danger of either of them getting too attached in such a short amount of time, no matter how attractive he thought she was. After Catherine, he didn't feel ready for a relationship. He suspected he wouldn't for a long time. Still, if he had been looking for romance, Angel certainly fit the bill…

No, best not to think like that.

She reminded him of Duo, only exquisitely feminine. She had a nice body, curvaceous and lithe from exercise. She was interesting, teasing, and funny in a lighthearted sort of way that immediately put him at ease. She was definitely a woman that a man could come home to after a long day's work, someone to unwind with. For one fleeting second he speculated that she would be the perfect woman to make long, lazy love to on a rainy afternoon before he firmly dismissed the thought and banished any related topics from his mind. He'd never even had the experience of sex before, so he couldn't really fanaticize. Besides, she was practically a stranger, technically an employee, and strictly hands-off.

"My father tells me you're quite the leader, and quite the fighter," she commented into the lengthy silence.

"Your father saved me more times than I could count, and he was the real leader," he replied.

"Yeah, dad was definitely right about your modesty, too," she teased, eyes laughing. "And honesty."

"Two qualities I'm grateful to have."

"You're humble, too. Tell me, Quatre—" he beamed at the sound of his first name from her lips, and she returned the warm smile—"is there anything about you that isn't perfect?"

The question caught him off-guard and he blinked. "Of course! I'm very far from perfect. I'm overly sensitive and I—"

She cut him off by touching a soft, gentle fingertip to his lips. She smiled at him a little. "It was a rhetorical question."

"Oh…" He chuckled and flushed a bit. "Right, sorry."

"Now I know why father wanted me to meet you so bad. He knew we'd get along…though Abdul tells me he's been wanting us to meet so he can marry us for years," she murmured, and Quatre laughed aloud at the thought of Rasid, his clucking, mother-hen-type father-figure trying to play matchmaker.

"He always did like to meddle."

Angel rolled her eyes and laughed with him. "Tell me about it."

"Hey…" He glanced at his watch. "We better get going. Are there any things—besides clothes—that you need before we go?"

"Uhm…I'll have to get my toothbrush and my book from my flat, but other than that I think I'll be okay," she replied. He nodded and helped her to her feet. As they stood, Louie and Lizzy wandered over.

"Well you two, I'll have to see you in a week. Winner's dragging me off to meet the family," Angel murmured, accepting warm hugs from them both. Lizzy and Louie exchanged a smile and both looked at Quatre in amusement.

"So soon?" Louie asked.

"She's part of my plan," was all Quatre would say, and the older couple let it drop.

"Right then. Have a good trip, and Quatre, try to relax for once. We'll see you both when you get back," Lizzy said.

"Though more than likely not together," Angel added before Quatre could. Louie smiled mysteriously.

"We'll see," he muttered cryptically. "Go on now. We'll miss you both."

"We'll miss you, too…take care," Angel replied, and Quatre handed Louie an obscene amount of money.

"For the excellent lunch," he said before the older man could protest. "See you soon."

Then Angel found herself being led out of the restaurant, waving at her "parents" as Quatre took her back to the Winner Enterprises office building to retrieve his car.

Angel's flat was several stories up and very nicely decorated. She had sensible, fresh taste and an eye for interior design. The living room was an intriguing mix of cultures and styles, but it all blended together attractively. The furnishings were comfortable and well loved, as well as tactful and conservative. Quatre was pleased to note that they shared the same taste. That would also help the week to go by with ease. The more convincing they were, the better. He noted that she was a great lover of books. They were everywhere, even in her small kitchenette. Everything was neat and in order, though it was utterly clear that someone lived there. He felt at home almost instantly.

"Nice place," he commented, strolling around nonchalantly. She tossed a smile over her shoulder as she walked toward her room. He followed unhurriedly. Her room was even more comfortable than the living room, and he found himself enjoying the atmosphere.

"Thanks. I like it." She retrieved a pair of slippers, a set of workout clothes, a toothbrush, makeup, and a book. "Tea?"

"Oh, you just said the magic word. English Breakfast?" he asked.

"Is there any other kind?" she asked lightly as she headed back toward the kitchenette to put the water on the stove. "So, how is this going to work? Won't your sisters wonder when we simply stop seeing each other after this week?"

He shrugged. "If you keep ribbing on me, it might look like we've got a few differences. Though we might have to stage a small fight before the end of the week."

She nodded and got the teacups and teabags ready as the water started to boil. "Sounds easy enough. How much time do we have before the shuttle for Earth leaves?"

"About two hours, but we should be there early."

"Right. Mr. Winner is always punctual."

"To a fault," he agreed with a grin, the "all right" smile back in place. His eyes twinkled up at her, and he was a little surprised to see a slight answering flush. It made her, he reflected, look incredibly adorable. He could definitely see himself in a romantic relationship with her, though he'd never let that happen.

"All right, fine…Little, stupid fact quiz…what's your favorite color?" she asked.

"Blue. Yours?" he countered.

"Same. Favorite food?"

"Oh…tough one. Everything from fillet minion to mac 'n cheese and pizza. You?"

"Ha…I like mac 'n cheese and pizza, too. And steak…and ice cream, and…well, lots of stuff. Favorite place to visit?"

"British Isles and Egypt. You?"

She paused. "Probably the same, though I don't get to travel much. Most attractive feature in a girl?"

"Sense of humor and eyes. And in a boy?"

"Same. Stop that," she demanded, and he laughed.

"I can't help it if you're copying me."

"Who's copying who?"

"I'm older!" he replied.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Yep, I'm older. When's your birthday?" he asked.

"June twenty-first. How many kids do you want?"

"At least two. Hopefully more. But only after I'm married," he answered.

"Sounds good, I can work with that."

"Good."

They sat for a while in silence, sipping their tea. Then they chatted about little, non-committal things like the ever-rainy weather in the British Isles, reflected in the colony, and the current happenings in the world. After a glance at his watch, Quatre stood and offered his hand to help her to her feet as well.

"Time for us to get going," he announced, and she nodded.

"Let's get this show started," she agreed, and he drove her to the shuttle port. An hour later they were settled in their flight, scheduled to land on Earth by morning, after a short refueling stop at L-2. Shortly into the flight, Angel fell asleep curled in her chair. Smiling a little to himself, thinking for the hundredth time that somehow she managed to be sexy and cute at the same time, he brushed the hair from her face and settled back into his own seat to pursue the land of dreams.

Don't get attached, he chanted to himself, and then slipped blissfully off to sleep.