Title: What was Lost

Author: Liewe

Disclaimer: standard apply

Midii sat glaring at the computer screen in front of her. These people who thought that the world belonged to them, that everyone else was put there to do their every whim. The snobby aristocrats really got to her. She had taken the job working as a secretary to a big firm to help pay the bills. There was no place in the world for a spy; there was no need for her skills. She sighed brushing her short pale gold hair behind her ear. She gazed over the rim of her glasses at the people who occupied the waiting room, demanding an audience with the head of the Biotech Empire.

The sudden entrance of a young man and his companion brought her mind back from thoughts of torture for the ones who had ruined her life. The first man, a young blonde with hair the color of the desert sands, and eyes as clear as a serene lake after a storm, stood patiently before her, almost understandingly. His companion was similar to the man but different. His burnished copper skin, telling of hours of toil spent in the sun. The striking emerald of his eyes scanning the room for possible threats, and his hair a burnished reddish brown, falling at an impossible angle to give him an air of mystery. No this one was different, his soul was hidden by a mask of pain and mystery, he wasn't open and caring like the first man. His heart though would love unconditionally when it was finally given.

"How may I help you," came her accented voice, the time spent in France had done wonders to erasing her German heritage. Her eyes once a vibrant dove-gray so full of life were listless now, dull. He remembered her though, the woman who had haunted his thoughts as a young boy.

"I am here to see Monsieur DuPont," came the blonde's soft lilting voice, the hints of Arabia filtering through his words. "Do you have an appointment, sir," she asked tiredly, desperately yearning for the end of the day.

"Yes, I do. Please tell him Quatre Raberba Winner is here to see him." He said, the name spurring a memory with in her mind, he was a Gundam pilot, an heir to an empire, the lover of the man she loved. Her manicured hand reached out to tap the intercom, politely informing her boss of his latest guest.

"Just go right in," she said motioning towards the ornate oak doors, her eyes glistening with unseen tears. He nodded a small thank you to her before striding into the pits of hell, as some would call it. Only those experienced in the back stabbing politics of the world of empires ever came out intact. He was one who knew the ways, he would come out intact, the same man he entered as, maybe even more.

"You can take a seat over there," she said to the other man, the one she recognized as her love. He would never know the depth of her feelings for him, for she would never tell. He was happy with the blue-eyed angel and that is how it would stay, his happiness meant too much to her for a foolish act such as confessing her feelings would be.

"Thank you," he said to her before turning his back, a flash of recognition in his eyes. He knew the young, stylish woman who kept guard over DuPont's empire, she had once been a young girl to save his life and betray him in the same day, same hour. He turned around in a fluid motion, confusion marring his perfect features, his eyes, "your name please," he asked softly, an undertone of panic in his voice.

"Mademoiselle Midii Une, Nanashi," she sighed, raking a perfectly manicured hand through her short hair. She waited for his reaction to the dreaded words, Nanashi, a reminder from his past. She waited for the gun barrel to rest between her eyes, but it never came, she only felt surrounded by emotion, engulfed in it. He leaped over the desk to pull her into his arms, all thought of decorum long forgotten, in his joy. To have searched and searched for something you thought was lost to only find it by accident was a miracle.

"Midii, Midii," he kept on whispering into her hair, his arms, steel bands around her, holding her to him. She couldn't react, her face a mask of shock at Trowa's sudden outburst, she had always taken him as a private man, hiding his emotions from the public face.

"Trowa," she replied dazedly before burying her head in his chest, strangled sobs making their way past the constriction in her throat. The rational part of her mind was roughly pushed aside by her romantic side, playing Trowa as the knight in shining armor come to rescue his princess from the evil tyrant who called himself her boss. The sudden ecstasy of his lips on hers brought reality crashing down, forcing her to push him away, her eyes ignoring the hurt blazing like emerald fire in his own.

"Please, take a seat over there on the couch," she said her tone clipped and professional as her cheeks blazed red in embarrassment. This was not meant to happen, he was happy with another, a man, a blue-eyed angel who didn't have betrayal etched into his soul.

"Midii," he began to question her but her dismissive gesture and the tears slowly making their way down her face, destroying the look she had taken hours to perfect.

"Midii, would you like me to take over for a moment while you freshen up," came a soft voice from her left. A young woman, a fiery red head stood there, glaring at the man who had destroyed the peace Midii had managed to accomplish within her soul. "Thank you Itsvana," she whispered before disappearing in a flurry of gray silk, her heels making a staccato against the marble of the office floor. As she got further and further from the confining office, her steps became faster and faster until she was sprinting down the halls, tears coursing down her cheeks, she was blind to the world, not hearing those around her, not caring.

Trowa stood rooted to the spot for a moment, staring in the direction she had left, his heart screaming at him to follow. His mind stubbornly refusing, his ego tenderly nursing it's wounds. The sudden increase in her soft steps forced his leaden legs to work as he covered the distance she had already run in long strides, a goal in mind. Itsvana smiled, softly seeing the evidence of his love for her friend, her anger pushed aside. He hadn't meant to hurt her, she could feel it, she could feel his turmoil as he ran. She could feel the hurt radiating from his soul and she could feel the hurt radiating from Midii's as she ran to an unknown place of solitude.

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet, Itsvana, things could still change, she could reject him," came a soft masculine voice from Itsvana shoulder. The man, transparent to the world, hidden from the eyes of those around her. His long silver hair brushed her cheek as he circled her like a hungry panther waiting for its dinner. His flaming green eyes bore into hers as a bet was remembered. She would be his slave for a millennia or more if the two soul mates were not brought together. Something that could be interesting for the both of them.

"I will win. And you will eat your words, Joquen, you will eat your words," she replied to him, in a voice meant only for his ears. Trowa caught up to the running woman, his arms snaking around her waist to pull her against him, the force from their collision sending them both toppling to the floor. Midii landed trapped beneath Trowa's larger more muscled form, her breath rushing from her gasping lips. He gazed into her eyes, worry and concern over riding the anger and the hurt.

"Are you alright," he asked breathlessly, his eyes holding hers, his body trapping hers.

"I will be when you get off me," she said through gritted teeth, feebly trying to dislodge him, trying to escape the haunting look he held on her.

"Not until you listen to me," were his clipped words as she continued to struggle, her short golden hair brushing his cheek as she struggled.

"Let me go," she tried again, her legs kicking out in an attempt to cause him enough pain to where he would release her. Release the hold he had on her.

"Why do you run from me," he demanded, his eyes hurt not only from the mental pain she was inflicting but the physical as well, she had good aim.

"Why did you kiss me," she countered, her movements ceasing as she gave in with a defeated sigh.

"Because I've been searching for you," he said softly, his arms now supporting most of his weight as he gazed into her eyes. He belatedly realized that no one had said a thing about the rather compromising position they were in, his head swiveled from side to side as he tried to explain the phenomena. They were alone, not a soul in site as he had so hoped, his eyes lit with a silent glee as he moved to straddle her, firmly keeping her in place. He gazed down at her annoyed form and could only wonder at its beauty before he had to lean closer to catch her next words.

"You're with Quatre," she whispered in a broken voice, and his world came tumbling down. The sorrow in her eyes was explained the pain he had seen in her heart, those simple words explained everything. She believed him to still be romantically involved with is best friend, something that had ended months ago. Quatre was with Dorothy now and he hadn't seen the young Arab happier in all the time he'd known him. They had mistaken their feelings of love for something deeper, something more concrete, but they could only ever be the best of friends.

"Midii, look at me, look at me," he repeated moving her chin so that she faced him. "We broke up, I found that someone else held the key to my heart, someone that wasn't Qautre, we're only good friends now."

"That's not true," she replied shaking her head, her hair whipping around her face in a cloud of gold. He turned his head at the sound of footsteps to see the face of his once lover standing behind him, an untraceable emotion in his eyes.

"It is," he said softly, " I am engaged to be married to Dorothy Catalonia, Trowa and I are only best friends, he loves you," came the soft voice. His eyes shining with understanding and sympathy.

"It can't be," she said in disbelief, her eyes glazing over in shock. "How could you love me," she asked Trowa.

"You are a kind and caring person, you risked your own to save mine, you cried about betraying the people who I had called my family. You were forced to commit those atrocities," he said before silencing her with a kiss, a clearing of throat from Quatre caused a blush to travel up Trowa's neck as he moved off the stunned girl. He offered his hand to pull her to her feet, pulling her body against his.

"What was I telling you Joquen," Itsvana said smugly, her body returning to the astral plane. Her eyes shone with the ice of the highlands as cloth swathed her body. She was one of the forgotten gods, her name forbidden to be uttered on holy ground; she was a mischief-maker as was Joquen. Her fiery hair danced around her body as the unseen wind whipped past her, through her. Her long fingers beckoned Joquen towards her, his body moved of its own volition, answering her call as be succumbed to her will, and a millennia of servitude. When you were immortal you couldn't but help play in the lives of mortals, making useless wagers to pass the time.

Back on earth in the physical plane, two mortals stood enraptured with each other, tasting the honeyed nectar of their love. A young man stood off to the side, his heart whole now that the emptiness which had been consuming his best friend. The world was right, and what was lost had been found.