Description: Hilde's 20th birthday. Relena gave her a surprise party, and her gift to Hilde was a silver antique amulet. Unknowingly, the two girls made a wish, while Hilde was wearing the amulet. Now, Hilde and Relena, and two other unfortunate souls are in for a weekend they will not soon forget.

A Weekend to Remember

Chapter 11: The Night from Hell Begins

No one deserved this torture.  How do women wear this shit anyway?  The constant wedgie was literally the biggest pain in the ass he'd ever experienced and, to make matters worse, the irritable scrap of fabric continuously kept riding up further.  Every angle he shifted to worsened his situation.

He glanced toward Relena out the corner of his eye.  The little shit was actually smirking.  Something in him finally snapped.

'Alright, this means war.' Heero thought and mentally threw down his gauntlet.

Relena sat up straighter in her seat.  She felt like someone just slapped her.  She turned towards Heero.  He looked grim as usual, but upon closer inspection she noticed a different light in his eyes.  He had a look of hardened determination.  It was a look she had not seen in long time, and she instantly knew it was directed toward her. 

Her smirk widened to his quiet challenge.  She was actually looking forward to it.  'Bring it on.'

Heero, as if sensing her acceptance, quietly spoke.  "Count on it."

Now all they had to do was wait.  Wait for this damn limo ride to end and wait for this damned night to be over.  Then he was going to see to it that she kept her promise.  Oh yes.  His little princess owed him big time and he was not about to let her off the hook very easily.

Their arrival at the huge reception hall proved easy enough.  Now all they had to do was pray that the rest of the night went as well.  Relena knew that Heero would not take kindly to reporters shoving microphones in his face and, thankfully, that had not happened.  Yet.  So far all they had to deal with were flashing cameras and yelled questions, which was a miracle in her book.

Now came the true test.  Could Heero make it through the night without threatening to kill a single person?  She could only hope.

As if on cue, she saw someone making a beeline in their direction.  Relena groaned.  'Maybe he'll go away.  Maybe he'll find someone else to bother on his way here.  Maybe he'll . . .'

"Enchante Mademoiselle (1) Foreign Minister.  It's so good to see you again."  He was so concerned about getting to Relena before anyone else that he practically pushed Quatre and Catharine aside, who unfortunately happened to be in his way.  Then he bowed, took Heero's hand, and lightly kissed it.

Heero quickly pulled his hand away and resisted the urge to deck the bastard for even thinking he had permission to touch him, or Relena for that matter.  He wanted to punch his overconfident ass and tell him to get lost, but somehow Heero managed the opposite.  He took a deep breath and silently counted from ten backwards in Italian.  Feeling a little better after a few moments, he managed to give the man a forced smile. 

"Yes, it is." Heero replied in the sweetest Relena voice he could muster. 

"You're looking lovely tonight, as usual."  The delegate said with a playful smile.

'Take slow deep breaths.  I will not kill the bastard.  I will not kill the bastard.  I can get through this.' 

Heero continued his mental pep talk as his new acquaintance decided to get a little braver.

Duo blinked as he continued to stare in Heero's direction.  'Am I seeing this correctly?'  He then noticed how hard Heero's hands were clenched at his sides and knew it wouldn't be long before his friend finally snapped.  Something needed to be done fast.  The slight movement made by their new arrival immediately placed Duo on full alert.

Relena was about to panic.  She knew Heero's cool demeanor couldn't last forever.  Her head was reeling.  She needed to come up with an idea very quickly, but she was at a loss. 

'Shit!  What would Heero do in a case like this?  Okay.  Bad idea.  Don't pull a Heero, but damnit it can't be too out of character.  Crap.  Crap.  Crap.  Oh, double crap, what's that idiot up to now?'

Relena felt her knees start to shake as she watched the idiot, whose name she couldn't recall, take another step toward Heero and once again reach for his hand.  'Son of a bitch!'

Heero snapped out of his reverie when he felt a light touch move slowly down his arm to his hand.  'Okay, that tears it!  Someone is about to die a slow and painful death.'

The delegate continued to smile; oblivious to the danger his life was in.  "May I have the honor of the next dance, Mademoiselle?"  He said and once again raised Heero's hand to his lips to place a light kiss.

Heero tried to pry his hand away, but the old fart was actually stronger than he looked.  Heero was about to slap the man's hand away when he felt someone else grab a hold of his other hand.  'Now what?'

He looked to his side to see that it was Relena who stopped him.  She was holding onto his hand, and he could tell she was silently begging him to behave.  'Bloody hell!  What does she think I'm trying to do?'

He tried again to count from ten backwards, this time in Spanish.  Maybe he'd have better luck with a different language.  'Diez, Nieve,  . . .'

He never finished, however, because his admirer started to get a little impatient from lack of response. 

"Mademoiselle?"

"She can't."  Came the blurted reply before Heero could even answer for himself.

"Why on Earth not?"  The delegate asked looking for whoever was rude enough to interrupt his conservation with the Vice Foreign Minister, never mind that he had completely ignored the other ten people standing around her until that moment.  It was then that he noticed the vicious glares he was receiving from everyone standing around him.  He especially noticed the glare coming from the dark brown-headed boy with Prussian blue eyes.  If looks could kill, he would already be dead. 

"Because . . . um . . . uh . . ." Duo tried to think hard for any logical reason.  His mind was currently drawing a blank.  He really just wanted the night to end.  But, thankfully, he didn't have to come up with a reason himself.

"Because she doesn't have to associate herself with a dishonorable pompous ass such as yourself."  Wufei interrupted finally having enough.

The man turned up his nose.  "Humph.  Well, I never.  Do you know who you are talking to, boy?"

Wufei glared harder at the man and crossed his arms over his chest.  "No.  Don't care to either."

He puffed up like an overstuffed irritated peacock.  "Why I aught to . . ." 

"You aught to, what?"  Someone else spoke up, daring the man to finish.

The man looked at the little chit who dared speak to him in such a tone.  "And, who might you be?" 

"Some call me Dorothy, but you Sir . . ." Her tone started to turn a little malicious.  "May call me Miss. Catalonia."

He tapped his finger on his chin as if trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.  Suddenly a glimmer of recognition came across his face.  "Ah, Mademoiselle Catalonia, it is such a pleasure to see you again.  Why I haven't seen you since you were just a small child.  Your grandfather once brought you with him to our house, but you probably don't remember.  You were really young then.  Allow me to introduce myself I am Ambassor Alfonse Dinmont."  He bowed and gracefully took her hand.  "Pleased to see you again, Mademoiselle."

Dorothy fought the urge to cringe as he lightly kissed her hand.  She wanted to rip her hand away from him, but propriety demanded she grin and bare it.  She did not like this man.  She didn't care if he was a former acquaintance of her grandfather or not.  He was rude, arrogant, and the only reason he was paying her or Relena any attention was because of their family background and money.  She grit her teeth.  "No, the pleasure is all mine."

Quatre saw how Trowa was forcibly resisting the urge to bodily remove the man from the building.  He knew something needed to be done before the idiotic ambassador dug his grave any deeper.  Quatre took a deep breath and stepped forward to put an end to this charade once and for all.

Everyone anxiously watched as Quatre placed a firm hand on the ambassador's shoulder and politely pulled him away from Dorothy.  "Ambassador Dinmont, is it?"

"Yes."  He answered then another little light of recognition appeared.  "Oh,Monsieuer Winner, it is such an honor to finally meet you."  Then he took Quatre's hand in a rapid handshake.

Quatre sighed and pulled his hand away.  "Yes… um… likewise I'm sure, but I'm sorry to say we need to be going.  We were supposed to meet the Lady upon arrival, but as you can see we are running a little late.  So, if you'll excuse us."

"Oh!  Well, don't mind me."  He then turned to Heero.  "I'll get that dance with you later on, Mademoiselle."  He grinned then walked away just as quickly as he arrived.

"Like hell you will."  Heero venomously replied under his breath.

"Can you believe that guy?"  Hilde asked disgusted.

"Yeah, actually I can."  Sally answered.  "People like him are just . . ."

"Dishonorable weaklings."  Wufei finished for her.

"Thank you, Wufei, but I was going to say, too arrogant and pigheaded to know any different."

"Don't patronize me, woman."

"Why Wufei, what on earth would give you such an idea?  I'd never dream of doing such a thing."  Sally said with a teasing smirk.

"Woman."  He said in a warning tone, which only made Sally laugh.

Dorothy slightly giggled under her breath at the two of them, but she decided a change of subject was in order to not a cause an even bigger scene.  "Thank you, Quatre, for getting rid of him for us."  She gratefully said.

"It was nothing."  He replied and slightly blushed from the unexpected praise.  "Well, we need to let Lady Une know we are here and find out if there have been any changes before we head to our posts."

"Yes."  Heero replied more than ready to get away for a few minutes before someone else tried to pull a similar stunt.  "Let's go."

~~~To Be Continued~~~

(1) Enchante is French meaning "enchanted" or "delighted."  It is usually used in the form of a greeting.  Mademoiselle is also French.  It is the way to address a woman who has never been married.  It is equivalent to the English title of Miss.   Just like Monsieuer is the French title equivalent to the English title of Mister and Madame is akin to Mrs.

Thank you everyone for all your patience with this chapter. 

Well, I must go for now.

Bye,

Carebear