A little Gundum Wing fanfict I wrote. I know it's really short, ok??? Please don't flame me about that. And I don't really know where I got the idea for this. It kinda just flowed out into what it is. So enjoy.

Not too sure if it's for Relena lovers or Relena haters. Maybe for both.

It's a dark fict. I should warn you about that. It's dark.

That Moment
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Gently, she sealed the letter she had written. Then, put it leaning against a picture of Heero and she when they had spent some time together before he had left for space... again.
She had always loved him. She guessed she always would. But things were changing between them, and things would never be the same again.
She knew he had left, looking for other things. No, not for someone else. No, Heero just wasn't the type to stay around for very long. He would stay for a while sometimes, but soon be on his way again, looking for things.
She knew what he looked for --- or more, what he LONGED for. He longed for the taste of battle again. But there hadn't been a war in months.
She looked out the window, to the garden below. Sometimes she wondered what kept her here. Wondered what kept her being a Vice Foreign Minister. There were always so many things she had to do. She was getting tired of the paperwork and all of the questions the political people kept asking her. She was getting bored with all of the balls and fuctions she had to go to. She was really getting tired with everything... including life.
She had never had much of a childhood. Her father was always travelling back and forth from Earth to the Colonies. Earth had been their home, but sometimes she had gotten the feeling that her father had loved space more than anything else.
"Next time we come into space, father, how about leaving a little bit of free time for yourself," she had told him, or something close to that, the last time they had travelled back from the Colonies together. They had never gone back up again, together at least, because shortly after that he had been assasinated by some people from OZ.
Now she understood though what it was like to be such a highly involved person. She had for quite a few years now. And she wanted rid of the pressure. She finally came to the decission: she would never again involve herself with politics. If she didn't stop now, she would never be able to.
"Politics are like a drug," her brother always told her, "except, instead of going back for the drug, they come back for you."
She knew how true that was. They always did come back for her, no matter how many times she tried to get away. Oh, she could take as many vacations as she wanted, but she always knew what laid ahead when she came back from her trips.
She sat there on her bed for a minute, just feeling the light breeze that came through the open door which led onto her balcony. In a way, sitting there, she longed for a battle --- for another war. Yes, she a pascifist leader, longed for another war. Something that would take her mind off of all of what was happening.
She laid down on the bed, and felt the cool metal touch her head. The letter she had written to her brother and the others was on her dressing table. The ink was still fresh, for she had only written it about a half hour ago.
This time, she knew she would never see them again. This time, she was taking a permenent vacation. She had said her goodbyes in her letter, and appologized for leaving in such a way. But it was her only escape, and she had to get away from everything.
She lay there for a moment, then pulled the trigger and she ended it all. At that moment, she ended all of her frustrations, her worries, everything she had ever known and felt. At that moment... her part in the world ceased to exist.

"War is much like an endless waltz. The three beats of war, peace, and revolution continue on forever."

When some things stop to exist though, and times change, its affects can surprise people in the largest ways. For some people, they live for battle. For others, it's just an escape, a way to get attention off of them. And for others... it's a meaningless thing that somehow manages to give meaning to their life and explain why they continue living as others die.