AN: Well, here I am. I know, I know, I've been MIA pretty much all summer, but I'm not going to waste your time with excuses I know you don't want to hear. Suffice it to say this: Opportunity will get done. It's written, it just needs to be edited. It will be updated. And my many apologies, especially to Lauren Maxwell.:)
So what is this? Well…my distraction, I should say. The reason Opportunity and Incog haven't been updated. I started it last November for Nanowrimo, and all of a sudden it just sort of flew off the handle and I couldn't stop writing. It's a lot more lighthearted and comedic than anything I've written lately, and I really love it.
I should warn you…it takes place in December, and yes, it's about Christmas. I know that's really out of season, but I felt so bad about not updating I figured I should post something in excuse for my absence. I hope people won't be put off by the holiday theme, since it is summer…but hey, what's the harm in a little Christmas in July? ;)
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Finding the Season
By Dragonfire
The dark hallways of the Preventers Headquarters were silent this morning; the guards on duty were each in their respective rooms, glued to security monitors or computer screens. The bulletproof windows were still pitch black; it would be at least another two hours before dawn.
Up in the front lobby, a bell dinged quietly in the silence. The night shift was just ending, and new guards were taking over. Two young cadets stood yawning at the front desk, watching through bleary eyes as the receptionist fed their ID cards through a softly whirring machine.
"Can't believe the shift starts at three-thirty in the morning," one muttered, groaning.
"I hate this job," his companion agreed, rubbing at his eyes.
"I mean, it pays well, but - "
"But where's the fun in sitting around all day scribbling coordinates and waiting for something exciting to happen?"
The first cadet snorted. "And it never will, considering we work under Mr. Boredom himself."
"Ah! Don't get me started. What kind of absolute imbecile would turn down six promotions, an eighty-thousand-dollar pay raise, and, the very worst - "
This was in unison:
"A jet black Speedway convertible!"
"Free, no less!"
"Zero to blur in five point four seconds flat - "
"The perfect way to pick up chicks!"
"So tell me, please, why the heck that idiot turned it down?"
A deep voice sounded behind them, just low enough for the two cadets to hear.
"Perhaps he doesn't need a car to 'pick up chicks.'"
The cadets went ramrod stiff. Icy fingers skipped down their spines as their boss, all six-foot-five, pure muscle of him stepped around to face them.
"Oh shit," one mumbled under his breath.
The other scrambled to attempt a stammered reply: "W-we, uh…well, you see, Lieutenant…"
"We were simply implying that you would look positively dashing in the car, sir," covered the first.
Ice hard Prussian-blue eyes glared the cadet down. "Save your breath, Peterson. You're going to need it to explain your tardiness this morning." He turned back to the receptionist, took his ID card, and strode briskly off.
Sighing, the two cadets took their own cards and headed toward the elevators in the opposite direction.
"Unbelievable," the cadet named James Peterson mumbled.
His partner, a redhead called Austin Carnes, said sadly, "Didn't realize we were that late."
Peterson glanced up at the clock on the wall and grimaced. "Three forty-seven on the dot," he muttered. "How the heck can he be that punctual?"
"Easy," muttered Carnes sullenly. "He's a robot."
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The watch on Heero Yuy's wrist actually read three-forty-five exactly, meaning he was running a full sixty seconds ahead of schedule today. At the minute he was already in his office, seated at his desk, reading over the night's security reports from the Peacecraft mansion. All seemed to be in good order; he read them again. And once more. When he was finally finished, he carefully filed the folder away, and promptly opened the next.
After scrutinizing the contents, the dark-haired lieutenant stood and crossed to a PA speaker on the wall. It was only thirty seconds after voicing his request that a knock sounded lazily on his door.
"Enter," he barked.
The door swung open, then shut. The newcomer crossed the room slowly, then sank into an armchair in the corner.
"Y'know," Duo Maxwell muttered, "I can't understand how you get up this early…or why you bother with briefings in the morning anyways, I never remember what you say…"
Heero glared at the man in the chair, who was toying, half-asleep, with his thick, chestnut-brown braid. "Which is exactly why," he drawled, "I'm bringing Trowa in on this one."
As if one cue, the door opened again, and in strode a very solemn, very serious man. He took a seat, turned to Heero, and murmured, "What do we have?"
The man with the braid heaved a sigh and tried to fall asleep.
"Terrorist threat," Heero said shortly. He spread the contents of his folder on his desk, for Trowa's alert eyes to take note of. "We know who, we just don't know where."
The other soldier studied the map Heero had set on the table. "That's…three - no, four possible detonation points?"
"Right. Two are factories, one is an apartment building, and the last is a hospital."
"Where are they located?"
There was a loud snore from somewhere in Duo's armchair. Both of the other men didn't even blink.
"The two factories are downtown, the apartments on 16th and Sossaman, and the hospital is Currington General, on Broadway and Power - about an hour away from here."
Trowa gave a single nod. "I see. You believe they will choose one of the factories."
"I'm fairly certain the hospital and apartments are decoys."
"I agree. Are we posting teams to divert the attacks?"
"Yes. I trust you to handle that."
"Not a problem."
Heero stood, and Trowa followed suit. Duo continued snoring. "I think," Heero said, nodding once to the man opposite him, "that it'll be routine. Simplistic."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Trowa's mouth. Heero, in his own subtle way, was telling him to take his time, something Trowa was grateful for. As a father of two, time was something Trowa struggled to obtain these days.
"Thank you," he said, and then in one fluid, elegant movement, pulled a rather awake Duo from his chair, dragging him to the door.
"Have the report on my desk by eight tonight," Heero said as he shut the door behind them. "And Duo, work on your acting."
Duo stuck his tongue out at the door as Trowa led him down the hallway. "Jeez," he muttered, "such a stiff. Why do we take orders from him again?"
"Because if he hadn't turned down six promotions, he would be heading the whole force now. He's the only leader I would really trust in this entire building."
Duo trudged after his partner, sighing. "Makes me wonder. Back when we were flying Gundams he wouldn't have taken a second thought at the opportunity to give more orders. Wonder what happened?"
Trowa knew exactly what had happened, but explaining it to Duo - especially when Braid Boy's brain hadn't been activated by the usual four cups of coffee yet - would take entirely too much energy.
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After briefing the two other pilots, Heero took a moment to breathe, and leaned his forehead against the door. Today's work would be the usual - security, bodyguarding - but it didn't matter. Before leaving the safety of this office, the headquarters, he always had to stop and prepare himself for another day spent guarding the one person it nearly killed him to be close to.
The discovered terrorist plans were near the back of his mind somewhere; he knew it would be taken care of effortlessly, the report neatly typed and placed on his desk exactly on time, and the week would progress as normal. Another week…with her.
He took two more deep breaths, then picked up his briefcase and exited the room. He didn't have to look at his watch - he knew he was exactly on schedule.
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Somewhere, there was an irritating noise. And it was extremely irritating, and it would not shut up. Relena flung a hand out into the darkness, rummaging around in the mess that was her nightstand while burying her face deeper into the pillow. Finally, her fingers found what they were looking for. She pulled back and then chucked the annoyance as far as she could throw it…
…and Pagan, the butler, ducked as yet another alarm clock went sailing over his head as he entered the Vice Foreign Minister's room.
"Good morning, Miss Relena."
Buried amidst the covers and numerous pillows on her bed, Relena gave an incoherent mumble.
Pagan glanced fondly at the golden hair spread every which-way on the pillows, and laughed to himself as he opened the windows.
Soft early-morning light spilled into the room onto Relena's bed, and from somewhere in the bed came: "What time is it?"
Glancing out the hallway, where the remains of the unfortunate alarm clock were scattered across the hallway, the butler said wryly, "Five forty-three a minute ago, miss."
"What!" She sat up like lightning, whirling around to face him, the golden hair in complete disarray. "Are you sure?"
"Trust me," the butler returned dryly. "I'm sure."
There was a shriek, and when Pagan turned, the bathroom door was just closing. "Pagan!" she cried. "I slept in again!"
The elderly butler chuckled as he heard the shower come on at the same time as the plugging and unplugging of various hair devices, and the water running in the sink. Though the Vice Foreign Minister was twenty-seven now, some mornings he felt as if he were tending to a teenager.
It wasn't, he decided as he bent to pick up the pieces of the demolished clock, such a bad thing. Not every person gets to have a clock chucked at him by one of the highest governing officials alive. You just had to learn how to duck.
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Clothes flew over her head as Relena tore through her closet, ripping blouses off the hangers. "Of all days to be late…" she muttered as she finally grabbed a light blue button-down, threw it on, and straightened the matching skirt, freshly ironed (thanks to Pagan, about two minutes prior). Hopping across the room on one foot as she tried to shove the other into an elegant high-heeled shoe, Relena used her one free hand to twist her hair into what she prayed was a passing excuse for a sophisticated twist.
"Oh please, oh please," she breathed, finally getting the shoes on and managing to keep the hair in one place. Next she flew through the mess on the nightstand again, throwing miscellaneous items into her purse and hoping they were being thrown where they were needed.
A knock came at the door.
"Relena?"
"Crap!" she hissed, giving herself a hasty glance in the mirror, yanking her cell phone from its charger, and finally throwing open the door.
And there he was, leaning against the wall in the hallway, looking as terribly professional, collected, and devastatingly handsome as he always did…every minute of every day…regardless of the situation…
Inwardly, she sighed. Outwardly, she straightened her posture, looking him straight in the eye, and said calmly, "Good morning, Mr. Yuy."
Without waiting for a reply, she started down the hall, trying as hard as she could to look refined and keep her breathing steady. But there weren't footsteps following her - she turned.
He was still against the wall, watching her with one eyebrow raised.
"What?"
"You might," he drawled in his monotone, "want to wear shoes that match."
The blush was rising to her cheeks even before she glanced down and realized that she had one elegant Manolo heel of dark blue on her right foot, and one shoe of vivid orange, employed once for a costume party at the Maxwell's, on her left.
Don't look at him, don't look at him… Trying to keep her head high, she turned and went inside the room again, corrected the problem at hand (or foot), and exited. He hadn't moved from his spot against the wall.
This time, as she started down the hall, he was right behind her. As they stepped into the elevator, out of the corner of her eye she saw him glance at his watch.
"Right on schedule," he murmured.
She didn't say anything, just stared in mortification at the elevator doors and begged them to open.
His face expressionless, Heero turned calmly to the servant girl next to him and remarked, "It's a good thing I allow time for wardrobe malfunctions."
Just kill me now.
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Staring out the window of the limousine as they made their careful way to the downtown area, Relena was blind to the soft images of falling snow and Christmas decorations as she lamented mentally about the bodyguard sitting alertly on the other side of the car.
Why did she always feel as if he could strip her of every ounce of poise she had, revealing the vulnerable, clumsy girl she really was? Why could she walk into a room full of the most powerful people alive and be the very picture of grace, of confidence, but he could look at her just once with those deep blue eyes and reduced her to a puddle? He shouldn't have that effect on her, she chided herself. He was only her bodyguard, after all.
She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat cushion. The man sitting just four feet away had no idea how much agony he caused her. The scent of his aftershave, masculine and protective, wafted slyly around the car interior, teasing her nose and alerting her to the fact that he was so close - and so far away. She could give an accurate estimate on how many people today would hint to her about how she needed a boyfriend, start to set her up on some date - and always, his strong, clean smell would enter her mind and extirpate any possibilities of a date with anybody else in the world.
Sighing yet again, Relena turned to gaze out the window, tried to force him from her mind. Her heart was aching…a kind of hurt that no Christmas gift, no amount of days given for vacation, and no sweetly swung Christmas carol could comfort. Her family, so dear to her, could do nothing for this particular wound; no one could, except for a very silent soldier who gave her nothing during the day except her updated security password.
Heero deserved credit, he really did; because of his security work, there hadn't been an assassination attempt since he entered the Preventers force and was assigned to be her bodyguard. Not so much as a stray cat had touched her windowsill, and the only people allowed on her front porch were those who had passed through an exhausting line of checkpoints. He was so thorough, the security so complete, that he had to open her office in the morning for her.
She had to grin at that. At least, with his meticulous punctuality, he was always at the office right before she pulled up.
Relena felt herself relaxing a little bit; focusing more on the connections she did have with him was a lot more cheerful than wishing for something she could never have. Finally, she relaxed and looked outside again. It was such a beautiful time of the year; even this early in the morning, people were outside, smiling, playing in the newly-fallen snow. And she was sitting there, inside a limousine, awaiting nothing but another long day of meetings. No variations, no excitement, no change…
Gazing wistfully at the snow, she suddenly smiled.
She could change that. Maybe just a little bit, but it was all she needed.
"Stop!"
Heero jolted to what was going on inside the limousine; he had been absolutely engrossed in studying everything passing by, but at the sound of her lilting voice, he tore his eyes from the window.
"What?"
Relena was rapping on the thin Plexiglas separating them and the driver, Steve. He looked in the rearview mirror, bewildered. Heero felt the same way, though of course you'd never be able to tell.
"Steve! Stop the car!"
"What - " Heero began, but as the limousine pulled over to the curb and Relena's hand went to the door handle, he stopped and decided the first mission objective was merely pursuit.
Relena stepped out of the car and immediately felt a hundred times better. She loved winter, loved the snow, loved the crisp bite in the air that made a person think of sledding and ski lodges and hot chocolate and fireplaces. Allowing herself to smile at the snowflakes cheerfully greeting her good morning, she set off down the sidewalk.
Heero had to jog slightly to keep up with her, zipping up his Preventers jacket as he did so. "What are we doing?" he hissed as he rubbed his hands together. It felt like minus twenty degrees outside. He zipped the jacket tighter, and then looked over at her for an answer.
She was grinning, spinning around at random intervals, sticking her tongue out to catch snowflakes like a little girl at recess. Her dark red, heavy knit coat only accented her wheat-colored hair and the rose staining her cheeks from the cold. Her breath rose, misty, in the morning air as she laughed into the falling snow.
"Relena. We're going to get off schedule."
She laughed again, pausing slightly to look into the window of a little shop on the corner of the street, where a tiny Santa made of porcelain gently rubbed down his favorite reindeer. Rudolph's red nose reflected the early-morning sun, causing little red patterns of lights to dance across her face. "Look, Heero!"
Glancing at his watch, Heero tried to bury himself deeper into his coat.
"Look how tiny they are…" she turned, smiling, saw him look at the time, and lost the smile. Walking again, silent now, she shoved her hands into her pockets and studied the snow-covered pavement as they walked together towards the Senate building.
And for some odd reason that he couldn't fathom, Heero found himself missing her laughter, the sparkle of winter in her sapphire eyes…but he didn't know why, and even worse, didn't know how to get it back.
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The council doors opened, and a stream of voices flooded the wide hallway. Heero turned; the meeting was finished, right on schedule, and they would make it to Relena's office in perfect timing. He watched as the government leaders - most of them elderly men - strode out of the council room, and there, in the middle of them, was the beautiful, elegant former Princess, laughing and talking while managing to be effortlessly poised and in control at the same time.
His heart twisted, and he turned away.
Presently, her footsteps sounded behind him, and he followed her to the limousine. Deciding to make an effort, Heero said gruffly, "How'd it go?"
Relena gave him nothing but a quick glance over her shoulder and a light, "Ended on time. Good thing we're still on schedule. I was so worried."
Heero paused just momentarily, studying her back as she moved outside into the winter morning. Was she...making fun of him?
Why was she the one thing he could never figure out?
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Ahh, Christmas. The thought sprang to her mind unbidden, and the corners of her mouth twitched involuntarily into a smile. She loved Christmas so much; everything about it, from the decorations to the caroling. Lately, it had been a little more difficult to get through, but ever since her brother and his wife had invited her to spend Christmas Eve at their house, in order to be with friends on Christmas morning, her favorite holiday was much more bearable. Before, when her brother was still single and often away at work…Relena shuddered. Those were memories she would rather live without. Being alone on Christmas was more painful that most kinds of physical wounds - and she knew that from experience. Mostly, it was -
"Holy - "
The driver burst into a string of expletives, and the limo jerked violently to one side. Relena, who had been perched on the edge of her seat, was thrown forcefully to her right, straight into Heero, as the limousine swerved up and onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing a light pole decorated with Christmas garlands.
"What the…" she heard Heero say. As the car came to an abrupt halt, Relena realized that she and Heero had landed on the floor, with his back up against the door and her body up against him. Somewhere in her mind, something was nagging that this was highly improper, but there was something else that was screaming louder yet, and she recognized it as the part of her that shivered anytime he came near. A jolt shot through her body, something akin to electricity, energized by his touch and spurred on by the mingling senses of his masculine scent and the way his breath seemed ragged in her ear. For a brief second he seemed frozen - had he felt -
Heero reached up, opened the door, and exited the car.
Relena followed, her heart settling back into its usual dejected, lonely little cave.
But the minute she saw what had taken place in the intersection, all thoughts of loneliness flew from her mind.
The car just in front of them had run head-on into a truck heading the opposite direction; both had still been going at fairly high speeds, and from the look of it, things were bad. The car had spun off to the left, where it had crashed sideways into a light pole and stopped, but the truck, about a hundred yards away, was upside down and on fire.
"Take care of the two in the car," muttered a voice in her ear - a voice that sent a million tiny fingers of ice dancing down her spine. "I'm going to help the one in the truck."
Relena left him and ran over to the car. It didn't look too bad; it seemed as though the truck had hit the corner of the bumper, sending the car spinning across the intersection. Praying, Relena reached the passenger window and looked inside.
A woman was clutching her arm, looking at her with frantic green eyes. "Oh my God," she cried, "we just got hit!"
"Yes, I know," Relena said, speaking as calmly and evenly as she could. "Everything is all right. Can you tell me if you have any pain in your neck or back?"
The woman paused momentarily before saying shakily, "No…but I - I think my arm is broken…I reached out - "
The man sitting in the driver's seat caught Relena's attention; he was holding his hands to his head, blood dripping down steadily between her fingers.
"Sir? Are you all right?"
He looked at her, and miraculously, gave a small, shaky smile. "Head wounds - bleed more than anywhere else, right?"
They were okay. A smile of relief blossomed on Relena's face. "Yes, you're right. Let's get you out of this car and to the nearest hospital."
While she helped them exit and watched for any other injuries, Relena flagged down a taxi that had stopped to gawk. "Can you take these people to the nearest hospital?" she said to the driver, who was staring at her in amazement.
"Relena Peacecraft, that's who you are!" he said with a thick accent, giving her a gap-toothed grin. Ignoring him, she helped the man and woman into the car and gave them a reassuring smile.
"I - I dunno the neares' hospital," the driver said apologetically, still gawking.
Relena straightened, glanced at the street signs. There were two hospitals nearby, St. Peter's and Currington General. Peter's was close; Currington was farther away but there'd be less traffic…
The driver, and injured couple, were watching her. Suddenly, time seemed to freeze.
These people are in your hands.
The thought came from nowhere. Relena stared, startled, and very slowly, a thick, ominous cloud of foreboding settled over her heart.
Somehow, she knew her next words would be some of the most important in her life.
Peter's or Currington?
What does it matter? They're both hospitals…
"Um…"
The driver glanced at her quizzically. "Ain't you the Vice Foreign Minister? Don't ya know yer own - "
"Currington," Relena bit back, offended. "Currington General. Broadway and Power. Get these people there right away."
He saluted and hit the gas.
Was that the right thing to say?
Relena, unsettled, turned to find Heero. He was speaking on his cell phone about ten feet away from the flaming truck, where a few people had crowded around to pull the single passenger to safety. Slipping a little on the ice, Relena ran across the street.
He saw her coming, and said quickly, "Did you send them to a hospital?"
"Yeah, they were - "
Heero jerked back, as if something the person on the other side of the conversation had offended him. "What the hell do you mean, impossible? There has been an accident - "
He stopped, listening, and glanced at Relena. "Which one?" he mouthed.
"Uh, Curring - "
"What?!" Heero barked into the phone. "No, I don't care how you do it, but you get people down here and you get them now."
He snapped the phone shut, then said bluntly, "Get back in the limo, I don't want something to happen to you while I help out here."
Offended, Relena started, "I'll help - "
"No," he snapped. "Just get in the limo. You're not needed."
In any other situation, Relena would have snapped at him, but that feeling of foreboding was still there, and so she slowly turned and retreated to the safety of the limo…feeling that somehow, something was not right.
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She left her office an hour later than usual; for some reason, she didn't want to go home. She had a strange feeling that once she got there, something terrible was going to happen. And so she dawdled, or rather, worked on making a dent in the colossal stack of paperwork constantly piled on her desk. Finally, when her secretary began shooting her knowing looks - Relena sometimes tried to stay longer than necessary and get more done that she physically could in one day - she set the latest documents to the side, stood up, and gathered her things.
Heero glanced up as she exited the office, where she had sat ever since arriving that morning. She hadn't stopped for a lunch break, hadn't taken a quick walk around the building like she usually did - and that would account for the strange look Heero was giving her.
She turned quickly, heading down the staircase, and tossed over her shoulder, "Come on, soldier. Wouldn't want to get farther off schedule, now would we?"
"I think," Heero said darkly, "that we're a little late for that."
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"…and what does Senator Donovan think of the Christmas proposal?"
Relena sighed, stirring her bowl of chili and glancing down the dinner table at her brother and his wife, Lucrezia. "Well…he's all for the publicity of it, if you know what I mean. He volunteered to arrange all the PR - call up the local stations, and so on."
"Blasted politicians," Zechs, her brother, muttered. "Can't they do anything for the people at Christmastime without trying to increase their egos at the same time?"
"I know. I told them that sometimes it was better to do things like build the new youth center anonymously, and they looked at me as if I had something growing out of my head." She sighed again. "I don't know what to do anymore. Sometimes I just - "
"Excuse me, Miss Peacecraft." They glanced up; Pagan was standing in the doorway, looking slightly confused. "I just spoke with Mrs. Maxwell on the vidcam. She said that she couldn't talk at the moment, but wanted you to turn on Channel 6."
Bewildered, Relena drew her eyebrows together. "Why?"
"She didn't say, Miss. Would you like me to turn on the television?"
Relena glanced at Heero, who was standing at attention near the doorway. "Yes, Pagan, thank you."
The room waited in silence while the butler flipped on the TV and turned the channel to six.
Immediately, a news anchor's voice came blaring over the speakers, loud and worried, and the image of a building blazing in an inferno of fire captured the screen.
"…have just received reports that this was, indeed, an act of terrorism - "
"What?" Relena stood so abruptly that she knocked into the table.
" - hospital located at Power and Broadway, established nearly fifty years ago, has just come crashing down - "
"No." That was Heero, staring at the screen, his face blank.
" - a Preventers unit already visited the area, it was said that they had knowledge of the attack prior to tonight, and yet no action was taken - "
"What?" This time it was Zechs. He whirled around to glare at the bodyguard near the doorway, but Heero was staring at the screen. "Yuy! You knew about this?"
"Factories…" he muttered under his breath. "There were two factories - "
"Power and Broadway?" Relena whispered. "No - no - "
"Excuse me, Madame," Pagan said, coming into the room again, his eyes worried, "but there's a Preventers' vehicle coming up the drive just now - I thought you should know…"
Zechs slammed his fist onto the table. "Well, there had better be!" he shouted. "I swear, Yuy, if you people knew about this, I will have your heads - it's a hospital, for God's sake - "
But Heero was gone, out the door, and Relena swiftly followed.
The car was sleek, and black - standard Preventer equipment, and Relena recognized the small "03" emblazoned on the bumper: Trowa Barton's code number. Heero was already down the front steps and waiting. Relena drew a sharp breath; as the driver's window rolled down, it revealed a Trowa that was battered, bruised, and burned.
"What happened?" Heero snapped coldly.
Relena came up behind him and caught a glimpse of Quatre in the passenger seat, looking just as battered and cradling his right arm.
Trowa's green eyes, glittering with pain and slight anxiety, said hoarsely, "It was the hospital."
Heero was glaring hotly into the car. "We looked at the plans, the maps - the objective was - "
"Incorrect," Trowa cut him off. "They struck at exactly five fifty…we were clear across the city…there was nothing - "
Heero was silent, and Relena watched the mask slip into place, watched his dark blue eyes grow even harder and colder than they usually were.
"What do we know?" he barked, voice snapping like a whip.
"Three explosive devices. Expertly planted."
"What about…the people?" Relena whispered. Her eyes were wide, fearful. "I sent - I sent a man and a woman there earlier today, they were in a car accident…"
Heero went rigid.
"We found no surviving staff…or patients."
The world stood still, and then shattered into a million pieces.
"No surviving patients," Quatre's soft voice broke in, "but we found…two survivors."
Relena let out her breath in a rush of air. "Who?"
Trowa's glittering green gaze met Heero's. "Open the back door."
And because her bodyguard didn't move, Relena stepped sideways, seeing her own frightened reflection in the tinted windows. Holding out a trembling hand, she gripped the handle, and little by little pulled it open.
There, sitting in the back seat, a boy of nine or ten sat holding his little sister, who was sucking on her thumb and staring at Relena with terrified brown eyes. Her curls were hanging over her dirty forehead, and blood was trickling down the side of her older brother's face. The two children sat and stared as Relena stared at them, until tears began running down the little girl's face and a frightened whimper escaped her. Seeing their burnt, tattered clothes, the bruises, and the various scrapes covering their small bodies, Relena felt her heart give way. Biting her lip, she reached in the car and gently lifted the girl out, cradling the small body against hers as the child's tears ran down her shirt.
And though the girl made no noise as she cried, the round brown eyes gazed in fright at the three big, scary-looking men, and she shakily whispered, "Where's my mommy?"
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AN: Reviews would be very much appreciated and are always helpful (and encouraging!)! Hint, hint )