So here's something that may or may not qualify as a R+1

Restless Knight

Relena looked up at Heero. His hair still fell forward as if the tendrils of his bangs were frantically trying to hide his eyes. Heero's eyes were still that painfully deep Prussian blue that had always fascinated her. They were intense, expressive---but never said everything. The eyes revealed a peek, a mere glance, into the tumult of emotions that swirled with in. He was much taller than she remembered, but his body maintained the muscular build. His shoulders were broader, though his waist was still small. The years had been good to him.

Though, the years had not been bad to her either. Relena's honey blonde hair shone in its conservative bun, but as expected by the end of the work day, a few wisps framed her face. Her eyes were still the blue that reminded Heero of skies, and stories of angels he didn't know he knew. At some point in his life, he had wanted to get lost in those eyes. He remembered wanting to let his hands roam the curves –or absence of them at the time—that were now hidden in her richly tailored blue suit. But that was a long time ago.

"Relena…" He mused. The voice rumbled in his chest more deeply than she remembered. Relena smiled sadly, the change reminding her of the time that had elapsed. Heero's brow knit in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest. The synthetic material of his Preventer's uniform jacket protested with a slight swish. Relena smiled a bit sheepishly, but he gestured her to come inside before she answered.

She glanced around at his one bed room apartment. It was sparingly, yet efficiently furnished—not unlike the way he spoke. However, she was surprised to find signs of life. The first thing she noted was the multitude of books in the living room. Novels, memoirs, histories, philosophy books, and even magazines. There was a hand gun on top of a stack of books on the coffee table, and Relena was sure that many things about the man before her did not change.

"I didn't know you like to read so much, Heero," She stated still glancing about the apartment. Heero shrugged, and removed his uniform jacket. As he hung on a hook by the door, he replied.

"It passes the time. Where are your guards?" He questioned. Relena waved off a dismissive hand, as the two of them sat down on the couch.

"They're downstairs—I trust I don't need them around you," She added with a miniscule smile. Heero only granted her with his customary form of acknowledgement. It wasn't a hum, nor was a grunt—just a sound to prove he was listening. Relena sighed. Making small talk would be a lost cause. Perhaps it was one of the things she had found so interesting about him in her youth. His hands weren't bound by politics and tact, he said what he pleased—and what he didn't say was evident in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He asked again. She never had problems finding words to settle spats between politicians, but for some reason words were lost to her. Relena inhaled deeply, preparing herself.

"I came to see you, Heero. I haven't seen you in a long time." She stated gently. Heero had folded his arms across his black, t-shirt. How many times had she seen him in anything other than a uniform? Relena mused inwardly; she could probably count it on one hand with fingers missing.

"Five years," Heero replied. She crossed her legs towards him and smiled sadly.

"I know…I would have never been able to find you if you hadn't come back to join the Preventers," Relena explained, "What made you come back to the Sank Kingdom?"

"The Sank Kingdom," He mused, perhaps stalling to think before he finally admitted, "I was restless."

"Me too," Relena replied gently. His eyes softened, widening slightly. Though the rest of his face did not budge, she could tell he was surprised.

"Why? You have your life and your peace," He replied as if it explained everything. Relena sighed, he still doesn't get it. She nervously wrought her hands.

"But I don't have you," She stated softly—almost a whisper. Perhaps if she spoke softly enough, she could just take it right back out of the air. At this, he arched an eyebrow.

"What do you need me for?" He questioned. Relena stopped wringing her hands, and reached for Heero's. He tensed—a reflexive reaction, but relaxed when she simply took his hands in hers. The angelic eyes he had once dreamed of looked at him pleadingly.

"I just need you. I love you. I always have, I just never had the courage to say it…and when I could, I could never find you," She whispered, "What kind of princess am I with out my knight?"

Heero stood, breaking the flimsy contact of their hands. He turned away from Relena, slightly shaking his head. He inhaled deeply, silently. When he exhaled his shoulders slumped, she could not tell if it was in sadness or defeat. The moment after she spoke was excruciatingly long and silent. He needed to say something. He needed to react. She needed him to need her—like she always has.

"Heero, say something," she begged.

"Relena," He stated gently, "you aren't a princess anymore. I was never a knight."

He paused, picking up a thick tome from a nearby bookshelf. The cover was black; "Brothers Grimm" etched in gold lettering. He idly flipped through the pages.

"And even if I was a knight—princesses do not love knights. Knights simply protect them, fight for them, and die for them. Princesses live their lives, and marry their princes. The memory of the valiant knight rots in the ground."

"Heero," she murmured, tears stinging at her eyes. Even a multitude of questions stormed through her mind, she only whispered his name. The way all of her emotions seeped into its two syllables seemed to be enough. Relena stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. He did not turn to face her, but simply closed his eyes.

"Relena," He mused, his voice annunciated carefully, "I don't love you. I can't. I'm sorry."

Relena could not stifle the tears any longer. But as soon as one snaked out of her eye, Heero caught it with a single, calloused finger. The gesture caused her to smile sadly through her tears. She released his shoulder, and turned to walk away. She did not hang her head; she did not clutch her aching stomach. Her head was high, even if her spirits were low.

Relena stopped at the door, giving him a side pained side long glance. For a moment, he could have sworn he was trying to memorize his features—like she'd never see him again. He looked away.

"Promise me one thing," She spoke, her voice steadier than she imagined it would be. Heero looked up, his eyes softened and wide.

"That you'll love someone, that you will love something. It doesn't have to be me," She stated. Before he could respond, and assuming that he wouldn't, Relena disappeared from his apartment—and probably his life. Heero sank down on to his couch, his head in hands. He raked his hand through his hair, only to have it fall back in his face. He sighed.

He had done the right thing; he had finally followed his heart.

But why did it feel so wrong?

---

"Breaking someone else's heart can sometimes be worse than breaking your own."

So….what did you think? Let me know!

Sylver Secret