Author's Note: Written a super long time ago. Not edited.
EVERYTHING HE SAID
A Word of the Day Ficlet
By Kysra
At some point, when she is in her late twenties, she realizes she is tired and cannot pretend anymore. There is nothing left to give and so much that she wants and cannot have and it fills her with empty resentment so sharp she begins spewing glass spikes and vomiting acid to her loved ones until there are none left.
Without really knowing why or perhaps knowing too well, she begins the quick and easy approach to self-annihilation, playing devil's advocate with private funding to several incendiary groups under a variety of fake names while still spouting the "ideals" she had become so famous for. She did it because she wanted to see him, and because he was the only one worthy of taking her life.
And it takes longer than she expected for the inevitable - seven weeks, three days, and two hours; but she's not afraid nor is she sorry. She's just a despot masquerading as a peace-keeper at this point, and wholly deserving of whatever her expected visitor has promised to dish out.
"Relena." He says without ceremony, cornering her in her study in her home during the midnight hour.
"Heero." She's grinning, her blue eyes glowing with suppressed mirth. "It's been a long time."
"What the hell are you doing, Relena?" He seems angry, she thinks, but what does she know about him? Nothing at all.
She doesn't rise or hide or feel fear when she notes the gun in his hand, somehow knowing it is loaded. "I'm collecting on your promise. . . . I'm tired. I think I deserve a little honesty from you at least."
"If death is what you're after, you should have just committed suicide. Why drag the rest of the world with you? Why ruin your life's work?" He makes it sound like she has betrayed him personally. Well, tough titties. Her world no longer revolves around him or peace or anything.
She smiles again. "The world destroyed itself a long time ago, Heero. It never needed me to help it along. My "life's work" as you call it was meaningless if the idiots of Earth and the colonies fall apart into dissension and war wish the tiniest of pushes."
"You've changed."
"And you haven't. I was counting on it."
The gun is lifted and aimed, she doesn't need a mirror to see the laser sighting marking her forehead. "You allowed me to hope."
She lets the smile drop, finally, her eyes turning colder than his ever were. "Hope . . . is an illusion."
A gunshot echoes. The gunman disappears without a trace, and the next morning Relena Darlian is found dead in a dark study in her house with a blood stained teddy bear perched in her lap.
Word: Parlous