I never meant to get us in this deep
I never meant for this to mean a thing
I wish you were the one
Wish you were the one that got away
"So. How was work?"
Trowa Barton glanced up from his dinner plate and met the watchful gaze of his companion. He gave her an easy smile followed by a shrug.
"You know. Same old, same old."
She nodded and returned her eyes to her own plate, so Trowa did the same, swirling his spaghetti and bolognese with his fork. It was far from an exciting meal, but it was one of his weeknight staples - quick; simple; reliable. She never complained about his cooking, although he knew he could always do better.
"How was your day?" he asked, because he knew he needed to make the effort. He even looked up from his plate again, and was sure to make eye contact.
"Fine," she answered, just as breezily as he had. She didn't elaborate further, just sat and sipped her wine. They rarely indulged during the work week, and if they did it was only a glass with dinner, in case either one of them could be called away at a moment's notice.
Which, to Trowa's irritation, was happening now. He felt his pager go off in his pocket - he still used one, for security purposes, and only a handful of colleagues had his number. He didn't even bother to check it before reaching inside his pocket and silencing the device, which had been on vibrate. Given the time of night, he already knew exactly who it was.
Une pursed her lips as she watched him, her eyes sharp and assessing.
"What, again?" she intoned, with the barest hint of annoyance.
Trowa nodded and gathered up his plate as he rose from his seat. "Advisory meeting," he said simply, recalling that night's schedule. Une rolled her eyes and reached for her wine glass.
"Well, just remember, she's not your boss." Her hazel eyes glittered at Trowa over the rim of her glass. "I am."
Trowa chuckled as he brought his dish and glass to the sink. "How could I forget?"
"Leave those." Une waved a hand at him as he started rinsing. "Mari should be calling any minute; I'll just talk and clean."
Trowa bobbed his head and stepped away from the sink. "All right. Tell her I said 'hey.'"
Une arched a brow. "Is that it? Or do you have something to add, maybe?" Trowa shook his head and smiled at the reproach.
"All right. Tell her I asked about her philosophy final."
"Final? She's already working on her thesis," Une corrected him.
"Right." He hadn't been keeping close track of what Mariemaia was studying at this point, although he knew the spring semester would soon be coming to an end. But, then, he wasn't the one monitoring her studies - or paying for her college, for that matter.
"Well," he continued, as he strode toward the front door, "tell her I told her good luck."
"I will." Une watched him, wine glass in hand. Her eyes held a gleam that Trowa could easily attribute to the alcohol, but he was sure he caught something else in her expression. It was hard to tell, though, if the worry lines that creased her forehead were from him or something else. At thirty-three, she still had beauty to spare; her youthful hairstyle - long and loose, with wispy bangs - probably had something to do with it. And yet she had the eyes of someone much older; worn and battle-scarred, like his, although not all of the scars they bore were physical.
"Be safe," she said to him. Which was what she always said, whether he was going to work or the grocery store.
He paused in the doorway and held her gaze for a brief moment before breaking away with a curt nod. "See you later."
Trowa opened the door of the town house and slipped outside, into the cool darkness.
I got caught up by the chase
And you got high on every little game
I wish you were the one
Wish you were the one that got away
Trowa scanned his I.D. badge and entered the ESUN building, after parking his black SUV in one of the parking spaces reserved for personnel. After checking in with the security guard in the lobby and stepping through the metal detector, he made his way to a set of glass elevators. He stepped in and punched the button for the thirteenth floor, and the elevator shot its way upstairs.
The elevator opened right into the office of Foreign Affairs. This time of night, the office was mostly dark, save for a few security lights. The only other light came from the far end of the hall. Trowa followed the light and came to a set of neatly-organized desks, with the chairs all pushed in, waiting for their daytime inhabitants to return the following morning. He approached the desk of the executive assistant and hit the buzzer for the intercom.
"It's me," he said simply.
The intercom buzzed again. "Come on in," a cheerful, female voice replied.
Trowa released the button and moved to the large oak door leading to the main office. He opened it and stepped inside, into the illuminated room.
She was seated at her desk, her head bent as she scribbled furiously on a notepad. Trowa wondered which poor soul would end up being tasked with interpreting her handwriting, when her head snapped up. Long, blonde hair tumbled over one shoulder and she beamed in his direction. Somehow, the pale fluorescent lighting cast her in an angelic glow.
"Hi," she said breathlessly, as if she hadn't at all been expecting him. Her grin only widened as he approached. He couldn't help but smile back. At first, her exuberance toward him had annoyed him; she'd practically pounce when he came around, like a feline discovering catnip. Then, over time, she'd somehow flipped the script on him, and now she was the catnip.
"You paged?" he said, smiling wryly. She gave him a look that said she expected him to do better than that, although overall, she appeared to be in a good mood.
"Obviously," she teased, then turned her attention back to her notepad and finished up whatever she was writing. Standing over her desk, he could barely decipher her loopy scrawl. She finished writing with a flourish and looked back up at him.
"Thank you for coming," she said, tipping her head to the side in that demure, girlish way of hers. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was twenty-eight years old, already. But, then, so was he. They had come quite a long way since their days in the war…
Trowa just nodded at her as she continued, "I'm sorry it was such short notice, but… no one else was available." Trowa didn't need to hear her litany of excuses, though. The truth was, he would have come simply because she called him. He knew it and she knew it.
"Still find the building security inadequate?" Trowa asked, searching for something to say. Relena laughed lightly, waving a hand.
"Oh, it's not that. You know the President insists I have a Preventer escort me whenever possible." Her eyes glimmered up at him. "Is it wrong that I happen to have a favorite?"
Trowa inhaled sharply, wanting to retort, Yeah. You married one. He kept the thought to himself.
But it was clear Relena caught the shift in his expression. She frowned and bent to scoop up her pile of notes, along with her tablet. "Well," she said as she busied herself shoving everything into her tote bag. "Shall we?"
Trowa followed Relena out of the office and into the hallway. She chattered at him throughout their walk to the elevators, down to the sixth floor where the advisory board meeting was taking place. Trowa did his best to keep up his end of the conversation, although it was mostly benign chitchat that didn't require him to focus.
When they arrived at the meeting room, Trowa opened the door for Relena, and remained close to her as she breezed through, keeping a hand at the small of her back. She turned and smiled up at him gratefully, and Trowa caught a little glint in her eye, which he immediately pretended he hadn't noticed.
But they had a two-hour meeting to endure, at least. And sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair while a group of government blowhards scrutinized every line item in the budget was nothing short of torture. Especially when he had to do it sitting next to Relena. Who, unlike her fellow bureaucrats, smelled of roses and looked like heaven.
At one point during the endless meeting, he felt Relena's hand brush his thigh. Ever so briefly, as she reached for her bag, which was slung over her seat, next to him, to retrieve a pack of gum. Her eyes flitted up to his, and she blushed slightly as she offered him a piece. He realized then the gesture had been innocent. Probably.
Relena returned her attention to the spreadsheet on her tablet, while Trowa concentrated on trying to combat the tightening in his trousers.
I miss the way you wanted me
When I was staying just out of your reach
Begging for the slightest touch
Ooh, you couldn't get enough…
Despite the staggeringly late hour, Relena maintained her sunny disposition as the meeting finally ended, and Trowa followed her out of the meeting room.
"Do you need to go back to your office for anything?" he asked as they exited into the hallway, managing to avoid the few reporters who had bothered to cover the tedious meeting. None of them seemed interested in stopping Relena for comments, and Trowa was grateful. He didn't want to hang around any later than he needed to…
"No, I'm all set," Relena replied with a smile. "You're taking me home, right?" Her voice was light as air, and yet set Trowa on edge.
Of course, that's what a security escort was supposed to do; escort her home. Trowa clenched his jaw and answered, "Yeah, I can drop you off."
Relena's face fell slightly, but then his words left no room for interpretation. She maintained a stony expression as they made their way out of the ESUN building to where Trowa had parked his Preventers-issued car. Trowa did his best to ignore her glowering as he opened the passenger-side door for her, and helped her up into the vehicle. Their eyes met as they maneuvered around each other, their faces and bodies hovering close together. Relena's blue eyes were pools of sadness as she peered up at him, her expression dangerously close to becoming a full-blown pout. Trowa hesitated for only a second before he shut the door on her, and strode over to the driver's side.
They rode in tense silence for several minutes as Trowa navigated through downtown Brussels, zipping past glittering high-rises and streetlights. Relena seemed preoccupied with the passing cityscape, her face all but glued to the passenger window. Trowa wasn't in much of a talking mood himself, but it was hard to keep the burning question to himself any longer. Especially when she'd called him out, late at night, to accompany her…
"Where's Heero?" The question freed itself from his lips. Relena sighed, her eyes still trained on the window.
"Still on that mission," she said flatly. Trowa only vaguely knew which one, but then he and Heero did share a Commander. Who Trowa also happened to live with...
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "And you don't know when he'll be back?"
"I know about as well as you do," Relena said, her tone bordering on saccharine. Trowa was already sorry he'd brought it up, and was about to say so as the car came to a red light. He eased his foot on the brake and glanced in her direction.
"Relena-"
"I'm leaving him."
Trowa swung both eyes over to look at her fully, and saw her resolute expression. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the light was already turning green.
"No you're not," he said tersely, and pressed his foot down on the accelerator.
Relena sighed again, and in his peripheral he saw her pinch the bridge of her nose. "Yes, I am," she said decidedly. "I'm going to ask for a divorce."
The same old empty threat hovering in the air. The one she never had the guts to actually deliver.
It took everything within Trowa to keep from scoffing.
"When?" he asked, barely maintaining his composure.
"As soon as he gets back."
Trowa shot her a sidelong glance. "You said that before."
Beside him, Relena shifted in her seat. "Yeah, well maybe this time he'll be home for more than five minutes, so I can have an actual discussion with him."
"You've tried talking to him," Trowa said incredulously. It wasn't really a question; he already sensed the answer.
"Of course I've tried," Relena sputtered, swinging wild eyes over to his.
"You've sat him down and said, 'We need to talk,' and you've told him exactly how you feel?"
"I have tried," Relena started, "but he's impossible." She laid a hand on Trowa's arm, and he tensed almost instantly. "He doesn't understand me like you do."
Trowa huffed a laugh. "I wouldn't say I understand you all that better, Relena. I just listen."
"Which is more than he does," she muttered, seething in her seat.
"What about counseling?" Trowa asked, as if he hadn't made the suggestion multiple times in the past.
"He won't go," Relena said, failing to clarify whether she'd ever asked, or just assumed. She let out a heavy sigh, and Trowa knew she was on the verge of tears. "You know what he'd rather do? Nothing," she added bitterly. "He's just going to let this whole thing go. Thirteen years with the same person, and it all goes down the drain…"
Her voice trailed off, and Trowa refrained from asking any further questions as the bustling city faded behind them, and he turned onto a tree-lined street on the outskirts of town. He followed the path toward Relena's private neighborhood, which housed some of Brussels' wealthiest inhabitants. Relena's house was beyond a large wrought iron gate that required a code to enter. Trowa brought his car to a stop at the gate, and punched in the code, which Relena - on Heero's insistence - changed weekly, and only shared with a select few. Trowa was, apparently, one of the trusted ones.
The car wound up the driveway, closing in on the large, stately stone house. There were a few lights on inside, but then Trowa surmised that Relena must have left some on when leaving for the day. Her frown suggested otherwise.
"He… must be home," she said, her voice shaking.
Trowa looked around the area as he parked. His was the only car in the driveway, although the house boasted a large garage. Naturally, Heero would have parked his luxury SUV - much nicer than Trowa's - in there.
"Did he call or anything?" Trowa asked as he unfastened his seatbelt.
"I didn't get a call," Relena said, as she stared straight ahead at the house with wide, worried eyes. Her hand was poised on the car door, but she appeared frozen in place.
"Maybe he wanted to surprise you," Trowa offered.
Relena turned to gape at him, as if it was the stupidest possible thing he could have said. "Why on Earth would he do that?"
Trowa shrugged. "I guess you'd better go find out." The panicked look quickly returned to Relena's eyes.
"You're not coming in with me?"
"Why would I?"
"Because." She reached over and gripped his arm, and inside the moonlit vehicle, her face was white as a sheet. "It will look suspicious if you just take off," she said.
Trowa considered this, frowning. "You're right," he said after a beat. "We've probably lingered a little too long as is…"
"Oh, God," Relena groaned, scrunching up her features. "Come on." She pushed open the car door and tumbled out without waiting for Trowa to come around to help her.
Trowa exited the driver's side and followed after Relena, steeling himself.
Oh, if I could go back in time
When you only held me in my mind
Just a longing gone without a trace
Oh, I wish I'd never ever seen your face
I wish you were the one
Wish you were the one that got away
Got away from me…
Before anybody has to bleed
Trowa stood dutifully behind Relena on the front steps while she fished her keys out of her purse. But before she'd managed to retrieve them, the front door was wrenched open.
Heero filled up the doorway, clad in a Preventers uniform that had seen better days, his towering frame all but blocking out the light that flooded the foyer behind him. He glowered down at the two interlopers on his doorstep, until his gaze landed on Relena. His eyes immediately softened.
"Hey," he said simply.
Trowa could feel Relena's body go rigid before him, even though he wasn't even touching her.
"Hey," she returned, sounding a bit nervous; an anomaly for her. But, then, Trowa had become attuned to all of the nuances in her voice. He would chalk it up to his skills as an espionage expert and former Gundam pilot, but even he knew better.
Relena blinked at Heero in the darkness. "When did you get in?"
"Not too long ago," Heero said, his voice calmer than Trowa had expected. "I called you," he added, without a trace of irritation. "Your phone was off."
"Oh…" Relena looked down and started rummaging through her purse again. "I was in a meeting…"
"It's fine." At last Heero seemed to notice Trowa, or at least chose to acknowledge his presence. He did so with a tip of his chin. "Barton."
"Hey." Trowa tossed out the preferred greeting of the Yuy household. Heero's expression never wavered as he looked at Trowa; not that he expected it to. Trowa also kept his features impassive, as he asked Heero about the mission. "How was it?" He knew he wouldn't need to elaborate.
Heero stared evenly at him for a beat before answering. "Uneventful."
"That's good," Trowa returned, having no way of knowing whether that was good or not.
"Hn." Trowa knew that was a dismissive sound of Heero's, therefore his cue to leave.
"Well," he said, glancing from Heero to Relena, "have a good night."
"You, too." Relena turned back toward Trowa, echoing his parting words, although she looked as if she had much more she wanted to say. Emotion flooded her eyes, but Trowa only glanced briefly her way before turning and shuffling back to his car.
"Thanks for getting her back safely," Heero said to his back. Trowa lifted a hand without turning around. At least he knew that Heero understood Trowa wasn't one for niceties. If Trowa had acted overly friendly, he knew it would have raised the other ex-soldier's hackles.
By the time Trowa was back in his car and starting the engine, Heero and Relena had disappeared inside the house. Trowa sat and dug his phone out of his pocket and, for good measure, tapped out a quick text message to Une.
Be home soon.
He sent the message and looked up in time to see two dark figures in an upstairs window, silhouetted against the night. They stood some distance apart, the male figure looming over the female. Trowa sat, transfixed, and watched as the pair stepped into an embrace, her arms circling his neck, angling her face up to meet his. And then the two shadows fused together, and it was clear they weren't about to be parted any time soon.
Trowa turned his face away before he got more of a show than he'd bargained for, his stomach twisting into knots as his thoughts raced. He only glanced up again, briefly, as he backed his car up to turn around in the driveway.
The house had gone dark.
Oh, if I could go back in time
When you only held me in my mind
Just a longing gone without a trace
Oh, I wish I'd never ever seen your face
I wish you were the one
Wish you were the one that got away...
A/N: Hi everyone, sorry that I have been AWOL lately... Life has gotten in the way of my regular updates, but I hope to get back on track soon. But ya know, it is summer here in the states, so if you're not seeing much from me, it means I am probably at the beach ;) Or working on my newest novel project, which I really need to hone in on, much as I love writing fics... the original fiction has got to happen, too! I hope to have some more to share with all of you someday!
Thank you as always for all the love and support! I hope you don't mind my sharing something a little different from my usual fare... Like my fic Civil Wars, this was inspired by the band The Civil Wars and their music. You could consider this an AU of that story, since many of you had some thoughts on the "closeness" of Trowa and Relena in that story... spoiler alert, they're not having an affair in that one. Here, however... well, that is up to you to decide. Did they or didn't they? I'd love to hear what you think!
Hope you're having a great summer so far, and happy first day of summer to those of you who are experiencing it (do I have any readers Down Under, or somewhere where it's currently winter?! Do let me know)!
Love & hugs & Heero,
- RFP