Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.
The lonely girl sat, staring at her cold coffee as she tried to fade into the shadows of the small café. Her light blue eyes were darkened under a sunhat, as her golden blonde hair snuck out the back in one, smooth braid. She didn't often get a chance to escape work during weeks like this, but she needed a break, and she knew that this coffee shop would have a warm, caffeinated hug, as well as offer her the chance to blend in amongst the swarm of university students, her own age. That was the best asset about having a conference near a college. Escape.
Surely, they wouldn't find her here.
Her mind was pulled from internal contemplation as a small group of young women noisily made their way to the table behind her.
"Traffic's a killer, this week," one girl mentioned to excuse her tardiness.
"Yeah, well," a red haired student chimed in. Her overconfident voice sent a chill down the stranger's back. "They just had to bring that stupid 'Something-or-Other Summit' to our little neck of the woods." She took a long sip of her latte, noting that the other ladies had focused their attention on her, like she wanted. "It's just another excuse to have her little, prissy, highness, the Vice Foreign Minister, grace us with her presence," she continued. "She's just an over indulged celebrity. They need to stop worshipping her, already."
A man at the register, near both tables, finished paying for his order and turned his midnight blue eyes on the redhead. She tried to ignore his presence, but he became even more intimidating as he crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back on the counter to openly listen to the dialogue.
The redhead glanced at him, again, bringing the rest of the table's attention to him. He had messy, dark brown hair and stood at full height, just over six feet. A fine specimen, commanding authority over, and admiration from, the smaller women. The alpha female's red lips twisted upward as she leered at him, openly pleased at his attentions.
"Heero," a petite brunette at the table called out.
The foreigner in the shadow stiffened at the name, biting her lip as she pulled the hat down to cover more of her face.
"Clarissa," the brunette now addressed the redhead. "This is Heero Yuy. He's in my Public Speaking course."
"Why, hello, handsome," Clarissa purred.
Heero forced a small smile to keep his target at ease, before slipping back into his statuesque, stoic expression. "I was intrigued by your statements on the Vice Foreign Minister. You seem to have quite a unique opinion. Please," he requested, stepping toward the table with his arms still firm across his chest. "Enlighten me?"
There was a silent moment of comprehension. The hiding girl behind the college students fidgeted nervously, not sure if she would take well the coming character analysis. Clarissa's smile faded for a moment, wondering if she was being challenged, then returned confidently to open her rant.
"Come, now. The girl is our age. She hasn't even graduated high school. I hardly think she has the qualifications! What happened? They took one look at her precious blonde hair and her cute blue eyes, and the old wigs up top said, 'you've got the job, gorgeous'? Hmph.
"She's a stuffed-shirt, over privileged, rich heiress, who's clearly after power. She'd probably still be Queen if they let her! And what does she spend on? Her limo? Her hotels? She doesn't even need the salary the people give her as Vice Foreign Minister. She could easily retire on what she has. But greed has no end.
"And it's a good thing for her that the paparazzi do hunt her size 3 butt down, wherever she goes. It only shows that the girl has no friends. She was raised to be stuck up, and I'm sure she can't even maintain a conversation with another human being, under the age of 50. And with no friends, of course, comes no romantic interests. The few eligible men who have attempted to gain her affections, she chased off like they were leaches, even though they clearly didn't need her money or her fame. She's just too good for them. Seriously, that woman will never be loved."
The girl in the shadow suddenly felt winded, as she braved that last blow. Too close to home.
Heero's head tilted slightly higher, looking down at Clarissa over his nose, as she continued.
"She's an empty soul with an empty life, getting by on her good looks and fake compassion. I hope for her sake, and the rest of the worlds, that she retires, soon, or dies young. Heaven knows she's more of an obstacle than an asset to us, anymore."
There was a long, silent pause. The stranger's knuckles turned white as she wrung her hands under the pressure of her peer's argument. She felt she couldn't breathe. And it couldn't get worse.
"You're right," Heero answered in a strong, earthy voice.
The blonde's shoulders slumped forward as her stomach twisted with the newest assault. It just got worse. Way worse.
How could he?
Clarissa's face started to lighten at his words.
"You're right. Relena does not need the salary she receives as Vice Foreign Minister. Actually, that's probably why she donates her entire yearly salary to the Winner Foundation as a means of rebuilding the colonial areas damaged in the Eve's War. Odd, perhaps; but it's probably just another layer of that fake empathy you mentioned."
Clarissa's face began to sink under the analysis of the dark young man. Not to be easily beaten, the rebutted his argument. "She probably just has a guilty conscience. You know the Gundams did most of the damage on those colonies. In fact, one of the pilots took out an entire L3 colony in one psychotic shot! And there is a fairly solid rumor that the only reason she involved herself in the war, in the first place, was because she was having a love affair with one of those troublesome pilots."
The blonde flushed, growing angry.
Heero didn't flinch, but began to grin at the challenge. "And here, I was under the impression that she got involved in the war because someone assassinated her father. Hmmm. Well, let's ignore how it would contradict your 'loveless' accusation and look at your theory about her having a crush on a Gundam pilot? Didn't you have any crushes at 15 years old?"
"Well, yes. But I didn't start an international incident over it!"
He nodded, still devoid of emotion. "So you wouldn't have followed your sweetheart to Antarctica to try to stop him from getting himself killed in a seemingly unnecessary battle?"
The girl in the corner began to smile as the redhead stammered for words.
"But you are still right," Heero continued, leaning over the table toward his new rival. "Relena has very few friends. But they are a quality of friend a woman like you will never have in your entire life. Relena has friends who are loyal to her. Tried in the fire. They would not only defend her honor, should it be questioned, but they would, and have, thrown themselves in front of bullets and mobile suits to protect her and protect what she believes in. You will never find that.
"I am sure it does lead to lonely nights, and having quiet coffees by herself; and I am sure she'd rather be making small talk with classmates, or studying for an exam with other girls her age; but her friends are worth every moment that they're away. And they feel the same way about her. She is a diamond. Strong, beautiful and rare. And I'm sorry for you that you're so shallow, you don't get to see that in her."
His answer was deafening silence. The redhead's face turned a pale green under his blows.
"A black coffee, unsweetened, and a double shot, pumpkin spice latte with whip!"
Heero stood to his full height at the sound of the barista's voice, his eyes still locked on the defeated woman. "I would advise, for your sake, that you take the time to read a biography on the Vice Foreign Minister, and educate yourself on the subject. In the meantime, don't talk badly about a woman you have never met."
He turned and accepted his order, then approached the table with the lone girl in a sunhat. He slid the fresh latte in front of her, inciting a grateful smile as he sat across from her. They sat comfortably in the quiet, not meeting each other's gaze for several calming minutes.
After watching the dejected, elitist redhead retreat from the café, Heero looked at his companion, his eyes soft. "Relena," he said in a caressing whisper.
The Vice Foreign Minister looked up at her old friend with sad eyes.
"Don't listen to her," he commanded in a gentle tone.
Relena nodded. She had nothing she could say.
"How did you know I went to school here?" He asked. "You're not stalking me, again? Are you?"
Relena giggled, shaking her head. A shy smile set itself across her face. "We've had the summit held here, before, Heero. Quatre brought me to this shop, some months, ago, during one conference, and I liked the atmosphere, so I always try to come back."
He nodded, keeping his face blank and unreadable.
"It's good to know, though," she continued. "Where to find you."
He looked her in the eye, smiling slightly to show amusement.
Soon they found themselves blanketed in silence, again, both studying the table.
Relena sighed. "Would you have said all those things if I wasn't here?"
I would have said even more, Heero's thoughts secretly answered her.
"I guess you'll never know," he said aloud.