Disclaimers. Anime doesn't belong to me, and I don't make profit out of it!
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Because I hate the original version...
I actually wrote a rather badly written version of this story before, a long, long time ago, titling it "Solitary Destiny." Now I ask myself what I was doing, but then, I was only in my early teens, young and naive and full of myself. But evolution is inevitable, especially after three years, and I'm hoping for this story to evolve in terms of plot development (*cough* yeah, right) and mechanics.
The first line is a rather in-your-face indicator of the inspiration to edit the entire story. Despite my classmates' dislike for the story, I find it rather sweet and truthful. Childlike innocence v. an adult's need to always analyze everything to bits. Being rather impulsive and illogical (irrational is probably more the word here), I do not always agree that a = a and only a. (I also abhor math). I believe that in situations, a = b or a = c or a = b + c / e ^ z or some other weird illogical equation, as long as I say so.
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Setting is Post - Endless Waltz
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To the Stars ::
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She had always thought of him as a Little Prince.*
He'd appeared into her world like a comet's flash, capturing her gaze and heart with his star-like gaze. She found support and comfort in his strength, his innocence, and determination. To lose him... The promise of protection from injuries and danger... If only he had to power to protect her from mental hurts rather than physical dangers. No, she couldn't be selfish anymore, not with the weight of the world upon her slender shoulders.
She fought to resist the urge to wrap her arms around his slight frame and hold him to her. Not for his comfort, but her own; the want to know that they were real, that he would never disappear like the shadows of Darlian or Milliardo Peacecraft. Smoothing the folds of her skirt with nervous hands, she searched for an excuse not to meet the intensity of his gaze, the emotions she occasionally found betrayed in their dark depths. She doubted he would be pleased.
"Is this where we leave off?" she asked at last, turning her gaze to meet his squarely. She could not help but study his face from beneath her lashes; handsome? perhaps... There was an underlying nobility in his features, the shadow of grief. A tightening of muscles, the clenching of the hands. "I know you won't stay."
He stared at her from where he sat amongst white sheets. Since the defeat of the Barton Foundation, he had known nothing but blissful rest. For him, the serenity of the sea without any threats was alien, but not unpleasant. He was lucky that Relena understood, had not insisted that he stay here and "rest." There would be no rest within confinement for him, a spirit as wild as the wind. Looking at her smiling face, bright with relief that the wars were over, he felt a conflict of emotions, a tightening of the heart strings.... He didn't need to protect her anymore, right? He examined the bandages upon his wiry form in contemplation. "I go to the stars," he said at last, calmly, lifting his eyes to meet her startled ones, "it's where I was born and where I died."
She wanted to laugh bitterly. 'Died'? Wasn't he alive, breathing in front of her? Or perhaps he meant his soul, which she had fought to save... futile. "And I belong on Earth," she finished his unfinished thought for him. "Our lives will go our separate ways, and we might never see each other again." Bowing her head so that her hair obstructed her face from his view, she fought back the sting of tears that threatened to fall and betray her.
His fingers touched her cheeks gently, brushing against her skin in the barest caress as he lifted her face to his. "You'll smile for me, won't you?" he whispered, casting aside the cold mask he had worn since the age of six for the briefest second. In his eyes, she read anxiety and fear. Fear of what? He did not seem the kind capable of fearing anything. However, it strengthened her slightly to know that he too could be afraid. He was also human, mortal. The bandages upon his body were a proof of that. She blinked back unshed tears and smiled as best as she could. A slim hand covered the calloused hand against her skin. It was all that her courage was capable of, a simple touch through which she communicated her conflicting emotions. His skin was warm to the touch.
"I've always been smiling."
He smiled a little, his lips curving slightly at the ends in a genuine display of joyful emotions and not a cruel smirk as he often displayed during the age of fifteen. But then the war had weathered him with its harsh reality, and Heero was weary. "I'll see you again, I promise," he said, rubbing a thumb against her cheekbone before drawing his hand away. His missed the warmth of her skin against his.
A woman came to the door, dressed in the manner of a secretary. "Miss Relena, it's time to leave for your conference."
Nodding, Relena stood up, the folds of her skirt falling from her thighs to pool around her knees in waves of silk. Strangely, he could not remember her wearing anything other than skirts. Perhaps it was an effort to neutralize the masculine strength of her nature and soften her general impression. He liked her better strong. He watched as she strode across the small room, her movements strangely graceful in a humble environment. At the doorway, she paused. "I remember you used to leave without telling me," she stated. She half turned and gave him a smile, a wistful curve of the lips while tears glistened, caught in her eyelashes. "Thank you for saying goodbye." Blinking, she left hurriedly before he could witness the fall of her tears, when she had vowed that she had to be strong for him. So she could perhaps be worthy of his friendship. From the bed, Heero stared at the open door for a moment, wondering if he'd missed something. The room seemed strangely quiet and empty without her presence. He had never felt alone like this. No, that wasn't it, he reflected. He had never felt the loneliness with such an intensity.
His eyes settled at last on the open window, where the breeze made the curtains flutter and dance in a swirl of white cotton and sunlight. From this high up, the sea was visible at the edge of his vision, a vast blue expanse teasing from the window sill. He had not been to the sea for a long time, probably not since his unearthly survival after plunging downwards from the fiftieth of so story of a building. Duo had not been slow in forgetting the event, torturing him with questions as to how he survived and why he did it. It was hard to explain why, the urge to escape from the suffocating existence he lived. It had been so easy, to let himself fall. But he'd opened his eyes at her voice. His hands clenched into fists, pulling up the white sheets from the bed. He didn't really care. Again, he wondered at his own existence after the war. His own words echoed in his ears, a declaration of his right to live on even when the war had ended. He would live on, yes, but could he really survive in a world in which the ability to fight was no longer needed? Uncertainty.
Of course he would survive. He'd seen it through to peace, hadn't he? The colonies was just a start in finding a self that existed outside the Gundam pilot Heero Yuy. He pulled himself from the bed, a shaky hand reaching for the wall for support as knees threatened to buckle. It was a mental exhaustion that tried to keep him in the bed and its soft white comfort. Trembling fingers settled on the window sill as he finally collapsed in the chair she had previously occupied, his eyes staring into the scenery.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
When she returned that evening, it was a surprise to find him dozing in the chair, clad in a white shirt and jeans with his head resting against the window sill, his unruly locks caught in the wind and spilled upon the sill and his face. In his lap, there was a book, its pages opened to where he'd fallen asleep reading. There was exhaustion written in the form of his body, exhaustion from the recent battle. She traversed the room to kneel on the floor beside his chair, fingers hovering over his face in contemplation. His sleeping face was so peaceful, lacking none of the cold calculation she recalled. Cautiously, she placed a gentle hand on a muscled arm. He did not stir at her touch.
"Heero."
He started slightly at his name. opening his Prussian eyes hastily in a flutter of his own eyelashes. Turning his head, he stared at the hand she'd placed upon his skin in wonder, as if he did not know that she was capable of such an action. She wondered at her own courage at touching him.
"You're still here."
He yawned a little, a strange action in her eyes. Yawning symbolized sleepiness, which was related to the physical feeling of exhaustion. Exhaustion often meant weakness, and it was rare for Heero to display actions of weakness. "Are you saying I'm not welcome?" he asked as barely visible tears collected in his eyes as he yawned.
She laughed, a small held in laugh that was not giggle, at his remark, not knowing he was capable of such humor. He smiled at her reaction, one hand grabbing her arm and pulling her into his lap. She started in surprise to find herself half straddling him, settled sideways on his thighs. She breathed his name in confusion. The book had fallen to the floor, where it lay forgotten.
He let his head fall on her shoulder, closing his eyes in the peaceful moment. "Just let me hold you for a while," he murmured. "It feels so strange being so close to someone else." A hand rested on her hip, a gentle pressure through the fabric of her jacket and skirt. It felt strange for her too, to be cradled so preciously by someone who was unused to physical contact between two people, who was anything but gentle and refined in his physical strength and demeanor. Unsure, she placed a hand on his shoulder and another on the back of his neck, holding him to her. He murmured something intelligible against her shoulder. Relena inclined her head slightly in order to catch the faint breath that passed between his lips. He swallowed, and whispered gently.
"Do you think you could love me? Even for just one night...." His voice trailed off, uncertain. Her eyes stung with tears that came inexplicably at his question and his uncertainty. She lifted his face to hers, feeling her tears cascade over her cheeks. He leaned forward and gently kissed the paths left by her tears, tasting the saltiness of her sorrow upon his lips. "Please?" he breathed.
In answer, she clutched his thin body to her and sought his lips with her own.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Where the sun could not penetrate his clothing, his skin was paler than anyone else's she'd ever seen or touched. Gently, she traced fingers along his skin, marveling at how it did not grow paler when she applied pressure.
"I don't see what you find so interesting about my stomach," he growled from among the pillows, deep blue eyes heavily lidded as he stared at her with an intensity stronger than he'd ever displayed in those eyes. A hand threaded its fingers through her hair lazily, caressing each strand separately before letting them fall onto their bare skin.
Smiling, she bent down and kissed his stomach, trailing her lips towards his chest. "That's because you see it everyday, you're used to it," she answered in between kisses. "I should ask you why you like to play with my hair."
"My mother used to have hair like yours," Heero murmured, eyes staring up at the ceiling, no longer heavy lidded or sleepy. "She used to let me brush it for her until it shone like the sun." He looked at the girl, who was now watching him with an expression he couldn't quite name.
"I was only about five years old when she died. I've almost forgotten what she looks like."
Relena blinked a little, feeling tears threatening to spill over. While she still had a mother who loved her very much, she missed the father who had spoiled her by means of compensating for his frequent absence. "You must've loved her very much."
"I still do."
Those were words spoken from the soul, the only cry of sorrow his upbringing would allow him to express. However, the grief they expressed was beautiful in its purity that they pierced her soul with their simple meaning. Looking into his eyes, she noticed the barest glimmer of his own tears, held back for eleven years and never once shed in the darkness and security of his solitude. She kissed his lips then, like when Prince Charming awoke the sleeping princess in the slumbering castle of a hundred years with a simple kiss. He responded, lips yearning for something she wasn't sure she could give him or would be able to satiate the void inside him. "Stay," she whispered, "even if just one day more. Please."
"One week more," he promised, gasping as she kissed his throat and neck in honor of the perfection his skin could've been. "Relena...."
"Hush," she whispered. "You wanted me to love me."
"You will be the end of me," he breathed as he surrendered.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
She bought him a ticket to the colonies the next day. He didn't really have a destination in mind, knowing only that he wanted to be somewhere amongst the colonies at Lagrange Point One. Having arrived there, he would then decide which colony in particular suited his fancy more. She made no objections and ordered her secretary to purchase the ticket. He seemed relieved that she did not press him for answers he was not ready to give. They never talked about that one night he asked her to love him, pretending as though that one night had never occurred.
It was strange, missing the way she'd been strong for him.
The sun was particular hot that afternoon. He raised a hand absently to an angle at which his hand cast a shadow over his eyes. His foot fidgeted, relishing the way the sand shifted in between his toes. Before, he'd never noticed such tiny details could be enjoyable. Would there be a sea and a beach on the colonies? Probably not. It would be hard to even create a miniature replica of something so vast and amazing. Would it be possible to replicate the smell and taste of the brine that tainted the sea breeze? How far could a replicate ocean on the colonies reach? It was a funny thought, an ocean that was limited by metal walls.
He felt the waves lap at his toes, leaving aqueous salt upon his skin that would eventually dry and crystallize. He tried to recall how long he'd been on the Earth. One year? Two years? It was hard to count, with all the intervals between in which he'd returned to the colonies, wandering in search of something he could never find. He wondered absent-mindedly if he was searching in the wrong place.
"Why do people find the stars beautiful?" he demanded suddenly, staring at the silent golden-haired figure behind him on the sand.
She was sitting in the sand a few meters behind him, reading underneath the awning of a large parasol. Her golden hair was pulled back from her face with clips and allowed to fall down her back like a golden waterfall, brighter than the sun and the water and everything about them. At the sound of his voice, she looked up. "That is purely subjective," she said, putting down her book. "It depends on personal attachments or backgrounds. What I say may not be your reason for liking the stars. I like the stars, because among them are the colonies that my father was always on when he wasn't here on Earth with me. That way, whenever I looked at the stars, I knew that on one of those glowing points of light, my father was there. I like the stars now, because I know that now my brother is there or that my friends are there. Then again, I have put so much time and effort into keeping peace between the colonies and the earth that whenever I look at the stars and the colonies, I think 'here is my handiwork. They are operating smoothly because of my efforts.' Pride. Pride and familiarity. Why do you like the stars?"
He thought for a while, wondering. "Like you, I suppose," he admitted at last. "I put so much effort into protecting them that I feel as though I've created them, that I am responsible for them."
She smiled. "There you go."
"You think too much," she called to him after a while, daring to throw her book at him. He caught it easily, and so she threw the basket at him, which he caught as well. She made a face and huffed. "No, you're supposed to dodge it, not catch it! Life is not so complicated as you make it. You dwell far too much on the 'how' and 'why' and 'when.' Concentrate on the 'here' and 'now' instead."
"That is wise advice," he agreed, throwing the book and basket back at her. She dodged them easily, laughing as she covered her face with her arms in case she wasn't agile enough. Running forward, she pushed him into the water for daring to attack her, conveniently forgetting that she had thrown the objects at him in the first place. He fell backwards, caught of his guard, and was drenched in the salty water that splashed under the impact of his weight. She grinned and laughed at the surprised expression on his face, his hair trickling with water. He glared back at her from underneath his wet bangs, yet the ludicrousness of the situation rendered the glare ridulous. "That is not so wise!"
Belatedly, Relena realized his intentions and began to run away from him, yet her laughter and the shifting sand slowed down her progress. "No!"
He caught her easily, before she had even made it very far from the shoreline, and half-carrying her half dragging her, he threw her into the water. She fell with a stupendous splash that sprinkled over him too, and in revenge, she grabbed his hand and pulled him in with her. Both laughing, they stayed where they lay in the shallows, letting the water lap against their bodies gently like a lover's caress, simply enjoying the serenity of the environment.
"When I leave," he said at last, breathless from the laughter and a strange suffocating feeling in his chest, "you can look at the stars and imagine that I am up there somewhere, and that they are smiling down at you because I am smiling at the thought of you. You will also love all the stars, because you won't know which one I am on."
"No," she said with a laugh, smiling up at the sun and clouds. "I will look at the stars and imagine that they are telling me that they're going to kill me by falling down on my head, and then I will laugh at the absurdity of it all."
"Knowing you, you will run into town screaming that the sky is falling down."
"And you will come and hold it up for me."
"I'll just be the fox that'll gobble you up."
She raised herself up, twisting so that she was lying on her side propped up by an elbow. "I think you already did," she said softly, "or at least, I'm going to gobble you up if you don't eat me first." He pulled her down again into the water, where they stayed for countless minutes.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The last they saw of each other was at the terminal of his flight, an awkward goodbye that they tried to cover with pretensions of joviality and optimism that they did not feel.
"Are you sure you want to do this still?" she demanded irritably at last, just as they had finished saying their goodbyes the fourth time.
He blinked innocently, but Relena was sure she understood her implications perfectly. He always did. "If I don't go soon, my rose is going to die," he said slowly.
"You don't have a rose," she retorted. "You don't even have a garden or a house."
"But I can get one," he said placidly with a smile. "Cheer up. You can come up and see my roses one day, when I get them. Together, we'll go to the stars."
"And how long will that be?"
A voice came on over the loudspeaker, calling for the passengers of the flight to start boarding. Last call for the passengers of flight 245 to begin boarding. Last call.... There was an angry bustle of latecomers as they shoved their way to the terminal, waving their boarding passes wildly into the faces of the stewardess. Instinctively, Heero pulled Relena closer to him, lest she be lost in that crowd. She bumped into him accidentally, and without thinking, he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her up effortlessly, yet his arm lingered as the crowd had yet to disperse. He looked thoughtfully at her and the terminal, beyond which the shuttle to the colonies lay, and smiled as he begin to move with the crowd, leaving her behind.
"The day that I'm ready to start loving you!" he called over his shoulder.
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~Fin.
Author's Note:
*I think I remember that there was an anime movie (not necessarily Japanese anime) when I was very little on this story. It's originally a very pretty French story, called Le Petit Prince. I wonder where I can find it again.