Mommy Dearest
For as long as he could remember of his thirteen years, Alexander
Dorlian-Winner had hated hospitals. He disliked the cleansed smell of them,
and the way no body would look each other in the eye. Most of all he hated
the look of hospitals. Alex had seen pictures of the interior of hospitals
in the Before Colony time, and he despaired to note that those hospitals
looked almost exactly the same as the ones he hated to step into. They
were angular, bland, inoffensive, and sterile. All the other buildings
had become rounded and chic; hospitals remained the same. Impersonal, that's
what they were. It seemed to Alex that of all buildings, hospitals shouldn't
be impersonal.
Alex sat still in the back seat of one of his mother's pastel
rose limousines, feeling dread fester in his gut as the limo rolled up
to the front of Winner Memorial Hospital. His hands were starting to cramp;
he'd been squeezing them into tighter and tighter fists. The limo slowed
to a craw. Though Alex kept his eyes focused on the back of the seat in
front of him, he knew the they were slowed by the multitude of reporters
and other civilians who crowded around the hospital like spectators around
a nasty car wreck. A multi-car pile-up, maybe. In a way, that was exactly
what they were.
The crowd had gotten so large, the Preventers had to be called in. Alex didn't have to look out the mirrored window to see the two hundred-odd group of people; he'd seen it all day and night on the news stations. A lot of them were probably yelling at the sound-proofed limo. Many were reporters, but the majority were fans of his mother, Relena Dorlian. Relena Dorlian, lost princess of the Sank Kingdom. Relena Dorlian, queen of the World Nation. Relena Dorlian, the latest celebrity tragedy.
They'd even started piling flowers at the foot of the flimsy plastic fence the Preventors had put up. One news station had made a point of doing several dramatic close-ups of the red roses. Alex had wanted to throw a tantrum and shout to those people //"She's not dead! She's not dead—so why are those flowers there? She's not dead yet!"// He'd wanted to go up and rip those heartfelt laid bouquets, throw them down and stomp on them.
He'd wanted to do a lot of things since seventeen hours ago when he'd first been told of the assassination attempt on his mother. He'd wanted to beat his fists into the first thing he came to and to see it break, but he couldn't bear to harm anything in his mother's house, fearing irrationally that harm to his mother's possessions would result in further harm to his mother. He'd wanted to cry, but when he closed himself off in his room and buried his face in his hands no tears would come. He'd wanted to immerse himself in his music like he used to do when he was younger, but Alex hadn't touched any of his instruments since his father's death five years previous, and was hideously out of practice. Finally, he'd allowed a family servant to herd him onto the next shuttle to L4, where a bomb had gone off in his mother's room while she was sleeping.
The limo stopped gently. "We're there," said the driver when Alex
failed to respond, tactful insistence evident in his voice. Alex nodded,
but was strangely reluctant to get out.
"Your mother's probably waiting for you," said the driver.
Again, Alex just nodded. //Yeah. Probably// he thought.
The driver sighed. "Look, you're wasting everyone's time. I suggest you get out," he said firmly. Alex got out, and the car rolled away. He stood outside the hospital for a moment, repeating to himself what the driver had said.
//Your mother's probably waiting for you...// Maybe she was. Or maybe the perpetual string of meetings and conferences and paper work had pushed Alex completely out of his mother's mind. Maybe she got an concussion from the explosion, got amnesia, and forgot all about him.
Alex pushed open the doors and stepped into the hospital. He'd been expected, and got the directions to his mother's room quickly. She'd been in surgery for the first few hours after the explosion, and had slept for the next seventeen. Miss Relena was awake now, a nurse had told Alex. She was awake, and had asked about him. The last was good to hear. Somehow, it made the hospital less imposing.
Take six floors up. Turn left twice, then right once. Room 617. The door was open. Alex stepped in timidly.
"Mom?" he said. The room was brightly lit, white, and sparse, with a single bed jutting out of the back wall.
The figure on the bed stirred. "Alexander?" inquired a familiar
voice. //She sounds tired,// thought Alex. //Soul-weary. She always sounded
strong. Assertive.//
"Yeah?"
"Come here, Alexander," requested Relena. //Mom never requested. Even when she sounded like she was asking, she was really demanding. This isn't right, this isn't Mom.// Reluctantly, Alex did so. He closed the door, and sat on the empty chair beside Relena's bed. He forced himself to look her in the face, though it was hard. Relena's wheat-coloured hair had been shaved off, and there was a large scar running from her temple to the top of her head. Her face was criss-crossed with stitches. There were burn marks on her neck, and her left had was bandaged. Alex heard that several fingers had been either burned off or severed.
"How was school?" inquired Relena, as she did most days when she was home. Sometimes it would be all she said to him for the day. Alex relaxed at the familiar routine. If he knew his mother, she wouldn't want to talk about the bomb if she came out in such a marred condition.
"It's fine," said Alex almost automatically. "Um...actually, it's March Break."
"Oh," said Relena. "But you've been doing well, right?"
"Yeah."
Relena took a deep breath, and looked straight into Alex's eyes. Alex noticed that she had adopted her politicians face. "Listen, Alexander, I want," she faltered, and turned away to gaze at the ceiling. "I haven't been a very good mother to you, have I?"
Alex said nothing.
"Did you know that when I was young, I used to swear to myself that when I had kids, I'd never neglect them like my father did me."
Alex kept his silence, but thought guiltily about how he and some of his friends who had work-a-holic parents sometimes joked about their parents' frequent absence. Neglected Children United, they called themselves. //But what effort did I make? She isn't the one to blame.//
"Now here I am, worse then my father." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Alexander."
"It's Ok," replied Alex.
"No, no it isn't." Relena turned her gaze back to Alex. She reached
out with her good right hand and placed it on Alex's knee. "Listen...When
I get out of this bed, we'll spend some time together. How about that?
I'll take some time off of work, and it'll be just you and me." Relena's
face shone with hope, but Alex didn't fail to realize that her demanding
voice had returned.
Alex smiled. "It sounds good," he said.
"I knew you'd like it," proclaimed Relena. Her face stilled for a moment, just like when she was engaged in a debate and was thinking something over. "There's a mirror on top of the drawers over there. Pick it up," she said, gesturing in the general direction of the plastic chest of drawers. "Please."
Alex walked over to the drawers and picked up the mirror. It was surprisingly large; about a foot tall and twice that wide.
"Look into it."
"Why?" Alex asked.
"You'll see. Trust me," was the only reply he got.
Alex propped the mirror up on the top of the drawer and gazed into it, looking himself square in the eye. "Now what?"
"What do you see?" asked Relena. //I get it now. I know what you're getting to. Mom, I know already...can't you just leave it unsaid?// thought Alex.
"Um. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Pale skin."
"You look so much like your father," said Relena, in the whisty voice she used whenever she talked about Alex's father.
"No I don't," protested Alex. //No, I don't, and you know it.//
"Really? You look like him to me."
//Are you trying to goad me?// "No. My father had different eyes. Mine are too dark. He had lighter hair too, much lighter, and a different hairline. He didn't have these eyebrows, or this nose. Practically the only thing we have in common is the white skin." Alex put down the mirror and turned to his mother. //I'll play along if that's what you want.// "What's the point of this?"
Relena gazed sadly at Alex. "I've been thinking about this since—for five years now, and I think it's time to tell you."
//That my father isn't my real father? I know that already...It's kind of obvious, isn't it? I don't really look like either of you two.// "Yeah?" asked Alex cautiously.
"Come here first," insisted Relena gently. Alex walked over to his mother's bedside and sat down in the chair again.
"Quatre always wanted you to know, but I didn't; that's why we—I didn't tell you sooner," started Relena. "It isn't easy for me to confess this, so I am just going to say it." She took a deep breath, and looked Alex straight in the eye in a way that Alex had seen her use on the public at public announcements. "Quatre isn't your father, Alexander."
//I know...I've known for a long time.// Alex bit on his bottom lip, remembering nights when he'd sleep with his head under the pillow to block out the sounds of Relena and Quatre fighting about some trivial matter. In the daylight then seemed like such a perfect couple, but once the world slept they'd start attacking each other with accusations and angry arguments. Alex never understood why they did that, and then Quatre died and Alex didn't want to think about it. He grew accustomed to the midnight fights over the years. Eventually, instead of huddling in his bead, Alex curled up against his door to eavesdrop. He was always scared then, and he didn't want to hear some of the things being said but he listened anyway. And when Quatre died, Alex found that he couldn't sleep without the accusing noise, and started putting on harsh music at a low volume throughout the nights.
"Alexander?" Relena's voice cut through Alex's thoughts, bringing him back to present reality. He brought his hand to his face, and realized with some shock that it was wet. //When did that happen?// "Alexander?" Relena repeated. "I know it's a shock." //I've known for a long time. I have.//
Alex just nodded, and a tear dropped off of the edge of his jaw.
"This doesn't mean Quatre loved you less," said Relena.
"Yeah. I know."
"And this doesn't change a thing."
Another tear fell.
"But I was thinking that maybe...during that time off from work I was talking about earlier, we could find your biological father and..." Relena's voice faltered at the end. "I thought that you would like to meet him," she concluded in her demand tone.
"Maybe."
"I would have loved to know my biological father," said Relena wishfully. //She's the only person I know how can sound wishful and expectant at the same time.//
"How'd your hand feeling?" Alex asked, and watched with a mixture of
guilt and triumph as Relena paled and stuttered a soft 'It's-feeling-better-now.'
9o~ "It's been a long time."
Oo~ "Not nearly long enough, old man. I thought that you were dead."
9o~ "I'm sorry to disappoint you!"
Oo~ "Hn.
9o~ "..."
Oo~ "I shouldn't have been surprised. You never turned down a chance to mess with my life."
9o~ "Now boy, you know that that's not fair. I looked after you for years, after all."
Oo~ "And even though I'm no longer eight years old, you still hang over me, right?"
9o~ "You could say that."
Oo~ "And you know me better than anyone else, huh?"
9o~ "I think it's safe to say that."
Oo~ "..."
9o~ "I managed to get you here, didn't I!"
Oo~ "....What do you want."
9o~ "World peace."
Oo~ "Bullshit."
9o~ "Would it damage you terribly to except that we share the same hope for the future?"
Oo~ "I have no trouble believing *that*. It was you who dictated what my beliefs should be, after all."
9o~ "I see. Then you'll hear me out?"
Oo~ "One last time."
9o~ "I'd better make this good, then!"
Oo~ "Get on with it, before I change my mind."
9o~ "I meant it when I said that I want nothing more than peace. People in general think that peace is something that once held, is there forever. But the truth is, as long as humans are not content, there will be conflict and advancement. The trick is to let a populace advance in such a way that they think that they are content. Right now that populace is not content, that was the mistake the new government made, and that is why the Earth and space will soon be at war again."
Oo~ "And Relena?"
9o~ "The Peacecract girl was too content. She compromised, and grew placidly into her set place in life. She had to be eliminated."
Oo~ "...You killed her."
9o~ "Not personally."
Oo~ "..."
9o~ "I know you better than anyone else, Heero. I know you saw the need."
Oo~ "I hoped that no one else did. She was ....a good political leader."
9o~ "Yes. She was something else, wasn't she?"
Oo~ "What of her kid?"
9o~ "I assure you, the boy is in fine condition."
Oo~ "...Do I dare ask for what?"
9o~ "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
Alex glared angrily at the tombstone in front of him. It read 'Relena Peacecraft / A.C. 180-221 / The world is weeping at her passing'
//The world is weeping her passing. Yeah right...they loved her so much, they had to blow her up! Yeah, I bet those bastards wept their eyes out.//
Alex knelt down to arrange a bundle of yellow daisies carefully among the other two flower bouquets present; five white roses tied together with a ribbon and tulips of assorted colours. They were there every second week, those same flower arrangements, and always in the same places. The roses would be weighted down with a rock at the base of the tombstone, with their faces pointing away from the grave. The tulips would stand at attention with their stems rooted firmly into the ground a fair distance from Relena's plot; they were always just close enough for people to be able to tell that they were for Relena. Alex slipped the stems of his daisies into the grass covered ground in the middle of the grave, pointing the sunny faces of the yellow flowers at the tombstone. Yellow daisies were his mother's favorite flowers. She always had to have some in the house. //But she always had to have them just perfect. Always nothing less than perfection.//
Relena never left the hospital after the explosion; she died there three months later. //Cancer. She had cancer for two years, and she never thought to tell me.// Alex hung his head and glared at the ground, as if he could see through the earth and the wooden coffin to the decayed remains of his mother. //I'm her fucking son, and she never told me that she was going to die!//
"I can't figure you out, mother," Alex whispered, anger and confusion evident in his soft voice. He supposed that other people in his situation would shout, yell, pound into the ground with their fists and feet, burning out their negative emotions in a short burst of intense flame. Alex wasn't like that, though; he smoldered, and only let the whispers of what he truly felt show. "First you all but disappear from my life for years, and then you die on me without even a note on the fridge? You could have told me..."
"But you know what?" Alex asked the daisies conspirately. "I think I'm starting to understand. Two years you've been dead, and only now do I start to understand..."
"You're such a liar, mother. Yeah, that's right. You lied to me, just as easily as you lied to those politicians and those reporters. You lied to Dad too, all the time. You married him, and then you slept around the whole fucking world, didn't you? I bet that's how you got stuck with me...you probably didn't even know who my father was."
Alex took a deep, shuddering breath. "Slut," he continued, still in a soft, angry voice. "That's what you were. I bet that's how you became queen of the world back in the Eve wars; by going down with those old Romefeller farts."
"I hate you, and how you talked of peace and pacifism as if you were some angel of hope sent down to pose as an example for all us lowly mortals. And all the while..."
"But you know what, Mom? You know what the most frustrating part of this whole thing is? It's not knowing all these things about you, while the rest of the world goes on loving you and piling their pity on me with the biggest shovel they can find. I know I can expose you anything I wanted to; I'm living proof of your misdoings, aren't I?" At the last Alex let out a small, ironic chuckle.
"No, the most frustrating part is that...I don't just expose you. I can't. It's been almost two years and I still come here at least twice a month to bring you your favorite flowers."
"The truth is...I love you, mother," Alex spoke the sentance just like he had spoken every other sentance to his mother's grave. He spoke of love angrily, mockingly, hatefully. "I think I always will love you."
"But I hope not."
~end
Yeah...well that was pretty screwed up. I'm gonna excuse myself by saying that almost all of it was written between 10 and 12 pm by a person who usually goes to sleep at 10. Oh...and the father can either be Heero, Duo, or some random guy with dark hair and dark blue eyes...or who has a relative with such features. Even though I'm not a 1xR person, I'm totally leaning towards Heero for that one...
Well, anyway, please review!