Notes at the bottom.
thoughts
Journal Entry: 11.10.AC214
Here is where I begin to attempt to make sense of things. I'm following the example of my girlfriends – and my mother – and putting my thoughts in writing, they say it gives you perspective as long as you just let it flow. Maybe, when I reread my random thoughts, they'll be easier to sort out. Maybe I'll find answers to the questions I have not yet formed. I'm not what you would call a sad or troubled teenager, I just need to figure some things out.
My birthday is in eight days, the day itself is usually very happy, I have family and friends that truly care about me and it's a wonderful feeling. But now in the days before, I question my life, my expectations, my past and my future. I guess that's normal for a 15-year old, but given who my parents are, I am far from normal. My mom wanted to throw me a big party, just like the one she had for her 15th birthday, but I'm not really up for it. In that sense I guess I'm more like him than I am like her. Instead I've asked for a trip; I need to see Duo, "Uncle Duo". Not that he really is my uncle, he's a friend, sometimes more like a foster father to me, it is partly because of him that I know so much about my father. He seems to have been my father's best friend.
We made the final arrangements just last week, Duo will be coming to earth for my birthday, and then I'll go back with him to L2. It's been so long since I've been there, since the summer before last that I spent a month with them. Hilde had just had the baby and I wanted to help her with the other kids. I also wanted information. Duo had talked to me about my father; the way he teased him all the time, the work they had done together, the way he looked at my mom, the love he had for me. . . But it hadn't been enough. I'd needed to know more. Needed to know what other people saw in him, what he had done, how he behaved. Mostly, I had only my mom's words to go by.
I had discovered my mom's journals on New Year's eve in a corner of the library, stacked under and behind old papers and reports. At first I was just being nosy, I figured I'd find something in there that I could use to blackmail her when she lectured me about the stupid things I did. What I found had a profound effect on me. Apparently she had started keeping a journal shortly before they met, I've never seen those early journals because they weren't with the others. The oldest one I've found is from the end of AC197. She was still the Vice Foreign Minister and it took up a great deal of her time. She traveled extensively between the colonies and the earth because even after a year, peace was still tenuous. At the time, my father worked for the Preventers, though she rarely saw him. But the entries for the dates they did meet were full of passion and pain. She loved him so dearly and I think he must have loved her too, but he had never said as much to her and it weighed on heart. They didn't really have a relationship at that point, not a real one. A stolen kiss here or there, but never more than that; he always seemed to drift in and out of her life. She accepted it, because as she put it 'that was who he was'. But she had wondered how he always managed to be there just in time to protect her from some disaster or another, to catch her whenever she was about to fall. Knowing now how he managed it, I find it hard to believe she could have been so oblivious! I guess you could say it was his job to monitor her. Staying out of sight and out of the spotlight, he watched and protected her, only revealing himself when it was absolutely necessary. Duo says he always teased my father about sneaking around on roof tops and in trees, watching her from balconies. He took quite a few beatings for jokingly calling my father a pervert, a peeping-tom and a sick-o, I would have loved to see that. I would still love to see it. I would love to see him. Where are you?
Journal Entry: 11.12.AC214
"She looks so much like her father!" "Their resemblance is uncanny." "Thank heaven she's doesn't act like him."
My father . . . Hushed words that were not meant to be heard by me, by my mother, by the others who still think about him and still hold a place for him in their hearts. Statements made by people who never really knew him. It is he who has driven me to question, he who has unknowingly shaped me with his absence. I never really knew him. And mom, she doesn't talk about him much, it's not like she won't if I ask, but the conversations are always too brief and too painful for her. I don't want to make her suffer. After 13 years without him, she still loves him dearly. She's never married, never even seriously dated anyone that I can tell. And then there's me. I am a constant reminder of him, one that must sometimes be overwhelming. Physically, I'm so much like him, they say. Maybe it's the way I speak or the tone of my voice or the way I carry myself; maybe it's the color of my hair – it's certainly not the cut, maybe it's the look in my eyes, his eyes. Everyone always mentions his eyes. They must have been something to behold in person, I can't remember because I was too young. I look at myself in the mirror and I can't see what the big deal is. Blue eyes, just big dark blue eyes. His eyes . . . Mom wrote about them constantly in her journals, how they were the windows to his soul. How they captured her and pulled her in, they mesmerized her. I think it was the way he looked at her that must have sustained her hopes. Hopes that one day she would be able to show him just how much she loved him. And once they did finally come together, those same eyes must have helped her survive what would follow. Not from him of course, but from all the others. I guess they must have held an incredible power.
Milliardo apparently did not approve, she wrote sadly about the arguments she had with her brother about him. My uncle did not believe that the relationship could come to any good. He and my father were constantly at odds, though Milliardo never interfered directly, he loved mom very much and only wanted her to be happy and safe. He told mom that he believed that had my father's heart been in the right place, he would have asked her to marry him. People would talk, people were talking, the relationship would be her undoing. She was a public figure after all, the Vice Foreign Minister, the heir to a monarchy. But she would not be swayed; not by my uncle, not by her public relations staff and most certainly not by public opinion. She loved him, he loved her, they were together and that was all that mattered. She never asked him to marry her either, she didn't need it. They had pledged their love to each other and that was all she required. I think sometimes that she may even have enjoyed all the publicity and the rumors a bit, she wrote about how they laughed at it in private. How my father had jokingly offered to 'eliminate' the offenders. He even once offered (apparently in a round-about way) to 'make it official', but she declined. If they ever married it would be because the two of them had decided on it, not because the tabloid reporters dubbed them 'the Princess and the consort', 'Mr. War and Ms. Peace', 'the royal bed-warmer' or any number of other silly things. Funny, I would have never thought her to be so bold. What power he must have had! Their friends understood and supported them in their decision, not everyone was meant to marry. As it turns out, they never would.
I resented that for a while, why hadn't they married? They'd made me a bastard. I don't know if parents actually teach their children to use the word, teach them what it means, or if there's some glossary for cruel children out there somewhere; but my family's status in the government and my obvious wealth did not make me immune. At the age of nine, it hurts to be reminded constantly that your father has run off and left you behind. To be told that he mustn't care enough about us to stick around and make us a "real" family was heart wrenching to say the least. By then mom had stepped back from her public work, she'd long ago resigned from the post of Vice Foreign Minister and had taken a position on the Diplomatic Advisory Council. She claimed that she had completed the work she set out to accomplish, but I think she did it for me. My father was gone and he wouldn't be coming back, she had to provide me the most stable life she could. She herself had been through so many unpleasant upheavals and I don't think she wanted that for me. Whenever I came home upset at the taunts of my classmates, she would take out our family pictures and vids and she'd remind me how much my father loved me. She told me stories about how he'd cradle me in his arms just after I was born and hum to me when he thought no one was listening. She spoke of a man that was dedicated, gentle and kind, but ferociously protective; I didn't understand back then why her voice always quivered as she told me those stories. I understand now.
Journal Entry: 11.13.AC214
I was down by the lake today, how peaceful and beautiful it is. I guess I'm lucky that we still live on the grounds of the Peacecraft Estate. The grounds are large and while Milliardo and Lucrezia live here too with their children, there's always somewhere to get away to. Living here with my uncle and his wife, whom he still calls Noin, sometimes makes for strange happenings, especially when the Preventers gather to have "meetings". What a joke! They were all here today, at least the ones stationed on earth: Sally, Wufei and 'Lady'. Lady, strange now that I think of it, I've never heard anyone call her by her first name. Sally and Wufei, what a pair. They're not together anymore, it just didn't work out between them, but they are still the best of friends. Lady stayed only a little while, just long enough to deal with the official reason for their gathering, sometimes I think that being with all these people brings back too many memories for her. After she left, Sally and Wufei stayed to hang out with Milliardo, Lucrezia, mom and me. We ate and drank, took vids of the kids and in general were having a great time until the sun started to set. I'm not sure what it is about the sun setting over the lake, that makes everyone so nostalgic. It started with what I thought was a cute little story about my aunt and uncle before they had gotten married, then a story about some wild party a few years ago. And then it happened, someone mentioned his name. Sally tried to change the conversation quickly, Lucrezia nervously joined in the subterfuge, but they were drowning quickly. Wufei, in typical Wufei fashion, just grunted and walked away. Milliardo stood up, shot a quick glance at mom and gave his wife a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before taking the children inside with the excuse that it was time to begin getting them ready for bed. My mom just sighed a little sigh and put on a brave face. I wanted so badly for someone to keep talking about him, but they didn't. Sally and Lucrezia looked like they wanted to say something but couldn't. I decided to leave. I was not angry, just feeling a bit needy. Need. I needed to see his face, needed to be reminded of how happy that name once made us all. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them huddle together as I reached the house, I think mom was crying.
I've seen the vids from when I was small, no more than a year or year and a half old; laughing, playing at the lake, celebrating weddings, holidays and special occasions with friends. There are a few still photos of us as a family, happy, young, carefree. Seemingly carefree. They were both so beautiful, they loved each other and they loved me. I know it, I can see it in their faces. Mom is still beautiful, a little older, perhaps a little sadder; but her sadness is now part of her beauty, and I don't think she would trade any of it for a single moment of joy now.
. . . I'm sorry, I can't come back. Forgive me . . .
My father left one day and never returned. They knew he was leaving, he had to every so often because it was part of his job. In the 4 or so years they had been together, my father occasionally had business that took him away for a few months at a time, but mom always knew when he'd be back. Two weeks from the date of the final report, almost to the day I've been told. Quatre once casually referred to it as the "cleansing period". He needed this time to regain his focus, to wash away whatever sins he had just committed. To become again the man he was to us, the one my mom had grown to love more than life itself. I don't know the details of the jobs he did, but I know that they weren't pretty. He was part of the Preventers, an agency of the government that investigated and "corrected" problems in and between the colonies and the earth. He occasionally worked with his old buddies, but more often than not he was on his own. That was the way he liked it, only himself to rely on.
Duo will be here in three days. He's scheduled to arrive a couple of days before my birthday to meet with Lady, she's the director of the Preventers Investigative Unit. I want so badly to talk to him. I'm hoping that I'll be able to convince him to get a hold of Trowa again while I'm on L2. Trowa He used to come to earth whenever he could, back when I was little, before my father left. It wasn't until the summer before last that I actually remember meeting him. The circus, which he had used as cover during the war and was now the manager of, had come to L2 while I was there. Of course he and Duo couldn't pass up the opportunity to get together, though I don't think I've ever met two more different people in my life. Duo and I took the kids to the circus and Hilde stayed home with the baby. Trowa took us backstage and had the clowns keep the kids busy after the show while we went to his trailer to talk. It was true what everyone said about him, he hardly spoke. No more than 5 or 6-word sentences usually, which of course I thought might have been because Duo never stops talking. At first he seemed very serious, what little he did say always seemed to carry such weight. Words of wisdom, even if he was just fending off one of Duo's verbal parries. Eventually they began catching up on old times. Duo showed him pictures of the baby and caught him up on the happenings with the Preventers. I got the feeling that while Trowa didn't actually work for them, they had dealings, maybe just providing information. Trowa's sister had apparently married and left the circus to be with her husband, they now had a little girl and were living happily on L4; he had already been managing the circus for about 3 years and while he was alone, he claimed to be content. I guess. I watched him talking and could see that same sadness that I had seen in all their eyes. He usually kept it hidden, but it would appear every once in a while. We all talked for a little while longer and before leaving Duo made him promise to come by the next day for dinner, that way he could see Hilde and the baby.
The next night after dinner, Hilde and Duo were putting the kids to bed and Trowa and I agreed to clean up in the kitchen. We worked quietly for a few minutes before he broke the silence. "What do you want to know?" was all he said. How could he have known, we hadn't even mentioned my father. But that was OK, I hadn't found a way to broach the subject, and there was the door, wide open and waiting for me to cross the threshold. We finished in the kitchen and went outside. He told me about the times he and my father had worked together during the wars, of his outstanding courage throughout, of the roots of discord between my father and my uncle. He spoke endlessly, something I hadn't thought possible, since he was so famous for not speaking at all. He told me that he had always considered my father a true friend and that he was a good man that had taught him important life lessons, he thought my father'd be proud of how I had turned out. When it was all over we went back inside to find Hilde and Duo quietly watching TV. An almost imperceptible nod passed between the two men and Trowa excused himself, promising to make contact again before he left the colony. I haven't spoken to him since.
Journal Entry: 11.15.AC214
I'm not sure why, but I was just thinking about the day I almost drowned. I must have been about seven or eight, I wasn't supposed to go swimming in the lake by myself, there was always supposed to be an adult with me. But I didn't care, I thought I could handle it on my own, so I got up from where I was playing, climbed over the patio rail and down to the lake. I ran straight to the lake with every intention of swimming and waded right in without a care. I don't quite remember what happened next, maybe I tripped and fell forward or just lost my footing, but I went under. I remember struggling to catch my breath for what seemed like an eternity and then I guess I passed out. When I came to, I was on the bank of the lake, with everyone huddling around me. No one knows how I got there, they just happened to stumble upon me during their desperate search. Someone must have rescued me, but none of the staff that was searching the grounds admitted to pulling me out or recalled anyone else coming or going. For I while after, I told myself that an angel had rescued me. I made the angel out to be the likeness of my father as I remembered him from the pictures. I knew deep down inside that it wasn't really him, but I wanted to believe it. To this day, when I picture angels in my head, they still have dark blue eyes and unruly brown hair.
They would have been about my age now when they first met and I can't imagine having lived the next three years of their lives. The wars. The Gundams. White Fang, Romefeller, OZ, the Mariemaia Army and the Unified World Nations. So much loss, so much pain. It all seems like ancient history now, they even teach it at school. My close friends think it's cool that I know so many people that had so much to do with it. Sometimes I think they're gonna ask me to get autographs or something, but they don't. And I'm glad. I don't want to remind them of that time, because they still carry the scars deep within, I've seen them.
. . . Maybe Zechs was right after all . . .
My uncle still carries the pain, and the shame, of what happened, I've overheard those comments too; "look that's Zechs Marquise – the Lightning Count . . .", ". . . Milliardo Peacecraft? wasn't he the leader of the White Fang". But he and his wife are happy and they've made a life for themselves and their children, they've reconciled the past and are working to improve the future. I know now he doesn't hate my father, he's told me so and I believe him. It was hard for him at first, they had been on opposite sides of the battle for so long. But I think as the years went by he realized that my father truly loved her, and he came to accept him. He's told me about the day I was born, mom had not been feeling well towards the end of the pregnancy and my father had been a total wreck. It was late in AC199, he seemed to be reverting to his 'old personality', glaring at everyone from under the (slightly shorter) hair in his face. His previously trademark monosyllabic response to all queries and comments had returned as well. "Hn" my uncle had quoted, "that's all he would ever say, 'Hn'". It was driving the staff crazy and it was scaring everyone. All except mom, Milliardo said she seemed to take it in stride. If he glared at her, she would just return a smile and the glare would end. If he 'hn'd' her, she would act like he had answered her question, and always the way she wanted it answered, often times that would elicit a glare. Only to have it washed away with a smile. According to her journal entries from that time, he didn't act that way when they were alone. He had gotten into the habit of waiting up until she fell asleep and getting up before her, just to be sure he would be awake if she needed him. She was convinced that his short fuse with the others was a result of sleepless nights. She said she often woke to find him sitting in the same place and the same position he'd been in when she'd drifted off to sleep. She was worried that he might actually be too exhausted to do anything when the time finally came. She was wrong.
They were walking the grounds of the estate when her water broke. He immediately laid her down and ran to get the car. On his mad dash he nearly knocked down everyone and everything he came across. He drove the car out onto the lawn, placed her in the back seat and proceeded to break every traffic law in the book but managed to get her to hospital in three minutes. The delivery was relatively quick and painless, it was over in less than four hours. But to hear my uncle tell it, they were an interesting 4 hours. Apparently my father still had the habit of carrying a gun with him wherever he went, so naturally when the time came to rush to the hospital, he was armed. My aunt and uncle were the first to arrive in the maternity ward waiting room. What they found was my father pacing a hole in the floor on one side of the room and all the family members of the other expectant mothers huddled into a small area as far away from him as possible. They stared fearfully at what looked like a caged beast. They exchanged strained smiles with the poor frightened people huddled in a corner and quickly decided to move him into the hallway. He refused to move more than 5 meters from the delivery area, in case he was needed. He glared at every doctor, nurse and orderly that entered or exited through the double doors separating him from the birthing rooms. By the end of the second hour, Lucrezia was afraid that he might pull his gun on the next person passing through the door. By then Sally, Wufei and Quatre had arrived to lend their moral support. They too ended up huddling in an area of the hallway about a meter away from him. They discussed the logistics of disarming him, no one wanted to be the one to have to do it. They even considered offering him a drink with a sedative, to facilitate the disarmament. They decided against it when Wufei reminded them how he would react after the sedative wore off. The next two hours passed tensely, everyone was on pins and needles. Finally, mom's doctor emerged and announced the safe arrival of a healthy baby girl, mother and daughter were fine, and would the father like to join them. From all accounts he nearly flew through the doors and down the hall to her room.
They had already agreed on my name, though it wasn't an easy decision. He wanted a name that denoted strength and power; she wanted a name that denoted beauty and grace. They agreed on an ancient name, Helena, a woman whose remarkable beauty and grace had the power to start a conflict over love. It seemed appropriate. It occurred to me a few years ago that I couldn't have asked for a better name. Helena: part Heero, part Relena. I wonder if they ever noticed?
~~ to be continued ~~
AN: Thank you for reading, this is my first outing in the world of fanfics and I hope it lives up to your expectations. This idea has been rumbling about in my head for a while and it finally just had to be written. Please tell me what you think of it by dropping a line. Thanks to my beta reader LooNeGirl117, love ya'.
Writers get so lonely if readers don't comment. Write me at: BadMomma64@aol.com
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.
