Incredible Machine

by Scarlet Eve

A heart that beats

An incredible machine

Made of blood and love

and hope and love

and steam.

-Sugarland

One more shot should do it. Just one.

"Don't you realize Relena Peacecraft is down here?!"

She understands. She's not afraid. I'll find her in the afterlife.

The warning lights are blinking erratically. Zero tells me he's not much longer for this world. He can't hold on, but for one more shot.

The buster rifle is as charged as it'll ever be. One last time. I pull the trigger, and I feel the force of the beam push back against Zero. A white light consumes us both, and we fall.

I wake from my sleep, my breath heaving in my lungs, sweat covering my skin. I press my hands to my face, trying to push away the images that linger after my recurring dream. Only one other dream has plagued me as consistently as this one, though for the last few months, the little girl and her dog have been curiously absent.

The time on my alarm clock says it's three in the morning. I push back the blankets, only to have my skin break out in goosebumps from the sudden chill as the cold sweat dries.

A sliver of light falls across the room from where my curtains are slightly parted. I walk to the window and look outside. A frozen haze hangs in the air. Snow piles have been melting, and tufts of grass are beginning to appear.

She says she doesn't like this time of year - the transition between winter and spring. I disagree. I think March and I have a lot in common.

The halls of the Manor van bloemen are silent and dark. But the light in the library burns; I can see it through the gap of the door and the carpet. So she's still awake. Insomnia has been plaguing her since Mariemaia's attempt to hijack the Earth's government. She brushes it off, saying she's gotten a lot of work done.

I know better.

I push open the door and step inside the library. She's sitting on one of the couches, her feet curled beneath her. Her pink robe is pulled tight around her, and a blanket covers her feet. Long blonde hair lies in a braid over one shoulder. A book is propped up in her lap. Relena always looks at peace when she's reading a book, even if it's the middle of the night. Sometimes, I'll pretend to read just to watch her, to imprint her face in my mind for the times when I feel at war.

She turns my way.

"You caught me," she says with a smile. I worry about the circles under her eyes, which look more and more like purple bruises every day.

I cross the room to sit beside her, and she adjusts her position and offers me a portion of her blanket. I sit down and pull it over my lap. Despite her layers of pajamas, I can feel that she is cold.

"Did you have the dream again?" she asks, and I nod. "Same thing?"

"Yeah."

She looks at me sympathetically. But I don't deserve her sympathy. I tell her this, and she laughs.

"You act like you're a stray dog," she says, and her fingers curl around the end of her braid.

"You took me in off the streets," I reply. Her lips purse together in the smallest of pouts. It kills me when she does that.

"I offered you a place to stay," she says. This is her usual reply. We've had this conversation before. I know it frustrates her, but I can't help feeling like a charity case. Her efforts could be better used elsewhere, which is something she also denies. Perhaps I just cannot understand the full capacity of a heart like hers.

"You could leave whenever you want." This is new. I glance at her. She's staring off in the other direction, her chin high, but she's still absently twirling her braid through her fingers. I watch her for a moment, my lips twitching into a smile.

"I have spent enough time as a wandering soldier."

Her reaction is what I expected. Her face whipped back to me, and her fingers released her braid. Her blue eyes stare hard at me, as if she's searching my own for an untruth. There are none, but I let her search anyway.

Finally, her eyes soften, and she looks away. A pink flush crawls up her cheeks. I expect her to come back with some witty remark, but she remains silent. I wonder if this is a first for her - to be at a loss for words.

I doubt her brother has ever felt that way, I think with a smirk.

She's looking at me again, her mouth working like she wants to say something. I wait patiently until she shakes her head.

"It would be so much easier if I could just read your mind!" she cries in exasperation. I tilt my head, an eyebrow lifted.

"What do you mean?"

"I just want to know what you're thinking," she replies.

"Then ask." The look on her face tells me that this has never really crossed her mind.

"And you'd tell me the truth?"

"I've no reason not to."

She pauses for a moment, looking at me through her long bangs. I want to reach up, to brush them away, but I remain still.

"Heero, tell me what you're thinking," she says at last.

"I think you have a bad habit of getting into trouble, and that someone needs to keep an eye out for you," I say. She gives me that look, the one that means I'm being an ass. I try to keep myself from laughing. "I have also been thinking about my future…" I know this is what she wants to hear. Whenever we talked, I could see that she wanted to know, but was always too polite to ask. "The future that was unexpectedly handed to me. I don't have any plans yet, but I do know where I want to be."

I've rehearsed this speech many times while lying in bed, imagining how I would tell her that I no longer want to roam. How the only place that feels right to me is where ever she is. I want to explain that I don't understand this gravitational effect she has on me, but that I'm willing to fall into her orbit, if she'll let me.

I can't read her expression. How many times has she asked me to stay by her, only to leave her at the next moment? I wouldn't trust myself, either.

"I want to be near you, as you requested of me, once," I say. Her expression doesn't change. "You don't believe me?"

Her narrow shoulders shrug beneath the pink robe.

"I understand," I say. "I can only hope you'll take my word." She's no longer looking at me, but back down at the book lying open in her lap. Her hands are stacked on the pages.

"Why?" she finally asks.

Of course she'd ask that.

"I don't think I can even begin to explain all the things in my mind right now," I say, holding my hands out to her, as if to plead with her. "You are the only clear image I have."

To my surprise, she seems to accept this idea. She turns her face back to me, and her smile lights up her face.

"That makes me happy," she says, though her voice is low, as if she were making a confession. It is… strangely endearing. I finally allow myself to reach out to her, and brush her bangs to the side. Her eyes flutter closed at my touch. "All the time I've known you," she begins, once my hand is back in my own lap, "everything has been so serious. I admit that I didn't think you could… not be serious."

She wasn't the first one to tell me that, of course. I don't know about other soldiers, but when the wars were over - actually over - a weight was lifted from my shoulders. The mission was finally complete. Perhaps I do have a willingness to forget the past and move on to the future. That surprises even me.

"I like to think it's a change for the better," I reply, and she nods. Her eyes are beginning to droop closed. A glance at the clock on the wall tells me it's already past four in the morning. "You should get some sleep."

She nods, and slowly stands up from the couch, setting aside her book and allowing her blanket to tumble to the floor. "I'm glad we had this talk," she says, stretching her arms. "It does make me happy - to know what you are thinking." I nod once to her. She extends one hand to me, white with a chill, and I grasp it. She looks surprised, as I rise from the couch.

"You are warm," she states simply. In a swift movement, she's pressed against my chest, her hands between her chest and mine. I can feel the cold through my shirt. "How are you so warm?" I lift my arms around her, and I feel her head nuzzle into the space below my chin. Her nose, which is also cold, is pressed against my skin.

I could be perfectly content to share my body heat with her for the rest of the night, though I know in the back of my mind, it wouldn't happen. At least, until I start to feel her body going limp. Her breathing evens out. She is falling asleep.

Carefully, I lift her into my arms. She mumbles something, but her eyes remain closed. I carry her through the library and down the hall to her bedroom, where the door is thankfully ajar. I use my foot to push it open, and step into the darkness.

Her bed is in the far corner of the room. I cross the thick carpet to the side and lower her down onto the mattress, to the place where she'd thrown back the blankets after giving up on sleep. I straighten the blankets and tuck them up around her. As I turn to leave, her hand shoots out and latches onto my shirt.

"Heero…" she mumbles, her voice halfway between sleep and awake, "come keep me warm."

I stare down at the hand clenched to my shirt, amazed at her speed. A pressure forms in my chest, and I find myself frozen. My mind is divided - half telling me to leave, the other begging to stay.

"Heero…" she says again, but there is a bit more whine to her voice. I smile in the darkness. She's still a bit of a spoiled princess sometimes. I release her hand from my shirt and climb into the bed beside her. As soon as I lie down, she's flipped on her other side, curling her body against mine. I pull her into my arms, and our legs entwine. Her feet are like ice. I settle my head on the pillow, my chin on top of her head.

"Good night, Relena."

The morning following our first night together in her room, she wakes, feeling rested. During the spike of her morning caffeine, she decides it was my presence that helped her sleep, and asks me to join her every night. I half agree, that I will spend most nights with her, but not every night. She pouts, but I remain steadfast.

"Fine," she agrees eventually.

I can't yet explain to her why I feel unease at the thought of being by her side every night. The dreams come too often, forcing me awake, wrapping my hands around whatever's in reach with a death grip, to stop the unbidden feeling of falling. I know I'd hurt her on accident, if I woke up beside her after one of those dreams. I don't want her to know; she doesn't need to know. Not now.

After she leaves for the ESUN building, I pull on my boots and a jacket. There are paths around the Manor's gardens, though they aren't much to look at before spring. The plants are still hibernating. I walk these paths, the cold air chilling my face. My mind wanders, but continues to circle around to the same place, the same new memory.

Waking beside her, the room still mostly dark. Her body tilted towards mine, one hand resting under her cheek, blonde hair wild. In the dim morning light, her eyes flutter open, and I am the first thing she sees. And she smiles.

I'm having feelings that I've never felt before, in my chest, beneath my ribs. I feel calm and serene. Like after a successful battle, when I could release the tension within my body, knowing I was safe and alive once more. And it made her happy, which was something I've wondered I was capable of.

The paths around the manor are surrounded by barren bushes, lonely trees, and patches of dark, wet earth that will soon be full of flowers. At least, that's what Relena says it will look like.

My phone rings in my jacket pocket. I reach in and withdraw the phone. Duo's name is flashing on the screen. For once, I might actually be able to tolerate a phone call with him. I answer.

"Hey buddy!" he says right away, his voice too loud for the serene place in which I stand.

"Maxwell."

"How's it going?" he asks.

"Fine."

"Just fine?" I can hear a tone in his voice, and it makes me suspicious of his intentions.

"What do you want, Maxwell?" I ask.

"Ohh I was just wondering how things were going since you started shacking up with the princess," Duo says, laughter touching the edges of his voice. I want to strangle him. Lucky for him, he's in space.

"We're not 'shacking up,'" I reply, ready to hang up on him.

"Yeah, yeah. I know," he replies quickly. "She's got better taste than that."

"You are on the verge of forcing me to rescind my promise," I say. Duo laughs on the other line. Why am I still talking to him? "If you've got nothing else to say…"

He cuts me off. "Fine… it's Zechs. He's the one bugging me to contact you." I frown.

"Why?"

"Cause he's all big-brother-cautious about Relena, and apparently he can contact me easier from Mars. So don't shoot the messenger," Duo says. "Pretty sure he just still doesn't trust you."

"Well in that case," I say, a grin spreading on my face, "You should tell him that I've compromised his sister's purity."

"What?!" he shrieks in my ear.

"Not really, idiot," I say. "Lie. His reaction will be amusing."

There's a pause.

"I'm a little concerned about what Heero Yuy finds amusing. But whatever. I'll tell him," Duo says. "What does she got you on down there? Regular sleep and meals? Geez." I chuckle.

"I guess so."

"I'll have to have a word with her, then. Tell her she's changing you into someone I don't even know anymore."

"You do that."

I finally end the call with Duo, much to my relief.

It takes several days before I receive the angry voice message from Zechs. The quality is bad from the trip it made from Mars to Earth, but his threats are audible. In the background, I can hear Noin yelling at Zechs, trying to calm him down, or at least, make him shut up.

I laugh at the message.

Luckily, Relena has no idea.

I have been thinking about the differences between "moved in," "staying with," and Duo's term, "shacking up." I don't know if I technically "moved in" with Relena, but I am certainly "staying with" her. A quick internet search tells me that "shacking up" implies sexual activity, of which there has been none.

Yet?

It has been another topic that has been floating around my mind lately. In the war, I saw all men and women as the same, despite what Wufei seemed to believe. I never saw Relena or the other women as just women. They were all players in the war, and as a soldier, I had to watch my back around them just as much as the men. Sometimes more, as in the case of a certain Catalonia woman.

But as the responsibilities of war began to lift away from me, I began to notice other things, certain traits that truly separate the two genders. Like the way Relena's pajamas cling to the curves around her hips and abdomen. The swell of her breasts beneath her shirts. The deliberate, yet graceful way she moves her hands when she speaks.

I found pictures of her from her reign as Queen. How did I not see how beautiful, how regal and strong she looked? I curse my blindness then; I feel like I missed out on something extraordinary. And I foolishly believed she didn't know what she was doing.

Sleeping by her side at night has become more and more difficult over the past months. Now warmer weather has set in, she's begun to wear loose, silky nightgowns and shorts. As soon as she falls asleep, I have to pull away from her, to hide the arousal she causes me. I spend the time attempting to fall asleep, wondering if she feels the same.

There's nothing I would like to know more in the world than that.

She is in her room, waiting for me. The door is ajar, and the light of her lamp beside the bed is on. I hear her turn a page of the book she's been reading.

I made up my mind to find out her feelings. And since words have failed me the whole time I've been considering this, I have decided to find out by actions. I made an attempt once before, but I think the message was lost in the situation. This time, though, the message should be crystal clear.

I push open her door and close it quietly behind me. She glances up at me and smiles.

With a deep breath, I cross the room. Beside her bed, I lift the book away from her hands. She looks up at me.

"Heero?"

Her lips are pressed together. I climb up onto her bed, one knee on either side of her hips, my hands pressed into the pillow beside her head. She's staring up at me now, several expressions passing over her face. Before she can speak again, I lean down and press my lips against hers.

She inhales a gasp, but offers no resistance. In fact, her mouth yields to me, her lips parting slightly. I deepen the kiss, and feel one of her hands rest on my neck, and her fingers slide into my hair. The gesture sends a ripple of goosebumps down my spine.

Her mouth pulls away from mine. Her blue eyes stare up at me.

"What's all this about?" she asks. I drop to her side and she adjusts herself to face me.

I had hoped she wouldn't try to ask me anything. Trying to come up with the words to explain was difficult, and always made me sound… dumb.

But she stares at me, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know what to say," I answer. She eyes me skeptically. I sigh, and feel an ache in my pelvis area. "I wanted to know if you feel the same way I feel."

"About what?"

I think she's messing with me on purpose. There is a glimmer in her eye.

Inwardly, I huff. Fine. I'll give her what she wants.

"I'm attracted to you," I state. "You make me…" I trail off. I highly doubt she'd appreciate the language I'd picked up from Duo about this particular issue.

"Does this have anything to do with my brother believing you have "compromised my purity?"" she asks. That stops my thoughts, and my cheeks burn. But she's grinning.

"I was only joking," I reply. She nods, still grinning.

"Just tell me what's on your mind."

I sigh, and after a few moments of attempting to gather my thoughts, I tell her. I explain the gradual lifting in my mind of constantly assessing someone based on their threat level to myself and my missions.

"So you're seeing me now as a woman and not someone who is a threat that must be eliminated?" she asks, summing it up in as blunt a way as possible. I nodded, sheepishly. "Well, I suppose that makes sense then," she adds. I glance at her. "Why you never seemed to understand how I felt about you."

I have nothing to say, and she's silent for a moment, and for whatever reason, I am unable to meet her eyes.

I feel her fingers touch the bottom of my chin, lifting my face up to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, and her lips are turned up at the edges, a glimmer of a smile. She moves her hands to the sides of my face and pulls me forward, pressing her lips to mine. I reach to her and pull her to me, a strong desire welling up to never let her go. I've killed many people, but perhaps if I can save her, keep her alive, my sins will be absolved.

She sleeps. My body is still thrumming, unable to relax. I watch her, twirling her hair in my fingers. Underneath the thin blanket, she's bare, as I am. She'd shown me that she did think and feel the same things me, and it was easy for her to slip into the most vulnerable state with me, despite what we'd both been through.

Of course, she'd say that it was amazing that I could be vulnerable around her. She would be right. But I know that there's no part of her that would ever betray me. I begin to feel that I could tell her about the darkest thoughts, all the nightmares that rack me at night, the things I saw under the influence of Zero. She wouldn't understand, but she would still care.

At least, that's what I'm starting to believe. And I spent so much time trying to keep her several arms length away from me at all times. But she forced her way in, and every time, she surprised me, and broke down a little bit inside my mind that I'd built to keep others out.

And now it seemed all those walls were crumbling down, faster and faster with each passing day. It was unnerving. Existential thoughts run rampant through my brain, like who am I, and why am I here, and what the fuck could I possibly offer anyone?

The following morning, she finds me in the gardens. I hadn't slept at all, and eventually, I got up to wander the manor and the gardens, and to watch the sunrise over the trees. Now I sit near the patio, on a stone bench inscribed with the name of some benefactor to the gardens. She appears, wearing a silk robe tied around her waist, carrying two cups of coffee. She sits beside me and presses one of the cups into my hand.

"Good morning," she says, her voice still thick with sleep. I nod and sip the coffee. I wait. She's bound to say something, or to ask something, that I don't have answers for. But she says nothing. Her back leans against the bench, her legs stretch out in front of her, pale against the dark stone walkway. I notice with some amusement that she's barefoot.

"Relena." Her name slips off my lips, as it so often does. I can't relax, knowing that she's expecting something from me that I'm not sure I can give. I want to… have the conversation over with.

"Yes?"

She's not even looking at me. Her head is tilted up, looking at the endlessly blue sky, a rare vision of Relena completely relaxed. All my attempts at words stick in my throat. Finally, she turns to look at me. "What is it?"

"Last night…" I begin lamely. She smiles and chuckles softly.

"Don't say anything, Heero," she says. "I knew you'd worry, or feel suffocated, or something, as soon as it happened. I don't want to be a cliché."

"I don't understand."

She sips her coffee and rests the cup against her thigh.

"Maybe this will help," she says. She lifts one leg up to the bench, bent, and turned towards me. "I do have a lot of feelings for you, Heero, but as ever, I want you to be happy. As for me, I am happy already. I need nothing more."

I frown; her words only make me feel worse.

"I still don't understand," I say. She sighs and angles her head away from me.

"We're too young to worry about anything anyway," she says. I start to feel that we are not quite talking about the same thing.

"I just don't know how to be what you want," I say. She nods.

"That's the thing. I don't want you to be anything. Just you."

My brow furrows. Something about her words just seems wrong, but I can't put my finger on it. We finish our coffee in a somewhat comfortable silence, watching the morning arrive.

I call Duo as soon as Relena excuses herself to shower. I can't understand it, why I allow him in on my personal life. Perhaps it's because he has slightly more experience with women.

Duo screams in my ear when I tell him about the previous night.

"You dog," he says, laughing. When I manage to get him to shut up, I tell him about the conversation.

"You seriously don't get what she was saying?" Duo asks. I frown.

"Am I supposed to?"

Duo snorts. "You are a special case, so I guess not," he replies, then heaves a dramatically heavy sigh. "You're too afraid to be close to her, and don't think you can be like, her boyfriend or something. And she pretty much gave you the freedom to not worry about relationships or… future stuff."

"Future stuff?"

"Marriage," Duo says, like it's a bad word.

"Oh."

"I never thought Relena would be so laid back, but there ya go. Enjoy it while you can," Duo says. I begin to feel that Duo and I view some things differently. He makes the future seem like a terrifying, binding thing. When I finally force him off the phone call, as always wishing I kept my thoughts to myself, I reflect.

With closed eyes, I try to conjure up a future, beyond just the next month, or even the next year. Many years. The idea of having a secure future, with few worries, is appealing. I get the impression that Duo believes being "tied down" is a bad thing; perhaps he hasn't let go of the 'wandering soldier' in him. Or perhaps it's because he always had somewhere to go back to.

There I go, trying to analyse Duo's life.

I blanch, and go back to my own thoughts.

The explosions in the base go up, lighting the surrounding area in an orange, flickering glow. I smile as I walk away, my mission complete.

The base's structure groans under the destructions, while metal heats and twists, bending to collapse. I stop walking and look over my shoulder.

A tower is bending, falling, but in the wrong direction.

"No!" I cry. I run towards the tower, knowing there's nothing I can do. The tower continues to fall, and with a loud crash and screech, it crashes into the neighboring apartment building. I watch in horror as the structure of the apartment building crumbles in on itself, tilting and falling, until it crashes on the ground among the rubble of the base.

"What have I done?" I cry, falling to my knees.

"Heero." It's the little girl's voice. "Heero!" I cover my ears. She's dead.

I open my eyes and sit up. The dream fades from my mind. Relena is sitting beside me in the bed, her face a vision of concern and worry.

"Did I hurt you?" I blurt out, and she shakes her head.

"No, of course not." She touches my cheek with her fingertips. "Are you alright?" For a moment, I press my hands to my face, trying to scrub away the images from the dream.

"Nightmare," I say, lowering my hands to my lap. Relena makes a soft noise and wraps her arms around me, pulling me to her chest. Without provocation, I begin to talk, telling her of the two nightmares that play over and over in my mind nearly every night, and how I wake up, tense, angry, and scared. She simply listens, smoothing my hair and tracing her fingers down the side of my face. I'm held against her, unwavering support from this woman. When my words run out, we sit in silence for a few minutes, her arms still holding me tightly.

"Is that why you were afraid to stay with me every night?" she asks, and I nod in response. "I'm not afraid of your nightmares. Let me help you. I'll keep you from falling."

I once again reprimand myself for ever having doubted her.

I return the embrace and rest my chin on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Relena," I whisper in her ear.

A strange thing begins to occur, a pattern.

At Relena's insistence, I pass my high school equivalency exam without trying. She had done it the summer before, and explained that it was too easy to not pass. After, she pushes for college. She isn't pursuing a college degree, at least not yet. She wants to, but finds herself with limited time. But I have time. So I enroll and begin to study and take classes, all online.

Some nights, I get caught up researching and studying. Education used to be just a cover, and I never gave it an extra thought. But now at my leisure, I can spend hours learning, studying, writing a research paper that is far beyond anything the professor expects. And those nights, when Relena goes to bed, I sleep in my own room as to not wake her.

And the nightmares return. Horrible and vivid, they make my mind and body feel as if I'm back there, blowing up a base only to kill the inhabitants of an apartment building, or hovering above the presidential mansion, getting ready to end it all. I wake, sweating, with a racing heart, my hands in vice grips around my pillow or blankets.

But the nights I spend with Relena… if I dream, they are pointless dreams, normal dreams. And some nights, I don't even remember the dreams. And I wake up slowly in the morning, with Relena beside me.

And I feel happy.

I didn't think it would be so painless.

Fall arrives with colder temperatures and changing leaves. It's different, being on Earth during the changing seasons. The colonies don't even bother. There's little purpose to changing the weather when the plants and trees have been genetically engineered to survive with little water and false sunlight, and crops are grown inside climate controlled buildings. The colonies like their eternal summers with the perfect temperature and no weather fluctuations.

But on Earth, the colder air nips at the skin, the plants change color, and hibernate or die. The way life is supposed to work.

I am already missing Relena's summer clothes.

The other pilots continually ask about the state of our "relationship." I try to explain the lack of available definition. We just are. We don't have a label, or a set of rules, or standards. We do what feels right in the moment.

Whatever is it, this bond between us, has grown over the summer.

When I attend lavish, political events at Relena's side, I no longer receive strange looks. I am greeted as one of their own. I help her ward off most people who would bother her, such as the media, and potential suitors. And she continues to help me transition from a soldier to a citizen. And behind the scenes, away from the public eye, we share a bed at night, every night, and continue to explore the human body in the way it was meant to be explored.

And I believe that things are fine, until I overhear a conversation at a cocktail party that Relena asked me to attend.

An older woman, the wife of a colleague, pulls Relena aside in their overdone manor. Because I am already pretending to listen to a conversation with several men, I am unable to follow her. Instead, I focus my hearing on them. They're not far from me, and just as the woman pulls Relena towards her, our eyes meet. Hers are pleading, as if she knows whatever conversation is about to happen is not one she wants to listen to.

"Relena dear, you must allow me to impart some advice," the woman begins. I swear I could hear Relena's mental eye-roll. "You are not yet eighteen, but I do believe you must start looking for a suitable marriage arrangement."

"Why is that, Mrs. Dasher?" Relena asks innocently.

"Security, my dear."

"I have security. I have more than enough, actually," Relena replies.

"You know what I mean," the woman chides. "While I grant that you are very good at staying out of the tabloids, I think a suitable marriage would help you stay out of the public's eye, as they'd have nothing scandalous to report on. And you know as well as I that just one bad story can ruin a career."

Relena doesn't reply. I don't know what they're referencing, and I make a mental note to ask her about it later.

"I know you are progressive in your ways, but until more women follow your path, you have a lot of older men to deal with," she continues. "Conservative men. It is a difficult and unfair place to be, I know, but the security of a well-off, popular young man as a husband would help keep you in their favor, even if something does happen."

Once again, Relena says nothing. I glance over, but she's turned, and I cannot see her face.

"Just think about it, dear. And I'll assist you in any way I can."

Relena mumbles a quiet thank you, and leaves the woman's presence, but she does not come for me. She disappears from the room, and is gone for a long time before she returns. When we go home, Relena is steely silent, so I don't bother her. Halfway back to the manor, she takes my hand, so I return the gesture, to give whatever comfort I can offer her.

She doesn't speak until we are in her bedroom, and I am unzipping the back of her dress. "I shouldn't have to worry about this."

It wasn't exactly what I hoped she'd say.

"What do you mean?" I ask. The zipper has been released, and Relena steps out of the dress, now only wearing her under garments.

"About who or when or why I should marry," she says.

"So don't," I reply. She turns to face me, giving me an annoyed look.

"It's not that simple," she says. "These people have so many expectations for me…" she speaks, waving her hands in circles, to encompass the whole of the political sphere in which she works. "I was born royal." I shrug, and she sighs heavily. I take a step forward and slip my arms around her waist, bare skin against bare skin. I pull her to my chest, and her forehead leans against my heart. I'm not quite sure when I grew to be so much taller than her.

"Why let them get to you?" I ask her. "You are free to do as you want."

"Not always." I give her a squeeze.

"Relena, you don't have to listen to anyone. You are already paving new roads with what you're doing. Why stop now?"

She leans back and looks up at me. I can read in her face that she's processing my words. "I suppose," she finally says.

"You aren't convinced," I say. Rather than wait for a response, I brush her hair to the side and lean down, pressing my lips to her shoulder. Goosebumps prickle on her skin, and she lets out a laugh.

"Is this how you're going to convince me?" she asks, her hands moving up my back. I shake my head against her.

"No. This is how I'm going to distract you."

My attempts at distraction only work for a short time. As we lay in bed, I am drifting to sleep, but I can sense that Relena is still lying awake, thinking. I tug her closer to me and rest an arm over her stomach. I fall asleep, but I am sure she does not.

When I wake up the next morning, I find that Relena is already awake and out of bed. I rise slowly and dress in a pair of pants I left in her room. I wander towards the kitchen, and confirm that she's there by the smell of coffee. She is sitting at the island counter in the kitchen, on one of the bar stools where we regularly eat, a cup of coffee in front of her. I fill my own cup and sit beside her.

"Still lost in your own head?" I ask. She nods. I begin to feel tense, like how I felt the morning after our first time having sex. She turns to look at me, and I know that a touchy conversation is about to happen.

"Heero…" she begins. I exhale a long breath and wait. "About us…"

"Yes?"

"I guess… I want to know what your plans are," she says. "For the future." In my mind, pieces of the puzzle come together. What did Maxwell say? Enjoy it while it lasts?

"I don't really know yet," I answer. "I already told you that the only place that feels right is with you." I momentarily remember how hard it was to admit that to myself.

"But there's no way to know that you'll always feel that way."

"Maybe, but there's a pretty good chance I won't change my mind," I reply. She looks at me with questions in her eyes. "I've already lived through some terrible things," I continue. "The only other fear I have is losing you."

She is surprised. She stares at me for a moment, then looks away, sort of curling into herself. "Are you worried about us? Our future?" I ask her. "About your happiness?"

She turns back to face me. "I want to know the future. I want to know what to expect!" she cries out, looking a little over dramatic. But I do not say this. "So many people tell me so many things, and I just feel crazy trying to anticipate every little detail. I don't want to worry about who I marry!" I work very hard to not smile at her; her eyes are large and bright, her cheeks flushed, her hair a mess, and she looks beautiful. However, I learned enough from Maxwell and Hilde that women hate being told they're beautiful when they're angry.

"Relena…" I say, and lay a hand on her arm. She calms a bit. "You don't have to worry about any of that. Those people - they didn't experience the wars the way we did. You've had to be three times your age for the last two years. They don't understand." Relena remains silent, though she's processing what I've said. I sigh and concede, sort of. "Look, if you really feel like you should marry some other political jackass in a few years, you can. I'll step aside and allow this hypothetical man to bore you to death."

She's looking at me now, a little annoyed, but she's trying not to smile.

"Or." I pause for effect. "You can keep being you, doing things that other people scoff at. Besides, you know that shutting down stories in the media is a specialty of the Preventers." Her facade is crumbling. "But if you think you'd be happier with this other man, you can make that choice."

She finally punches me playfully in the arm.

"Oh stop," she says. I step off the stool and pull her towards me, her knees on either side of my hips. Her hair falls in my face, smelling of some sweet shampoo that she uses.

"Your third option," I continue, "is to follow your emotions."

"I think I'll choose that one," she says. I grin at her and pull her closer to my chest.

"Then I'll do the same."

-SE