The Tennis Match
Chapter Seven: Hell and Honesty
Dearka couldn't quite believe he was actually going to go through with it. Yes, he had mentally rehearsed every word, went jogging to release the extra tension that aligned itself with his nerves, took a hot shower to relax and clean up, and finally put on his ZAFT uniform for the first time since he had gone on leave.
Now he was sitting in the waiting room of the Joule mansion and although he'd been there several times before, at this moment he felt like he'd rather be facing off the Strike Freedom in a one-on-one duel. At least if he were fighting Kira, he knew the soft-hearted boy would never intentionally disembowel him.
Ezaria Joule, on the other hand, most certainly would… with a smile.
"Lady Joule is ready to see you now," came a butler's deep voice. Dearka nearly had a heart attack, unaware that the formidable bodyguard had entered the room. He tried to calm his racing heart, but felt the distinct despair of a losing battle closing in. So he stood, smiling tightly at the butler and hoping it looked convincing enough to at least fool one person. It certainly wasn't helping him relax, despite how smiling was supposed to release endorphins and in theory, the very act… thoughts trailed off as he swallowed uncomfortably.
The man didn't seem to register Dearka's friendly look, instead turning sharply and obviously expecting the blond to follow. 'Like a sheep to slaughter,' supplied Dearka's overactive and nervous imagination. He tried to quash the thought by noting the difference since his last visit, a new cabinet there, a cushioned chair here… but those imposing Victorian-style doors were uncomfortably familiar to his lavender eyes as he approached them.
"This way, sir," the butler intoned, and perhaps Dearka was imagining it, but it sounded as if there was an undercurrent of menace in his voice. Dearka tried to smile lightheartedly in response, but even that failed him now, and he wiped the terrified grimace off his face. He'd rather deadpan his expression than look like a rabbit caught under the foot of a mobile suit.
The butler opened the doors, revealing the mistress of the Joule household, enthroned at the end of rather large table. Ezaria was looking through a folder, a few papers arranged in neat piles in front of her. She wore her beautiful looks, elegant dress suit, and simple jewelry like a sophisticated lioness. Dearka found that his feet had stopped moving as soon as he crossed the threshold of her den. Something instinctive within him had declared he was prey and his gut rolled over in its grave.
Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to run, Dearka's military training held his feet steady and his back straight as he saluted Yzak's mother, the former chair of the Defense Council.
"Dearka Elsman," Ezaria acknowledged, "It's been some time, hasn't it? I think the last time I saw you was at your… acquittal, wasn't it?"
Dearka's heart skipped not only one, but several beats and he mentally cursed himself. He hadn't readied himself for any topic outside of his prepared subject. Of course, he should have remembered that during the same series of trials he had been released from the death penalty, Yzak's mother had been stripped of her office. Yzak had been the man to publicly vouch for Dearka, effectively saving his life, but it also had been the only time he had really gone against his mother. There was no way for Yzak to say Dearka was really a hero in the First Bloody Valentine War and that his mother had also been making the correct choices. Dearka had even been able to remain in ZAFT, albeit with a reduced rank. On the other hand, Ezaria Joule would probably never view the trial as something to be thankful for considering the damage it had done to her reputation and livelihood. Dearka managed a weak smile in return.
"Yes, I think it was." He tried not to gulp his fears down loudly, but couldn't be sure of his effectiveness. Why on earth was Yzak's mother so intimidating? And what in the PLANTs was he supposed to say next? His lips stumbled over the only words that came to him. "It's… good to see that you are well."
Fuck. He hadn't even asked how she was doing yet. What if she wasn't feeling well? Idiocy seemed to be his only guide, so he kept his mouth shut, knowing if he tried to fix his mistake, he'd only be digging his metaphoric hole deep enough to be a grave.
"Thank you," Ezaria replied smoothly. She paused then, scrutinizing his crisp military figure, and Dearka felt himself break out in a sweat. He ignored the urge to fidget with his hands or shift his weight, knowing she would definitely see his uncharacteristic nervousness with those moves if she hadn't seen the signs of it already. Thankfully, she glanced down, shifting some papers, and continued, "Let's get right to the point. What brings you here, Dearka?"
Direct. Like mother, like son. She also used only his first name, something she had done since he was a child and it made him feel more like one. Her piercing blue eyes, also like Yzak's, lanced into him, and Dearka felt queasy. The woman looked as if she already knew everything he had come to say… and didn't approve. No wonder Yzak was as Type A as he was. The poor boy must have had to get everything perfect the first time if he wanted to survive interactions with his mother.
And he was stalling, trying to stave off the inevitable just a little bit longer. Dearka wet his lips. It was now or never, and never had already lost because he was already here, standing across from Yzak's mother.
"I don't know what you've heard, or…" he paused, wincing at the lack of coordination in his words. He took a deep breath and started again, thinking only that once he finished, at least he wouldn't have to fear Hell after he died because this was it.
"Yzak… never wanted to marry Shiho Hahnenfuss, but he didn't want to disappoint you. Shiho never wanted to marry Yzak, either, but she and her family didn't want to… reject your favor. Or slight you. So, she and I came up with a plan that wouldn't hurt anyone, and yet neither would have to get married. The thing is that, well, Yzak never really agreed—actually, he didn't agree at all—to this… plan. And now… well, I screwed up. So, whatever you've heard, don't think badly of your son. It's not his fault. It's mine and I apologize for what I've put him through because he's…."
Words failed Dearka as his mind reformed the image of the last time he had seen Yzak. How was he supposed to explain that to the man's mother? And good god, the memory hurt. Dearka's throat closed up, and he couldn't get out any more words even if he had known what to say. Ezaria was still watching him through a frozen and quite unreadable mask.
"…Upset that you pretended the two of you were gay?" she finished smoothly, as if she were clarifying that her goldfish had been fed. Dearka had expected his stomach to drop all the way to Earth the moment he knew she knew, but all he came up with was a strange hollow feeling where his stomach was supposed to be. He found himself nodding miserably even though she was looking back at some papers on her desk. If she had already known, why hadn't she done anything about it? Why had she let Dearka go off and hurt Yzak that badly? Didn't she care about her only son who worshipped the ground she walked on and loved her unconditionally?
"So you've come to apologize to me," Ezaria said, her tone still business-like. She set a cover sheet down, and turned her gaze up to the blond. "All I want to know is whether you've apologized to him, Dearka."
Her eyes left no room for argument and Dearka was glad he had gone to see Yzak first, even if the retinal burn of the image of his best friend in such pain was terrifying.
"Yes," he said thickly, his tongue still in the way and his throat not wide enough to swallow easily.
"Then that's all, isn't it?" She looked down again, and he recognized it as one of the moves Commander Le Creuset had always used for dismissal.
"But-" Dearka gasped like a fish floundering on the shore, "what about the wedding? You're not going to make him marry Shiho, are you?"
Dearka knew the moment the words left his mouth that he had crossed the line. Ezaria's eyes came up to his, her whole body left the chair, and she smiled at him across the table.
"Well, the marriage certainly isn't any of your concern, Dearka Elsman… unless I'm quite mistaken?"
The question hung in the air like a poison fog, stiflingly heavy and dangerously lethal. Dearka was sure the woman was going to disembowel him now.
"No, it's not," Dearka accepted quietly, before he suffocated from the toxins. Now to appease the former Defense Chairman. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my place."
She sat back down, the smile leaving her face to be replaced with the hint of a frown. Dearka didn't know whether he found it reassuring or… like he'd missed something. Ezaria suddenly didn't seem so menacing, but perhaps… concerned. For herself, for Yzak, or even Dearka, he couldn't tell, but it was highly disconcerting to realize he quite suddenly had no idea where he stood with the woman. She might not rip out his entrails, but he felt so unsteady that it wouldn't take much for anyone to push his mind off the cliff of sanity.
"I'll just go now," Dearka continued, feeling more like he'd rather run. He saluted again, feeling that the gesture was appropriate. "By your leave, Mrs. Joule."
"Go ahead, Dearka," she replied, and Dearka wondered if he were crazy to hear a hint of weariness in her tight voice. She waved him out with one hand, and looked back down to her paperwork. Again, dismissed, but the atmosphere was different, and that was unsettling.
He turned, his spine prickling as his back faced her, but strode forward through the door. His boots clicked on the hard wood floor, pausing as he reached out to open the heavy doors.
The bodyguard-turned-butler opened them from the other side and as Dearka crossed back into the waiting room, he couldn't help but wonder whether he was more confused and powerless now than before he had arrived.
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Ezaria Joule had purposely not told him whether or not she planned on continuing with the unholy matrimony of Yzak and Shiho. Half of his plan had been convincing her not to force Yzak to ask for Shiho's hand, and yet… his only conclusion was his own epic failure. He had apologized, yes, but then the woman hadn't even cared. It was frustrating, and Dearka felt more at a loss about what to do than ever. Yzak was still dead to the world, locked up in his own grief at what Dearka had done. Ezaria didn't seem to care about her son's well-being and had probably been toying with him the entire time, enjoying watching Dearka squirm in her presence. And Shiho? Admittedly, calling her last night hadn't been a great idea, and she had had every right to hang up on him. But that meant that now even the beautiful pants-wearing woman was angry with him.
Sure, he could wallow in self-pity at the mess he created, but typically, that wasn't his style.
What he should do right now was get laid. Yes, that was a sensible, Dearka-like thing to do when he was stressed beyond all belief and everyone seemed to think he was a jerk. Find a sexy little blonde creature that would litter affection across his skin and simply relax for a night. Maybe he'd find one with blue eyes to boot. He'd always liked fair-skinned women with light complexions; they were usually just as sensitive as they looked.
Groaning in frustration, Dearka rolled over onto his back. His creamy comforter was still taut across his made bed, his body causing a neat indentation. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn't about to leave his house and pick up a hot babe at some flashy nightclub. Shit, he didn't even have the energy to call for a relatively cheap whore. Not after facing up with Yzak's mom… not that those two thoughts should ever be placed next to each other. He shuddered.
Dearka sat up suddenly, wiping at his eyes as if that would clear his mind. Tired he may be, but none of his problems had disappeared.
Perhaps he should go visit Yzak again? It hadn't been more than 24 hours since the man had told him to get out of his hotel room. Maybe it was still too early to see him. Maybe Yzak would never want to see him again…. Dearka sighed. Yzak was definitely the kind of person to hold a life-long grudge. Dearka had witnessed it with his own eyes: take Zala or Yamato as examples of good people on the bad side of the white commander. He surprised himself with a bitter laugh. Would Elsman be added to that list now?
But if he were out of the picture, who would Yzak have to call a friend?
Perhaps that was the hardest part. Dearka knew that Yzak was so strict and disciplined that he rarely made friends. Sure, he had allies, and people respected him, but it was Dearka that Yzak always turned to when he wanted to talk or just hang out. Kudos to the only and best friend who had just screwed things up so badly that Yzak would probably stay friendless for the rest of his life if only to keep from being treated so poorly.
Why did everything always lead back to how Dearka had wounded their friendship beyond repair? He spiraled down headfirst into his remembered mistakes. Even if Yzak did speak to him again, there would always be a subtle difference, something had happened, and it wasn't something Yzak was going to ignore like….
…Like the mishap in the showers after their tennis match.
Was that also Dearka's fault? And could Yzak really ignore it? Dearka rubbed at his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache and realizing that thinking about it wasn't helping. Maybe being intelligent just wasn't his strong point. He knew he wasn't as smart as his classmates had given him credit for in the Academy, having cheated his way through most of it and been charismatic enough to fool his teachers for the rest. And the army itself had been surprisingly similar. He just wrote official reports instead of class assignments. Used a real mobile suit instead of the simulations. Yzak, on the other hand, had always done his homework, always thought things through so he didn't wind up making poor decisions—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The pounding at his door startled Dearka out of his Yzak-centric thoughts, and into a single question. Who in the PLANTs would use their fist rather than the doorbell?
"Dearka Elsman! Open up this door!!"
Obviously Shiho would, her loud muffled voice echoing throughout the house. Why was it the one moment when he felt the least like flirting with her that the woman would show up willingly at his house? He debated not opening the door, wondering whether Shiho would break it down and come drag him off his bed. The thought did not appeal to him, even though he knew he had imagined that very scenario before. He must really be out of it, he realized weakly, his mind slipping back into his self-loathing. He climbed off the bed, his feet instinctively finding the way to the door. The blond opened it up, nearly meeting Shiho's fist as she prepared knock again.
"What do you want, Shiho?" His voice sounded weary, even to himself as he slouched in the doorway.
She was silent as she took his appearance in, her lips pressing together into a thin, pinched line. Dearka could imagine himself, blond hair mussed from fingers constantly raking through it, his violet eyes faintly bloodshot from little sleep, and his ZAFT-issue teal shirt untucked from his maroon pants.
"You look like hell," she stated bluntly, her honest nature quite apparent. "What happened?"
Dearka sighed and swung the door open entirely, leaning up against the wall out of her way. As much as he would rather be alone right now, Shiho deserved to be clued in about his meeting with Yzak's mom. Shiho stepped inside, and closed the door behind them.
"Have you spoken to the Commander? Is that what this is about?" she asked. Dearka could tell her brusque tones were meant to jolt him out of his present state of mind, but he also knew it was not working. He had utterly betrayed Yzak's trust and something like that didn't simply disappear.
He shook his head. "Shiho… I spoke with Yzak's mother."
Her eyes widened in shock, a touch of pity and fear accessorizing her expression. "Oh no, she didn't…."
Dearka couldn't bring himself to look her in the face, a bitter taste rising into his mouth as he spoke. "I told her the truth, Shiho. You'll probably have to marry Yzak."
There was a long pause in which neither of them moved, until finally, Dearka lifted his eyes to Shiho. Her face was pale and motionless, her eyes focused somewhere on the blank wall to his left.
Of course Shiho would now hate him as well. Gee, what a great couple few days this had been. First, he turns his closest friend into a moody, walking corpse, then he embarrasses himself in front of one of the most powerful women in the solar system, and finally, like the icing on the cake, he pretty much guarantees the wedding of the one woman who he thought was different to his now ex-best friend. But for everything else that had gone wrong, Dearka's mind brought him back to Yzak and Yzak alone. Dearka was the worst; after agreeing to help thwart the marriage, he had been the one to seal it. He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his scalp.
"Shiho…" Dearka began, knowing that he needed to say something, but not knowing exactly what. It was proof of how low he was when he didn't know the right thing to say to a woman.
Several moments passed before the Terminal woman moved, straightening up and swallowing. "Well," she began, and Dearka could tell already that she was trying to cover up the shakiness in her words. "At least I know him already. That is to say… in some arranged marriages, the couple doesn't really know each other at all, right?"
Dearka felt part of himself go numb, half of his world spinning in waves of vertigo. The other part, however, got angry. Shiho couldn't marry Yzak! She couldn't just accept it this easily! She would just have to say no, now or at the altar, it didn't matter, as long as it happened. She had to know that… she had to.
"Shiho, you don't intend to really marry him, right?" Something about Dearka's voice must have caught her off guard because she jerked her head over to look at him.
"Oh really, Dearka, what else do you think I'm going to do?!" she retorted angrily, losing her temper slightly to produce the sarcastic bite.
"Obviously you can just tell him no!" Dearka shot back, lack of sleep and his crappy life of late making an argument look like a good idea.
"No, I can't, remember?! We've been over that line of reasoning before, Elsman, which is why all of this… this… this shit is happening!" Shiho's fierce glower ripped into him as her voice rose to a shout.
"Oh, trust me, Shiho, I know I screwed up," Dearka replied, raising his tanned hands in front of himself, before abruptly waving an explanatory finger in the air, "But I was only here to help Yzak, and you know what? Suddenly I'm not caring so much about your reputation, Hahnenfuss. I think you're going to tell Yzak no, your reputation be damned."
"So that's how you're going to play this?" Her eyes narrowed, her head shaking slightly. "But of course! All you ever do is use women and then discard them whenever it's convenient."
"Is that what you've always thought of me, Hahnenfuss? Well, if that's the case, then I'm surprised you ever showed your face to me!" Dearka realized dimly that he was getting off subject, that this argument was for Yzak's sake and it really didn't concern what women thought of him.
"I wasn't the one who called you to help us! I never asked for you help!" Shiho pointed out vigorously.
"I'm doing this for both of you! I want you two to be happy!" Dearka yelled back.
"You want me to be happy? Is that what you want, Elsman? Really?" Shiho argued, dramatically surprised.
"That's what I said!"
"You know, I can't do this anymore. I can't. I'm done." Shiho finished, her voice light, and throwing up her hands in exasperation. "What is it that you really want, Dearka? Answer that and maybe you'll get somewhere in life."
Dearka opened his mouth to argue back, but the answer never came. Time froze, his mind seizing up, tripping over the words, breaking down the question into meaningful chunks of sound. What did he really want?
Yzak….
So... I'm sure no one really expected me to continue this (despite whatever I say, but hey, who actually reads my one-in-awhile updates on my profile?). Thanks to anyone that IS still reading though... I checked the last time I updated this and it's been over a year. Yeah, it's late, but better late than never, right? I think I've mentioned this before, but the plan is to wrap this fic up in the next chapter. And then a little epilogue for you all. We're almost done! Hang in there folks!
As always, thanks to my beta, The Angelic Demoness for getting the final touches up on the last draft back to me... in a few hours. If that's not a quick turnaround, I don't know what is. XD
