Temper the Soul
Chapter 6
by zapenstap
Heero lounged against the wall uneasily, refusing to be irritated by the unceasing chatter and clinking of glasses around him. He held a glass of champagne forgotten in one hand, but he had yet to take a sip of it. Duo had already downed several and had spent the last ten minutes running about the room and laughing at nothing. Presently, he was pestering Quatre in a voice to loud for sobriety about the young ladies with which the blonde gundam pilot was merely casually speaking.
Heero had long lost track of Damion, who was constantly being heralded by some visiting nobility, council lord or high brow aquaintance; he was always surrounded by at least four or five people. Even sober, the golden glitter and glare of the scene was beginning to give Heero a headache. He wanted nothing more than to slip out of the room and retreat to the quiet of some darkened corner, but he desperately wanted to speak to Relena, to pour out his thoughts to her and be reconciled at last. He was a little afraid of her reaction, and knew the consequence of even suggesting some permanent understanding between them might destroy what they already had, but he felt if he was silent about it much longer that might happen anyway. Besides, he owed her an explanation for his recent behavior, and at the very least it would ease his mind and heart. And maybe, just maybe, the idea would please her. They could just ...toss their differences aside and come to some understanding with which to build a foundation, a life, a permant home. Maybe.
"I hear you are quite an extraordinary aquaintence of young Damion," a voice murmured in his ear like the purr of a cat.
He blinked and turned to see Julia standing largely before him, poised artistically like a figure in a painting. He immediately recognized the mysterious woman who had joined their group unexpectedly the other day on their outing into the countryside for lunch. Seeing her so suddenly, he was struck with the strange perception of how natural she melded into this atmosphere, how the glittering yellow of her gown seemed to flash gold like the candlesticks and goblets and the chandeliers. Her hair, also golden in color, wound its way up her hair in carefully plaited braids and then cascaded down over one shoulder in a haphazard, yet orderly, spill of curls and ringlets. It too, reminded him of the scene she seemed to characterize, beautiful, elaborate, showy and designed to inspire envy and devotion in equal porportion.
"Julia," he said without much feeling or even tone.
She smiled a small, secret smile and came closer, her long black lashes sweeping across her cheeks and she closed her eyes only to open then again as she paused by his shoulder, gazing at him askance. "I hear you have a discerning mind," she whispered, "and a dark, restless spirit."
He tensed, not sure why she was speaking to him at all, much less in this manner. He knew she had some contrivance, some scheme or goal, but whatever she said about discenment, he could not puzzle it out. He fell into his comfortable habits and simply didn't answer her.
She smirked. "Fair enough," she said. "I merely wished to know your mind about Miss Audrey, but I see you are not one much possessed by the importance of social graces or social matters." She laughed, like the quiet trilling of bells, and added humorously and off-handedly, "whatever are you doing with Relena Peacecraft?"
"What do you mean?" he demanded, aware of the sharp cut in his tone.
She turned her head a fraction of an inch to regard him in some surprise, but he didn't believe she was as startled as she appeared. She made him nervous. It had been a long time since anymore made him nervous. "Nothing, I suppose," she replied with a silvery tongue full of some undefined threat. "She's a lovely girl. I'm just not sure she's your type. How curious."
He was about to say something in Relena's defense, to tell this woman something about Relena's bravery, her spirit, her compassion, but before he could organize his thoughts into something intellible Julia was gone, sweeping away and dissolving into the crowd like an apparition.
"Heero!"
Heero turned, startled and flustered and a little angry with himself. Damion smiled at him, looking a little flushed and glazed about the eyes, but otherwise his usual self, though in a better mood than Heero had seen him lately. "Are you drunk?" Heero asked, somewhat surprised in spite of himself.
Damion just looked at him with a bemused smile on his face. "Drunk? Oh, no, not yet. Your friend Duo is, though." He laughed lightly, and Heero noticed that his hands were empty, having either finished his glass or set it down some time ago. "It wouldn't do for me to drink too much," he added thoughtfully, blinking, "especially before the girls even get here, though it makes a man braver. Where are they anyway?" He looked about him as if he expected to see Audrey hiding under the table or Relena on the staircase.
Heero didn't answer, not knowing the answer, and totally confounded by the subtle change in Damion's personality. The only time he had ever really drinking much alcohol was in his depression, and always alone. He hadn't touched it in any noticeable quanity in some time. Damion wasn't drunk, but he had been drinking, like most everyone in the room probably, except Heero, and the effect shows in his good mood if nothing else.
"I probably shouldn't have had so much," Damion confessed. "But, I don't know. I thought it would help, for a little bit anyway. I'm so tense and tired..." he waved a hand across his eyes, "but with Audrey... I really should have refrained. She doesn't seem like someone who drinks. God, I don't know anything about her, do I?"
Heero stared at him, catching the subtleness in his tone, the unspoken plea for understanding. Heero wanted to shake his head, to say something comforting or encouraging but he couldn't come up with anything.
Damion stood lost in his own thoughts for a moment and then shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? God, I envy you sometimes."
Heero opened his mouth to protest that there was nothing, nothing about him or his life to envy, but he was forestalled when Damion's head snapped up suddenly, his eyes transfixed on something behind Heero. "God she's beautiful. Why does she have to be so damn beautiful, Heero? I can't tell what I... I don't know..." But he smiled in a strange way, his eyes softening as he reflected on some beautiful secret thought and walked past Heero as if he had quite forgotten him.
Heero turned, expecting to see Audrey, and he did see her, sort of, but she was a blur of dark hair and silver jewelry compared to the golden-haired vision in the red dress by her side. Heero stared at Relena and felt his knees lock, his spine stiffen. Without thinking about it, he downed the champagne in his hand and set the empty glass on the tray of a passing waitor. He felt sick to his stomach and light in the head, and it was not the alcohol. She just had that effect on him, standing alone, surrounded by people, looking at Audrey and Damion, her mouth moving in some casual speech. Heero couldn't make out Damion or Audrey. They were obscured by the light that seemed to pulse from Relena's glowing skin, her golden hair, the blaze of her eyes. Her hair hung down her back and curled at the ends, some of it pulled over her right shoulder. Her eyes shimmered like the sky in summer, luminous, tropical, deep as the dome of the Earth.
He realized suddenly that she was looking at him, was moving toward him with a smile on her face, and the recognition of the fact shocked and confounded him. Her smile had a peculiar effect. It was one of those smiles that seemed to smile only for him, because of him and nothing else, a smile that singled him out as the sole reason for any of her smiles. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as she grew close enough for words to be heard, and he tried to speak them, he really did, but nothing came into his head to say. He couldn't even open his mouth.
He forgot there were other people in the room. She opened her mouth as if to say something to him since he hadn't spoken first, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him before she could speak, kissing her softly but deeply on the mouth, letting his hand hold one side of her face, caressing her skin, fingers threading into her hair around her ear. She clove to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, her body molding to his. He wrapped his other arm around her body, his hand pressed against the small of her back, feeling the material of her dress under her fingers.
He broke the kiss when he needed air, but didn't pull away, breathing into her mouth. She swallowed, lowering her head, and flung her other arm lazily around his neck, hugging him. He held her for a minute, swaying to the music that suddenly came through his senses from the band across the room, and realized abruptly that they were in public. He had never kissed her in public, certainly not like that, and never around people who knew them. He looked over her head for anyone he knew who might have seen, but abruptly didn't care and bent his head back over her shoulder.
"Heero," she whispered when the song ended, for the duration of the song they stayed locked together in silence. She didn't say more, looking up at him as if she expected him to say something first.
He smiled at her and a cascade of feelings and thoughts nearly overwhelmed him, but he struggled to say anything. He could scarsely believe she was really here with him. It just seemed so strange. "Let's dance a bit more," he said quietly.
She laid her head on his shoulder in compliance and he tightened his arms about her waist. She was so soft, so warm, yet he could feel the tireless energy of her spirit in the beat of her heart, in the small movements of her body, and felt his own heart beat in time so perfectly. Breathing in the scent of her hair, he let his mind drift, and barely knew whether or not he was dreaming.
*****
Damion took Audrey's hand as Relena began to move toward Heero in a bee-line, but he didn't give the other couple any thought at all.
"Your beautiful," he breathed, and flushed. It just came out. He kissed Audrey's hand gently, bowing over it like a gentleman. He would have liked to kiss her mouth, prettily painted and glossed with make-up, but of course he couldn't. He wondered if her lips would taste like candy, and if so, to what degree the lip gloss played a part.
She stared at him, a mixture of pleasure and confused apprehension swirling in the depths of her eyes. Then her good breeding kicked in and a demure smile flashed across her face. "Thank you," she replied in cool, poised tones, and let him lead her to the dance floor.
How much did she want to be led? She was all poise and self-control again, graceful in every movement, her expression a painted mask of gentle felicity. Her eyes shone, though, and he knew she was thinking about something. Was she thinking about him? God, but he wished he knew how she really felt about all of this.
He took wrapped one hand about hers carefully, placing his other hand gently around the curve of her waist. She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder, letting her arm fall over his just slightly as they danced. There was enough space between a couple in formal dancing to be able to look the other person in the face without embarrassment of artificial intimacy, and so he was able to look into her eyes and try to read her thoughts in their depths. She was truly stunning tonight. The deep blue of her dress made her pale skin radiate a frosty light like the glimmer of silver, an effect complimented by her jewelry, silver and diamonds.
They danced mostly in silence that first song, with a few compliments from him and a few return jokes from her. Her manner made him a little nervous. It reminded him of the way most girls behaved around him, witty and aloof, always trying to be coy or impressive or clever. He wondered if she was falling back on habits trained in her from childhood, perhaps because she felt something for him and it scared her? No, that would be too much. Why then? If she was having second thoughts...
"You seem tense," he said quietly in a light tone.
"Have you been drinking?" she asked him.
He blinked. "Some," he said. "I'm not drunk or anything, though. Do you have something particular against alcohol? I'm 21."
Her brow crinkled. "No, it's not that. I was just curious, that's all." She smiled at him, but it seemed forced. "Do I really look tense?"
He whirled her about and she laughed. The whole room seemed to brighten when she laughed like that. "Yeah, some," he said. "Do you want a drink?"
She bit her lip, looking nervous. "No, I think I'm all right. I haven't had a drink in... a long time." She frowned, not looking at him.
He grinned. "Bad experience?"
Her attention refocused on him. "Yeah, I guess." She blinked. "Maybe I should have a drink."
"You don't have to," he said quickly, feeling as if he had pressured her into something.
"Oh, no, I want to," she said. "I should get over..." she trailed off, but her tone was firm.
Damion looked up and waved a hand at a waitor. He led Audrey off the dance floor as the waitor approached them. He lifted two glasses from the tray and handed one to her.
"Maybe we should toast?" Audrey said dubiously, staring at the contents in the glass with some concentration.
"What to?" he asked.
"New beginnings?" she suggested, and raised her glass.
"New beginnings," he agreed, clinked his glass to hers and took a swallow. She drank too, a generous sip, and then paused as if reflecting on the taste.
They stood there a while longer, sipping and chatting about nothing, which frustrated him in a way because he wanted nothing more than to dig into her head and feel out her heart, but he was content with the casuality of the situation since that was what she seemed comfortable with.
"Damion! Miss Audrey!"
Damion turned to see Manny and Terese stumble toward them. They were both drunk and trying to hide it, but there was something about being drunk that made one want to share it with other people. Damion, starting to feel the effects of yet another glass of champagne was amused and didn't think anything of it. Audrey seemed startled at first, but then smiled and took another sip from her glass.
"Damion," Manny said as if beginning a speech of grave importance, but his head bobbed and he smiled as if at some secret joke. Terese gestured imperiously for him to continue, though her gestures were a bit limp. "Damion, I'm really sorry I'm drunk at your party," Manny continued, swinging his head, "but I just wanted you to know that I feel bad about not really being there for you lately." He looked up at the ceiling. "I mean, you're my master and my best friend and I've been avoiding you some this weekend, I admit, when you needed me most. And I just feel awful about it."
Audrey was laughing silently now, as if watching some comic show.
"That's okay, Manny," Damion replied with mock-gravity. "Things have been a little weird for everybody."
Manny nodded and looked up at the ceiling again. "Have we always had those chandeliers? I swear to God they didn't look like that last year." He turned to Terese. "Did they look like that last year?"
"I don't know," she said in long tones, and ended in somewhat of a giggle. She grabbed his arm. "We should go somewhere else," she suggested in a loud whisper. "Where we won't embarrass Damion's guests."
Manny nodded to her a little too vigorously and swiveled his head back to Damion. "My Lord Prince Regent Damion Ravineere," Manny said over formally. "I ask leave to be dismissed."
"Permission for leave granted," Damion replied with a laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow, Manny."
"Okay," he replied emphatically, and allowed Terese to pull him away.
Audrey laughed when they were gone. "Does that happen a lot?"
"Uh..." Damion said. "Not really. They seem to be having a good time, though." His own head was starting to swim a little, and he felt the warmth of the alcohol in his blood. "Do you want to dance again?"
She agreed and he led her out onto the floor for another dance. He wanted to hold her closer, but refrained only by strict discipline. By the end of the dance, his head was a little clearer, but he felt warmer than ever. "Do you want to go outside? I'm a little hot."
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm a little warm myself. Is it the room or the alchohol?"
He shrugged. "You've only had one glass," he said, and was aware that his sophistication was being slowly absorbed in the alchohol. Suddenly, everything seemed silly or amusing.
She laughed at him. "How many have you had?"
"More than one," he replied ambiguously. "I'm just sorry I'm alone. I do apologize, but we'll go outside and maybe the cool air will clear my head a bit."
To this she agreed and took his arm as he led her out to the balcony. The air did clear his head a little, though it really wasn't that bad to begin with. He led her to one of the stone benches and they both sat down, looking out over the city, the hills, and the starry sky beyond.
"It's a beautiful view," Audrey said, and he watched her face, pale as the petals of white lily, stare up into the sky. She was leaning slightly over the rail, the curves of her body outlined by the position, and he couldn't help wondering what it be like... She would be his wife. It wasn't the first time, but he immediately berated himself for the thought, feeling slightly shamed, and looked out over the city with her, at the glow of lights in the building like a paler reflection of the lights in the sky.
"Tell me something about yourself," he said abrubtly. "Something you haven't told anybody before."
She looked at him, her mouth slightly parted, her face glowing from the light of the moon and framed by a cloud of her dark, curled hair. She flushed and looked down at her hands curved over the railing. "Oh, I don't know," she said. "I can't think of anything."
"I've always been afraid of being too easily defined," he said. "I learned how to fight when I was growing up so I wouldn't be thought as a rich, pampered prince. But I learned to ride a horse because it was expected of me. All the time I am here, I always do what's expected of me."
"I always rebeled of what's expected of me," she breathed, her eyes wide and unfocused as she stared out into nothing. "My father left my mother and me when I was just a little girl, and he didn't come back until after my mother had died. I've never forgiven him for it. That's when... that's when..."
He stared at her, amazed and concerned and surprised. "Audrey," he said quietly.
She shrugged. "Oh, it's okay. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, but that's the reason..." she paused. "That's the reason I don't know if I believe in love, so..." She smiled at him. "I like you, Damion," she said. "I do, really. I just don't know..."
There was only one way to find out. He leaned in to kiss her, slowly so she would know that he was going to. She sat perfectly still as his lips brushed against hers gently, softly. Her eyes closed, her breathing quickened. Encouraged, he wrapped his hands about her arms carefully. For an instant, he thought he felt her kiss him back, and that peculiar gut feeling in his stomach almost overwhelmed him with a burst of passion, but suddenly she stiffened and jerked back, her eyes wild. "Take your hands off me," she gasped, and breathed raggedly, like a trapped animal.
He released her immediately, his hands springing open. "Wha...?" he questioned, but she leaped to her feet and backed away from him in a flurry of motion, much to his confusion and surprise.
"I can't," she cried. "I don't... I can't..." Her eyes darted like a trapped rabbit, a panic-stricken rabbit. "Forget it. Forget everything. I'm not..." her voice shook. "I'm sorry. I just can't marry you."
And then she was gone, like a wisp of smoke. "Audrey?" he called. "Audrey!"
He sat for a moment in stunned silence and confusion, his thoughts whirling and falling about like the broken pieces of a jig-saw puzzle. What had made her react like that? It couldn't have been what she had said about her father, surely. Not for just a kiss. Was it him? It had to be something about him, something he had said or done or just the way he was. She couldn't marry him, she said. She couldn't...
After a minute or so, he stood and stumbled inside, seeking out another glass of champagne, which he downed all at once, much to the surprise of the waitor, before he picked up another and looked for some exit or escape from this nightmare reality.
*****
Heero wasn't sure how they ended up back in their rooms. They had danced a few dances, had a few drinks. The glare of the lights had seemed suddenly too bright, and the feel of her body beneath his hands had reawoken the desires he had tried to suppress. She had made the suggestion "let's get out of here," in a husky whisper and he had followed her without hesitation.
Stumbling through the door, he kissed her neck, kicking the door closed with his foot. She kicked off her shoes and walked backward, her hands around his waist, her fingers clutching his clothes, pulling him forward after her. By the time they reached the bedroom he had lost his coat and a few buttons; the zipper of her dress had been pulled down. The back of her knees hit the bed and she fell gently onto it. He fell over her, propped on his elbows.
"Heero," she breathed with urgency into his neck, her arms wrapped around his head and shoulders. "I missed you." She began to work at his buttons again.
He breathed heavily, staring at her collarbone, her throat, the rise and fall of her chest in the confines of her dress. The fuzziness of the alcohol made things hazy and unclear, but something gave him pause.
"What?" she asked, noticing his sudden confusion and hesitation.
"I have to talk to you," he said, sitting up. What was it he wanted to tell her? He suddenly couldn't remember. It was like grasping at moonbeams. Damn his head.
"Later," she said. "Talk to me later, Heero. I need this now." She reached for him again, but he disengaged her hands.
The room spun. He blinked uncertainly, shaking his head to clear away the stars, but the stars mocked him. It was kind of funny actually, and he smiled. He looked about him in some bemusement, but remembering that he held her hands in his, he looked back again into her face, blinking.
"You," he said. "You're..." he searched for the words, something to describe what she was, what she meant to him. She was everything. She was sacred. "I can't sleep with you," he said, feeling as if he had already communicated the reason. "We've changed," he said with gravity, trying to communicated the importance of this, "you and me, I mean. We..."
She sat up, her eyes wide, her face a flat mask of anger and confusion. "What do you mean by that?" She demanded, and her voice shook.
He stared at her. Why was she angry with him? He reached out to touch her face but she jerked her head away. "Relena," he protested. "You're an important person. Everything you do should be perfect. I..."
She pushed him and he fell off the bed, cursing his lack of coordination. Wincing, he looked up at her, standing over him, tears in her eyes. Her voice shook. "What do mean, Heero?" she cried. "You think you're not good enough for me?"
What had Julia said? "You don't seem like my type," he said, repeating words that only made partial sense to him. The minute they came out he realized how they sounded, and also that that was not what he meant. She didn't seem...but she was, she... "Wait!" he said desperately in response to the crushed look on her face. "I didn't mean it like that," he corrected. "I just mean we're very different, that our lives are different... I..."
Tears flowed from her eyes now. Her voice trembled with them. "Is that the end, then?" she choked. "That's what it amounts to? Love isn't enough? Don't you love me, Heero?"
He stared at her. Of course he did! "Relena..."
"Heero, why won't you sleep with me? You don't desire me anymore? I'm too high for you, too noble, my blood's too rich? It's okay to sneak around in the Cinq Kingdom, to do what we do behind closed doors as long as it's a secret, but not for real?"
"Relena," he said, trying to get up. The room swirled about him. "I don't want to hide behind closed doors... I want..."
"You want someone you don't have to do that with, is that it?" she said furiously. Her make-up was smeared now, and she scrubbed a hand across her face to clear the tears. "I'm just too damn aristocratic for this to ever work. You're not good enough for me." She laughed without mirth, and the tears continued to fall. "Fine," she said. "That's just fine. I guess I should have listened to my mother, to my brother..." she trailed off. "I really thought you loved me," she said quietly. "Two years ago I knew you did, but I guess the reality of Relena is a little different than the dream, isn't it? I guess as long as the girl is pretty enough, it's okay to kiss her and dance with her and sleep with her in secret, but she can't really become a part of your life."
This was... terrible. This was not what he wanted to talk about! .
"Say something, Heero!" she screamed at him. "If you can't say it then show me. Take me now or let me go!"
Take her? Take her? "I can't," he gasped. Not like that. No. It should be... It should be...
The tears streamed from her face. Sobbing, she gathered the hem of her dress in her hands and fled from the room. He was left in solitude, even as he had wanted earlier that night, alone and confounded and wishing desperately for the touch of gentle hands, for the understanding smile, for the glow in blue eyes that believed him to be the kindest, strongest person in the world. All he felt like without her was a drunk failure, a lost solider.
*****
Relena ran through the halls of the palace without any clear direction, lonely and horrified and aching with the need to be comforted. She found a quiet hall, dark and devoid of sound and light, and sunk against the wall. She brought her knees up to her chin and sobbed her tears into her dress.
Oh God, she loved him. She was taken at first sight, she knew it, hopelessly devoted, completely without independence. She needed him like she needed air. She needed the touch of another human being who understood her, and she needed it to be him. Had Heero ever really understood her? Did he just see merely a princess politician who cared about him more than she cared about her own life? Was he just using her all this time to build himself up?
Who was she? What was she? She stared at her hands, the hands that had held papers, money, the hands that had held guns. She could feel her spirit pulsing within her, the restless spirit that needed to do something important, something for the world, the spirit that refused to be recognized for its efforts. Ah, selfless people were always the first to be dismissed. She had no ambition, no substance. She was merely a figure used to dazzle the ideals of fools and wishful thinkers. She was like an ointment for the sick, put on the shelf when it had served its purpose.
She sobbed again, tears leaking from her eyes, burying her head in her knees and arms.
"Relena?"
She looked up, surprised to see Damion staring at her in astonishment just a few feet down the hall. He looked a little srunk, leaning against the wall, his gray eyes a little blurry, his face haggard. She sniffled and scrubbed tears from her face as he sat down quietly beside her. "What are you doing here?" she asked him quietly, her own head a little fuzzy.
He didn't answer her. "Did you have a fight with Heero?"
She nodded, choking back a new flood of tears.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
She smiled wanly at him. "Damion, do you ever have the feeling that you're so high that you can never really be known?"
"What do you mean?"
She leaned her head back. "I feel like a balloon, rising higher and higher, away from the world and everybody." She looked down. "Heero won't sleep with me," she said. "He doesn't think I'm his type."
Damion nodded. "The higher you get, the less air there is too." He smiled at her. "Relena, you're a wonderful person. Heero's just a little blinded. He'll come around."
She bit her lip. "You can only say that because you're a prince," she said quietly, teasingly, and smiled back at him. It was easy to feel comfortable with Damion. "You're wonderful too, you know," she said simply. "But you know how it is. Nice guys finish last. Nobody likes a humanitarian."
He laughed. "Ha, I guess so." He stared at nothing for a moment in silence. "Thanks," he added suddenly.
"For what?"
He touched her face with the back of two fingers, startling her. "For understanding," he replied, "for being here," and those gray eyes swam with sudden emotion. She stared at him, feeling so lonely and so flattered. She leaned in of her own accord.
Before she knew what was happening, before either of them knew, he had kissed her, or she had kissed him; she wasn't sure which it was. It was no simple kiss either. In fact, it might have been one of the strongest kisses they had shared, lasting several seconds. But the minute her senses returned to her, she jerked away. So did he.
"Oh my God," she gasped in horror. "That... I...."
"That was a terrible mistake," he agreed, and she noticed the fear in his own eyes.
She could think of nothing more to say.
Gosh, it starts off so good and then...yeah. Review this chapter, everything you liked or hated. Tell me what you want to see happen next, or what you think will happen, etc. etc. It's going to get better.