Temper the Soul

Chapter 14

by zapenstap





Heero's fingers blazed over the keys, typing, typing. Panels ran down the screen in a continuous scroll as his eyes skimmed over the words, absorbing the gist of the contents, searching for information. The room about was absolutely silent, deathly quiet as he resumed his old habits.

He skimmed past something that looked interesting. What was that? He scrolled back, one hand manipulating the keys to bring up a chart, but no, it wasn't what he had wanted.

"Hn." Opening and fastening to the screen without another blink, he resumed his work.

To look at himself now, hunched over a computer in the middle of the night, one might think nothing had changed in the years following the end of the war, but there was a significant difference. Even in the midst of such focused and desperate work, he noticed so many sounds, so many sights. He felt alive, positively alive.

He shivered as he typed, the quick contraction of muscles pebbling his skin. Even as he scanned the words on the screen her face lingered in the background of his head, circling round and round like a drunken apparition. She knew everything about him now, everything there was to know. At first it had been terrifying, then comforting, but now none of it mattered, not really.

It was like cleaning out a dark space in a locked room. Once it was clean, the room was merely empty and ready for redecorating. He would never forget where he came from and it would always affect him, but for whatever reason she related to who he was. Looking into the computer screen, he could almost see her face reflected in his own.

He still thought about her sexually. He could hardly not, but it was like it didn't matter. He would love her even if that was never part of the bargain, would identify her as part of himself even if it were impossible to mimic that feeling, like he had all those years ago, before he had come to know her that way. He still wanted her, more deeply now, but not so desperately. He desired her, but he was content, or at least patient.

It was the way she looked at him, the burning spirit in her eyes, that made him shake so strangely. However he thought of her, whatever she wore, however she arranged her hair, whatever she did, there remained an enduring strength about her, an unquenchable fire that blazed to glorified brightness in the face of opposition and smoldered in love for other people when there was nothing else to do. He saw it during the war, when she gave speeches, when she was at work in her office, when she smiled at him, when they kissed. There was strength and kindness in her, the same strength and kindness that was in him. He didn't think anything could conquer her. When she wasn't watching him he would study her, hair up or down, in pants or dresses, smiling or not, just observing the girl he loved. It was a peculiar love between them, built on something strange and intangible, but it was real, and he didn't think that it was would ever fade or die. Somehow in their lives they had both tempered a similar sort of soul, through trial and fire, though pain and suffering, through dreaming and the failing of dreams. They looked at the world the same way, saw the same things, the same emotions, the same struggles, the same realization of peace.

He came to understand that he loved her as he loved himself, even when he did not like himself, and he was slowly beginning to realize that it was impossible not to love himself when he loved her so much. If he didn't love himself, he wouldn't be able to love her. It was a contradiction in ideas. She was like him. She was a part of him. He may not always agree with who he was, he may expect more of himself, but he did love himself in a simple, clean hearted way. He would always love her in that way too, even if at any time in their lives together he did not like her.

And she was right. It wasn't normal, it wasn't the best life, but there was a quality about his own soul he knew he admired in himself, something he wanted other people to see, something he lived for. There was a reason he made the choices he made, because he thought they were the best choices, and it was the essence of him that decided that. He had spent some time thinking about it while he worked construction during the days and researched at night.

He was searching for Duo, anything he could find out about him. Wufei had called in again the day before, but it had now been another three weeks since anyone had heard from Gundam Pilot 02 and even Wufei seemed worried now. "Yeah, it's a little crazy out here," he had said over the vid-com in those cutting, slant-eyed cynical tones of his at his most edgy, "but it seems so strange to me that you have not heard from him at all."

But Wufei was not in the same area as Duo. Wufei was with the peace-keeping forces in the city, trying to calm the people. Duo had gone investigating the wilderness, where it was said mobs had been gathering to hear Gardiner speak and join his cause after he was chased out of the city by the Preventors. It was said he had more than enough people to form an army if he wanted one, and that it was not totally implausible that those people could be organized to attack a city at some later date, and maybe in a mob-like frenzy raze it to the ground. Wufei was stationed in one of the nearby cities with Sally Po and others among the Preventors and peace-keeping forces, but that was little comfort. When it came down to it, if there was a fight it would be mostly civilians against civilians, for what ex-soldiers there were were estimated to be equally distributed on both sides.

Of course leaders of ex-nations had offered assistance. Various police-keeping forces and soldiers loyal to certain countries had been volunteered for the task to keep the cities in the area protected, but there were a lot of cities and a lot of disorganization and skewed loyalty. No one knew where Gardiner would strike exactly and members of ex-nations had some difficulty cooperating in an organized manner. They didn't know who to take orders from. There were no definite leaders. Some were even throwing away their loyalties and switching sides. Those that weren't were sometimes targeted by covert Gardiner-loyalists still hidden within the city. Many nation leaders had refused to send further help, others had pulled their men out of the area before they lost more people, and others felt like they should. Heero was a little angry with the leaders for backing down and protecting their own interests at the expense of the civilians their soldiers could protect. He agreed with Relena that everybody ought to do what they could to protect the peace that was everyone's right, but at the same time he knew it was more complicated than that. More than anything he just wanted the strife to end.

It was crazy as hell. And Duo was lost in there somewhere.

A knock came at his door. With one hand on the desk, he turned, twisting in his chair to see Relena step into the room. Her expression was severe as of late, much like his own, much like it was during the war, but she stepped through the doorway gracefully, folding her arms across her chest. Golden-brown locks of hair fell down her shoulders, straight and simple, no curls or pins or highlights that made it shine, but he found himself wanting to touch it.

Their eyes caught and held each other briefly as she approached. Those pretty, pale blue eyes in a face so familiar he knew by her expression what she was thinking and feeling. It was almost too much to stare at her that way. Without blinking, he turned back to the computer and kept typing.

"Zechs is gone?" he asked.

"That's right," she said quietly, coming to stand behind him. Her hands curled delicately around the back of the chair, just behind his neck, inches from touching his skin. He didn't think she meant anything by it, but it made him think about things he really oughtn't think about right now.

This was how it had been in the past few weeks. They both wanted nothing more than to enjoy the feeling of being in love, but there was too much going on in the world to fully enjoy it any longer. He found her constantly fretting and himself constantly researching, both of them working, searching for answers and ideas, doing anything that would bring back the peace they had fought so hard for. Relena had been called to meetings with other peace ambassadors to discuss the problem. Some people wanted to stage an attack on Gardiner's people and be done with it, crazy fools, and that had to be avoided. They had to keep it as localized as possible, to keep the activities in the area criminal and not accelerate the aggression to warfare.

The times didn't exactly spoil their love. In some ways it made it stronger, but he could sense the anxiety growing in Relena, and he knew it was because she feared she was going to lose him, or lose somebody she loved. And he knew she wanted to speed up the wedding, even though they couldn't possibly have it without Zechs present, or half the world for that matter. The public still knew nothing about it, and preparations were slowed in having to keep it under wraps while all of this tragedy was afoot.

"It won't be long, Relena," he said. "I promise it..."

Her fingers brushed against his neck and he closed his eyes, letting his hands fall away from the keys. Her thumbs dug into his shoulders, kneading the muscles there, and her fingers caressed higher up on his neck. Her touch was sweet. In the darkened room he could barely make out her shape behind him, but he could feel the warmth emitting from her body. He knew she was staring at nothing as she massaged his neck, smoothing the stress from his shoulders as she bit her own lip in worry, thinking about things he wished she wouldn't worry herself about.

"Zechs can take care of himself," he added honestly as the movements of her hands slowed and then stopped.

"No word from Duo?" she asked.

He hated to say it. "No word."

Abruptly, she touched his face with one of her hands, cupping his chin and cheek in her palm and turning his face toward her. She didn't say anything for several long moments while he met her eyes silently, but he could feel her thoughts. She was worried about him the way he was worried about her. He didn't want her to worry. He was trying not to think about his own fears. Silently, he took her hand away from his face and clasped it tightly in his own, squeezing her fingers. Gently, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping one arm around her lower back and hips to support her, and threaded the fingers of his other hand through her hair, caressing her cheek.

She looked down at him with pained anxiety in her eyes, love for him mixed with her worry. She looked like she wanted to kiss him just to take away the pain, but neither of them moved toward the other.

"You know," she murmured as he brushed her fingers over her cheek. "I hardly know my brother, but he's watched over me since I was a child. I know he cares about me more than I understand, but most of what I know of him I've learned through Noin. It is so strange to be in his family, but I don't want..."

"I know," he said quietly, understanding and hoping to quiet her.

She was quiet again for a moment. "Do you think Duo is okay, Heero?"

"Yeah," he said immediately. "He's probably just lost somewhere."

She nodded. After a moment she lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain over her face, spilling over his wrists. "I love you," she breathed quietly.

He leaned toward her to reach her face with his own, hungry lips tasting her mouth. She trembled as she kissed him back, her body pressed closed to his, her hands wrapping around his head, her parted fingers surrounding his ears. When she broke away, seeming to have to drag herself from his mouth, she pulled herself close to him and looped her elbows over his shoulders.

He gathered her close, hugging her. "I love you too," he whispered.



*****

Damion took Audrey's hands and guided her. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to," he warned as he brought her to her door. "Hold on a second."

He let her go and she stood still, eyes closed and eyebrows raised in charming expectation. "More presents? Damion, I..."

"It's customary," he said with a shrug, waving it off, and pushed open her door. Taking her hand again, he pulled her inside and shut the door softly behind them. "Okay. Open them."

She opened her eyes. They were dark soulful eyes, often so sad and reserved, but all of the gifts and stolen kisses in the past two months were knocking chinks in her shield, drawing out that soft-hearted, lovingly kind girl he knew existed under all that frost and snow. For a second she seemed simply surprised, staring at the wedding dress set up on a mannequin in her room, but then her expression deepened into wonder.

Walking back to her side, he gazed at it with her, at a dress of such bulk and beauty it was valued at several thousand dollars. He had not seen it before today either, but now that it was practically done except for adjustments, a good two months before the actual wedding, he couldn't have waited to show it to her. It was huge, not in size, for it was cut to fit her slender form like a second skin, but in the sheer volume of silk, embroidered lace and pearl-studded satin that rose about the hips and shoulders and cascaded all over the floor. The back was like a the wings of some strange, but beautiful butterfly, bits of which could be seen even from the front. The train was enormous.

He looked at her, swallowing, wondering if she would hate it, think it too much or the wrong style or something, but she moved toward it without changing her expression of stunned amazement, and gingerly fingered the material, almost as if to make sure it was real.

"I didn't have anything to do with designing it," he said quickly. "I just signed the papers..."

Her sudden smile as she looked up at the dress took his breath away and he trailed off, watching her as she gazed at it, peering at the pearls and the intricate scroll-work. "It's beautiful," she breathed, and her smile relaxed as she looked at him with deep, glimmering eyes.

He swallowed at the look she gave him. His heart was a furnace. He thought he was going to fall over.

"You like it?" he asked, approaching her with an intense feeling in his gut like a coiled spring.

"I love it," she said, but though her words seemed uttered off-hand, that sudden, beautiful smile resurfaced as she flashed her teeth at him, and he felt it catch him like a kite in the wind. Reaching for her somewhat on impulse, he took her attention away from the dress with a kiss, seizing her about the waist and pulling her close.

Hands against his chest, she took a deep breath in his mouth, her chest expanding as air filled her lungs. She rose up on her toes like she was going to float away. Without thought, his hands entangled themselves in her hair, dark as a raven's wing, firmly grounding her, pulling her down beside him. "Are you okay with this?" he asked huskily between kisses, and took a brief moment to catch her eyes.

Fire tore throughout his body. Smiling, he leaned in to kiss her again, meeting her half-way. As she settled back into the kiss, his hands slid over her body. He aggressively caressed her shoulders, back, rips, waist and hips, wondering if she would stop him like she always did. To his shock, her hands rose to his head hesitantly, then with more energy, cupping his face, fingers trailing along his neck. It was intoxicating.

His legs felt weak. She was wilting against him.

They should sit down.

He moved her backward until she sat down on the edge of the bed and he sat down beside her, hands rubbing her shoulders and neck, kissing her chin, her cheeks, her parted lips. She drew up her legs and he climbed up on his knees beside her, leaning over her as he kissed her face. Fire burned in his head, a fiery haze of lust and love. Images of sex with her rose unbidden to his mind, or bare skin and heat, rhythm and pleasure, but none of that was his present intention at the moment. It was only a coincidence they happened to be on a bed, her bed. His hands were exploring her hips and legs now, legs half folded under her and kept from his site and touch by the material of her dress.

She made a sudden sound like a groan as he kissed her throat and he almost lost it. Sexual energy stirred up in his gut, making him feel almost nauseous with its intensity. The urge to push her back onto the bed and lay on top of her was so strong he almost tried it, but managed to govern himself. Still, his hands had a mind of their own and he found that he had removed the sleeves from her shoulders and was kissing the bare skin he found there. Everything about her body was beautiful, mysterious and for some reason felt like his property. He might not have her now, but he didn't have to share her with anybody and in a little while he would be able to go all the places he wanted to go, feel all the things he had dreamed of feeling for a long time. And so would she. That was the beauty of it, if they loved each other. His pleasure would be hers and he could give her pleasure to please himself. That was all he really wanted. He wanted to please her desperately.

She still seemed hesitant about touching him, though. She had leaned back, supporting her weight with her hands behind her while he covered her neck with kisses. Breathing hard, he looked first at her face, eyes closed, and then down at her breasts, wondering if she would let him touch them. His eyes raked across her entire body, at the slim waist and her hips and legs. He was very curious to see her legs. The skirt of her dress had risen part-way up her calves and he traced the curves there with his eyes before gingerly touching them. Trying to control his breathing, as if he was a thief stealing into private property, he caressed them softly and then inched his hand and the material with it up to her knee, staring at the creamy pale fresh he exposed inch by inch. Swallowing, he brought his hand away just above the knee, feeling his blood in his veins beginning to pulse where it shouldn't if he went much further.

Leaving her legs alone, he went back to kiss her face and maybe elicit some more sounds and smiles from her, but stopped when he took note of her expression. Her eyes were still closed, but they seemed to be clenched tight now, her jaw locked, her eyebrows drawn low in a position of fear and endurance. Blinking, he reached up to caress her cheek, concern replacing the sudden onslaught of desire.

"Audrey?" he whispered. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Open your eyes."

She opened them and seemed to stare at him in surprise. Sitting up, she reflexively drew the material of her dress back over her knees. Disappointed, he grasped her arms and bent to kiss her neck, but she jerked suddenly and pulled away, eyes shut tight. When she opened them, he was amazed to see panic. Ever so gently he turned her face toward him and put his other hand on the side of her body beneath her arms, pulling her close. She spasmed under his touch, crying out sharply, struggling to free herself. He let go and in a sudden frenzy she disengaged herself from him entirely, reeling backward. The suddenness of her reaction cause him to fall back in turn, pulling away from her and practically rolling off the other side of the bed.

"Audrey!" he half shouted.

She took a few deep shuddering breaths. "Sorry," she breathed as if waking from a dream, touching her forehead and relaxing her posture, but not her muscles. She stared at him like a strange cat, shaking.

"Audrey, what?" he asked, gesturing to calm her down. She was a supposed to be a maiden. Maybe she thought he was planning something different than what he was. "Are you scared?" he asked. "Nothing is going to happen before the wedding between us. I just...what?"

She opened her mouth, but looking at him for several moments, she shut it again. She looked around her as if looking for an escape, but it was her room.

Should he leave, confront her, comfort her? "Why do you do that?" he asked softly, but candidly. "You you have no need to be so frightened. I'll take good care of you."

She put a hand over her mouth, choking, and squeezed her eyes shut. He didn't know what to do, but he almost felt he had made it worse. "I'm sorry," she said finally, pulling her hand away and controlling her tone. She looked so vulnerable there on the bed, one second in his grasp and the next shaking and devoid of all of her composure. "I don't know what came over me. I'm fine, really."

He didn't believe her, but he scooted back toward her anyway, kissing her on the lips gently, like the kiss of a butterfly. If he could hold her long enough to keep her still... She received his kiss with a smile, and he thought he felt something from her, something warm and loving and trusting, but when he reached for her, leaning into her space, she gasped again, shuddering under his hands, pulling back.

Without a word, he broke away and got off the bed, moving to stand some distance from her. She refused to look at him and he did not understand it. His intentions were good. He did not believe that she still had no feelings for him whatsoever and it was simply difficult to succumb to his desires, even if she had never admitted to any particular feeling. She enjoyed spending time with him, she took his kisses with eagerness most of the time now, she laughed at the things he said and helped him with his work and sometimes he even caught her watching him, just staring at him with a most peculiar expression. She flushed when he said sweet things to her and sometimes it was even she who kissed him now. But more than that, he could feel something, a sense of caring and desire that was in her eyes and in her gestures, but he didn't ask her to confess anything. If she wanted to tell him something she would. He had to believe that. He didn't want to believe that she simply gave him whatever he wanted in order to appease him.

But this he did not understand at all. Unless she thought... but no, she wouldn't think that, would she? "I wasn't going to do anything," he repeated. "You're safe with me. I would never hard you or do anything you don't want to do."

"I know," she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed now with one leg tucked under her and her shoulders hunched in dejection. He had never seen her like that before. She was always so controlled. Now her self-possession, her walls, were dented, torn, hastily erected with just enough support to keep him at bay.

Hedging, he decided to just say it. "You act like you think I'm going to rape you." He hated saying that. It sounded wrong in his mouth. It was a terrible thing to accuse and be accused of. "I wouldn't do that," he said earnestly.

"I know," she said again. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

She didn't answer.

He waited, mind buzzing with possible reasons; virginity, something to do with her parent's messy relationship, her own self-possession, something... He was determined to get to the bottom of it, though it hurt him. He didn't want to force her to do anything or tell him anything, but he was afraid of this, whatever it was. There was only two months before the wedding date now, and she was always in his head. He desired her day in and day out. He fantasized about it all the time. It was terrible, and this panicked rejection of his advances was positively terrifying. But he couldn't make her tell him anything without resorting to a royal command, and even then she could refuse and he knew he wouldn't do anything. He wasn't even considering something like that, but he needed to ease it out of her somehow, to gently or willfully... He just wanted to help her, help them. This had to work eventually.

"I..." she began suddenly. He waited, feeling helpless, but she stopped and turned away.

"Audrey,' he implored, "if you could try to explain..."

There came a knock at the door. "Prince Damion. You have an urgent message."

"Can it wait?" he asked harshly. Audrey did not look at him. She looked angry and cornered, though not necessarily because of him. Still, he did not want her to feel that way, though he felt he needed to understand this. "Audrey," he said more quietly, but with deeper intensity. "If I've never said it straight before, I love you." He meant it. He had held back from saying it because he didn't want to make her feel awkward, but... She closed her eyes, tears leaking out the corners. He stared, stammering. Why was she crying? He had never seen her cry before. "Audrey," he breathed, "I want us to..."

"Prince Damion," the voice came again insistently. "This call can not wait. I apologize for interrupting you with your lady, but..."

Oh, for the love of God. What was the man thinking? "Come in," he snapped.

There was a moment of startled silence, but then the door swung open and one of the younger palace guards stepped in hesitantly, peering around. He blinked at the wedding dress and then at Audrey and Damion, both fully clothed and standing some distance apart. Damion blinked himself. Audrey was off the bed and standing by her dress like she had always been there, her expression perfectly flat and composed, her posture erect and graceful, the way he always saw her when they weren't talking intimately or making out in empty rooms or stolen corners. She looked like a Queen, beautiful, proud, frosty as winter, with a countenance like a swan. The cool gaze she directed toward the young guard made him shake in his boots, stammering a slew of hasty apologies. Damion smiled, but over the young man's head, he cast her a concerned and questioning glance, which she avoided by turning her head away.

"What is it?" he demanded of the young guard, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old.

"A call on the Vid-screen, Prince Regent Damion Ravineere," the young man said, bowing. "It's from Duo Maxwell and the feed is live. He's a gundam pilot. He says he need to speak with you urgently."

Damion stared at him. Relena had said that Duo Maxwell had been missing for almost two months... "Show me," he said quickly, feeling torn, and followed the young man out.

"Damion," Audrey called to him, and he turned.

There was a sense of urgency in her eyes as she looked at him, and beneath that, intense shame. "Audrey," he said. "If you could speak with me later..."

"I will," she said, and he didn't question her intent.

"Could you contact Heero and Relena now? Tell them I have word from their friend and to come quickly if they can."

"Of course," she replied, and he hurried away before she distracted him any further.

He could not record the message and send it to Heero and Relena until he knew what was in it. Cinq was not that far away. With Relena's connections and private jet line they could be in Taravren within a few hours.

But he had to admit, most of his thoughts were still focused on the girl he had left behind with so much unsettled. He tried not to think much about one other thing that might make a girl react that way to a boy's advances. It didn't seem to make much sense to him considering her background, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe someone else at some time had... The mere implication unsettled his stomach and made him insanely furious. It had to be something else. Maybe he could talk to Heero and Relena about it before he talked to her again.

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