The Message
by Lady Tait
~~~~~~~~~~~


He looked so serene lying there. His face was peaceful and boyishly attractive. There was no trace of the hard mask he wore during his every waking hour, etched in stone, soft as rose petals. His cold blue eyes were hidden behind light-skinned eyelids, but she had a feeling that had they been open, they would have been just as calm and peaceful as the rest of him. She stood staring at this vision of the past before her who had somehow taken the place of the jaded boy she knew, if only during the night. For how long she stood watching the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest, half covered by the pale white sheets, she didn't know. All she knew was that the sky was dark and clouded, devoid of stars or moon, both when she arrived and when she left.

A strong gust of wind whipped through the open window, yanking the heavy midnight-blue strips of fabric away from their places resting against the wall and cracking them forcefully through the air. The sound made her jump. Her stomach knotted in fear, and she blinked suddenly, realizing that she hadn't much time. She had to deliver her message. The wind began to die down, the curtains rustling softly and lowering until they again rested against the wall, oblivious to all that was happening to the people inside their modest brick house.

She knew if she kept staring, she would lose her resolve. Believe in the lie again. There was no hope, there would be no change. Sighing, the girl leaned down and placed the teddy bear and note on his bedside table. She was so close to him she could feel his warm breath against her neck.

Her heart raced at the feeling she had only dreamed about before, and would never dream about again. She gazed at his peaceful face again: spiky dark hair in an adorable tangled mess, bangs obscuring the view of his pale face; eyes closed; at peace. She couldn't help but smile.

She rose slowly, receiving a scare when a lock of her sandy-brown hair escaped its hold in her light blue scrungy to touch his cheek. He sighed and shifted his body to face her. Still asleep, thankfully. She was safe. Backing silently away and
looking toward the open window, she cautiously removed the ivory-handled knife she kept in the fancy black leather case stowed in her purse. The purse had been a gift from her father, the denim material sporting an embroidered teddy bear and rose removed from a jean jumper her mother had made for her when she was 5 years old. It remained her favorite. She smiled at the embroidered teddy bear, fingering the coiled thread that formed the rose. Then again she looked at the knife, flashing silver in the moonlight.

The knife had a more bloody past, used by a friend, Dorothy, in a time of despair and futility. It had been the girl's last friend, and had shown her the correct path to take. It had offered her the closure she needed in order to find happiness. Now it was hers, and the future it showed her was one of cold oblivion. It was her road to take, and she would do it. For a decision so serious, she felt strangely calm. The hard part was complete. She'd said goodbye. Now all she had to do was make a few quick incisions, and it would be finished.

Slipping the purse off her shoulder and leaving it by his bedside, she took another step back only to find the floorboard creak beneath her feet. The sleeping boy moaned, his face contorting to one of pain and the confused look of one enduring undeserved suffering. Yet his eyes didn't open. He was dreaming. She unsheathed the knife and turned to walk away, only to gaze back at his face once more after he emitted a strangled cry. Someone was hurting him in his dream, and although she couldn't imagine who or what it could be, she felt the urge to comfort him.

Creeping back to his bedside and setting the knife and sheath gently on the table, she knelt down and leaned toward him with her elbows pressed on the sheets. Leaning her face towards his, now twisted in agony, she reached out shakily to touch his cheek.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest. What would this prove? The real question: who would this help?

"Relena...don't...please...." he choked. She froze, her hand stopping inches from his face, then slowly receding until her palm was pressed against the edge of the bed. He didn't want her help. He didn't need her.

"I'm...sorry..." she mumbled softly, lowering her head in shame. How had he known she was here? More determined than ever, she almost pushed herself away.

"I'm sorry I failed you...just...don't die...please...." Die? He was dreaming she'd...and he'd...failed her? Maybe....She reached out to him again, allowing her fingers to graze his cheek, starting from his cheekbone and traveling down slowly toward his chin.

"I'm fine, Heero. I'm alive. You didn't fail me. You've never failed me," she whispered softly in his ear, her gaze lowering sadly as she spoke the lie he needed to hear. His hair swayed gently as she spoke. His face stopped showing pain, but still
revealed confusion. She allowed a sad smile to play with her lips.

"But...I didn't tell you," he insisted. "And if I told you...you wouldn't have...."

"Tell me what?" What could he possibly have not said that could cost her her life? She was beginning to doubt he was asleep, but if he was awake, he wouldn't be talking to her...would he?

"Aisheteru. I didn't tell you...." He sighed, his head sinking slowly into the pillow, muscles loosening where she hadn't noticed they'd been tense.

She couldn't help the insipid smile that formed on her lips as a warm feeling spread throughout her body. He was right again. "I know," she whispered. Rising slowly and picking the bag and the note, she retreated quietly to the open window. She stopped with her hands on the window frame and looked back at the sleeping figure, then the teddy bear and knife resting on the night stand, eying the scene morosely and etching it into her memory. Breaking her gaze, she hefted herself out on the window ledge and jumped down the 5 feet to a relatively clear spot below. Then she walked away, the darkness of the night enveloping her, hiding her.

Relena Peacecraft disappeared that night, walking away from everything she knew. She didn't look back.

The boy's eyes opened at the sound of her feet hitting the ground, crunching on the broken glass from the wine bottles and various other pieces of trash strewn haphazardly on the empty lot as she walked away. His Prussian blue eyes gazed softly into the darkness shrouding the room, then traveled to the night stand and the teddy bear. And the knife resting beside it. He smiled, reaching out to stroke the bear's soft fur, smelling her scent on it and his sheets. She was leaving, but she loved him. The message of the teddy bear.

He picked up the knife and studied it, absently thumbing the grooves that made up the elephants on the handle, all the time wondering how he'd been able to keep himself in check. If he'd have been anyone else, his heart would have beat rapidly in his chest and he would have began blushing profusely, his breathing rate accelerating until he couldn't hide his awareness. He would have reached out to stroke her face, her hair. But he wasn't like other boys. And he'd had to give her the message.