AN: Gomen nasai!!! I'm so sorry this took me so long! ^_^; My only excuse is that I've been really busy lately, and it is my opinion that the homework load in high schools should seriously be reduced. And along with that, I've been busy with all the clubs that I'm in and with a college class, so I haven't gotten to write as much as I'd like. Most of the time that I did get to use for writing was dedicated to working on a Gundam Wing round robin that I'm involved with. (I do some site maintenance there, also.) Anyway, I'm back, and I'm not planning on neglecting this story anymore. Gomen again—Piper Rose
Relena woke to a room tinted misty blue with early morning. She stretched, reveling in the coolness of the sheets against her legs and the warmth of Quatre's arm around her waist. Cupping his hand in hers, she heard him sigh softly; he wasn't awake yet. She slipped out of his loose embrace, turning to look at him after she slid out of the bed. He always had an air of innocence about him as he slept. It would be lost when he opened his eyes, though, for they had seen too much death. His childlike features were sobering reminders of what might have been had humanity only been content to live their lives without seeking to change their destinies, and his solemn eyes were mirrors that could trap a person's soul if they sought to trace the paths of their history. When he smiled, however, they brightened into badges of courage, dearly bought and proudly worn, that proclaimed the result of the war. We survived. Death touched us all, and we all lost something. But we're here, and we can teach others, the children born free of the blemish of war.
You bare your soul to the world by wearing it openly on your face. That's why people love you, or even fear you, for you represent what humanity has been running from throughout it's whole existence, Relena thought.
Relena moved to the window, softly, because it didn't seem right to disturb the birth of a new day with even a whisper of sound. She brushed the sheer, white curtain aside with her hand and peered out the window into the courtyard below.
Have I been running, too?
She had been humbled greatly in the first month of her marriage to Quatre. Not one complaint ever came from his lips. She had seen anger, yes, but it was never directed at someone who had wronged him, only at those who threatened innocents. He dealt amiably even with his public enemies. For awhile, she had even thought that he was distancing himself from her and not letting her see his inner heart, but if he was distancing her, then he was distancing himself also. He was always putting others before himself, especially Relena. It made her sick at heart to think that she might be using him to heal herself. Once she had realized this, she made an effort to lift some of her burden from his shoulders. Their marriage had improved almost at once. Before, it had been one-sided, with Quatre nurturing her. Now they supported each other, and Relena had even come to love him, though she felt unworthy of him at times.
A maid walked out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard, a broom tucked under her arms as she rubbed them with her hands in an effort to warm them. She took the broom to the stones, sweeping with vigorous strokes, her breath misting in the air.
There was still a barrier between them. Relena couldn't tell what it was exactly. Sometimes, though, when they were talking late at night, stretches of silence would insinuate themselves between sentences. She would look at Quatre only to see him staring up at the dark ceiling, one hand clutching the sheets, his eyes moving without seeming to be focused on anything. Or perhaps he would touch her arm gently when she had become lost in a tangle of thoughts that doubled back upon themselves endlessly until she was no longer sure if she was a dreaming child or an old woman whose dreams had perished in the fire of hate.
I don't
think that either of us know what our thoughts are trying to tell us, or at the
very least, I don't.
She thought about Heero, of course, but those thoughts were only the fragments of memories. She could see the same snatches of memories in Quatre's eyes when the shadows of night fell over them, but she had done her best to not worry about what this marriage had cost both of them. That would accomplish nothing, and should Quatre ever need her to help dull the pain of lost hopes, then she was determined to be ready to repay what he had already given her. She would accept her position, and be glad of it. She would be a worthy wife.
The maid was singing as she worked, her broom swishing a rhythm. Her voice spiraled upward, but she lost the note midway through. Laughing at her mistake, she started again.
"Good morning," Quatre said softly from behind her. Relena turned to see him propped up on one elbow, watching her. She smiled at him as he yawned.
"I hope she didn't wake you," Relena said apologetically. "That meeting lasted longer than expected last night."
"Yes, but the preparations are going well. Better than I expected. And I'd rather wake up to someone singing than have everyone tiptoe around in a hush."
Relena knelt on the bed, leaning over him. "Even if it's not opera?" she asked, grinning.
"Of course," he said with a teasing smile. "I don't have to dress up for this. Besides, moments like this are special."
Relena sat back, her hands folded in her lap. She turned her face away from him, back toward the window.
How can
you see everything so clearly? You
always have such an appreciation for everything in the world, as if it's
teaching you something new every moment.
"Relena—"
She jumped
slightly, and had started to turn back toward him when the vidphone on the
bedside table beeped, a picture appearing on the screen.
"Wake up call,
courtesy of Duo Maxwell!" Duo grinned
at them, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he registered their
position. "Umm…I'm not…interrupting
anything, am I?" he asked, one hand behind his head as he laughed in
embarrassment. "You really shouldn't
have a phone in your room you know," he said, losing his embarrassment as
Relena and Quatre also blushed. "What
happened to the usual policy of 'speak to twenty different secretaries before
you are blessed with the presence of important personages'?"
Relena recovered
her composure first and smiled at him. "Only important people know this line."
Duo gaped at her in
mock surprise. "You don't say? I'm important!"
Quatre laughed
warmly at his old friend. "You knew
that already, Duo."
"Yeah, you're
right," Duo said shrugging. "What're
you doing up this early anyway? It's
not like you have a pestering girlfriend watching over your shoulder while you
do chores at ungodly hours in the morning or anything. You two should be living in comfort and
storing up all your energy for facing down those old farts in the office." He turned to Quatre. "Where're all the cute maids who are
supposed to be taking care of you?"
Quatre had climbed
out of the bed and walked over to the closet, where he was searching for a
suit. "I don't want to cause them even
more work, Duo," he said, his voice oddly flat. Relena looked at him curiously, and then dismissed her
worry. He only sounded different
because he was facing away from her.
"Well, at least you
should be sleeping in some."
Relena looked at
Duo questioningly. "When did you
suddenly get so paternal?"
Duo grinned broadly
at her. "Got to keep an eye out for my
two favorite kids! Seriously, though,
you two are going to wear yourselves thin if you keep going the way you have
been," he said with a significant look at Quatre. "Why can't you send a lesser official to Moscow to negotiate?"
Quatre held out a
hand to silence Relena's protest. "She'll be fine, Duo. We'll both
be fine. And that's even if we have to
get up early."
Relena sighed and
looked away from both of them. She wanted
to go to Moscow. Why couldn't they see
that? Catching sight of the time, she
rose quickly to her feet and headed for the bathroom.
Quatre moved to sit
right next to the vidphone as soon as the bathroom door had closed. "You're not as concerned as you seem about
our sleep if you're calling this early in the morning, Duo. You don't need to worry so much about
her. She'll be fine."
Duo's expression
immediately darkened. "Quatre, you
don't understand the situation out there," he hissed quietly and
earnestly. "Those people are only
concerned about causing as much chaos as they can. Picking off Relena will only ensure that they get noticed much
sooner than they originally thought. That's when they can start causing real problems. I can guarantee you that her visit won't go
unnoticed. They'll be getting spies in
place right about now," Duo said, turning his face away. His voice was raw; Quatre couldn't tell if
it was laced with anger or anxiety or both.
Don't
doubt her, Duo. Please—don't doubt her.
"She'll be
accompanied by guards," Quatre said calmly. "And several Preventers as well."
"More targets," Duo
said shortly.
What do
you want me to do? Quatre asked Duo
silently, hoping his face conveyed his message. I can't stop
her. I can't go in her place. I've done what they asked of me a month
ago. Relena's better. She wants to help those people and bring
peace back to the Earth Sphere, and she knows that she's needed. She's willing to give her life for this.
Quatre sighed
shakily and swiped his arm fiercely across his eyes.
Duo's eyes narrowed
with concern. "Quatre…buddy—"
Quatre smiled
bitterly at him. "Some rescuer I turned
out to be, Duo. I thought that she
might die back then. Oh, I've made her
better than ever all right." He hung
his head. "Now she's not even fighting
it anymore," he whispered softly, his throat closing on his tears.
Relena leaned on
the cool marble counter in the bathroom, trying to calm her churning
stomach. Her clammy palms left wet
spots on the countertop. She lifted her
head, brushing her hair aside, and looked at her face in the mirror. She looked calm and dignified, though she
felt nothing of the sort. Her hair was
pulled back neatly, and her forest green dress suit was elegant and tidy.
"I shouldn't be
getting these nervous bugs after so many years," she said softly, trying to match
her inner turmoil to her outer composure. She took a few slow, deep breaths.
Why is Duo
so worried? He was trying to hide it;
I'm sure he doesn't want me to know.
She wondered what
they were saying about her. Are they worried about the rebels? Do they think that I'll be attacked?
"Quatre, I want to
show them how much you've helped me. I've got to do this. You had
faith in me. The people of the world
used to have faith in me, also. I
betrayed them once, but I won't do it again. When we have peace once more, then I'll have kept all my promises."
Again looking at
her reflection, she managed a shaky smile. "I haven't broken any of my promises to you, Quatre, love, and I don't
plan on starting now. You won't regret
your sacrifices."
Duo pasted a bright
smile on his face as Relena walked into the room. He winked cheekily at her as he took in her outfit. "You clean up nice, missy," he said,
mimicking a gruff old man's voice. "In
my day, the women weren't half as hot."
"You're falling out
of character, Duo." Quatre said, hoping that Relena couldn't sense anything of
their earlier conversation. Several
maids walked down the hall outside their room, chattering loudly.
"I guess it's true
what they say then," Duo said in his normal voice. "The new day doesn't fly until the lovebirds have left the
nest. Speaking of that, I've got to get
going. Hilde's going to be up soon, and
I still haven't cleaned the kitchen."
"You're doing this
voluntarily, Duo?" Relena asked, surprised.
Duo shrugged
nonchalantly. "Yeah, but don't spread
the word, okay? It would ruin my
reputation." He winked once more, and
the screen shut off with a beep.
Quatre opened the
door and stepped into the hallway, Relena right behind him. He turned in time to see a flicker of movement
disappearing around the corner.
Trowa…
Trowa had been
assigned to the palace guard, and after that had made himself completely
invisible. Quatre sometimes caught a
glimpse of him, but he never saw Trowa's face, nor any other sign that would
reassure him that Trowa was all right.
Quatre
hadn't been surprised to find Trowa alone in the mess on-board
Peacemillion. The tall boy was often by
himself. Even when others were with
him, it seemed as though he was separated from them by a great distance. Quatre thought that he was probably
the one who knew the most about Trowa. He enjoyed the other's company as though Trowa was a rock that he could
stand on while he waited for the sea of war around him to calm.
Now
though, Trowa was brooding, and his face was dark with worry. His head was resting against the wall, his
elbow up on one of the tables and his eyes gazing toward the far wall without
seeming to notice it at all. He spoke
to Quatre before the other boy had managed to even sit down.
"Have you
ever thought…that if you could step outside of yourself for only one moment,
the whole world would make sense?"
Quatre sat
on the bench across from Trowa, his elbows on his thighs. He lifted his gaze to meet Trowa's eyes,
which had darkened to the green of a forest locked in shadow.
"I don't
think that war will ever make sense," Quatre said, lowering his eyes. He had to concentrate to keep his hands
still.
"No, war
is something that I understand. I'm not
the only one, either. Heero knows war,
too." He sighed. "I was talking about other things."
At the foot of the
stairs that led to the open hatch of a small, private jet, Quatre took Relena
into his arms. She rested her cheek
gently against his chest, linking her arms around his waist.
"Was it hard to
understand them when they didn't have faith in you, Quatre?" Relena
murmured. Quatre craned his head to
look down at her, his arms tensing slightly. She sighed without looking up at him. "I mean the colonists—during the war," she said, then tilted her head to
gaze up into his eyes. "I…I'm not sure
what to say to convince them…to get them to trust me." Again she looked downward, as if she were
ashamed.
He rested his cheek
lightly on her head, pondering what to tell her. "Just banish their doubts and quell their fears, Relena. They're unbalanced and afraid, with good
reason. The Earth Sphere has come to
distrust its rulers. We favor people
with brave faces more than faceless agencies, so you have to show them yourself
and your trust in them."
He felt her nod
slightly. "And if I tell you that I
will come back alive, will you trust me?"
He nodded mutely,
afraid to speak in case he should say something that would make her worry. She smiled at him—he thought that it seemed
a little sad—then stood up on tiptoe to press her lips against his before
turning and climbing the stairs to the hatch.
Quatre watched the
plane take off from beside the now-empty hangar. Even from that distance, the plane's engines swept back his hair
and ruffled his clothes. He watched as
it circled once around the airfield then disappeared off into the northern
sky. In his mind, he could see her
looking down at him and the land surrounding her home.
"Good luck,
Relena," he whispered. Please God, don't let anything happen to
her.
He was so absorbed
in catching one last glimpse of the plane, perhaps the reflection of the sun
off of its metal skin, that he almost missed the soft caress of a voice behind
him.
"You should take
your own advice and trust in her more. It hurts her to think that you might be hiding something from her."
Quatre felt a hot
flash of anger that he instantly regretted. However, he couldn't keep traces of it out of his voice when he spoke,
his back still turned on the person who had addressed him. "How can you understand everything in just
one glance?"
Trowa stepped up
beside Quatre, an inscrutable expression on his face, his eyes focused on a
point far away on the horizon. Quatre
turned to look at him, running his eyes over Trowa's face. It seemed more worn than the last time
Quatre had been near him. Of course, what do I know about what's
happened to him since then? How many of
my friends have I failed to comfort lately? Quatre's eyes widened in surprise as Trowa
turned toward him suddenly. He couldn't
stop from pulling his fingers away as Trowa's hand brushed softly against them.
Trowa smiled in
grim amusement at Quatre, which made him blush slightly. "Just show her who you are, Quatre. That should be enough from you for anyone."
Quatre cast his
eyes frantically about the ground at his feet as he searched for something to
say. "I've have been…I thought…" He stopped with a frustrated sigh. "Who am I to her?" He lifted his eyes to Trowa's, and would have regretted the move,
for he couldn't turn his eyes away, except that Trowa's eyes were absolutely,
breathtakingly clear and…beautiful. Within a moment, he felt that they were the most familiar sight in the
world, and yet, they were always changing, spots of golden brown bubbling in
their depths and bursting into stars at the surface in the way that a thought
one has been pondering comes to light in certain, exhilarating truth.
He thought that he
might have seen surprise and aching despair show themselves in Trowa's eyes for
a moment before once more disappearing, but if there had been a change, it had
happened too quickly for him to be sure that he had seen it. "You're her husband," he said softly,
turning away and striding smoothly toward the gate of the airfield, arms at his
side and head raised.
That night, Quatre
tossed under the covers, arms reaching into the emptiness on the other side of
the bed.
There was
mist all around him, a pearly lavender that seemed to shine as it flowed by
him. Far off, to his left or right he
couldn't tell, he heard the rumbling hiss or waves sliding to shore. Small stones shifted and smacked together
under his feet. He was jogging blindly,
not sure of his destination—if he would get there or if he even had one. Then he heard a voice whisper, so close he
could feel the heavy mist stirring as the speaker's breath cut through it.
"Quatre, I
love you."
He reached
out to touch the person; the fog was swirling around him, making him dizzy and
lightheaded. He felt that if he could
identify the mysterious presence then he would be steady again. If he could reach a little farther…
He hand
met only fog that played through his outstretched fingers, leaving little beads
of moisture trembling in its wake.
He stood
there for a moment, waiting for the voice to return or for the person to touch
his hand but felt nothing. He turned
reluctantly to keep walking. The stones
seemed to skitter away from his feet as soon as he touched them, and he
stumbled. Then, he heard a different
voice calling him over the rushing waves.
"Quatre,
help me!"
Far off,
there was an eddy in the mist that swirled for a moment before
dissipating. Through that small window,
Quatre saw Relena standing with one hand clutched to her chest, the other
reaching toward him. She wore a dress
that looked like a part of the mist. Wind pulled at it, and Relena shrank away, looking as vulnerable as a
child alone in a storm. Her blonde hair
was alight with a red glow that came from the sky above her and left scarlet
shadows on her face that looked like blood.
He started
to run, calling her name. She cried out
again as the mist enveloped her once more. He ran even faster, heart pounding and joining with the leering murmurs
of the wind through the mist and the dull, heavy rush of the waves in an awful
cacophony.
The stones
tumbled away from him, and he fell, cutting his palms on their sharp
edges. Getting to his feet, he looked
frantically about him for any sign of her. He stumbled on, calling her name in an awful voice he hardly recognized,
tripping again, several more times, until he lay panting on the stones. Waves slid over him, making his wounds
sting. Despairing tears ran down his
cheeks to mingle with the water the mist left there. He grew cold and fervently wished that he could be one of those
unfeeling stones.
Quatre jerked
awake, slowly becoming aware of his body again. For a moment, he had felt like he was falling, and even as he saw
his room slowly coming into focus from the darkness around him, he had to run a
hand over the mattress beneath him to reassure himself that the stone-covered
beach had been left behind. Cool air
stroked his cheeks, which were slightly warm and covered in a fine sheen of
sweat.
Then, full
remembrance of the dream fell upon him. What's going to happen
to Relena? I've got to go, now.
Even as the thought
entered his mind, he threw the sheets off of himself and swung his legs over
the bed—
He froze, his eyes
trained on a minute movement he had seen in one corner of the dark room. Stilling his breathing until he could no
longer hear it, he strained every sense in order to uncover whether this threat
lurking in the dark was real or imaginary. A gust of wind weaved through the branches of the large oak tree
outside, and Quatre turned to see silver moonbeams slide across leaves that
were clearly visible through the open space where the window that he had closed
before he went to sleep had been eased silently open while he lay dreaming.
He stood warily,
still watching even as he sidled toward the door. The whisper of cloth came from the corner, along with a flash of
silver that snaked toward him, cold, too fast to dodge, though he tried. His assailant followed him, seeming to be
nothing more than the dagger in his hand. It winked at him cunningly, teasing him as he struck out and missed, fell
onto the bed and rolled. The light fell
away from it as it stabbed down, and for a moment, Quatre thought that it had
missed. His eyes on the door, feet
scrambling for purchase on the tangle of sheets, he felt the cold steel bite
deep into his back under his rib cage. He slumped bonelessly onto the bed as the dagger was drawn out of him,
and the ice was replaced with fire.
His wordless shout
as he was stabbed brought someone to the door, light flooding the room. A shot rang out, followed by a crash in the
branches of the tree. With an effort, Quatre managed to turn his head slightly,
but instead of catching a glimpse of his avenger, his eyes fell on the scarlet
blood flung like an outstretched wing across the sheets as if it, even though
it didn't have a mate, would attempt to carry his body away even as his soul
flew. As a hand trembled against his
cheek, he finally knew who had come. His eyes closed as he sighed out the first part of the familiar name.
AN#2: *from behind a table that should (hopefully) protect her from any flying objects thrown her way * Don't worry, guys. I promise the next part will be out by next weekend, Sunday at the latest. ^_^
