The
governor of the city of Moscow paced up and down one side of the long table,
his shadow following him on the highly polished wood. Relena's fingers tapped out a rhythm that corresponded with his
steps. She didn't watch him; she was
about fed up with the pompous man and everything that he believed. Give them a festival, he said. Give them something to take their minds off
their troubles. Their mistrust
of their government can't be pushed behind a clown's mask, she thought, glaring at
the rich, dark wood. Every solution that they
had considered had only been temporary, and Relena had a suspicion that the
governor wouldn't commit to anything more than that.
"Mrs.
Dorlian Peacecraft," the governor said, a faint hint of anger creeping into his
voice. "We have been through every
possible solution many times, and you're still not cooperating with us. If the situation doesn't improve, then I
fear that we shall be forced to break away from the Earth Sphere United
Nation."
Relena
pushed her chair back violently and turned her glare directly onto the
governor. "I'm
not cooperating? I came as a
representative of the Earth Sphere United Nation to help your people, Governor,
not to discuss festivals and other distractions that your government plans to
sponsor. If you feel that you can
handle the problem, then I'll leave at once. I haven't found this trip to be one of the most pleasant that I've had,
and if our relationship will suffer from it, then I'd rather leave now.
"So
have your festival," she said. Her
voice had quieted. She hadn't
completely let go of the foolish hope that she could get the man to listen to
reason. "The people will forget their
problems for about a week. They'll go
home and talk about the splendor of it all and maybe be proud that their
governor spent so much effort to give them something so wonderful. Are you planning on making a personal
appearance to complete the beautiful picture?
"But,
candy and prizes don't replace bread and blankets. Maybe they'll dream about the wonderful time they had at the
festival when they're too weak with hunger to get up from their beds. When the streets of your city are rumbling
with discontent again, you can always host another festival, right?" She shrugged,
smiling bitterly. "Maybe you can even
arrange to kill all those happy festival-goers so that they die loving you and
the false happiness that ended their misery but did nothing to improve their
lives."
The
governor ran a hand through his steel gray hair violently; his face burned
vivid scarlet. "All right, Mrs.
Peacecraft," he said tersely. "I will
take your suggestion. At the festival,
soldiers of the guard will be stationed on the upper colonnade. Your idea of weeding out the population
should serve well to alleviate our problems. And you shall have the place of honor by my side. You will watch the whole thing and report
back to your organization, letting them know of every factor that led me to my
decision."
The
maid had walked into the room as the governor began his tirade. He neither stopped nor made a motion for her
to leave but acted as though he didn't see her at all. However, Relena was captivated by her the
instant she opened the door. She wasn't
a lovely woman. Her neck and shoulders
were broad, and the long dress that she wore did nothing to flatter her stocky
figure. Yet, her face was strong and
weathered, with clear, bright eyes and a thick mane of auburn hair pulled back
into a ponytail that caught the sunlight. Her hands delicately grasped the tray that she carried, but Relena felt
that she could easily smash the fine china onto the floor in a fit of
rage. She looked strong and alive, and
Relena was in awe of her before she had taken one step into the room.
Then
the governor's words stabbed at her, and she turned back toward him in
shock. Before she could open her mouth
to utter a hysterical reply, though, the maid had crossed the room and set the
tray down on the table with enough force to make the dishes clatter and the tea
spill over the sides of the cups. Relena
shook her head, bewildered. The woman
had said something, but it had been said in such a low tone that she had
completely missed it.
"Excuse
me?" she asked uncertainly.
"Can't
you hear, girl?" the woman asked, whirling toward Relena the muscles like
corded metal standing out on her arms. Her eyes, brilliant green, looked like the emerald scales of a poisonous
snake. Or a dragon, Relena thought, trying
not to back away. "I said, don't kill
us like animals in a damn pen. We're not ignorant of these meetings you've been
having, locked away in here. Or do you
only see us as stupid beasts, you, the woman who saved the world when you were
only a girl?" She braced her hands on
her hips and stared down at Relena. "You know the politics of the streets? It's kill to live out there." She swept one arm to the side, taking in
the whole room. "It's different in
here. You kill for a game—for a rotten
game where you are the only winners and the losers lose everything.
The
governor strode angrily around the table and clamped a hand on the woman's
shoulder, trying to draw her away. She
shook him off and lunged at Relena, grabbing her forearm with her hand. Relena tried to get away and found that she
couldn't move. She leaned away and
stared fearfully at the woman.
"My
name is Oleena Alexandrovna," she said in a husky, rough voice. "My father and brothers died in the war of
195 in the last battle. They fought
even after being released from the army. My jobs pay for my family's welfare, but no more than that. Yesterday morning, I found a man starved to
death on my doorstep. He held a
certificate that was given to veterans of the war in his stiff hand, one that
would have guaranteed him a bed and food, if he had had the strength to walk to
the center. I could see the marks where
he had crawled his last few feet in the mud leading to my door.
"I
ask you now: Do you see us as animals? Did you save the world for us? Or did you save it for the likes of him?"
She glared over her shoulder at the governor. "We live in dwellings that a pig would refuse. We cause no stir of grief among you when we die. But, we look at you with intelligence." She
took Relena's hands in both of hers. Her hands were rough, and she had a scar running across one thumb; it
looked as though the cut that had made it had ripped off her nail also. "While we live like animals, you treat us
like animals. But if you could bear to
have us in your presence, then you'd see that we are like you—only better. Our uncivilized lives have made us more
noble than the governor in his palace." She straightened, dropping Relena's hands, and walked out the door with
her head held high, not stopping to shut it on her way out of the room.
Relena
grasped the back of one chair to steady herself. The governor was angrily paging another servant to come clean up
the mess that Oleena had made over the intercom system that ran throughout the
mansion. When she felt that she had
regained enough composure so that she wouldn't fall down, Relena walked out
without a word to him.
All my help hasn't done a thing, Relena thought, weariness pervading her whole being until she couldn't lift her feet. She kicked up little puffs of dust as she shuffled across the courtyard. It would have been a blessing for them if we had turned a blind eye as they planned a rebellion…but we interfered instead. I interfered. Now they've been given a death sentence, and I've as good as signed it. Because I wanted so desperately to help them, I didn't think of them as anything more than victims. And it's happened before, she realized with a shock that ran through her and made her tremble. I was exhausted before because I had concentrated so much on other people, who knew perfectly well what they were doing and probably didn't need most of the help that I pushed upon them. Heero…now that he's back, what I promised him…I could end up hurting all the people that I care about if I dedicate myself to helping him. I could smother what's been keeping him alive for so long.
But I love both of them, Heero and Quatre. I…I don't want to hurt either of them. Quatre would understand, I think, if I
wanted to help Heero. But, I don't know
what he needs, what anyone needs. I
don't know anything.
She
felt as though she had been wandering aimlessly for hours when she finally came
to the stone fountain. In the center
was a statue of a woman in a long flowing dress who was pulling a young boy to
his feet with one hand. Her other hand
was cupped in front of his mouth, water flowed from it to fall onto the sloping
base of the statue and trickle into a pool of clear water and onto the open
petals of the water lilies that floated on the water's surface. She fell to her knees on the bricks of the
courtyard before the fountain, heedless of her expensive dress. Resting her cheek on the rough stone, she
squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep tears from spilling out. One
of her arms was draped over the stone, and water lilies bumped gently against
her fingers as they trailed in the water.
When
she opened her eyes, a pair of boots was standing in front of her. She looked up and saw Heero looking down at
her. His hand was stretched out as if
he had been about to place it on her shoulder.
"Are
you alright?" he asked, his voice low and quiet.
Relena
sat up slowly and brushed away the shards of stone that had embedded themselves
in her cheek, wincing a little; one had cut her. "That should teach me not to cry on a stone," she said, somehow
managing a shaky smile. Heero sat on
the ground next to her, resting his back against the fountain.
"What
happened?" When she didn't reply, Heero
took her chin gently in his hand and turned her head to face him. "What happened?" he asked again, holding her
gaze with his own.
A
shaky breath escaped her lips before she could reply. "My efforts here have been completely useless. I don't understand the situation enough to
help anyone."
Heero
let go of her chin and glared at her. "Don't be so formal with me, Relena. What's wrong? Tell me."
Relena
found that she couldn't handle even thinking about the scene in the governor's
office without tearing up again. "A
noble woman in rags taught me something today," she said, staring at the bricks
that showed in the space between them. "All these people that I've been trying to help—well, I've killed
them. And it was because I didn't think
that they could help themselves, and now I've messed everything up so much that
they don't have a hope of helping themselves." She looked up at him finally, but she couldn't read his expression. "And it's all my fault," she finished
weakly.
The
corner of Heero's mouth turned up in a fond smile. He wrapped one arm around Relena's shoulders and drew her closer
so her head rested against his chest before she could protest. "Relena…" he murmured. She held herself perfectly still, listening
and feeling his heart beating. "You
tried so hard. Yes, it failed, but nothing's
finished yet. You've taken on so much
by yourself. This isn't a job for only
one person. Maybe you should let others
help you without feeling that you have to help them in return."
Heero
knew, as soon as he felt Relena relax and let him hold her, that he wasn't
going to keep his unspoken promise to only be a guard to Relena. Or perhaps he was, only she needed her guard
to be something more. Don't get
carried away, he
admonished himself. This is
dangerous. Despite the danger, he held onto her more
tightly. "Let us help you Relena…" He let one hand travel to her cheek and
wiped away the small trickle of blood that was staining it.
Oleena undid the latch of her ramshackle apartment on the second floor
of an equally disheveled building and walked in to find her daughter half in
the oven. Ilyanna backed up slowly and
straightened up, holding a loaf of bread carefully in her hands, juggling it a
little because it was so hot. She
beamed at her mother and wrapped the loaf in a clean white towel before setting
it with five other bundles in a stack on the table.
"I've
finished the baking for the fighters, Momma, and I put two loaves for us up on
the shelf."
Oleena
smiled wearily at her daughter before going into the other room. She threw her bag on the bed that they
shared and sat on a creaky stool in front of a white dresser. Unfinished wood showed through bare patches
in the paint, and it sagged in the middle. She'd found it in a narrow side street in the 'rich quarter' one day and
pulled it home in a cart that she borrowed from the man who sold wilted
vegetables down the street. She kicked
off her shoes and reached for her brush, the only thing that sat on top of the
dresser. It had long, soft bristles
with some missing in only a couple places, an elegant silver handle, and a
large rose on the back. A piece of the
back had chipped off, taking away one petal of the rose and revealing the pale
plastic underneath. Oleena let down her
auburn hair, and it fell heavily past her waist to pool on the back of the
stool. She drew some of it over her
shoulder and began to brush it, trying to relax.
She
heard Ilyanna when she came through the room, though she could tell that the
girl was trying to stay quiet. " 'Anna,
please tell me when Ilya gets here."
"Yes,
Momma." Only a few moments later,
Ilyanna dragged a large white sack through the room and perched it on the
windowsill for a moment before letting it drop.
"Thank
you fair damsel," came a merry voice from outside. "Without your aid we would surely starve!"
Oleena
rushed to the window and thrust her head out to see a young man grinning at her
underneath his unruly straw-colored hair. Beside her, Ilyanna waved at him, and he wrinkled his nose at her to
make her giggle. Oleena shooed the girl
away before turning back to the young man outside.
"You've
all disappeared?" she said in a low voice, only loud enough so that it reached
his ears.
He
nodded. "Everyone's spread out, so even
if someone's caught, we'll still have a chance."
"We
have to act soon—tomorrow. I lost my
temper in the governor's office today. He knows too much, or even if he doesn't, he suspects now. And Mrs. Dorlian Peacecraft was there. I think I must've given her a shock she's
not likely to appreciate or forget. I
shouldn't have lost control like that."
Ilya's
eyes glittered, hard and dangerous as he nodded an affirmation. "Tomorrow. I'll let everyone know. Don't be too hard on yourself, Commander." He winked cheekily at her and jogged away
with the precious bundle.
Trowa
nervously punched the buttons that would bring Quatre's face up on the
vidscreen and ran a hand through his bang. Part of him wanted so badly to make sure that Quatre was still alive,
and part of him was arguing that it would be better for him if he didn't see
Quatre at all. Still, he was relieved
when he saw Quatre smiling at him.
"Hello,
Trowa." His expression sobered when he saw the dark circles under Trowa's eyes,
though. "Nothing's happened there, has
it? We haven't heard anything yet. You and Relena are all right?"
Trowa
nodded. "And you?"
Quatre
put a hand to his wound and winced. "Healing, I guess, even though it doesn't feel anything like that." When he saw that Trowa's expression didn't
lighten, he grew more serious. "Don't
worry about me," he said shortly. "Trowa, why did you call? What's
going on?"
Trowa
sighed softly, his chest barely rising at all. "I've found the place where the rebels are hiding."
"What
are you going to do about it?" Quatre asked, his concern showing itself as he leaned
closer.
"I'm
going to go there tomorrow. And I'm
going to kill all of them."
"Trowa,
are you sure this is the right thing to do?"
"No,
Quatre, it isn't the right thing to do," Trowa said, looking away. Quatre was making him feel guilty, which wouldn't
help make matters any better. "Not in
the sense that you mean, anyway…but it will end this. I want this to end."
I
want you and Relena to be together again, so I don't have these feelings that I
can't do anything about plaguing me. I
don't want to feel anything for you…or for anyone…anymore. Maybe after this is over, I won't have to
worry about any of that. If I'm lucky,
then maybe I can also escape the guilt for what I'm going to do.
"So
do I," Quatre said, nodding. "But we
should try to get everyone out of this in the best possible condition that we
can." He smiled sadly at Trowa. "And you're about to tell me that in order
to do that, you have to kill the rebels."
Trowa
nodded wordlessly. The silence grew as
his eyes darted around to rest on the table, the floor, anywhere but on
Quatre's face. Finally, he became too
uncomfortable. "I…don't want to do it,
Quatre."
"I
know, Trowa…"
