Author's Notes: I LIIIIIVE!! Heehee! Although it took a really long time, here is the seventh chapter of "Pygmalion." I'm so incredibly sorry that it's been awhile since I last updated this story but I was suffering from lack of inspiration. BOOOO!! O.o Anyways, thanks so much for the super kind reviews and hopefully, your interest will still be piqued by the end of this chapter. Okay then, on with the story!

Chapter Seven: Hurtful Truths

Burning candles flickered steadily, casting menacing shadows across the cave's dark stone walls. At the base of the cave stood a small shrine upon which was littered an abundance of photographic images, each capturing the same subject in the act of doing something at once personal and intimate. Small, expensive trinkets were scattered around the images, ranging from a beautiful silver-handled brush set to discarded pieces of trash.

A shallow blue clay bowl, inlaid with iridescent pieces of shell and creamy shards of bone, held bits and pieces of colorful fabric laced with the delicate scent of jasmine. In front of the bowl lay several strands of shimmering blond hair, bound together by a silken cord the color of the night sky.

Beyond the shrine, a low moaning sound could be heard, interspersed by soft sniffles and heart-wrenching sobs.

"I'm sorry Relena, so sorry. But I TOLD you to be good, to behave. Why couldn't you just listen for once?"

The husky voice, belonging to a young man with haunting dark blue eyes, halted as he stared down sightlessly at the unmoving woman, held closely to his chest. He was mad with grief and in his crazed state, could not differentiate the real from the fake.

"Oh Relena," he moaned sadly, "Don't you get it? We BELONG together and now, NO ONE will ever be able to separate us."

He petted the blond hair, now stained red with blood, softly, reverently, as though his victim could feel his slimy caresses and appreciate them. Suddenly, as though cold water had been splashed onto him, he stopped and pulled away from the woman, revulsion etched onto his otherwise handsome features.

"Ugh! You're not Relena! You're nothing more than a common tramp, useless now that you're dead!"

Standing up, unheeding of the body that plopped onto the hard, stone floor, he turned away and caught a glimpse of his shrine. An eerie sort of peacefulness came over his features and with a maniacally happy smile, he stepped out of the cave and into the light.

***

"Tell me one thing, Relena…are you really trying to protect me or do you just enjoy hurting me?"

Shock marred the pale young woman's delicate features as she dropped lifelessly into the well-cushioned chair behind her. In a small, sad voice, she whispered, "How can you say that, Quatre? You know that I love you, that I wouldn't do ANYTHING to hurt-"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THESE THINGS?!"

The accusing look he gave her made her wince as though in pain. Why was she telling him these things? Everyone knew, especially herself, that Quatre was almost mad with grief at Dorothy's disappearance, refusing to believe that his beloved fiancé was dead. Worse still was the mysterious connection between Dorothy and Rian, now rendered unsolvable due to Dorothy's death and Rian's unusually close-mouthed behavior.

Relena opened her mouth to respond but found herself unable to, not wanting to inflict any more pain upon her cherished cousin. She glanced away, silent tears streaming down her face as she heard his soft footsteps fade away, then the sound of a door slamming so hard, the walls shook.

Looking down at the grainy photograph clutched tightly in her hand, she stared down at the image of the smiling couple, the closeness shared between the two obvious from their knowing looks and gentle embrace. Weariness came over her and Relena sank even further into the sturdy oak chair, the photograph slipping slowly from her cold, limp fingers.

"Oh Rian…how COULD you?"

***

The small, humbly furnished cottage, constructed from stone and wood, was located just beyond the glen. To those passing by, the cottage looked like nothing more than a simple home, as there was nothing truly remarkable about it. To a more discerning eye, however, beauty could be seen amidst the cottage's clean, architectural lines and the lush, sweet-smelling flora surrounding it. To the eyes of a REAL connoisseur, true beauty lay in the cottage's owner whose dark, handsome features and intense, brooding nature made the hearts of every village girl, including a certain fickle-minded blonde, swoon with delight every time he passed by.

Little did anyone know, however, that there was more to this handsome young man than his good looks and extraordinary sculpting talent. For every once in a while, when no one was the wiser, this mysterious young man would black out completely, allowing his subconscious, so long buried deep beneath the mind's surface, to emerge and gain full control of his body and his soul.

It was during these moments that the sculptor's most precious times were stolen, never to be revealed to anyone, not even the sculptor, himself. And it is during these occasions that no sound emerges from the humble little cottage beyond the glen. For the sculptor, to whom art is everything, rarely takes time to rest unless in the company of his one and only…his muse, otherwise known as Relena.

***

"DAMMIT!!"

The loud yell pierced the otherwise silent environment, causing nearby birds to squawk in irritation and forest animals to sniff the air in suspicion. Inside his cottage, Heero threw down his hammer and chisel in irritation, finding himself unable to concentrate on the task at hand. Never before had he found it this difficult to concentrate on his art. Never before had he faced so much internal conflict between his heart and his head.

Though reluctant to admit it, Heero knew that the reason behind his inability to focus lay with the irritating girl who constantly badgered and bugged him until at last he would agree to accompany her. Yet suddenly, she didn't seem so aggravating anymore. Suddenly, her visits were welcomed now that they had stopped.

'Why hasn't she come to visit lately?' Heero wondered silently to himself. The last time he had seen Relena had been during the festival of Aphrodite when he had given her the delicately crafted glass rose that had reminded him so much of her. Had he unknowingly insulted her with his simple gift? He knew that Relena was used to the finer things of life, but somehow had thought she was beyond material artifice.

"UGH!" he cried out in disgust, "All these wasted thoughts for some stupid girl! Why bother? She wasn't worth it anyways…"

*Isn't she, though?*

The internal voice mocked him silently, reminding him of those moments that he and Relena had shared. Shaking his head in denial, Heero picked up his hammer and chisel once again, determined to drive away the taunting voice through hard work and sweat.

*My, my. Aren't WE the touchy one.*

"Shut up!!" he muttered softly, before giving the chisel one hard hit with his hammer.

***

The minutes passed by slowly until finally Heero could do no more. The pain in his head was becoming more intense. Heero rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the pounding that was getting worse with each passing moment. It had gotten so bad, in fact, that he had actually blacked out just a few moments ago, awakening to find an ugly scar that marred the once flawless stone surface.

Moaning softly, he gazed blankly at the statue that he had been working on when he had first met Relena. Though the basic shape was there, it was still unfinished as he felt that there was SOMETHING missing from it. Something that should be there but was just too stubborn to come forth.

Behind him, in quiet serenity, stood a marble angel poised for flight. It disturbed him, this angel that he had so recently finished carving. It disturbed him for the simple fact that it represented all he wanted but could not have. It disturbed him so greatly that there were times when the urge to smash into it was ALMOST unbearable. But as an artist who truly appreciated all the beauty that nature had to offer, Heero knew that to do so would be an act worse than death.

For the angel that marked both Heero's love and hate resembled none other than a certain blue-eyed, blond-haired pest of a woman who had so recently barged into his life. Forcing him to open up, to become MORE HUMAN…things that Heero had never thought possible of himself.

If not for her, he would still be leading a quiet, lonely life.

If not for her, he would still be concerned only with his art.

If not for her, he would still be free.

***

She needed air. She needed to be rid of this place, of these surroundings that so easily trapped her. Rushing out of her chair, Relena dashed out of the room as though possessed. Out the front door, across the lush, green lawn, and away from everything.

Only one thought crossed her mind.

Only one person filled her thoughts.

Relena ran, quick as a deer in flight, knowing only that true serenity could be found within the arms of the man she had recently befriended. Her heart pounded rapidly, irregularly, and a warm rush of red-hot blood flooded her veins, flushing her creamy porcelain cheeks becomingly. And as she sprinted even faster, she could feel the wind whistling through her hair that had come unbounded from its normally rigid, upswept style.

Running towards the cottage where she knew he would be working, she struggled against the hold that she now knew HE possessed. How had he managed to affect her so strongly, so quickly? As she drew nearer, expecting to hear the steady clink, clink of metal hitting stone, Relena found herself unnerved by the dead silence that greeted her.

She slowed down, head tilted to catch any sound of movement. One second passed by, then two. And still, there was nothing. She took a few hesitant steps forward, unwilling to believe what her mind was already shouting at her.

*You didn't REALLY think he'd stay, did you? When he was so eager to shut you out…*

"SHUT UP!!" she screamed, rage bubbling forth at the hateful comments filling her head.

*Aw, did poor wittle Lena expect her love to be returned from a soulless, empty shell of a person?*

Relena stumbled across the grassy field. HAD she truly expected Heero to feel for her what she felt for him? No, she had never wanted to force Heero to reciprocate her feelings in turn. After all, she had always been taught, freely given, freely felt. But she HAD thought that he would at least return her friendship.

She moaned softly to herself. "No, no…he isn't like that. Heero wouldn't just leave…not when everything is going wrong…not when I need him the most…"

A brisk, tsking noise echoed in her ears. *Always thinking of yourself, Lena. Tell me, did you ever notice the haunted look in his eyes?*

No…she hadn't. But still, she could make it up to him, right? Just let him be there for her this one time and she promised that she would do ANYTHING in her power to help him drive his inner demons away. Desperate now, Relena dashed forward and threw open the door.

The sight that greeted her brought tears to her eyes.

A beautifully carved marble angel, once faceless but whose delicate features now so strongly resembled her own, stood isolated in the center of the room.

Its wings had been broken off, leaving the angel alone and ruined, unable to fly away from her misery.

A low, keening noise escaped from beneath parted lips. It was too much to bear. Relena swayed softly, welcoming the darkness that quickly rushed up to greet her. Collapsing beneath the burden of it all, she fell, unaware of the strong arms that caught her before she could hit the floor.