The End of a Mystery
Chapter 4
The greatest thing happened a while ago (which I was unable to respond to right away). Someone-or rather two someones, strange as that is-actually responded to my begging and have told me the name of that one dude who fixes things. His name is Howard. Isn't that fabulous? After I'd given up hope, too. So, corny as this is, I've decided to dedicate this chapter to the two people who actually cared enough to write. I would uh tell you their names but their e-mails got deleted with everything else and so I don't actually know them. But you know who you are.
p.s. I hope you aren't a Dorothy Catalonia fan.
Once again, I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters therein. I give all due respect to the writers of this, my favorite show, and wish they would continue it (hint: in the future when the Gundam pilots have grown up and have found new insights into this reality we call life) And now, although I know you haven't actually read this, my duties as a fanfic writer have been mollified and so, on to chapter four.
Chapter Four
Sitting on the floor with her back to the glass wall, she declined the bed that her jailers had so thoughtfully built into the opposite wall of her prison, where, coincidentally, cameras like peeping toms kept a constant watch. Not that they couldn't see her where she was. But comfort was not hers to even consider; sleep was no longer an option. Her back rested against the two-foot glass, which chilled her despite the obvious insulation that two feet of solid glass allows. Her elbows rested on her knees, on the blue silk dress pants that she had put on how long ago?-to make an impression on her brother. Rage and horror and resignation swept over her in waves, making her shiver and sweat with anxiety. And weep with something worse than pain. No, there was no way that she'd ever sleep in such conditions; although her eyes felt gritty with fatigue, they were frozen wide as she replayed in her mind the message, the confrontation, and more recently, a bit of spite from Dorothy. Remembering the scene, even now she felt like weeping with both shame and terror. How! How could this have happened? Where did we go wrong? Why? Why-
(flashback)
The door opened slowly, with the sound of well-oiled springs and wheels, and shut again after admitting a not-unexpected visitor. Dorothy Catalonia swept in, a triumphant smile playing on her lips and a look in her eye that made Relena wish that she would leave again-no, without even saying a word! She remarked Dorothy's complexion, usually so pale and indifferent, now had that glow which pregnant women were often observed to have. A silly notion-the stress was obviously getting to her to have such silly thoughts now, when her clear-headedness was needed for the saving of-how strange-the world. Relena prayed she wouldn't speak, that she would just smile and sweep back out of the room again, but fate, as we all know, was not on her side.
"I have indeed some wonderful news for you, Miss Relena." But that glint in her eye-
"Do you, Dorothy? Any news would be wonderful in my present situation. What is it?" Amazingly enough, her voice was steady, composed. Her trepidation was not evident, not yet.
"Well, it may come as a shock to you Relena. Perhaps you should make sure you're calm before I continue." Not satisfied. Definitely not. More like smug. Yes, horribly, terribly, infamously smug. That about her that Relena had always sensed, that malice, that evilness had finally revealed itself in her first sentence! Telling her to "be calm"! Waiting for it! That-bitch! Why, of course she was calm! Perfectly calm! What reason did she have after all to be anxious?! None! Relena wanted to tear her extra eyebrows out by the roots!
"I'm ready for it, Dorothy. I want to know what you have to say to me." Good. Still calm. She could hardly afford to attack Dorothy now.
"Well, if you're sure. Mind if I take a seat? Thank you Miss Relena. I am aware, as we all are by now, of your continuous efforts at peace between the earth and the colonies, and indeed, between all people. So I have come to give you some good news, as you are very likely not to have had any-no news at all actually-since yesterday." Here she paused, looking around herself unconcernedly, as though she had all the time in the world. Relena had to stop herself from grinding her teeth in vexation-foolish games! What was the news that had been so important as to interrupt Relena's planning?
"Yes, Dorothy? Please continue."
"oh! Yes of course." As if she'd forgotten! "Well, as I was saying, it just happens that the earth and the colonies have a common enemy. And I thought that you would appreciate the fact that they can work for a common interest, toward the elimination of a threat to the peace of all. Which they have done, and that was my news for you." What?!
"I admit I do not follow you at all Dorothy. What is this enemy that you're speaking of? And how have they eliminated it?"
"I'm sorry. No, they haven't eliminated it completely, just a part of it. But you must admit, it is quite a step forward to say the least. Why, what a pain he was after all, disturbing the peace, disrupting conferences, not to mention his antisocial behavior. We really are well rid of him!"
"Who Dorothy?!" She couldn't help it. Her voice showed her frustration, her fear. She was beginning to understand, too well by far. Her stomach clenched like a fist and-although she wasn't sure there was anything left in her stomach; she hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday's breakfast- she thought she'd be sick.
"Oh, didn't I say?" Her eyes were wide and innocent looking, if those strange eyes could ever be innocent and her mouth was puckered into an almost childish expression of guiltless apology, that Relena felt herself almost ready to shriek at her for her malice. But no sound could have escaped her when Dorothy continued a word:
"Heero Yuy. Not the rebel of course, he's been dead for years. The younger one. The Gundam pilot. You look ill, Relena. I'll have something brought for you the minute I finish telling you the good news. It was actually quite extraordinary. I watched, you know. He flew his Gundam right out of his ship and strangely enough, encountered Treize. It was a long battle-how I would have loved to have been closer!-but Treize won, as he should; he is twice the Gundam pilot's age. It is unfortunate though, in a way; Heero was always very attractive, for a Gundam pilot that is." Relena felt something-everywhere. Not a pain-not exactly. It wasn't physical despite what all the love songs say. It was a chill-like all the cold that was so near-directly outside the wall-had soaked into her body, into her mind. It wasn't real; she knew that. It was just her imagination- the effects of such horrific news that caused this.
But it wasn't horrific! It wasn't just something she could look at like a politician! This was Heero! Was he dead? Was he alive? He couldn't be dead! It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible! Treize couldn't do it, Zechs-no, not Zechs!-Milliardo! His name was Milliardo and he was her long lost brother and she'd come to persuade him to-but Heero!
"But how-why-Dorothy, what happened? Why would he attack Treize now, when Zechs-Milliardo!-is going to-is trying to." She bit her bottom lip and lowered her head as panic and anguish began to take control of her. She turned away, ashamed, as tears streaked down her face, as violent sobs began to rack her body. 'it's can't-it can't be true. Heero is alive. Heero is alive! He's going to rescue me. He's going to destroy the White Fang and he's going to save the world. And he's going to come for me.' But her hope was slipping and Dorothy was watching her keenly, not at all bashful of seeing someone in so pitiful a state. Her eyes were filled with- something. Not embarrassment on Relena's behalf, not shame, not even evil glee-more like someone satisfied-again satisfied!-that they had completed a job and were fascinated by the results. Relena covered her eyes with her hands, and bit her lips fiercely, trying to stifle her telling reaction, but there was no getting away from that look.
"I asked him to of course. That's why, since you asked." Relena looked up at her in shock, still shaking.
"You're wondering, why would a Gundam pilot-and especially that particular Gundam pilot-do anything I asked of him? Well, that's very simple. Because he didn't have a choice." And she smiled at Relena with a look of such indication that she felt her heart stop beating-but that could have been for another reason-and for a moment she could not seem to breathe.
Taking deep breaths, she was filled with a very foreign emotion-rage, hate. It burned her from the inside, drying her tears, calming her racking sobs until only her harsh breathing was audible.
"It's you. It's been you the whole time. You persuaded Milliardo to do- this. You sent the message to inform me, to bring me here. You." her voice cracked slightly, but whether in her pain or her rage, she could not tell. She knew which Dorothy believed it to be. She was after all a Pacifist-ha! They'd see!
"You've killed Heero." she couldn't possibly have "You killed Heero!" a shriek now. She slid off the bed, weak and tired, held her head in her hands and sobbed. Her heart was empty. There should have been pain, she should have felt it, just like in every story she'd ever heard. Her heart- her traitorous heart-should have stopped with his, should have known better than to beat so casually now. It should have stopped because what else was it good for?
She couldn't stop the tears, wasn't sure she wanted to. They dripped darkly on her silk pants, streamed down her arms like tragic rain. Her body was like paper, her voice a lament and her eyes sightless with that rain. There was nothing left. She'd fought for peace but the world would never know it. She'd loved her brother, but he was Zechs Marquise and he didn't know anything but how to kill. And she'd loved-she'd loved a fallen angel and he would never fly. He should have flown. But-he should have flown.
'It isn't right!' Her heart screamed inside her in outrage at such injustice. 'We should have been happy! We should have been given a chance, just one chance! But no! Of course not! Spiteful world! It stole our lives, it stole our time when we were never given a moment-not a moment!-to begin with! Not a moment!.' A silence echoed her thoughts. All that could be thought had been thought. All that could be regretted was better left in the past.
She felt herself falling into numbness, made too weak to continue her violent weeping, and instead was racked by painful hic-ups. Slow and steady tears made twin runnels down her face, making her face feel raw and her lips salty. Looking around her once again, she realized that Dorothy was gone, the door was closed.
A covered platter of-something; she assumed it was food-was resting elegantly on the plush carpet near the door. She was starving, felt completely empty of anything-passion, love, hate-there was nothing left. Tears continued down her face and her hic-ups stopped as she stared unseeing at the platter. It was hopeless. There was nothing left. She was empty but she didn't want to eat, knew it wouldn't fill the hole and not wanting it to. It was not worthy of her, of him, to be replaced even by such a substitute. Nothing ever would. She didn't expect it, didn't want it. She had worked for the people for a long time, had spent every waking moment thinking for them, praying for them, hoping to God that one day she would no longer be needed to protect them from themselves. And now she realized, it was nothing. She'd been satisfied by her lot before, had taken it as her private duty as a citizen of the time to do everything in her power to make conditions better for people, so that their loved ones would not die needlessly.
Well, guess what happened.
(end of flashback)
Bitterness churned in her blood.
Life was not fair, not now, not ever. Nothing she'd done had helped, not a single thing. Her political maneuverings had saved the lives of billions and now they would all be destroyed, and it had all been for nothing. But she didn't care. Not any more. Perhaps she would later, would feel guilt and heartbreak for such selfish thoughts but for now could feel nothing but disgust at herself. She had actually cried in front of Dorothy, had given her the satisfaction of seeing her plans succeed. But that didn't really matter either. Nothing did.
She remembered, replayed in her mind all the speeches she'd given-about peace, about justice. People had laughed at her, the same people she had been fighting for, the same people she'd give her heart, her very life for. They'd laughed because when they saw her, they saw a naïve, overly sentimental, idiotic teenage girl who didn't know enough about life to understand what her tongue had thrown at the masses. And as for those who "believed" in her. What did they know? Nothing! They told her that she could make a difference, that her efforts would bring about change! Liars! What change? This was the same world-with the same people-the same blood! This was the same hell as it had always been and nothing that she ever did would change that! She heard her shrieks in her mind, her regrets, her anguish-and then there was only silence. All her hopes were useless. She wasn't a match for it; all her actions had done-nothing. She had given away her life for a chance for a better world but now she realized that, as payment, her life was worthless too. Worthless.
Heero was dead. Heero was dead. Heero. Was. Dead.
She was struck by a sudden decision. It wasn't a surprising conclusion-not in the least. It was the only natural path that her reasoning could lead. Heero was dead; all the hope that was left for the world rested with the other pilots. Or.
She was here. She was on the ship. She was waiting to be saved.
Why?
How did that make sense?
She was Relena Peacecraft, thus, a pacifist, of course. She couldn't fight- it went against her principals.
What?! This wasn't a time for politics! Her brother was totally insane, as was his evil sidekick, Catalonia. It wasn't a time to be nit-picky, not a time to make speeches, to rationalize! The world was going to be blown up for crying out loud! Billions of people would die-billions who did not care for her or for Heero. Billions of skeptics who had laughed at her and had cussed about the effects the Gundams had on the Stock Market. They didn't care for her, and she knew it. They wouldn't weep for her when her time was up. But they would weep and panic and give in completely to chaos once they realized that Zechs Marquise-the infamous Lightning Count-had decided to smash their beloved earth to particles.
They deserved it. Honestly, they did.
No, that wasn't right. That could never be right. Bitterness swept through her system like poison, corrupting her thoughts and nulling her reason. But she knew better and worked now at flushing the bitterness out of her system. People didn't deserve life-that was one conclusion she'd come up with long ago. People were bad and did bad things. But Zechs-yes, Zechs. That was his killing name. That was the only name he had left now- was no better than they. Perhaps worse. He had no right to judge them and she would not allow him to commit such a crime-not if it meant killing him herself.
So that was it. She could no longer wait for the Gundams-it was Heero she'd been depending on anyway and he had given his life. For her? The thought haunted her, crouched in the back of her mind and mocked her ruthlessly. He'd been very useful to the world-and she had not been. Ironic. It was only fitting that he be the one to die.
But that wasn't the point! She'd do it herself. When next Dorothy came with a meal or with fresh clothes-she remembered now hearing Dorothy murmuring about that directly after she'd given her news-she would attack her. It would likely be clumsy, true; she'd never had training and Dorothy was obsessed with that sort of thing. Oh well. What she lacked in training she made up for in a newly born no-shit attitude and restless energy. And the advantage of surprise. Can't forget that. Dorothy would never suspect Relena Peacecraft of murder. She would never expect that the young pacifist princess could contemplate attacking a peer-at times a friend even. Relena would laugh-she'd laugh as she took Dorothy's gun- because of course she'd have a gun-she'd laugh to see the look of shock on Dorothy's face as she was assailed by a soft, peace-loving, pacifist, Princess!
Wary of cameras, Relena covered her mouth as a smirk touched her features. She'd have justice on that score at least. An eye for an eye. Dorothy had killed Heero, and if she were given the chance, she would kill billions of relative innocents for her own amusement. She was too dangerous to live and would have to be put down like a rabid dog. It really was too bad; at times she was even tolerable.
And if it went badly? A doubt strayed unbidden into her mind, gnawing at her resolution. What if Dorothy knew? Or what if, after taking her down, Relena was caught? Or killed? That thought broke the chain, restored her confidence. That was the worst they could do to her, was death, but the way she saw it, that was how it would end anyway. The people of the earth had not been worthy of Heero but Goddammit if she was just going to give them up to a maniac! She had promised them everything-her blood, her time- her life. And she'd give it.
For the people she'd give her life. For Heero.
Heero lay on his back, his eyes closed, his thoughts incoherent. Where was he now? And how--? His spine was straight, his arms spread wide-he felt padded straps pressing them into a firm but not hard surface-and his legs were shoulder-width apart, also held in place by-something. There was an odd numbness around his left side, like it just wasn't there, which was strange because otherwise-where was it? Had he left it in his Gundam? Hmmm.. Interesting. A thought occurred to him slowly-like a bubble slowly emerging from the morass that was his mind. He was drugged. At least-he hoped he was drugged-he couldn't be this slow all the time, could he?
He opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by-the sun? Had he been flying towards the sun when-? Hearing a moan he closed his eyes, his training teaching him that it was better to be considered unconscious. With a thought he forced his breathing to be slow and steady and heard-a chuckle! So! So far he knew there were two people in the room-one who moaned and one who chuckled. Could he take out even two when he could barely follow a single thought from start to-to-? He heard the moan again; it sounded far away but echoed strangely in his empty head.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, Heero. I hope you've had pleasant dreams?" Heero didn't respond and the voice-it sounded very familiar?-it chuckled. Suddenly he knew who it was and tried to bolt upright, but his body wouldn't move.
"Dr. J.?" His head felt so foggy-like it was full of felt. He tried to open his eyes but the sun blinded him and they rolled back in his head again. He didn't want Dr. J. to see him like this. He'd fail the test for sure, and then-what? What would he do then? Dr. J. didn't answer. Was he- angry?
"Dr. J.?" He heard something squeal as it moved across the floor. Was someone arranging furniture in Wing? But there was no space for furniture. Maybe.
"Yes, Heero?" Dr. J. was angry. He was trying to control it; Heero could tell by the way it strained his voice. He felt a warm hand on his and started with surprise-but he couldn't move.
"I'm sorry Dr. J. My head feels full of cotton." And it did. He shouldn't have said that. It was foolish.
"That's perfectly understandable, Heero. Don't worry." Again the furniture squealed.
"Get the furniture out of my. out of my." But then the whole world fuzzed again and the thought ended in silence as he fell back into the abyss.
Treize looked perplexed at the boy, allowing one raised eyebrow to show it. Furniture? Well, I suppose even Gundam pilots have weird dreams once in a while. He shrugged as he took his hand off the dial and watched as the clear liquid continued to drip through the IV into Heero Yuy's arm. He'd sleep a while yet, without pain or worry-and in a few moments he'd be too deep to dream as well. That was all right-he'd probably appreciate the favor.
Fighting the odd feeling of compassion, Treize Kushrenada turned and left the room, closing the door on the various beeps and buzzings of the machinery that was keeping the Gundam pilot alive.
All right, I admit not much happened there, but I think it was worth the time. Again, sorry about the long wait and I hope you've enjoyed it. If I can stop people from barging in on me, I hope to continue with the next chapter soon. Please review. I'd love to hear what you think about Miss Relena's "soliloquy" (ha! English class vocabulary word!) and Heero's unusual thoughts about furniture inside his Gundam. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---Be happy,---------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------StarChild
Chapter 4
The greatest thing happened a while ago (which I was unable to respond to right away). Someone-or rather two someones, strange as that is-actually responded to my begging and have told me the name of that one dude who fixes things. His name is Howard. Isn't that fabulous? After I'd given up hope, too. So, corny as this is, I've decided to dedicate this chapter to the two people who actually cared enough to write. I would uh tell you their names but their e-mails got deleted with everything else and so I don't actually know them. But you know who you are.
p.s. I hope you aren't a Dorothy Catalonia fan.
Once again, I do not own Gundam Wing or any of the characters therein. I give all due respect to the writers of this, my favorite show, and wish they would continue it (hint: in the future when the Gundam pilots have grown up and have found new insights into this reality we call life) And now, although I know you haven't actually read this, my duties as a fanfic writer have been mollified and so, on to chapter four.
Chapter Four
Sitting on the floor with her back to the glass wall, she declined the bed that her jailers had so thoughtfully built into the opposite wall of her prison, where, coincidentally, cameras like peeping toms kept a constant watch. Not that they couldn't see her where she was. But comfort was not hers to even consider; sleep was no longer an option. Her back rested against the two-foot glass, which chilled her despite the obvious insulation that two feet of solid glass allows. Her elbows rested on her knees, on the blue silk dress pants that she had put on how long ago?-to make an impression on her brother. Rage and horror and resignation swept over her in waves, making her shiver and sweat with anxiety. And weep with something worse than pain. No, there was no way that she'd ever sleep in such conditions; although her eyes felt gritty with fatigue, they were frozen wide as she replayed in her mind the message, the confrontation, and more recently, a bit of spite from Dorothy. Remembering the scene, even now she felt like weeping with both shame and terror. How! How could this have happened? Where did we go wrong? Why? Why-
(flashback)
The door opened slowly, with the sound of well-oiled springs and wheels, and shut again after admitting a not-unexpected visitor. Dorothy Catalonia swept in, a triumphant smile playing on her lips and a look in her eye that made Relena wish that she would leave again-no, without even saying a word! She remarked Dorothy's complexion, usually so pale and indifferent, now had that glow which pregnant women were often observed to have. A silly notion-the stress was obviously getting to her to have such silly thoughts now, when her clear-headedness was needed for the saving of-how strange-the world. Relena prayed she wouldn't speak, that she would just smile and sweep back out of the room again, but fate, as we all know, was not on her side.
"I have indeed some wonderful news for you, Miss Relena." But that glint in her eye-
"Do you, Dorothy? Any news would be wonderful in my present situation. What is it?" Amazingly enough, her voice was steady, composed. Her trepidation was not evident, not yet.
"Well, it may come as a shock to you Relena. Perhaps you should make sure you're calm before I continue." Not satisfied. Definitely not. More like smug. Yes, horribly, terribly, infamously smug. That about her that Relena had always sensed, that malice, that evilness had finally revealed itself in her first sentence! Telling her to "be calm"! Waiting for it! That-bitch! Why, of course she was calm! Perfectly calm! What reason did she have after all to be anxious?! None! Relena wanted to tear her extra eyebrows out by the roots!
"I'm ready for it, Dorothy. I want to know what you have to say to me." Good. Still calm. She could hardly afford to attack Dorothy now.
"Well, if you're sure. Mind if I take a seat? Thank you Miss Relena. I am aware, as we all are by now, of your continuous efforts at peace between the earth and the colonies, and indeed, between all people. So I have come to give you some good news, as you are very likely not to have had any-no news at all actually-since yesterday." Here she paused, looking around herself unconcernedly, as though she had all the time in the world. Relena had to stop herself from grinding her teeth in vexation-foolish games! What was the news that had been so important as to interrupt Relena's planning?
"Yes, Dorothy? Please continue."
"oh! Yes of course." As if she'd forgotten! "Well, as I was saying, it just happens that the earth and the colonies have a common enemy. And I thought that you would appreciate the fact that they can work for a common interest, toward the elimination of a threat to the peace of all. Which they have done, and that was my news for you." What?!
"I admit I do not follow you at all Dorothy. What is this enemy that you're speaking of? And how have they eliminated it?"
"I'm sorry. No, they haven't eliminated it completely, just a part of it. But you must admit, it is quite a step forward to say the least. Why, what a pain he was after all, disturbing the peace, disrupting conferences, not to mention his antisocial behavior. We really are well rid of him!"
"Who Dorothy?!" She couldn't help it. Her voice showed her frustration, her fear. She was beginning to understand, too well by far. Her stomach clenched like a fist and-although she wasn't sure there was anything left in her stomach; she hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday's breakfast- she thought she'd be sick.
"Oh, didn't I say?" Her eyes were wide and innocent looking, if those strange eyes could ever be innocent and her mouth was puckered into an almost childish expression of guiltless apology, that Relena felt herself almost ready to shriek at her for her malice. But no sound could have escaped her when Dorothy continued a word:
"Heero Yuy. Not the rebel of course, he's been dead for years. The younger one. The Gundam pilot. You look ill, Relena. I'll have something brought for you the minute I finish telling you the good news. It was actually quite extraordinary. I watched, you know. He flew his Gundam right out of his ship and strangely enough, encountered Treize. It was a long battle-how I would have loved to have been closer!-but Treize won, as he should; he is twice the Gundam pilot's age. It is unfortunate though, in a way; Heero was always very attractive, for a Gundam pilot that is." Relena felt something-everywhere. Not a pain-not exactly. It wasn't physical despite what all the love songs say. It was a chill-like all the cold that was so near-directly outside the wall-had soaked into her body, into her mind. It wasn't real; she knew that. It was just her imagination- the effects of such horrific news that caused this.
But it wasn't horrific! It wasn't just something she could look at like a politician! This was Heero! Was he dead? Was he alive? He couldn't be dead! It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible! Treize couldn't do it, Zechs-no, not Zechs!-Milliardo! His name was Milliardo and he was her long lost brother and she'd come to persuade him to-but Heero!
"But how-why-Dorothy, what happened? Why would he attack Treize now, when Zechs-Milliardo!-is going to-is trying to." She bit her bottom lip and lowered her head as panic and anguish began to take control of her. She turned away, ashamed, as tears streaked down her face, as violent sobs began to rack her body. 'it's can't-it can't be true. Heero is alive. Heero is alive! He's going to rescue me. He's going to destroy the White Fang and he's going to save the world. And he's going to come for me.' But her hope was slipping and Dorothy was watching her keenly, not at all bashful of seeing someone in so pitiful a state. Her eyes were filled with- something. Not embarrassment on Relena's behalf, not shame, not even evil glee-more like someone satisfied-again satisfied!-that they had completed a job and were fascinated by the results. Relena covered her eyes with her hands, and bit her lips fiercely, trying to stifle her telling reaction, but there was no getting away from that look.
"I asked him to of course. That's why, since you asked." Relena looked up at her in shock, still shaking.
"You're wondering, why would a Gundam pilot-and especially that particular Gundam pilot-do anything I asked of him? Well, that's very simple. Because he didn't have a choice." And she smiled at Relena with a look of such indication that she felt her heart stop beating-but that could have been for another reason-and for a moment she could not seem to breathe.
Taking deep breaths, she was filled with a very foreign emotion-rage, hate. It burned her from the inside, drying her tears, calming her racking sobs until only her harsh breathing was audible.
"It's you. It's been you the whole time. You persuaded Milliardo to do- this. You sent the message to inform me, to bring me here. You." her voice cracked slightly, but whether in her pain or her rage, she could not tell. She knew which Dorothy believed it to be. She was after all a Pacifist-ha! They'd see!
"You've killed Heero." she couldn't possibly have "You killed Heero!" a shriek now. She slid off the bed, weak and tired, held her head in her hands and sobbed. Her heart was empty. There should have been pain, she should have felt it, just like in every story she'd ever heard. Her heart- her traitorous heart-should have stopped with his, should have known better than to beat so casually now. It should have stopped because what else was it good for?
She couldn't stop the tears, wasn't sure she wanted to. They dripped darkly on her silk pants, streamed down her arms like tragic rain. Her body was like paper, her voice a lament and her eyes sightless with that rain. There was nothing left. She'd fought for peace but the world would never know it. She'd loved her brother, but he was Zechs Marquise and he didn't know anything but how to kill. And she'd loved-she'd loved a fallen angel and he would never fly. He should have flown. But-he should have flown.
'It isn't right!' Her heart screamed inside her in outrage at such injustice. 'We should have been happy! We should have been given a chance, just one chance! But no! Of course not! Spiteful world! It stole our lives, it stole our time when we were never given a moment-not a moment!-to begin with! Not a moment!.' A silence echoed her thoughts. All that could be thought had been thought. All that could be regretted was better left in the past.
She felt herself falling into numbness, made too weak to continue her violent weeping, and instead was racked by painful hic-ups. Slow and steady tears made twin runnels down her face, making her face feel raw and her lips salty. Looking around her once again, she realized that Dorothy was gone, the door was closed.
A covered platter of-something; she assumed it was food-was resting elegantly on the plush carpet near the door. She was starving, felt completely empty of anything-passion, love, hate-there was nothing left. Tears continued down her face and her hic-ups stopped as she stared unseeing at the platter. It was hopeless. There was nothing left. She was empty but she didn't want to eat, knew it wouldn't fill the hole and not wanting it to. It was not worthy of her, of him, to be replaced even by such a substitute. Nothing ever would. She didn't expect it, didn't want it. She had worked for the people for a long time, had spent every waking moment thinking for them, praying for them, hoping to God that one day she would no longer be needed to protect them from themselves. And now she realized, it was nothing. She'd been satisfied by her lot before, had taken it as her private duty as a citizen of the time to do everything in her power to make conditions better for people, so that their loved ones would not die needlessly.
Well, guess what happened.
(end of flashback)
Bitterness churned in her blood.
Life was not fair, not now, not ever. Nothing she'd done had helped, not a single thing. Her political maneuverings had saved the lives of billions and now they would all be destroyed, and it had all been for nothing. But she didn't care. Not any more. Perhaps she would later, would feel guilt and heartbreak for such selfish thoughts but for now could feel nothing but disgust at herself. She had actually cried in front of Dorothy, had given her the satisfaction of seeing her plans succeed. But that didn't really matter either. Nothing did.
She remembered, replayed in her mind all the speeches she'd given-about peace, about justice. People had laughed at her, the same people she had been fighting for, the same people she'd give her heart, her very life for. They'd laughed because when they saw her, they saw a naïve, overly sentimental, idiotic teenage girl who didn't know enough about life to understand what her tongue had thrown at the masses. And as for those who "believed" in her. What did they know? Nothing! They told her that she could make a difference, that her efforts would bring about change! Liars! What change? This was the same world-with the same people-the same blood! This was the same hell as it had always been and nothing that she ever did would change that! She heard her shrieks in her mind, her regrets, her anguish-and then there was only silence. All her hopes were useless. She wasn't a match for it; all her actions had done-nothing. She had given away her life for a chance for a better world but now she realized that, as payment, her life was worthless too. Worthless.
Heero was dead. Heero was dead. Heero. Was. Dead.
She was struck by a sudden decision. It wasn't a surprising conclusion-not in the least. It was the only natural path that her reasoning could lead. Heero was dead; all the hope that was left for the world rested with the other pilots. Or.
She was here. She was on the ship. She was waiting to be saved.
Why?
How did that make sense?
She was Relena Peacecraft, thus, a pacifist, of course. She couldn't fight- it went against her principals.
What?! This wasn't a time for politics! Her brother was totally insane, as was his evil sidekick, Catalonia. It wasn't a time to be nit-picky, not a time to make speeches, to rationalize! The world was going to be blown up for crying out loud! Billions of people would die-billions who did not care for her or for Heero. Billions of skeptics who had laughed at her and had cussed about the effects the Gundams had on the Stock Market. They didn't care for her, and she knew it. They wouldn't weep for her when her time was up. But they would weep and panic and give in completely to chaos once they realized that Zechs Marquise-the infamous Lightning Count-had decided to smash their beloved earth to particles.
They deserved it. Honestly, they did.
No, that wasn't right. That could never be right. Bitterness swept through her system like poison, corrupting her thoughts and nulling her reason. But she knew better and worked now at flushing the bitterness out of her system. People didn't deserve life-that was one conclusion she'd come up with long ago. People were bad and did bad things. But Zechs-yes, Zechs. That was his killing name. That was the only name he had left now- was no better than they. Perhaps worse. He had no right to judge them and she would not allow him to commit such a crime-not if it meant killing him herself.
So that was it. She could no longer wait for the Gundams-it was Heero she'd been depending on anyway and he had given his life. For her? The thought haunted her, crouched in the back of her mind and mocked her ruthlessly. He'd been very useful to the world-and she had not been. Ironic. It was only fitting that he be the one to die.
But that wasn't the point! She'd do it herself. When next Dorothy came with a meal or with fresh clothes-she remembered now hearing Dorothy murmuring about that directly after she'd given her news-she would attack her. It would likely be clumsy, true; she'd never had training and Dorothy was obsessed with that sort of thing. Oh well. What she lacked in training she made up for in a newly born no-shit attitude and restless energy. And the advantage of surprise. Can't forget that. Dorothy would never suspect Relena Peacecraft of murder. She would never expect that the young pacifist princess could contemplate attacking a peer-at times a friend even. Relena would laugh-she'd laugh as she took Dorothy's gun- because of course she'd have a gun-she'd laugh to see the look of shock on Dorothy's face as she was assailed by a soft, peace-loving, pacifist, Princess!
Wary of cameras, Relena covered her mouth as a smirk touched her features. She'd have justice on that score at least. An eye for an eye. Dorothy had killed Heero, and if she were given the chance, she would kill billions of relative innocents for her own amusement. She was too dangerous to live and would have to be put down like a rabid dog. It really was too bad; at times she was even tolerable.
And if it went badly? A doubt strayed unbidden into her mind, gnawing at her resolution. What if Dorothy knew? Or what if, after taking her down, Relena was caught? Or killed? That thought broke the chain, restored her confidence. That was the worst they could do to her, was death, but the way she saw it, that was how it would end anyway. The people of the earth had not been worthy of Heero but Goddammit if she was just going to give them up to a maniac! She had promised them everything-her blood, her time- her life. And she'd give it.
For the people she'd give her life. For Heero.
Heero lay on his back, his eyes closed, his thoughts incoherent. Where was he now? And how--? His spine was straight, his arms spread wide-he felt padded straps pressing them into a firm but not hard surface-and his legs were shoulder-width apart, also held in place by-something. There was an odd numbness around his left side, like it just wasn't there, which was strange because otherwise-where was it? Had he left it in his Gundam? Hmmm.. Interesting. A thought occurred to him slowly-like a bubble slowly emerging from the morass that was his mind. He was drugged. At least-he hoped he was drugged-he couldn't be this slow all the time, could he?
He opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by-the sun? Had he been flying towards the sun when-? Hearing a moan he closed his eyes, his training teaching him that it was better to be considered unconscious. With a thought he forced his breathing to be slow and steady and heard-a chuckle! So! So far he knew there were two people in the room-one who moaned and one who chuckled. Could he take out even two when he could barely follow a single thought from start to-to-? He heard the moan again; it sounded far away but echoed strangely in his empty head.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, Heero. I hope you've had pleasant dreams?" Heero didn't respond and the voice-it sounded very familiar?-it chuckled. Suddenly he knew who it was and tried to bolt upright, but his body wouldn't move.
"Dr. J.?" His head felt so foggy-like it was full of felt. He tried to open his eyes but the sun blinded him and they rolled back in his head again. He didn't want Dr. J. to see him like this. He'd fail the test for sure, and then-what? What would he do then? Dr. J. didn't answer. Was he- angry?
"Dr. J.?" He heard something squeal as it moved across the floor. Was someone arranging furniture in Wing? But there was no space for furniture. Maybe.
"Yes, Heero?" Dr. J. was angry. He was trying to control it; Heero could tell by the way it strained his voice. He felt a warm hand on his and started with surprise-but he couldn't move.
"I'm sorry Dr. J. My head feels full of cotton." And it did. He shouldn't have said that. It was foolish.
"That's perfectly understandable, Heero. Don't worry." Again the furniture squealed.
"Get the furniture out of my. out of my." But then the whole world fuzzed again and the thought ended in silence as he fell back into the abyss.
Treize looked perplexed at the boy, allowing one raised eyebrow to show it. Furniture? Well, I suppose even Gundam pilots have weird dreams once in a while. He shrugged as he took his hand off the dial and watched as the clear liquid continued to drip through the IV into Heero Yuy's arm. He'd sleep a while yet, without pain or worry-and in a few moments he'd be too deep to dream as well. That was all right-he'd probably appreciate the favor.
Fighting the odd feeling of compassion, Treize Kushrenada turned and left the room, closing the door on the various beeps and buzzings of the machinery that was keeping the Gundam pilot alive.
All right, I admit not much happened there, but I think it was worth the time. Again, sorry about the long wait and I hope you've enjoyed it. If I can stop people from barging in on me, I hope to continue with the next chapter soon. Please review. I'd love to hear what you think about Miss Relena's "soliloquy" (ha! English class vocabulary word!) and Heero's unusual thoughts about furniture inside his Gundam. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---Be happy,---------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------StarChild