My
Soldier
I
sit here behind my desk, determined not to watch him through the windows at my
back. He's leaving for another mission, and I cannot go with him.
The desk before me is piled high with papers, agreements, and forms, all
requiring my attention, my signature, my permission. The responsibilities
that go with them weigh on my shoulders as heavily as the desk they reside
on. I didn't want this position. It isn't fair; I'm only
sixteen. Must I be responsible for the worries of an entire world and its
colonies? I want to throw it all away and go with him. With Heero.
We fought last night. It's always the same
issue. Violence. We fight every time he leaves on a mission.
I scream and cry; Heero is the only one to ever see my tears now, and the only
one to whom I raise my voice, but he never returns the emotions. Instead,
his eyes become cool and hard, and his voice assumes the monotone I have
learned to fear.
I know he loves me. He rarely says so, but he returns
from these missions and holds to me with such fierce possession that I can feel
his soul reaching out to my own. Sometimes, I imagine that they even
touch for a moment, and I can see the love buried in his solemn blue
eyes. But despite our love, we have so little time together, for I have
my position, and he has his missions.
Those missions worry me. Heero never tells me what
goes on during them, but I know they involve the violence I abhor so
much. I do not understand how he can inflict such pain and suffering, and
act as though it means nothing to him. We are both striving for the same
goal, but sometimes I don't know whose method is better. Heero uses his
sword with ferocity, and I try to employ my pen to the best of my ability, but
. . .
But it is hard to love another with such different
ideologies.
I try, oh how I try, but we can never see eye to eye on this one single
issue. It is the one thing that holds us apart. And now . . . Placing
my hand gently above my stomach, I glance toward the trashcan. The test
came out positive. Perhaps this news, news that Heero and I have never
dared to hope for, will bring the peace of mind that we have sought for so
long. A child to pass a peaceful world on to, a new reason to fight for
that glorious end.
But even as I rejoice in the changes of my body, my heart fears that even news
as wonderful as this won't keep us together.
I'm sorry, Heero. I should have apologized for the things I said.
Sometimes I wonder if he will ever return to fulfill his first promise to me.
I still dream about that day.
I walk out onto the veranda, the small envelope held lightly in my
fingers. He's standing there, leaning against the railing, and his eyes
are a million miles away.
"Heero," his head turns, and his eyes meet mine, "I would be
honored if you would come to my birthday party." I smile gently,
hopefully, and I can hear my companions break into applause. Yes, ladies
and gentlemen, Miss Relena has extended her generosity to another lonely soul.
Bite me.
But, instead of the hoped-for smile and casual acceptance, he silently raises
the envelope and carelessly rips it in half. I feel my heart cleave in
the same manner.
"But why?" I whisper, and tears well up in the corner of my eye
as the shreds of paper blow away in a sudden breeze. The wind whips my
hair around my face and my skirt around my legs, and goose bumps rise on my
skin.
He steps forward, and gently wipes the tear away. His finger is so cold
against my cheek. Leaning forward, he whispers into my ear. "I
will kill you . . ." His breath is so warm, and I cling to that scrap of
warmth as he strides away, leaving my soul frozen in denial, rejection, and
wonder.
There are nights when I fear that my love will not be enough, that I will awake
in his arms and find a gun held to my head. Could he kill me so
casually?
I can hear the car drive up to the front of the house. Who is it this
time? Silent Trowa, sweet Quatre, tortured Wufei, or cheerful Duo?
During the past years, I have come to know each of them well, whether or not
they wanted it. And they in turn know how much I need Heero; they always
promise to bring him back safely. If Heero know what they swore to me, he
would be angry. He would not like to know that the others are looking out
for him; he claims to the world that he needs no one.
As I hear the front door open, my strongest resolutions fly into the blue, and
I whirl to press my forehead against the window's cool panes. There he
is. My Heero. He strides out to the car, and he coolly tosses a
small overnight bag into the backseat before getting in. The door is
pulled closed, and the car drives away. He never even looked up towards my
study, even though he must know that I always stand here and watch his departures.
A single tear traces a path down my cheek, but I ignore it, instead glancing
over to the portrait of us that dwells on a side table. Do you remember
that day, Heero? You took me flying in Wing on a beautiful summer
evening. It was the first time I'd flown in a Gundam, and you laughed
delightedly at my excitement. Later that night, we made love for
the first time. Heero, come back to me safely. I need you,
Heero. I love you.
The door to my study opens, and I whirl around, prepared to face the day's
first dilemma. Instead, Heero's strong form stands in the doorway.
"Heero? What's wrong? Did you forget something?"
"Yes." He paces slowly toward me, and the look in his eyes is one that I rarely see. One firm hand comes up to slowly cup my cheek. "I forgot to tell you that I love you."
* * *