Pet Peeve
by
Nin Tendo
Chapter 2 ~ Golden Girl
~ Disclaimer ~ The true owners are Japanese. I'm Canadian, ehhh? n.n
==========
The sun bore down upon Quatre as he left the hospital, driving his troubled mind into the throbbing pulses of a migrane. He rubbed his temples in vain and squinted against the sunlight in an attempt to locate his limousine so he could return home and attempt to relax.
Instead, Quatre found his eyes resting on a slightly smaller version of the vehicle, painted a shimmering gold. He recognized the girl at the wheel. Their eyes met, and Quatre realized that she had been waiting for him--it wasn't just a coincidence. His curiousity overcame him, overpowering common sense--despite current events, he still had a job to do.
Quatre searched the street again. Locating his escort, he hurried over and gave him instructions to go back to the office and inform his secretary that he would be unavailiable for the rest of the day's meetings.
The chaffeur nodded and drove off, leaving Quatre to stare at the golden limo, pondering what the girl would want to say to him. It wasn't as if they regularily socialized together, after all. Shoving past all uncertainty, he approached the vehicle, squinting against the glare. He stopped beside the driver's side and waited for her to roll down the window before asking, "Did you want to talk, Dorothy?"
She smirked at him, and tucked her long, golden-blond tresses behind her ears. "I just thought that you would be in the right mindset for a nice little drive."
It suddenly struck Quatre that Dorothy might know something about Relena's assassination. Without another word, he hurried over to the passenger side and pulled himself in.
This would be the first time he had ever been completely alone with her since they'd met on Libra. He had seen her since then, but they had always been surrounded by other people, at parties and other social events. For the first year since Libra, she had avoided him completely, feeling far to awkward to speak to the boy she had stabbed. But something had happened in her eighteenth year that stole away her insecurity and embarassment around him, and they had participated in numerous short conversations. Like the time she had taken the picture in the golden frame.
They didn't speak for a mile or two, but Quatre was grateful for the solitude--the quiet was just what he needed to overcome the pounding migrane he had suffered through. Soon after purging himself of the pain, however, his curiousity came into play once again, eating at his patience until he couldn't stand the silence for another moment.
"Are you still studying photography, Dorothy?" he asked, initiating conversation.
She looked surprised--she hadn't told him of her brief interest in photography--but then she smiled. "Oh, the picture. Should I take that as a compliment, Mr. Winner?"
"Yes," Quatre replied, "you are very talented. But, please use my first name, Dorothy--I've always thought 'Mr. Winner' suited my father better."
"Hmm," Dorothy wondered. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Miss Relena--I simply cannot. Even after the wars--I was but a lowly servant when compared to the Vice-Foreign Minister."
The way she emphasized on the title confirmed Quatre's suspicions. Dorothy DID know something, and taking her subtle hinting into consideration, she was waiting for him to make the first move.
Quatre swallowed back his nerves and dove into the unknown. "Dorothy, what sort of relationship did you have with Relena?"
The way her eyes twinkled gave Quatre the impression that she was the one ensnaring him in her trap, instead of him interrogating her. "You could say that I was her confidant."
"Her 'confidant'?" Quatre repeated, hoping for clarification.
"Yes," Dorothy replied, nodding. "She sometimes spoke to me of things--her concerns, hopes, dreams, and all the rest."
Quatre was practically on the edge of his seat. "Had she been acting strangely for the last few days before..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The wound was still just too fresh.
"Before she was murdered?" Dorothy supplied. If she felt any grief, it didn't show on her face or in her voice. "Yes, although, her odd behavior began almost a month ago--you remember her sudden bout of sickness--morning sickness, I suppose, considering the new evidence. Not to mention those nasty mood swings. How she managed to keep that from the public, I'll never know.
"But if you're wondering if she'd shown any signs of knowing about her future demise, I can only tell you this: Relena was plaqued by paranoia something awful in the week leading up to her death--you of all people should have noticed; you were there that weekend--it was almost as if she KNEW someone was planning to end her life. Strange, how she didn't mention anything to her security, don't you think? Silly girl--he's probably chopped her up and fed her to the pigs by now."
An awful little smile spread across her lips, and Quatre couldn't help but feel completely disgusted with the woman in that moment.
"How can you talk so casually about Relena's death?!" he spat out.
Dorothy slammed the brakes, and Quatre noticed that they'd stopped right in front of his mansion. She flinched and curled away from him at his words, losing an entire year of progress as she once again became that scared little girl that shied away from everything compassionate.
Refusing to meet his glare, Dorothy whispered, "I am not a kind person, Mr. Winner."
Quatre found that he could not disagree, and the burning lump of hatred in his chest drove him to slam the door on his way out as he left the car without another word.
He couldn't even bear to look at the golden limo as it disappeared from view.
But if he'd looked, he would have noticed Dorothy smirk at his retreating form--a smile born of secrets yet to be revealed.
===================
Wufei Chang knelt at the stone monument embedded in the ground at the very center of the city's graveyard. He'd been there once before, during yesterday's service, but then, so had the rest of the city and then some. The site was still choked with roses.
The freshly upturned earth belied the true nature of a grave--there was no body buried here, only gifts given too late.
Wufei let his fingers trace the feathers of the angelic figure. But it was not the dearly departed young politician that was on his mind. No--he thought of a girl named Meilan.
His earlier words surfaced again in his mind. "He was always a weapon, but she was the one who aimed and pulled the trigger.
"Nataku," he whispered. "Have I made you proud?"
Unlike Relena Darlian, she had been blessed with a proper burial. Her body had been laid to rest beneath the soil of colony A0206. But his home had been destroyed in the war, leaving no stone monument, no body, nowhere to sit and remember the girl ruled by the justice she had believed so deeply in.
Relena's body had not yet been recovered, and so, Wufei considered this grave site to be for all those lost in the war for peace, no matter how indirect their role had been.
Darlian's soul wouldn't hold it against him, of that he was sure.
"Nataku," he began again, "I brought your justice to the earth and now the entire Earth Sphere is united in peace. But I allowed the destruction of our home and people. Are you angry with me? I hope that you are able to rest peacefully now, nonetheless."
He paused, hesitant. He had thought, and said the previous words on many occassions following the war, after the he had self-destructed Altron Gundam, but the next words would be spoken for the first time.
"We did not spend much time together, Nataku, and we never really got along until the end, but..." He closed his eyes and forced the words out. "But, even though we were forced into it, I will never regret the time we spent together. If you hadn't died that day, I know that I would have grown to someday...to someday truly love you."
Thus, Wufei Chang left the grave with a slightly lighter heart, finally able to accept the death of his wife, Meilan--or rather, "Nataku", as he called her--and more importantly, able to release the pent up emotions and begin to move on with his life. It would be quite a while before he would acknowledge it, but Wufei Chang was ready to love again.
=================
"Are you feeling alright, now, Trowa?" Catherine asked, as she drove her younger brother back to the circus, their home.
Staring out the window at the darkening sky, Trowa replied, "I don't know why I reacted that way. It was just...the room was too pure. I felt like...like a stain. I wasn't welcome in that place."
Catherine couldn't come up with a soothing response, so she slowed the car and placed her right hand on his small, narrow shoulder.
Unable to respond with speech, Trowa reached up and placed his hand over her own, squeezing ever so slightly.
Does he feel that the war has tainted him? Catherine wondered. Has he already forgotten all the good his actions allowed?
He was just so mistaken. She simply had to do something about this.
=================
Sally wearily laid down on her couch, rubbing her eyes and yawning. It was nearly midnight--it had taken hours to calm down Hilde and get her to rest. The poor girl wouldn't stop blaming herself for Duo's condition.
She had finally fallen asleep nearly two hours ago.
Duo's words had caused Sally to continuously second-guess herself, question her beliefs, and tear down the walls of rationality.
Shouts of, "HE KILLED HER! HE KILLED HER!" echoed soulessly within the limitations of her human mind.
Could it be possible that Heero had been the one to kill Relena?
But that was crazy. What could have driven him to do such a thing--and in such a brutal way?
Crazy. Duo had clearly lost the luxury of rational thought. Heero would never, ever, even consider doing that.
Wait.
Sally remembered shutting Heero's eyes. She had been concerned that they would dry out. Not to mention that his unseeing gaze had been beginning to unnerve her.
But his eyes had been open when she'd left.
Was Duo right? Had Heero been...faking?
No, that was just crazy. Insane.
His eyes must have been shaken open by Duo's violent outburst. There was no other explanation.
No other rational explanation.
Sally sat up and resumed her pacing.
==================
The screams began at midnight.
"Oh, for God's sake," the nurse cursed, reminded once again why she hated the night shift at the loony bin.
Sighing, she pushed her cart to the offending room, unlocked the door, and carefully entered the room.
She switched on the light and was relieved to see that the patient was still confined to his bed. She didn't want to think about the last time a nurse had found herself locked in a maximum secruity room with an escaped madman.
He continued to scream at the top of his lungs even after she'd entered the room, struggling against his bonds. He probably would have chewed his arms off if they'd been within reach of his teeth.
"What is it now, Mr. Maxwell," she asked, wearily, as she readied yet another dose of sedatives.
He screamed for a moment more, then shouted, "IDIOTS! YOU'RE ALL FOOLS! HE KILLED HER AND NOW HE'S GOING TO GET AWAY!"
"That's nice, Mr. Maxwell," she sighed, rolling her eyes and jabbing him with the needle.
"Murderer, murderer..." Duo chanted, until the sedatives took their toll, and he fell deep asleep.
===============
The streets at midnight were not completely deserted that night, but people were few and far between.
Most citizens avoided these streets at night. All wars may have ended, but mysterious disappearances and strangers and murder were still quite a threat. And wasn't there a psychopath out there that had already taken the life of the most adored politician of all time?
However, there was no trouble on the streets tonight, to the relief of those forced to test the darkened night. Just one odd occurance, actually.
A young man held his date just a little closer as his eyes fell upon a man wearing nothing but a hospital robe, carrying a broken picture frame, bleeding from cuts made by glass against his fingers. His eyes were glazed and unseeing, and the way he walked suggested a lack of conscious thought.
Man, that guy looks like his world has come to an end, the young man thought, in sympathy.
But then, perhaps that is what Heero Yuy had intended in the first place--for his presence to gain sympathy instead of suspicion.
Author's Notes:
Just one thought: This story is just so much fun to write! n_n
by
Nin Tendo
Chapter 2 ~ Golden Girl
~ Disclaimer ~ The true owners are Japanese. I'm Canadian, ehhh? n.n
==========
The sun bore down upon Quatre as he left the hospital, driving his troubled mind into the throbbing pulses of a migrane. He rubbed his temples in vain and squinted against the sunlight in an attempt to locate his limousine so he could return home and attempt to relax.
Instead, Quatre found his eyes resting on a slightly smaller version of the vehicle, painted a shimmering gold. He recognized the girl at the wheel. Their eyes met, and Quatre realized that she had been waiting for him--it wasn't just a coincidence. His curiousity overcame him, overpowering common sense--despite current events, he still had a job to do.
Quatre searched the street again. Locating his escort, he hurried over and gave him instructions to go back to the office and inform his secretary that he would be unavailiable for the rest of the day's meetings.
The chaffeur nodded and drove off, leaving Quatre to stare at the golden limo, pondering what the girl would want to say to him. It wasn't as if they regularily socialized together, after all. Shoving past all uncertainty, he approached the vehicle, squinting against the glare. He stopped beside the driver's side and waited for her to roll down the window before asking, "Did you want to talk, Dorothy?"
She smirked at him, and tucked her long, golden-blond tresses behind her ears. "I just thought that you would be in the right mindset for a nice little drive."
It suddenly struck Quatre that Dorothy might know something about Relena's assassination. Without another word, he hurried over to the passenger side and pulled himself in.
This would be the first time he had ever been completely alone with her since they'd met on Libra. He had seen her since then, but they had always been surrounded by other people, at parties and other social events. For the first year since Libra, she had avoided him completely, feeling far to awkward to speak to the boy she had stabbed. But something had happened in her eighteenth year that stole away her insecurity and embarassment around him, and they had participated in numerous short conversations. Like the time she had taken the picture in the golden frame.
They didn't speak for a mile or two, but Quatre was grateful for the solitude--the quiet was just what he needed to overcome the pounding migrane he had suffered through. Soon after purging himself of the pain, however, his curiousity came into play once again, eating at his patience until he couldn't stand the silence for another moment.
"Are you still studying photography, Dorothy?" he asked, initiating conversation.
She looked surprised--she hadn't told him of her brief interest in photography--but then she smiled. "Oh, the picture. Should I take that as a compliment, Mr. Winner?"
"Yes," Quatre replied, "you are very talented. But, please use my first name, Dorothy--I've always thought 'Mr. Winner' suited my father better."
"Hmm," Dorothy wondered. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Miss Relena--I simply cannot. Even after the wars--I was but a lowly servant when compared to the Vice-Foreign Minister."
The way she emphasized on the title confirmed Quatre's suspicions. Dorothy DID know something, and taking her subtle hinting into consideration, she was waiting for him to make the first move.
Quatre swallowed back his nerves and dove into the unknown. "Dorothy, what sort of relationship did you have with Relena?"
The way her eyes twinkled gave Quatre the impression that she was the one ensnaring him in her trap, instead of him interrogating her. "You could say that I was her confidant."
"Her 'confidant'?" Quatre repeated, hoping for clarification.
"Yes," Dorothy replied, nodding. "She sometimes spoke to me of things--her concerns, hopes, dreams, and all the rest."
Quatre was practically on the edge of his seat. "Had she been acting strangely for the last few days before..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The wound was still just too fresh.
"Before she was murdered?" Dorothy supplied. If she felt any grief, it didn't show on her face or in her voice. "Yes, although, her odd behavior began almost a month ago--you remember her sudden bout of sickness--morning sickness, I suppose, considering the new evidence. Not to mention those nasty mood swings. How she managed to keep that from the public, I'll never know.
"But if you're wondering if she'd shown any signs of knowing about her future demise, I can only tell you this: Relena was plaqued by paranoia something awful in the week leading up to her death--you of all people should have noticed; you were there that weekend--it was almost as if she KNEW someone was planning to end her life. Strange, how she didn't mention anything to her security, don't you think? Silly girl--he's probably chopped her up and fed her to the pigs by now."
An awful little smile spread across her lips, and Quatre couldn't help but feel completely disgusted with the woman in that moment.
"How can you talk so casually about Relena's death?!" he spat out.
Dorothy slammed the brakes, and Quatre noticed that they'd stopped right in front of his mansion. She flinched and curled away from him at his words, losing an entire year of progress as she once again became that scared little girl that shied away from everything compassionate.
Refusing to meet his glare, Dorothy whispered, "I am not a kind person, Mr. Winner."
Quatre found that he could not disagree, and the burning lump of hatred in his chest drove him to slam the door on his way out as he left the car without another word.
He couldn't even bear to look at the golden limo as it disappeared from view.
But if he'd looked, he would have noticed Dorothy smirk at his retreating form--a smile born of secrets yet to be revealed.
===================
Wufei Chang knelt at the stone monument embedded in the ground at the very center of the city's graveyard. He'd been there once before, during yesterday's service, but then, so had the rest of the city and then some. The site was still choked with roses.
The freshly upturned earth belied the true nature of a grave--there was no body buried here, only gifts given too late.
Wufei let his fingers trace the feathers of the angelic figure. But it was not the dearly departed young politician that was on his mind. No--he thought of a girl named Meilan.
His earlier words surfaced again in his mind. "He was always a weapon, but she was the one who aimed and pulled the trigger.
"Nataku," he whispered. "Have I made you proud?"
Unlike Relena Darlian, she had been blessed with a proper burial. Her body had been laid to rest beneath the soil of colony A0206. But his home had been destroyed in the war, leaving no stone monument, no body, nowhere to sit and remember the girl ruled by the justice she had believed so deeply in.
Relena's body had not yet been recovered, and so, Wufei considered this grave site to be for all those lost in the war for peace, no matter how indirect their role had been.
Darlian's soul wouldn't hold it against him, of that he was sure.
"Nataku," he began again, "I brought your justice to the earth and now the entire Earth Sphere is united in peace. But I allowed the destruction of our home and people. Are you angry with me? I hope that you are able to rest peacefully now, nonetheless."
He paused, hesitant. He had thought, and said the previous words on many occassions following the war, after the he had self-destructed Altron Gundam, but the next words would be spoken for the first time.
"We did not spend much time together, Nataku, and we never really got along until the end, but..." He closed his eyes and forced the words out. "But, even though we were forced into it, I will never regret the time we spent together. If you hadn't died that day, I know that I would have grown to someday...to someday truly love you."
Thus, Wufei Chang left the grave with a slightly lighter heart, finally able to accept the death of his wife, Meilan--or rather, "Nataku", as he called her--and more importantly, able to release the pent up emotions and begin to move on with his life. It would be quite a while before he would acknowledge it, but Wufei Chang was ready to love again.
=================
"Are you feeling alright, now, Trowa?" Catherine asked, as she drove her younger brother back to the circus, their home.
Staring out the window at the darkening sky, Trowa replied, "I don't know why I reacted that way. It was just...the room was too pure. I felt like...like a stain. I wasn't welcome in that place."
Catherine couldn't come up with a soothing response, so she slowed the car and placed her right hand on his small, narrow shoulder.
Unable to respond with speech, Trowa reached up and placed his hand over her own, squeezing ever so slightly.
Does he feel that the war has tainted him? Catherine wondered. Has he already forgotten all the good his actions allowed?
He was just so mistaken. She simply had to do something about this.
=================
Sally wearily laid down on her couch, rubbing her eyes and yawning. It was nearly midnight--it had taken hours to calm down Hilde and get her to rest. The poor girl wouldn't stop blaming herself for Duo's condition.
She had finally fallen asleep nearly two hours ago.
Duo's words had caused Sally to continuously second-guess herself, question her beliefs, and tear down the walls of rationality.
Shouts of, "HE KILLED HER! HE KILLED HER!" echoed soulessly within the limitations of her human mind.
Could it be possible that Heero had been the one to kill Relena?
But that was crazy. What could have driven him to do such a thing--and in such a brutal way?
Crazy. Duo had clearly lost the luxury of rational thought. Heero would never, ever, even consider doing that.
Wait.
Sally remembered shutting Heero's eyes. She had been concerned that they would dry out. Not to mention that his unseeing gaze had been beginning to unnerve her.
But his eyes had been open when she'd left.
Was Duo right? Had Heero been...faking?
No, that was just crazy. Insane.
His eyes must have been shaken open by Duo's violent outburst. There was no other explanation.
No other rational explanation.
Sally sat up and resumed her pacing.
==================
The screams began at midnight.
"Oh, for God's sake," the nurse cursed, reminded once again why she hated the night shift at the loony bin.
Sighing, she pushed her cart to the offending room, unlocked the door, and carefully entered the room.
She switched on the light and was relieved to see that the patient was still confined to his bed. She didn't want to think about the last time a nurse had found herself locked in a maximum secruity room with an escaped madman.
He continued to scream at the top of his lungs even after she'd entered the room, struggling against his bonds. He probably would have chewed his arms off if they'd been within reach of his teeth.
"What is it now, Mr. Maxwell," she asked, wearily, as she readied yet another dose of sedatives.
He screamed for a moment more, then shouted, "IDIOTS! YOU'RE ALL FOOLS! HE KILLED HER AND NOW HE'S GOING TO GET AWAY!"
"That's nice, Mr. Maxwell," she sighed, rolling her eyes and jabbing him with the needle.
"Murderer, murderer..." Duo chanted, until the sedatives took their toll, and he fell deep asleep.
===============
The streets at midnight were not completely deserted that night, but people were few and far between.
Most citizens avoided these streets at night. All wars may have ended, but mysterious disappearances and strangers and murder were still quite a threat. And wasn't there a psychopath out there that had already taken the life of the most adored politician of all time?
However, there was no trouble on the streets tonight, to the relief of those forced to test the darkened night. Just one odd occurance, actually.
A young man held his date just a little closer as his eyes fell upon a man wearing nothing but a hospital robe, carrying a broken picture frame, bleeding from cuts made by glass against his fingers. His eyes were glazed and unseeing, and the way he walked suggested a lack of conscious thought.
Man, that guy looks like his world has come to an end, the young man thought, in sympathy.
But then, perhaps that is what Heero Yuy had intended in the first place--for his presence to gain sympathy instead of suspicion.
Author's Notes:
Just one thought: This story is just so much fun to write! n_n