Pet Peeve
by
Nin Tendo
Chapter 5 - The Five Steps to Self Destruction
~Disclaimer~ Y'know, I think it's a good thing that I don't own Gundam Wing. I mean, look at my dumbass stories!
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Wufei's face was an unhealthy gray, Sally noticed. His eyes were hard and focused, but his adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat in a frail attempt to ease his nausia.
He needed a break, but Satan himself would make a dozen snow angels before Wufei admitted a weakness.
Sally wasn't looking forward to cleaning up any messes, so she decided to swallow her own pride to safeguard his. "Wufei, I need to sit down before I puke. Come with me so I can complain to someone about this stupid job that Une gave us."
"Weakling," Wufei replied, although the word was void of its usual malice, replaced by a form of relief. He dropped his equipment in a hurry, quickly joining her to sit in the shade, noticing two of his coworkers picking up where he'd left off.
Unlike Duo Maxwell, who's face had been widely publicized during the Eve Wars, Heero Yuy had managed to duck beneath the media's radar, and his status as a Gundam pilot had merely become one of the paper's favorite rumors, created along with the Yuy-Darlian love affair. However, as this was merely speculation--and had been shot down by the well-trusted Relena Darlian herself--Heero's participation in the war had remained classified and the general public would never know the true identity of Wing's pilot.
Much like the public itself, the general police force did not have a file on Heero Yuy, unlike the Preventors (and what a detailed file it was), and Une was determined to keep it that way. If it were ever confirmed that Heero had ended an untold number of lives during the war, there would be no doubt that it would influence the jury's decision. They would forget the era of peace that he had helped to create, and prosecute him for his actions. That was unacceptable.
Thus, the general police's job was to follow the trail and secure it from any outside forces, a complicated job, especially when the trail spanned over hundreds of city blocks, where nosebleeds and other small injuries inadvertingly crossed paths with their suspect's, adding uncountable routes to the maze. And then there was the one trail that disappeared into the woods--the police had focused on that one, but it was infinitely harder to track.
And, as Lady Une had refused to give the police something as simple as a blood sample, the Preventors were given the task of verification. In short, it was their job to confirm that each and every single drop of blood along the trail matched the DNA of Heero Yuy.
Wufei, Sally, and the rest of the Preventor team weren't exactly crazy about scraping blood samples off the streets and running in through their DNA database.
"What a stupid job," Sally complained, as promised. "Any idiot could do this--why did Une send trained professionals?"
"It would have cost way too much money for HQ to create a new database sans delicate information for the police to use," Wufei replied, feeling better already. "Money that our organization lacks. We're just lucky that the police don't suspect something other than the usual annoying procedure. They're too busy securing the area and pitying us."
"So we were sent to scrape blood off the sidewalk," Sally sighed, then picked up a more conversational tone. "All that talk about blood reminds me: did you take a look at the complete forensic report yet?"
"No, I was going to wait until later so I could savor it," Wufei drawled, as sarcastic as he'd ever been.
Sally allowed herself a brief smile. "It was just as I figured. There is no evidence that even remotely points toward a possible suspect. Of course the police would go after him."
Another thorough job performed by Heero Yuy, Wufei thought, face paling.
"What is it, Wufei?" Sally asked, noting her partner's reaction.
"Nothing," Wufei replied, quickly. "Just something Trowa said once. What else did you want to tell me?"
"Well, it may be somewhat of a surprise to hear, but," she paused, "Relena wasn't pregnant after all."
"Hmm?" Wufei grunted, a little startled, but readily accepted the information. "But that really doesn't change anything, does it? Just makes the entire thing just a little less horrible in the moral sense. Relena still had a reason to believe she was pregnant--she took the test--which means that she lost her virginity someway or another."
"Or believed that she had lost her virginity," Sally supplied, still willing to believe in Relena's innocence. "We can't rule out substances that result in memory loss or false memories."
Wufei actually chuckled. "Why is it so hard to believe, Sally? She was an adult woman--she had the rights, the hormones, and the equipment of every other adult woman on the planet. What makes her so different? Because she was a politician? I don't know about you, Sally, but I see those types of scandals on the television nearly every day."
It was a point that made Sally's voice die in her throat and her teeth prick her lips.
A foot fell beside the Preventor agents and they looked up to see the chief of police standing before them.
"Preventor Water and Dragon," he announced, "I believe we've found the end of the trail. Please follow me so you can verify the blood sample. Then we can finally close this unsavory case."
Wufei and Sally looked at each other, standing up relunctantly, brushing themselves off. They both knew in their hearts that they should be happy to hear of the investigation closing, but there was still a keen sense of dread. For all their need of closure, they still cowered from their duty.
But they did stand and walk, because, in strong hearts, the need for truth would always reign over fear.
==============================
Laundry wasn't something Quatre did frequently, but in the wake of his relunctant holiday, he had felt it best to dismiss his servants on paid leave. Perhaps the monotony of household chores would occupy him until the end of his sentence.
But, really, what a mess he'd made yesterday, after that unfortunate meeting with Dorothy. He had been so disgusted that he'd torn off his clothes, littering his room in a furious attempt to calm down enough to have a short afternoon nap. He felt pity for his maids for having to clean up after him, but he was glad to have caught them before they had attempted to get the wrinkles out. Why should his immature behavior make their job harder?
Ever since his youth, when he had accidently left a favorite toy in his pants, ruining it in the washing machine, Quatre had been very careful to empty his pockets before undressing. That day after Dorothy, however, had been an exception.
It was fortunate that he was the one doing the laundry today.
================================
"How is Zechs?" Quatre asked the numb-looking Noin.
"He's sleeping," Noin replied. "He's been in bed ever since yestersay. He hasn't eaten. He hasn't even spoken to me."
That's odd, Quatre mused. I would have expected him forcing his presence on the murder investigation...
"He's...drained," Noin continued. "He'd woken once since arriving. But his eyes are just...blank."
He's lost, Quatre rationalized. He's lost his sister, the one person he'd vowed to protect forever, and failed.
"If you wanted to talk to him," Noin concluded, "I'm afraid it's impossible."
"That's fine, Miss Noin," Quatre replied. "I didn't really come here for conversation. I, uh...I came for closure, I guess." He was lying through his teeth, but he had no desire to include Noin or anyone else in this mis-adventure, especially if it turned out that it was just a wild goose chase. He nervously cleared his throat.
Noin bit her lip. "Well...well, the police aren't done with Relena's room, so..."
"Actually," Quatre cut her off, "I was thinking about visiting her office. I wasn't as close to her personally as professionally. And it would be nice to have some time to myself, if it isn't too much trouble."
"No, no," Noin responded, quickly. "It's no trouble at all. The police have already been through there with a fine tooth comb. They found nothing."
"Thank you, Noin," Quatre breathed in relief, bowing his head to her before going on his way. He, himself, had been there many times, although, more often for business than not, which troubled him.
Secretly, though, there was always something that bothered him about this room. Aparently, his instincts hadn't failed him.
He passed by one door, covered in police tape, and continued on. Around the corner awaited a long hallway of doors, the guestrooms he remembered from his short stay nearly a week ago. He paused at the sense of deja vu before passing by and turning one last corner, revealing two doors. It was the second he was looking for.
Quatre opened the door, entered, and slowly, carefully, closed it again. Many memories rose to the surface about sitting in this room with his attendant and Relena, talking about business-related things that he now wished had been a little less impersonal, but he forced them out of his head immediately.
Relena Darlian's office was hardly spacious, and most definitely not the technology-blessed haven most people believed it to be. A simple desk and three small chairs were the only sign of furniture in the room and the only piece of true technology, a single sercurity camera in the upper right-hand corner.
The police had looked over the tape and had found nothing of importance during the period of time between Relena's last sighting and the blood-curdling scream that awoke everyone in the mansion.
The camera's position monitered the room in its entirety. The one and only door was never out its viewing range. Unless the video had been tampered with, what he was looking for wasn't here.
Quatre pulled the note out of his pocket, looking for a clue that he hadn't noticed during the last few hundred examinations.
You know, read the note, I'm surprised that the police overlooked the room between her office and bathroom.
The problem was, there wasn't a room between the office and bathroom.
...Or so everyone thought...
Quatre exited the office and peered back down the hallway, toward the bathroom. The door was approximately three meters away, far enough to allow the existance of another--though, seriously cramped--room, but not quite far enough to inspire suspicion in the ordinary passer-by.
He let his hand trail the wall as he crossed the distance between the doors. Halfway across, his fingers found a small, barely perceptable indentation in the white paint. He followed the line up the wall, but finding the top beyond his reach, followed it back down to the floor instead. His index finger fell on the wooden lining between the wall and carpet, and he was only slightly surprised when a small area of the wood sunk into the floor under the weight of his finger.
Quatre stood up and watched as the wall folded inward with a creak, and, with no small amount of trepidation, stepped inside.
It was a secondary security room. One wall was covered with television sets, intercepting the visual feed from all the security cameras in the building. A desk and chair sat before those screens. How many hours had Heero Yuy himself sat there?
And there, in the partial illumination of the black and white television screens, a small book lay in plain view.
Quatre stepped forward and picked up the book. It was a diary. Flipping through it, he found the handwriting too faint to read in the partial light. Heading back the way he came, Quatre found a light switch and turned it on. As an afterthought, he stepped on the not-so-hidden button that closed the door from the inside.
Turning back to the book, Quatre knew that he shouldn't have been surprised, but no matter how much he had expected it, nothing could have prepared himself for the sight of Relena Darlian's handwriting.
All at once the surpressed emotions rose in his soul. Grief bit at him, his eyes filled, overflowed, and all feeling in his legs vanished, leaving him to sink to his knees.
'I am constantly surrounded by people, but a terrible loneliness still eats away at me. I could have all the material possessions that anyone could ever want, but none of it would make me feel less alone. My life is so busy. Everything is work. I have no time for anything else. I want to spend time with my friends, but that is impossible. I have to stay here and make peace a reality. Even if I did have the time, I wouldn't really be talking to them. Relena the government officer claims superiority over Relena the human being.'
There were no dates in this journal. It seemed that Relena began on a new page for every entry. Quatre skipped a quarter way through, wiped the moisture from his face with a forearm, and continued to read.
'I don't know how much more of this I can take. I feel like I'm dying inside. I can't do this. I need people. I need my family. I need my friends. The need grows deeper every day. Milliardo, Noin, Duo, Hilde, Quatre...everyone. I need them so much. And, I need, I need him so much it's killing me.'
Her tone had gone from grudging acceptance to a depression she was desperate to rid herself of. When had that changed? Why hadn't he noticed it? Quatre, out of all the former Gundam pilots. was the only one able to see and speak to her on a regular basis. Not to mention his finely tuned empathic abilities. Why hadn't he noticed the change? Quatre shook the thoughts from his head and turned to the approximate middle of the diary.
'I can't take this anymore. This life is destroying me. I've found my father's old stash of alchohol and I've been getting myself drunk more and more often these days. I know it's unhealthy and a terrible thing for me to do, but it is the only thing that works. When I get drunk, nothing presses me down, nothing stresses me out. I am free. I am free to do as I please. I am free because I can't remeber anything in the morning. But I still feel awful. God, if you're listening, I'm so sorry for whatever I've done to deserve this. Please, I'll do anything to be happy again, to be normal again. I'll stop drinking, I'll do whatever you want! I just want to be free again. I would even forget all about Heero if he would just leave me alone.'
Quatre could only stare in shock. Relena had been an alcoholic? But, when had that happened? Why was it that he'd never even suspected any of these emotions that had caused her such distress? And what did she mean by Heero not leaving her alone? What had he been doing to her?
The explanation came easy. Heero had once remarked that he would protect her from the shadows. Apparently, judging by the hidden room, he had been doing just that. The room placement was of strategic value (being at the relative center of the mansion and right next to the room Relena spent most of her time in) and it had to have been built before Relena even moved back in to her childhood home. It would have been easy for Heero to influence the right people to get the job done, and even easier to dispose of any evidence of the room's existence.
In this room, he could moniter the entire house and be in prime position to react to any and all threats against his unknowing charge. Not to mention that, with his knowledge of the camera positioning and personal guard strategy, he would be able to prevent her real security team from detecting him.
More amd more, Quatre wished that Relena hadn't decided to get rid of the security camera in her room. If she hadn't, he would be able to confirm Duo's story. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to believe his former comrade or not, and a clear yes or no would do much for his uncertainty.
But now was not the time to think about that. Quatre Raberba Winner was finally meeting the real Relena Darlian.
He flipped throught the remaining pages quickly, eager to get to the last entry, but too scared to read it immediately. He waited for an entry to get his attention, and, eventually, one of them did. The fact that it was in bold, capital letters helped quite a bit.
'STOP HIDING FROM ME GODDAMMIT. I KNOW YOURE THERE AND YOU KNOW THAT I KNOW YOURE THERE SO WHY DONT YOU STOP FOOLING YOURSELF AND FACE ME. YOURE PROBABLY READING THIS TOO YOU BASTARD. IM DRUNK AND AWFUL AND ITS YOUR FAULT BECAUSE YOURE TOO INSECURE TO HAVE A NORMAL CONVERSATION WITH ME. I SEE THE DOOR CLOSE WHEN I TURN THE CORNER. I SEE THE SHADOW ON MY BALCONY. I AM WRETCHED AND DRUNK AND I HATE YOU HEERO YUY.'
Quatre inhaled sharply. Despite the details he hadn't contributed, he had almost expected his own name at the end of that entry. All the maybes and what ifs plaqued him. Could he have made a difference? Was Quatre Raberba Winner's absence in a time of need the reason Relena Darlian had turned to the bottle? Had he given her the needed assistance, would that horrible weekend have turned out differently?
The thought was destroying him.
Quatre continued to let the pages flip beneath his fingers until he neared the end and the few pages left were trapped beneath his thumb. He read the visible entry.
'I've decided that I'm going to be fine. I'm not going to let something as stupid as selfish loneliness stop me from doing my job. I don't care anymore. If drinking makes me feel better, I'll drink. Everyone else can just go to hell.'
If anything, this entry, although the shortest and most to the point, was the one that was the most heartbreaking. Relena's depression and anger had given way to apathy and the absolute denial to feel. She had become empty and cold. How could it be true? She had seemed happy enough at the party that weekend...
Quatre's entire body shook once with a deeply buried sob. The last of the pages were released from his thumb, which caught again on the rear cover. At least twenty of the last pages had been torn from the book, leaving a wide gap of shredded paper.
He read the last entry, stared, and lost the little lunch he'd managed to take in.
============================
Lucretia Noin hadn't seen Quatre for at least an hour, and she was beginning to become concerned. Zechs was still unconscious and staring at the nearly unmoving body on the bed reminded her of other unmoving bodies she had seen over the course of her lifetime. The thought of a friend taking his own life suddenly occured to her and it threw her into a panic.
Running down the hallways, she finally reached Relena's former office, where Quatre had said he was going, and hesitantly opened the door. "Quatre?" she inquired, stepping inside and looking around. No one was there.
She stood there for a while, wondering where he had gone, wondering if he'd left without telling her, when, suddenly, she heard the door creak behind her. She turned to find the pale-faced former pilot standing in the doorway.
"Quatre?" she asked, carefully, noting the odd expression on his face.
"I think you should call the police," he replied. "I found something."
He took her by the arm and led her outside the office.
The sight of an open door where there had never been one was so surreal, that Noin, in denial, refused to believe that it was even there until it refused to vanish before her blinking eyes.
"Quatre?" she said again.
He wordlessly pointed into the room, to the far corner, where, next to an empty plug-in, a bloodied bucket lay on its side in a pool of dried life.
Noin slapped a hand to her mouth and backed away, breaking from Quatre's grip. She inhaled sharply against her palm before turning and running back down the hallway in search of a phone.
Quatre waited until she was out of sight before removing the diary from his inside jacket pocket. It was only slightly larger than a paperback novel so he had no trouble concealing it.
The diary shook in his grip. He quickly replaced it in his pocket before clasping his hands together in an attempt to stop the shaking.
Removing evidence from a crime scene. What he was about to do was illegal. Painfully illegal. But...
But he would rather die than let this diary get into the hands of the media, the police. He would rather rot in jail. He would rather slowly dying inside for the rest of his lifetime before allowing the general public to know what Relena Darlian had become. She was dead, nothing would change that, and the deceased deserved better than a public scandal that would destroy everything she had ever fought for. The public would lose faith in their leaders. They would be slow to trust the next politician with similar beliefs. Peace would be set back once again because no one would trust it.
Yes. It made so much more sense this way. The people would continue to work for peace in her absense. It was a debt of honor now. The world would embrace peace in her memory.
And the truth would remain solely in Quatre Raberba Winner's possession until the day he died.
========================
When she broke through the bush and into the clearing, Sally Po was instantly hit with a sense of deja vu.
The awful kind.
Her thoughts travelled back in time, to her brief employment in the Alliance military. The day she'd captured perhaps the most unpredictable of the Gundam pilots. The day she'd added his DNA signature to the Alliance intelligence database, which allowed her to confirm his path to this very spot on this very day.
The day that Heero Yuy jumped out of a window of a hospital built on a cliff. Intent on suicide, only Relena Darlian's voice had broken through his defenses, startling him enough to release the parachute.
But Relena wasn't here. She hadn't been here today.
In the clearing that led to the ocean she saw that dwindling trail of blood suddenly becoming thick again where a mangled, empty, golden frame had dug into skin when he'd torn the picture from its grip and abandoned it in the mud.
Sally looked up to see the approaching sunset and the cliff that mocked her.
===========================
Drained, Quatre returned to his mansion and sat on his couch, stiffly. Slowly, he removed his jacket, and carefully pulled the diary free. It sat on his lap, taunting him.
It hadn't been difficult to break the law. Noin, in her grief, had become blind to any suspicious behavior. She had always reminded Quatre of a mother--a mother he'd never had. Her life had been devoted to taking care of people and helping them out. Especially Zechs. In this time of suffering, that maternal devotion ruled her thoughts. Quatre sincerely hoped that it would be enough to help the man through his grief.
He hoped that there would be enough acceptance left over for himself, but doubted that at the same time.
Anyway, convincing Noin that he was tired and needed rest wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done. He hadn't needed to fake his grief much, preventing a much greater moral dilemma. Quatre knew that the police would eventually call him for a follow-up witness statement (they'd done it that one awful weekend) but he wasn't too worried. He would just tell them that he'd stubbed his toe on the wall, or maybe kicked it out of anger, or maybe just tell them the truth about the note Dorothy left in his pants and let her deal with the police. What was she up to, anyway? What did she know?
Tired of thinking, Quatre picked up the diary and dropped it on the endtable, accidently hitting the power button on the remote, turning on the TV. Quatre's eyes glued to the screen as it tuned into the middle of a news program.
The scene was shot from a helicopter hovering beside the edge of a cliff, with a reporter doing a voice-over. "...Where the DNA trail of murder suspect Heero Yuy came to a dramatic end. The police and preventer agents arrived here earlier this evening only to find that all their questions would remain unanswered."
The scene switched to a reporter standing close to the freefall, interviewing a police officer. "Is there any evidence that Mr. Yuy did not leap from this cliff and is still at large?"
The officer shook his head without hesitation. "The soil on this cliff is mostly clay, so it was still full of moisture when our suspect arrived, and we can clearly see his footprints in the mud. There were no footprints leaving the scene. We've measured the distance between his steps and we've concluded that he broke into a run toward the edge. His last step, on the last few centemeters of earth, dug deeply into the ground, telling us that he did not hesitate, he did not waver, he put all his weight into diving off this cliff, like a professional long jumper would."
The reporter seemed to be determined to reassure the public that the alledged murderer was dead. "Is there any way that Mr. Yuy could have survived the fall?"
Again, the officer surely shook his head. "Our suspect walked clear across town on an empty stomach, no apparent rest stops, and a steadily decreasing blood supply. Even if he'd managed to survive the fall itself, the current is very strong here. He would have been sucked to the bottom in no time, and dragged into the middle of the ocean. We have had other people jumping from this cliff, and we have yet to find any of their bodies, so we aren't keeping our hopes up of ever finding his. Even if he'd managed to fight the current for a while, this cliffside runs for miles in both directions, and perpendicular to the water only at the best of times. Climbing out would be like scaling an upside down pyramid. And our suspect definitely did not have any of the necessary mountain gear on him to achieve that. Eventually, his strength would have given out and he would have drowned."
The reporter quickly summarized the events, but Quatre was too stunned to listen properly. All he could see was the picture frame in the mud, and, after the scene switched briefly to the helicopter again, a hospital robe caught on the cliffside, swaying in the wind.
Eventually, the anchorman appeared on screen. He was silent for a moment before regaining his voice and announced to the Earth Sphere, "This was not the closure that many of our citizens may have expected, but now the Earth and colonies may rest easy once more. The murderer of Relena Darlian has been put to death." He took a deep breath. "We will return in just a moment with the rest of today's news. Stay tuned for the details of our government's plan to seriously pursue the ideals of our fallen vice-foreign minister and the unexpected disappearance of the late Duke Dermail's grand-daughter, Dorothy Catalonia."
As the commercials came on, Quatre was left staring at the television set.
Heero was dead and Dorothy was missing. The police hadn't known that Dorothy had been involved somehow, allowing her to escape unnoticed. No one had witnessed her take the picture, no one had seen her at the hospital, no one except him, Quatre Raberba Winner, and now it was too late to make a difference.
Had she been playing him from the beginning? Planning everything? Manipulating everyone?
Had she caused Relena to do what she did, causing Heero to react the way he did, causing the world to respond the way it did?
The thought shocked and disgusted him.
Quatre jerked to the side for the remote and accidently knocked the diary to the floor, opening to the last page for him to unintentionally read the shaky, nearly incomprehensive handwriting below.
'I'm so sorry. Heero, I'm so sorry. God, these words seem so hollow and shallow when I write them but my chest is burning with this terrible guilt and the need to be forgiven. And after what I've done, I don't deserve forgiveness. I deserve death. I deserve life in prison. I don't deserve to see the light of day. I will never deserve forgiveness and I hope it will never be offered to me because Heero doesn't deserve that. After what I did, he has the right to do whatever he wants to me. He has the right to go to the police. He has the right to kill me.
Please, Heero. Oh, God, Heero, please kill me.
People should have the right to kill their rapists.'
Quatre screamed, and cried.
Author's Notes:
1. As much as I would enjoy detailing Quatre's slow decent into madness...no, I think I'll just stick to the plan and write the epilogue which takes place one year later. (And by the way I procrastinate, it will probably be posted a year later, too.) But everything WILL be explained, one way or another. I might even detail on the rape scene if I feel brave enough. ;p
2. Hopefully, a few of you will catch the meaning behind the title. Oh, I am so sly. :p
3. Now Gub will be on my ass for the chapter that will be longer than the rest of the story combined. Sigh. (runs away when she's not looking)
by
Nin Tendo
Chapter 5 - The Five Steps to Self Destruction
~Disclaimer~ Y'know, I think it's a good thing that I don't own Gundam Wing. I mean, look at my dumbass stories!
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Wufei's face was an unhealthy gray, Sally noticed. His eyes were hard and focused, but his adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat in a frail attempt to ease his nausia.
He needed a break, but Satan himself would make a dozen snow angels before Wufei admitted a weakness.
Sally wasn't looking forward to cleaning up any messes, so she decided to swallow her own pride to safeguard his. "Wufei, I need to sit down before I puke. Come with me so I can complain to someone about this stupid job that Une gave us."
"Weakling," Wufei replied, although the word was void of its usual malice, replaced by a form of relief. He dropped his equipment in a hurry, quickly joining her to sit in the shade, noticing two of his coworkers picking up where he'd left off.
Unlike Duo Maxwell, who's face had been widely publicized during the Eve Wars, Heero Yuy had managed to duck beneath the media's radar, and his status as a Gundam pilot had merely become one of the paper's favorite rumors, created along with the Yuy-Darlian love affair. However, as this was merely speculation--and had been shot down by the well-trusted Relena Darlian herself--Heero's participation in the war had remained classified and the general public would never know the true identity of Wing's pilot.
Much like the public itself, the general police force did not have a file on Heero Yuy, unlike the Preventors (and what a detailed file it was), and Une was determined to keep it that way. If it were ever confirmed that Heero had ended an untold number of lives during the war, there would be no doubt that it would influence the jury's decision. They would forget the era of peace that he had helped to create, and prosecute him for his actions. That was unacceptable.
Thus, the general police's job was to follow the trail and secure it from any outside forces, a complicated job, especially when the trail spanned over hundreds of city blocks, where nosebleeds and other small injuries inadvertingly crossed paths with their suspect's, adding uncountable routes to the maze. And then there was the one trail that disappeared into the woods--the police had focused on that one, but it was infinitely harder to track.
And, as Lady Une had refused to give the police something as simple as a blood sample, the Preventors were given the task of verification. In short, it was their job to confirm that each and every single drop of blood along the trail matched the DNA of Heero Yuy.
Wufei, Sally, and the rest of the Preventor team weren't exactly crazy about scraping blood samples off the streets and running in through their DNA database.
"What a stupid job," Sally complained, as promised. "Any idiot could do this--why did Une send trained professionals?"
"It would have cost way too much money for HQ to create a new database sans delicate information for the police to use," Wufei replied, feeling better already. "Money that our organization lacks. We're just lucky that the police don't suspect something other than the usual annoying procedure. They're too busy securing the area and pitying us."
"So we were sent to scrape blood off the sidewalk," Sally sighed, then picked up a more conversational tone. "All that talk about blood reminds me: did you take a look at the complete forensic report yet?"
"No, I was going to wait until later so I could savor it," Wufei drawled, as sarcastic as he'd ever been.
Sally allowed herself a brief smile. "It was just as I figured. There is no evidence that even remotely points toward a possible suspect. Of course the police would go after him."
Another thorough job performed by Heero Yuy, Wufei thought, face paling.
"What is it, Wufei?" Sally asked, noting her partner's reaction.
"Nothing," Wufei replied, quickly. "Just something Trowa said once. What else did you want to tell me?"
"Well, it may be somewhat of a surprise to hear, but," she paused, "Relena wasn't pregnant after all."
"Hmm?" Wufei grunted, a little startled, but readily accepted the information. "But that really doesn't change anything, does it? Just makes the entire thing just a little less horrible in the moral sense. Relena still had a reason to believe she was pregnant--she took the test--which means that she lost her virginity someway or another."
"Or believed that she had lost her virginity," Sally supplied, still willing to believe in Relena's innocence. "We can't rule out substances that result in memory loss or false memories."
Wufei actually chuckled. "Why is it so hard to believe, Sally? She was an adult woman--she had the rights, the hormones, and the equipment of every other adult woman on the planet. What makes her so different? Because she was a politician? I don't know about you, Sally, but I see those types of scandals on the television nearly every day."
It was a point that made Sally's voice die in her throat and her teeth prick her lips.
A foot fell beside the Preventor agents and they looked up to see the chief of police standing before them.
"Preventor Water and Dragon," he announced, "I believe we've found the end of the trail. Please follow me so you can verify the blood sample. Then we can finally close this unsavory case."
Wufei and Sally looked at each other, standing up relunctantly, brushing themselves off. They both knew in their hearts that they should be happy to hear of the investigation closing, but there was still a keen sense of dread. For all their need of closure, they still cowered from their duty.
But they did stand and walk, because, in strong hearts, the need for truth would always reign over fear.
==============================
Laundry wasn't something Quatre did frequently, but in the wake of his relunctant holiday, he had felt it best to dismiss his servants on paid leave. Perhaps the monotony of household chores would occupy him until the end of his sentence.
But, really, what a mess he'd made yesterday, after that unfortunate meeting with Dorothy. He had been so disgusted that he'd torn off his clothes, littering his room in a furious attempt to calm down enough to have a short afternoon nap. He felt pity for his maids for having to clean up after him, but he was glad to have caught them before they had attempted to get the wrinkles out. Why should his immature behavior make their job harder?
Ever since his youth, when he had accidently left a favorite toy in his pants, ruining it in the washing machine, Quatre had been very careful to empty his pockets before undressing. That day after Dorothy, however, had been an exception.
It was fortunate that he was the one doing the laundry today.
================================
"How is Zechs?" Quatre asked the numb-looking Noin.
"He's sleeping," Noin replied. "He's been in bed ever since yestersay. He hasn't eaten. He hasn't even spoken to me."
That's odd, Quatre mused. I would have expected him forcing his presence on the murder investigation...
"He's...drained," Noin continued. "He'd woken once since arriving. But his eyes are just...blank."
He's lost, Quatre rationalized. He's lost his sister, the one person he'd vowed to protect forever, and failed.
"If you wanted to talk to him," Noin concluded, "I'm afraid it's impossible."
"That's fine, Miss Noin," Quatre replied. "I didn't really come here for conversation. I, uh...I came for closure, I guess." He was lying through his teeth, but he had no desire to include Noin or anyone else in this mis-adventure, especially if it turned out that it was just a wild goose chase. He nervously cleared his throat.
Noin bit her lip. "Well...well, the police aren't done with Relena's room, so..."
"Actually," Quatre cut her off, "I was thinking about visiting her office. I wasn't as close to her personally as professionally. And it would be nice to have some time to myself, if it isn't too much trouble."
"No, no," Noin responded, quickly. "It's no trouble at all. The police have already been through there with a fine tooth comb. They found nothing."
"Thank you, Noin," Quatre breathed in relief, bowing his head to her before going on his way. He, himself, had been there many times, although, more often for business than not, which troubled him.
Secretly, though, there was always something that bothered him about this room. Aparently, his instincts hadn't failed him.
He passed by one door, covered in police tape, and continued on. Around the corner awaited a long hallway of doors, the guestrooms he remembered from his short stay nearly a week ago. He paused at the sense of deja vu before passing by and turning one last corner, revealing two doors. It was the second he was looking for.
Quatre opened the door, entered, and slowly, carefully, closed it again. Many memories rose to the surface about sitting in this room with his attendant and Relena, talking about business-related things that he now wished had been a little less impersonal, but he forced them out of his head immediately.
Relena Darlian's office was hardly spacious, and most definitely not the technology-blessed haven most people believed it to be. A simple desk and three small chairs were the only sign of furniture in the room and the only piece of true technology, a single sercurity camera in the upper right-hand corner.
The police had looked over the tape and had found nothing of importance during the period of time between Relena's last sighting and the blood-curdling scream that awoke everyone in the mansion.
The camera's position monitered the room in its entirety. The one and only door was never out its viewing range. Unless the video had been tampered with, what he was looking for wasn't here.
Quatre pulled the note out of his pocket, looking for a clue that he hadn't noticed during the last few hundred examinations.
You know, read the note, I'm surprised that the police overlooked the room between her office and bathroom.
The problem was, there wasn't a room between the office and bathroom.
...Or so everyone thought...
Quatre exited the office and peered back down the hallway, toward the bathroom. The door was approximately three meters away, far enough to allow the existance of another--though, seriously cramped--room, but not quite far enough to inspire suspicion in the ordinary passer-by.
He let his hand trail the wall as he crossed the distance between the doors. Halfway across, his fingers found a small, barely perceptable indentation in the white paint. He followed the line up the wall, but finding the top beyond his reach, followed it back down to the floor instead. His index finger fell on the wooden lining between the wall and carpet, and he was only slightly surprised when a small area of the wood sunk into the floor under the weight of his finger.
Quatre stood up and watched as the wall folded inward with a creak, and, with no small amount of trepidation, stepped inside.
It was a secondary security room. One wall was covered with television sets, intercepting the visual feed from all the security cameras in the building. A desk and chair sat before those screens. How many hours had Heero Yuy himself sat there?
And there, in the partial illumination of the black and white television screens, a small book lay in plain view.
Quatre stepped forward and picked up the book. It was a diary. Flipping through it, he found the handwriting too faint to read in the partial light. Heading back the way he came, Quatre found a light switch and turned it on. As an afterthought, he stepped on the not-so-hidden button that closed the door from the inside.
Turning back to the book, Quatre knew that he shouldn't have been surprised, but no matter how much he had expected it, nothing could have prepared himself for the sight of Relena Darlian's handwriting.
All at once the surpressed emotions rose in his soul. Grief bit at him, his eyes filled, overflowed, and all feeling in his legs vanished, leaving him to sink to his knees.
'I am constantly surrounded by people, but a terrible loneliness still eats away at me. I could have all the material possessions that anyone could ever want, but none of it would make me feel less alone. My life is so busy. Everything is work. I have no time for anything else. I want to spend time with my friends, but that is impossible. I have to stay here and make peace a reality. Even if I did have the time, I wouldn't really be talking to them. Relena the government officer claims superiority over Relena the human being.'
There were no dates in this journal. It seemed that Relena began on a new page for every entry. Quatre skipped a quarter way through, wiped the moisture from his face with a forearm, and continued to read.
'I don't know how much more of this I can take. I feel like I'm dying inside. I can't do this. I need people. I need my family. I need my friends. The need grows deeper every day. Milliardo, Noin, Duo, Hilde, Quatre...everyone. I need them so much. And, I need, I need him so much it's killing me.'
Her tone had gone from grudging acceptance to a depression she was desperate to rid herself of. When had that changed? Why hadn't he noticed it? Quatre, out of all the former Gundam pilots. was the only one able to see and speak to her on a regular basis. Not to mention his finely tuned empathic abilities. Why hadn't he noticed the change? Quatre shook the thoughts from his head and turned to the approximate middle of the diary.
'I can't take this anymore. This life is destroying me. I've found my father's old stash of alchohol and I've been getting myself drunk more and more often these days. I know it's unhealthy and a terrible thing for me to do, but it is the only thing that works. When I get drunk, nothing presses me down, nothing stresses me out. I am free. I am free to do as I please. I am free because I can't remeber anything in the morning. But I still feel awful. God, if you're listening, I'm so sorry for whatever I've done to deserve this. Please, I'll do anything to be happy again, to be normal again. I'll stop drinking, I'll do whatever you want! I just want to be free again. I would even forget all about Heero if he would just leave me alone.'
Quatre could only stare in shock. Relena had been an alcoholic? But, when had that happened? Why was it that he'd never even suspected any of these emotions that had caused her such distress? And what did she mean by Heero not leaving her alone? What had he been doing to her?
The explanation came easy. Heero had once remarked that he would protect her from the shadows. Apparently, judging by the hidden room, he had been doing just that. The room placement was of strategic value (being at the relative center of the mansion and right next to the room Relena spent most of her time in) and it had to have been built before Relena even moved back in to her childhood home. It would have been easy for Heero to influence the right people to get the job done, and even easier to dispose of any evidence of the room's existence.
In this room, he could moniter the entire house and be in prime position to react to any and all threats against his unknowing charge. Not to mention that, with his knowledge of the camera positioning and personal guard strategy, he would be able to prevent her real security team from detecting him.
More amd more, Quatre wished that Relena hadn't decided to get rid of the security camera in her room. If she hadn't, he would be able to confirm Duo's story. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to believe his former comrade or not, and a clear yes or no would do much for his uncertainty.
But now was not the time to think about that. Quatre Raberba Winner was finally meeting the real Relena Darlian.
He flipped throught the remaining pages quickly, eager to get to the last entry, but too scared to read it immediately. He waited for an entry to get his attention, and, eventually, one of them did. The fact that it was in bold, capital letters helped quite a bit.
'STOP HIDING FROM ME GODDAMMIT. I KNOW YOURE THERE AND YOU KNOW THAT I KNOW YOURE THERE SO WHY DONT YOU STOP FOOLING YOURSELF AND FACE ME. YOURE PROBABLY READING THIS TOO YOU BASTARD. IM DRUNK AND AWFUL AND ITS YOUR FAULT BECAUSE YOURE TOO INSECURE TO HAVE A NORMAL CONVERSATION WITH ME. I SEE THE DOOR CLOSE WHEN I TURN THE CORNER. I SEE THE SHADOW ON MY BALCONY. I AM WRETCHED AND DRUNK AND I HATE YOU HEERO YUY.'
Quatre inhaled sharply. Despite the details he hadn't contributed, he had almost expected his own name at the end of that entry. All the maybes and what ifs plaqued him. Could he have made a difference? Was Quatre Raberba Winner's absence in a time of need the reason Relena Darlian had turned to the bottle? Had he given her the needed assistance, would that horrible weekend have turned out differently?
The thought was destroying him.
Quatre continued to let the pages flip beneath his fingers until he neared the end and the few pages left were trapped beneath his thumb. He read the visible entry.
'I've decided that I'm going to be fine. I'm not going to let something as stupid as selfish loneliness stop me from doing my job. I don't care anymore. If drinking makes me feel better, I'll drink. Everyone else can just go to hell.'
If anything, this entry, although the shortest and most to the point, was the one that was the most heartbreaking. Relena's depression and anger had given way to apathy and the absolute denial to feel. She had become empty and cold. How could it be true? She had seemed happy enough at the party that weekend...
Quatre's entire body shook once with a deeply buried sob. The last of the pages were released from his thumb, which caught again on the rear cover. At least twenty of the last pages had been torn from the book, leaving a wide gap of shredded paper.
He read the last entry, stared, and lost the little lunch he'd managed to take in.
============================
Lucretia Noin hadn't seen Quatre for at least an hour, and she was beginning to become concerned. Zechs was still unconscious and staring at the nearly unmoving body on the bed reminded her of other unmoving bodies she had seen over the course of her lifetime. The thought of a friend taking his own life suddenly occured to her and it threw her into a panic.
Running down the hallways, she finally reached Relena's former office, where Quatre had said he was going, and hesitantly opened the door. "Quatre?" she inquired, stepping inside and looking around. No one was there.
She stood there for a while, wondering where he had gone, wondering if he'd left without telling her, when, suddenly, she heard the door creak behind her. She turned to find the pale-faced former pilot standing in the doorway.
"Quatre?" she asked, carefully, noting the odd expression on his face.
"I think you should call the police," he replied. "I found something."
He took her by the arm and led her outside the office.
The sight of an open door where there had never been one was so surreal, that Noin, in denial, refused to believe that it was even there until it refused to vanish before her blinking eyes.
"Quatre?" she said again.
He wordlessly pointed into the room, to the far corner, where, next to an empty plug-in, a bloodied bucket lay on its side in a pool of dried life.
Noin slapped a hand to her mouth and backed away, breaking from Quatre's grip. She inhaled sharply against her palm before turning and running back down the hallway in search of a phone.
Quatre waited until she was out of sight before removing the diary from his inside jacket pocket. It was only slightly larger than a paperback novel so he had no trouble concealing it.
The diary shook in his grip. He quickly replaced it in his pocket before clasping his hands together in an attempt to stop the shaking.
Removing evidence from a crime scene. What he was about to do was illegal. Painfully illegal. But...
But he would rather die than let this diary get into the hands of the media, the police. He would rather rot in jail. He would rather slowly dying inside for the rest of his lifetime before allowing the general public to know what Relena Darlian had become. She was dead, nothing would change that, and the deceased deserved better than a public scandal that would destroy everything she had ever fought for. The public would lose faith in their leaders. They would be slow to trust the next politician with similar beliefs. Peace would be set back once again because no one would trust it.
Yes. It made so much more sense this way. The people would continue to work for peace in her absense. It was a debt of honor now. The world would embrace peace in her memory.
And the truth would remain solely in Quatre Raberba Winner's possession until the day he died.
========================
When she broke through the bush and into the clearing, Sally Po was instantly hit with a sense of deja vu.
The awful kind.
Her thoughts travelled back in time, to her brief employment in the Alliance military. The day she'd captured perhaps the most unpredictable of the Gundam pilots. The day she'd added his DNA signature to the Alliance intelligence database, which allowed her to confirm his path to this very spot on this very day.
The day that Heero Yuy jumped out of a window of a hospital built on a cliff. Intent on suicide, only Relena Darlian's voice had broken through his defenses, startling him enough to release the parachute.
But Relena wasn't here. She hadn't been here today.
In the clearing that led to the ocean she saw that dwindling trail of blood suddenly becoming thick again where a mangled, empty, golden frame had dug into skin when he'd torn the picture from its grip and abandoned it in the mud.
Sally looked up to see the approaching sunset and the cliff that mocked her.
===========================
Drained, Quatre returned to his mansion and sat on his couch, stiffly. Slowly, he removed his jacket, and carefully pulled the diary free. It sat on his lap, taunting him.
It hadn't been difficult to break the law. Noin, in her grief, had become blind to any suspicious behavior. She had always reminded Quatre of a mother--a mother he'd never had. Her life had been devoted to taking care of people and helping them out. Especially Zechs. In this time of suffering, that maternal devotion ruled her thoughts. Quatre sincerely hoped that it would be enough to help the man through his grief.
He hoped that there would be enough acceptance left over for himself, but doubted that at the same time.
Anyway, convincing Noin that he was tired and needed rest wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done. He hadn't needed to fake his grief much, preventing a much greater moral dilemma. Quatre knew that the police would eventually call him for a follow-up witness statement (they'd done it that one awful weekend) but he wasn't too worried. He would just tell them that he'd stubbed his toe on the wall, or maybe kicked it out of anger, or maybe just tell them the truth about the note Dorothy left in his pants and let her deal with the police. What was she up to, anyway? What did she know?
Tired of thinking, Quatre picked up the diary and dropped it on the endtable, accidently hitting the power button on the remote, turning on the TV. Quatre's eyes glued to the screen as it tuned into the middle of a news program.
The scene was shot from a helicopter hovering beside the edge of a cliff, with a reporter doing a voice-over. "...Where the DNA trail of murder suspect Heero Yuy came to a dramatic end. The police and preventer agents arrived here earlier this evening only to find that all their questions would remain unanswered."
The scene switched to a reporter standing close to the freefall, interviewing a police officer. "Is there any evidence that Mr. Yuy did not leap from this cliff and is still at large?"
The officer shook his head without hesitation. "The soil on this cliff is mostly clay, so it was still full of moisture when our suspect arrived, and we can clearly see his footprints in the mud. There were no footprints leaving the scene. We've measured the distance between his steps and we've concluded that he broke into a run toward the edge. His last step, on the last few centemeters of earth, dug deeply into the ground, telling us that he did not hesitate, he did not waver, he put all his weight into diving off this cliff, like a professional long jumper would."
The reporter seemed to be determined to reassure the public that the alledged murderer was dead. "Is there any way that Mr. Yuy could have survived the fall?"
Again, the officer surely shook his head. "Our suspect walked clear across town on an empty stomach, no apparent rest stops, and a steadily decreasing blood supply. Even if he'd managed to survive the fall itself, the current is very strong here. He would have been sucked to the bottom in no time, and dragged into the middle of the ocean. We have had other people jumping from this cliff, and we have yet to find any of their bodies, so we aren't keeping our hopes up of ever finding his. Even if he'd managed to fight the current for a while, this cliffside runs for miles in both directions, and perpendicular to the water only at the best of times. Climbing out would be like scaling an upside down pyramid. And our suspect definitely did not have any of the necessary mountain gear on him to achieve that. Eventually, his strength would have given out and he would have drowned."
The reporter quickly summarized the events, but Quatre was too stunned to listen properly. All he could see was the picture frame in the mud, and, after the scene switched briefly to the helicopter again, a hospital robe caught on the cliffside, swaying in the wind.
Eventually, the anchorman appeared on screen. He was silent for a moment before regaining his voice and announced to the Earth Sphere, "This was not the closure that many of our citizens may have expected, but now the Earth and colonies may rest easy once more. The murderer of Relena Darlian has been put to death." He took a deep breath. "We will return in just a moment with the rest of today's news. Stay tuned for the details of our government's plan to seriously pursue the ideals of our fallen vice-foreign minister and the unexpected disappearance of the late Duke Dermail's grand-daughter, Dorothy Catalonia."
As the commercials came on, Quatre was left staring at the television set.
Heero was dead and Dorothy was missing. The police hadn't known that Dorothy had been involved somehow, allowing her to escape unnoticed. No one had witnessed her take the picture, no one had seen her at the hospital, no one except him, Quatre Raberba Winner, and now it was too late to make a difference.
Had she been playing him from the beginning? Planning everything? Manipulating everyone?
Had she caused Relena to do what she did, causing Heero to react the way he did, causing the world to respond the way it did?
The thought shocked and disgusted him.
Quatre jerked to the side for the remote and accidently knocked the diary to the floor, opening to the last page for him to unintentionally read the shaky, nearly incomprehensive handwriting below.
'I'm so sorry. Heero, I'm so sorry. God, these words seem so hollow and shallow when I write them but my chest is burning with this terrible guilt and the need to be forgiven. And after what I've done, I don't deserve forgiveness. I deserve death. I deserve life in prison. I don't deserve to see the light of day. I will never deserve forgiveness and I hope it will never be offered to me because Heero doesn't deserve that. After what I did, he has the right to do whatever he wants to me. He has the right to go to the police. He has the right to kill me.
Please, Heero. Oh, God, Heero, please kill me.
People should have the right to kill their rapists.'
Quatre screamed, and cried.
Author's Notes:
1. As much as I would enjoy detailing Quatre's slow decent into madness...no, I think I'll just stick to the plan and write the epilogue which takes place one year later. (And by the way I procrastinate, it will probably be posted a year later, too.) But everything WILL be explained, one way or another. I might even detail on the rape scene if I feel brave enough. ;p
2. Hopefully, a few of you will catch the meaning behind the title. Oh, I am so sly. :p
3. Now Gub will be on my ass for the chapter that will be longer than the rest of the story combined. Sigh. (runs away when she's not looking)