Disclaimer-I don't own Gundam Wing
Domestic Issues
2: 05 PM—35 Jordan Street—Maxwell Church
"I'm home!" Duo called, dropping his bookbag by the front door.
"Welcome home, Duo." The form of Sister Helen passed through the front hallway.
"Where's Father?"
"In his office. You're helping him with his sermon, right?"
"Just for a few minutes. Then I gotta get back out there."
Sister Helen sighed. "Duo, come here."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Sit here." She patted the seat of a pew. He sat down next to her.
"What's wrong, Sister?"
"Duo." She clasped her hands together. "The school called. You cut 3rd period."
"I had to. There was something going down then. I needed proof that something was happening before I could call it in."
"Duo, school comes first, especially with something as dangerous as this…"
"Sister, I need this money. You know I can't get a normal job."
"I don't see why. You were 7 years old, you were living on the streets…"
"There are too many robberies going on for them to risk hiring an ex-thief."
"Is that why you took on this job? To prove yourself to them?"
"No. I don't need to prove myself to anyone except you, Father, and Hilde. I took the job because otherwise, we can't pay taxes. You barely make minimum wage and Father's too old to be hired. At least I can rake in some cash for us. And besides…it's the right thing."
"Duo, I've been meaning to ask you. You give us ¾ of the money you make. What are you saving the other quarter of the money for?"
"That, Sister, is a surprise, that you will hopefully know before the end of the school year. Now, I have to go help Father with his sermon, and then I'll be off." He stood up.
"Wait." Sister Helen stood up, then wrapped her arms around him. "You're like my little brother, and you're a son to Father. Please, don't get yourself killed."
"I can't get killed yet," Duo said reassuringly. "Otherwise that quarter of the money I'm saving would be a complete waste." He pulled back. "See you later, Sister."
"Bless him," she whispered as he walked off. "God bless the boy."
2: 47 PM—2 Lynley Street—Darlian Mansion
"I'm back!" Relena called, taking off her shoes and lying them on the mat next to the door.
"Welcome home, Miss Relena," a maid, walking past with the laundry in her arms. "How was your day?"
"Wonderful." Relena slid her backpack off her shoulders and dropped it by her shoes. "Is Milliardo here yet?"
"He should be along presently," she answered, stooping to pick up a dropped sock.
"Here." Relena bent over and picked it up for her, then laid it on top of the pile. "How about my father?"
"He's on his way, Miss Relena," she answered. "Mrs. Darlian is upstairs."
"Thanks, Penelope," Relena answered. "And just call me Relena. Are those my clothes?"
"Yes, and your Drum Major outfit is back from the dry cleaners. It's hanging in your closet."
"Thanks." She bent and picked up her shoes with one hand and her backpack with the other, then ran up the stairs.
"I'm home, Mother!" she called, tossing her bookbag and shoes in her room and then running to her parents' room.
"Welcome, dear." Larissa Darlian was sitting prim and proper yet charming, like a rose, on her bed.
"When will Milliardo get here?"
"I imagine very soon."
"And Noin's with him, right?"
"That's right."
"I know what it is. I just know what it is!" Relena squealed.
"Well then, don't ruin the surprise for the rest of us, darling. So, how was your day?"
"I'm going to sound a like a desperate, clingy man-chaser, but I finally asked Heero out!"
"That's wonderful! When will you go out?"
"Tomorrow. We're gonna hang out downtown."
Larissa smiled wistfully and held Relena's face in her hands. "Katrina was just like you with Philip."
"Really?"
Relena's real parents, Philip and Katrina Peacecraft, who had been top Greek members of the United Nations, had been assassinated over a peace plan for Africa when she was two and Milliardo was six. Milliardo had been taken in by an Indian family going to France, the Khushrenadas, and Relena had been adopted by the Darlians, who were old family friends. They had taken her to America shortly after adopting her.
Being two when her parents died, she didn't remember them at all.
"Yes, I remember how happy she was when he asked her out. You look so much like her. When you were a baby you resembled your father, but now you're her spitting image."
"I've seen her picture; thanks for the compliment," Relena said.
"Miss Relena! Mrs. Darlian! Mr. Milliardo and Ms. Noin are here!" a servant called up the stairs.
Relena bounded off the bed and jogged down the stairs, her mother following at a more reasonable pace.
"Hey!" she called, rounding the corner where Milliardo, or Zechs, as he liked to be called, and Noin were standing in the hallway.
"Hi," Milliardo said, in his usual quiet voice. Even when he shouted, he seemed almost silent.
Noin, on the other hand, gave Relena a more open reception.
"Relena!" She hugged the girl, who had stopped right in front of her. Noin and Relena had hit it off almost instantly since they met when Relena was 15 and Noin was 19. They were friends, not the "Brother's-stupid-girlfriend" or the "Boyfriend's-annoying-little-sister".
Relena turned and hugged her brother. "It's great to see you both." She pulled back and looked them both in the eye. "Now, what's the big news?"
"You certainly don't beat around the bush, darling," Larissa, who had finally caught up with Relena. "Let's wait until your father gets here, shall we? Welcome, Milliardo, Lucrezia."
"Just Noin, please," Noin said. Noin and Nataku felt the same way about their birth names. "And I'm pretty sure Zechs would prefer the use of that name."
Milliardo's name had been changed when the Khushrenadas adopted him. As of now, only Relena could comfortably call him by his birth name.
"Well, Noin, Zechs, come to the living room and we'll talk until Mr. Darlian gets here. Can you be patient, Relena?"
"One of my specialties," Relena said, and smiled at everyone in the room. She could be patient.
She just wouldn't enjoy it.
3: 28 PM—63 Kent Avenue—Une Residence
"Middie!"
She looked up from her homework to see her youngest brother, 8-year-old Kyle, standing in her doorway.
"Lady's here!"
"Cool," Middie said, putting down her homework. She liked her cousin like the older sister she never had. Even though she rarely saw her cousin anymore, they were still friendly.
"Hi, Middie," Lady said as she suddenly appeared in the doorway behind Kyle.
"You changed your hair," Middie said, observing that Lady's hair had gone from two braided circles on the side of her head to just hanging loose.
"I only wear it like that for work now," Lady said.
"And you got contacts," Middie said.
"I could finally afford them," Lady said.
"Now that you've got Mr. Richy-rich fiancee, you could afford them, you mean," Middie said.
"Don't be smart," Lady said, giving her cousin a smack on the head, and then sat down on the bed.
"I'll be stupid, then," Middie said. "2 plus 2 is 7."
Lady laughed, then patted the bed. "Sit with me."
Middie got up and sat down next to Lady.
"What's going on in the life of Miss Middie?" Lady asked.
"I'm getting Trowa back."
"Oh?" Lady raised her eyebrows. "How so? Did he forgive you? Or are you giving him the soap opera approach? And if so, which one?"
"Which…one?" Middie looked confused.
"You could pretend to be over him, get together with his best fend, and make him jealous. Or you could bash him on the head so he gets amnesia, tell him he's loved you for years, and threaten everyone else with their terrible secrets not to tell him. Or you could tell him that you're pregnant. That's how Leia tried to get Treize back. But that one never works. The guy always decides to raise the baby with the other woman."
"The first one," Middie said.
"Really." Lady laughed.
"Yep, I asked Quatre out."
Lady stopped laughing. "I was joking, Middie."
"I wasn't," Middie answered. "Except Dorothy is on to me."
"Trieze's cousin, Dorothy?" Lady asked.
"Yep."
"Good thing, too."
"Lady!" Middie yelped.
"That won't get you Trowa back. And if it did, it's not the right way to go about it. Do you want to get Trowa back with lies, or do you want him to come back to you freely?"
"I want him back any way I can get him," Middie said viciously. "He was my first love, and that's never over."
"That's pure fantasy, Middie," Lady said.
"Oh, what do you know? You've never had this kind of problem getting someone you love…" Middie stopped with a gasp, and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, Lady, I'm so sorry."
Lady was quiet as she spoke. "I don't understand your problem, do I? Well, you don't know how hard it is to love someone who has a baby with a woman you can't stand, who's trying to get him back, who's using every trick in the book to get him. How hard it is to stand by and watch him take care of her and their baby, wondering whether or not her plan will work and she'll make him fall in love all over again. And then you realize that no one can be stolen without their consent and all your worries are for nothing. Middie, this plan will fail. Trowa won't come back to you. The best thing for you to do is to end it right now and come clean with Trowa."
"And make him hate me even more?" Middie spat. "He only hated me in the first place because I told the truth! Lady, this plan will work. Trowa and I will be together again."
"And what about Quatre? Suppose if you and Trowa get back together, how will he take the news that you've been toying with him?"
"All part of my plan. You see, I'm going to make Dorothy be sympathetic with him. And when I get back with Trowa, Dorothy will fall in love with him. So it'll be me and Trowa, and Dorothy and Quatre."
"You could seriously be a soap opera," Lady said, shaking her head. "Well, do what you like. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't," Middie said, and grinned impishly. "Now, mind helping me with my homework?"
4: 05 PM—943 Sterling Avenue—Lowe/Yuy Residence
- Heero sat in his room, the only light filtering through the blinds on his window.
He was looking at his mother, or rather, her picture. He would've given anything to talk with her in person, but he had lost that chance when he was five years old, when that man who's last name he had taken, Midorikawa Gendo, had ended her life and forever changed his.
He was glad that Odin had given him a name completely different from his father's.
He stared at her picture, the only picture of her he had. He didn't look much like her. His father's Japanese blood dominated his mother's Russian. Her hair was sandy blonde and hung just past her shoulders, and her eyes, though they were blue like his, were ocean-colored instead of Prussian. He had her facial structure, though.
This picture was of her second wedding, this time to his stepfather, Odin Lowe, whom she had known since childhood. He had been four years old then, unaware that by next year, he would be on the run to Russia.
On the back of the photo, in Aralia's flourishing handwriting, was written "Odin Lowe and Aralia Preskov on our wedding day, joined by my little Hikaru. A day we shall never forget!".
A day Gendo never forgot either, apparently, because exactly one year later he had turned up at their house, shot Aralia to death and tried to kill Odin and Hikaru. They had escaped and gone to Russia, and then to America. Hikaru asked to have his name changed, and that was how he wound up with Heero Yuy.
"Relena asked me out," he said quietly to the picture. "We're going to hang around downtown tomorrow. I think you would've liked her. She's "good", as you liked to describe girls."
"Heero, I'd get ready if I were you," Odin said, pushing open the door to his stepson's room.
"The game's not for two hours," Heero said, looking up. He put the picture down on his bed.
Odin caught sight of the picture. "Aralia would've liked to be here. This is your last half-time show ever." For a moment, he looked wistful, then sighed. "No use living in the past."
"They say "Revere the old; embrace the new"," Heero muttered.
"And I say "Follow your emotions so you won't regret it later"," Odin replied. "Now get ready."
"Yeah."
Heero took one last look at the picture, then set it on the shelf and went to his closet.
4: 10 PM—5 Everett Street—Dermail/Catalonia Mansion
Dorothy had already changed into her cheerleader outfit. Seeing as it was almost winter, it consisted of white sweatpants with gold striped running down the sides, and a white sweatshirt with a gold triangle plunging down from her collarbone to her stomach. She had whipped the top layer of her hair back in a ponytail, letting the rest hang freely.
She studied herself in the mirror. It really did not go with her. Blonde and gold weren't horrible, but they weren't good bedfellows, either. She infinitely preferred black to all else. People seriously considered her a Goth despite the long head of blonde hair.
"I trust you're ready, Dorothy." Her door creaked open.
"Yes, Grandfather." Dorothy turned and faced her grandfather, one of her remaining relatives, the fearsome and malicious ex-Duke Clayton Dermail.
"Is your cousin giving you a ride?" he asked, clearly not very interested.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Will you be there?"
"Perhaps."
He glanced around her room. Her walls were covered with pictures cut from magazines and newspapers, and the wall at the foot of her bed was completely dedicated to photos of her, Heero, Relena, Duo, Hilde, Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, Nataku, and Middie.
"This one here." He pressed his finger against the picture of her and the girls last summer at the beach. He was pointing to Relena. "Has she let on anything about her father's political schemes?"
"Grandfather, I'm sick of telling you this, I'm not spying on her anymore!" Dorothy exploded.
When she and Relena had first met, her grandfather had forced her to become friendly with the Darlians' adopted daughter to find out what Nicholas Darlian and Quatre's father, Ahmed Winner, was planning for their political campaign. Heero and Quatre had found Dorothy's notes in her English I notebook, a class they had all shared back then. Relena and Quatre had forgiven her, and Dorothy had sworn up and down never to spy on them again.
"Well, if you're not spying on her, why are you still socializing with her?"
"I hang out with her because I like her, Grandfather. She is one of my best friends."
"Friends, friends. Dorothy, dear, friends are useless unless they can help you with power. History has showed us that much."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Dorothy muttered. "Treize should be here soon," she said coldly. "I'll be downstairs." She brushed past him and stomped down the stairs.
Once upon a time she had liked her grandfather. Once upon a time she had run to him with scraped knees, bumped foreheads, and cooties from boys at school. Once upon a time she would've done anything for him. Once upon a time she believed everything he said was right and true. And then he had asked her to betray her friends, and she had gotten caught. It was a miracle she had been forgiven.
So, once upon a time was gone forever.
Clayton Dermail looked at Dorothy's wall of photos. There was one of Relena and Quatre striking silly poses, with "Community Service Club Top Officers" written across the top in red marker.
He peeled it off the wall and crumpled it in his hand.
"You're going down, Darlian and Winner. You're both going down."
I'm so sorry I keep putting off the band show, but that should hopefully be soon.