"Sea of Stars"
A Gundam Wing Story
by Trekkiexb5
Category: Drama, Romance
Couples: 1xR, 2xH--the normal match-ups
Rating: R for language. Heero has a potty mouth and so does Zechs. It's a bit lime-y in parts, too.
Caution: part of this story is about rape, though it is really never described in detail.
Posting: I'm posting at fanfiction.net, but anyone can post it, as long as my name stays attached. AND you write me and tell me how bad (or good) it was.
Summary: Relena told him to get a life, so he did, of sorts. Now, it's her turn. But the past often shows it's ugly head at the worst of times. Are they ready to handle a past when they are just getting grips with the Present?
Gundam Wing isn't mine. If it was, you would be watching this, not reading it.
Author's notes: WHAT!?!?! You didn't read them? Shame, Shame!
HEY!! Free virtual Cheesy-doodles if you find quotes and situations from other shows and songs. The story's loaded with them.
This chapter is especially dedicated to all you in the prop community. You know who you are!!!
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"Sea of Stars"
Chapter 3
FLIGHT TWICE OVER THE ATLANTIC
I got out of the taxi around 3 pm. It was still storming outside (but not pouring like the other day) as I hobbled into my hotel. Damn crutches! Sally of course drilled me for information. She had help from one Colonel Une. After they picked my brains of my plans, (they agreed it was a good idea) she reattached the two bone fragments jarred loose by Zechs and 'glued them' into their proper places. Thankfully I was unconscious for that part. I can ignore pain for the most part, but I am getting tired feeling it on a daily basis. It's distracting.
She also changed my pain meds- saying that these would just put me to sleep, not make me ill. Otherwise, she pronounced me well enough to travel.
As if she had any control in that.
I somehow made it back to my room. I was still feeling the anesthesia. At least she didn't put it in a plaster cast. I would have screamed then. Well... probably pulled a gun and took a hostage. I laid down my head with my phone on the pillow. I promptly fell asleep...
And woke up to the telephone ringing. Checking the number I saw it was the number to Relena's home office. "Yes?" I answered groggily.
"Um, Heero? Did I wake you up? It's me, Relena," she added unnecessary.
"hn-"
"I've, uhm, made a decision on your proposal."
"hn." Come on, spit it out.
"Uhm, well, er, I'd like to go with you." She finally spit out.
"Good,' was my answer, but the little Duo in my head was doing cartwheels. I had to agree with him.
"Uhm...Uhm, well...do you want me to come to the hotel or what and what should I bring and lady Une and Millardo will take care of the press and my job and..."
"Relena," I interrupted her. She was babbling. "You don't need any thing heavy to wear; light sweaters, jean shorts, tee-shirts, and the like. Bring swimwear. Casual clothing nothing really fancy. You can bring anything personal but no work related items and communication devices. Don't back too heavy. Meet me at the Spaceport at 1130 hours tomorrow at gate 62. I'll have your tickets ready."
"Oh...ok, then." There was a pause, like she wanted to say more. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, then." Another pause. "Bye, Heero"
"Bye, Relena." Well, that worked out. I had already taken care of the rest of it, visas and whatnot. I laid back down on the bed. Before I fell asleep, I decided to ditch the crutches.
She was waiting in the terminal wearing a pair of scruffy jeans, a powder blue t-shirt, brown leather jacket and tennis shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like a frail 14-year-old. She sat forlornly in one of those eternally uncomfortable airport chairs, looking down at the carry-on between her feet. I noticed she ditched her bodyguards and her brother. She always had a knack for that, much to my dismay. Now I was glad for it.
Well, the brother part, anyways.
I quietly slid into the chair next to her. "Hello, Relena," I said just loud enough that she could hear me over the commotion of the busy terminal.
She nearly jumped through the roof. A bit skittish, anyone?
"Oh! Uhm, Heero! You startled me!"
I can see that-but I kept my mouth shut.
After a moment she sat back down and resumed her inspection of the laminate flooring.
One of the advantages of being injured is that you get to board first. When we were escorted to our sets, I took some meds, buckled up and promptly fell asleep. Relena accompanied me to dreamland, for when the stewardess woke me up to tell me that we were on final approach to JFK, I found that Relena had rested her head against my shoulder and was currently drooling on it.
It was another long walk across the terminal to the hanger but this time I had two hours to get there. And no vomiting. Sally can prescribe meds to me any day of the week.
We even had time to eat in one of the restaurants in the terminal. Well, I ate. Relena barely touched her salad and drank half of her orange juice. If she had been eating like this that last three weeks, no wonder she looked so frail.
I have been trying to keep my anger from showing about this guy. With my injuries, I knew chasing after him was near impossible. I had to let the other Gundam pilots do my footwork and fed them as much Information and advice to Duo, Quartre, and Trowa electronically.
I rarely get emotional about anything, and when I do-I rarely express it. It isn't because I'm emotionless, or embarrassed by them; it's because I don't know how to express them. I know how to discipline myself from pain and react in a methodical way. I thought at first, it was all my training I have had in life, first as an assassin then as a Gundam Pilot that guided me to not have emotions. After all, they are distraction on the battlefield. But now…I don't know. The only feelings I seem to get in strong ones and seem to overpower everyone around me.
I was concerned if I reacted in anger in front of Relena she would be frightened of me. After all, one man terrified her. And I did not want her to be frightened of me. I do not know why I want that.
So unsure in what to do sitting in the hospital, I e-mailed Duo on my uncertainty of visiting her. He wrote back saying I should go and see her. She always feels safe around me, he said. Still says that, he said.
Yes, I listened to Duo and did what he said. You may think I was stupid to listen to him, but actually Duo occasionally gives out good advice.
When it comes to emotions, I always at least listen to Duo, once in a while.
He isn't a Gundam pilot for nothing, you know. He's just-loud.
Well, Relena and I made it to Willard's plane when they were loading the last of the supplies and luggage in the belly of the fuselage. With a small crowd milling around the lounge area of the hanger, I would hazard a guess that Willard picked up some passengers.
After the fuel was loaded in the wings of the aircraft, we were allowed to board the flying deathtr…I mean, the vintage aircraft. There was no seat assignment. Relena scooted in the seats behind an elderly couple and I joined her. Everybody had boarded and the prop plane finally took off. I knew I wasn't going to sleep this flight. Turboprop engines are notoriously loud.
The plane had seats for thirty passengers but I counted only eleven, including us. Being with Relena again awakened all those protective bodyguard habits I had. As the proverb goes: Old habits die hard and old soldiers never forget their duty.
So I let my instincts kick in and began to observe the passengers. The couple in front of us was Mr. and Mrs. Graham, residents of the Sargasso of Scottish Descent. In fact, they live down from me. I knew them well. No problems there. They were chatting with another elderly couple cross the isle form them. What I gleaned from the conversation is that they were the Jenkins and they trying to catch up to their cruise ship. I was currently docked at the Sargasso. No bad vibes here. Though not common, missing the cruise ship's movement does happen.
Behind us were the five other passengers. A middle-aged woman with three children and a single young female. I did not know the mother's name, but her face was familiar. As for the two couples in front of us, I perceived her and her brood was harmless. Unless the 11-year-old boy tries to fly the plane. Then again, he'd probably do a better job than Willard.
The girl in the back corner I didn't know. And unlike the other passengers, who were talking amiably among themselves, she sat silent, not even trying to get into the conversations around her. She was trying act like she was reading but I caught her glancing at Relena.
I was suspicious at first, but as Relena isn't a resident and is famous, I would suppose it would be unnerving, despite the policy of the Seaweed Nations. After all, the Grahams looked at Relena with wide eyes but say anything. And speaking of the Grahams, little old Mrs. Graham turned in her seat to face me. Maybe she was curious. After all, Relena wasn't in any kind of disguise.
"Heero-isn't it?" I nodded. She continued in a thick Scottish burr, "I thought it was you. You are the brave young man who save the Tranchshaw children, right?"
Yes I did, please be quiet. But all I did was nod. I can behave in polite company.
"Pity on the parents, such nice folks," she mused. " I see you brought a friend for a visit," she glanced over at Relena, who was staring blankly out the window and apparently ignoring this conversation about her.
"Yes, I did. She'll have a year vista," I anticipated her next question.
She blinked at that. Then she leaned over the headrest, and motioned for me to move closer. "We had heard on the telly what happened, of course. I didn't know you knew her."
Well, because I don't advertise.
"But I'm glad you brought her. The sea air, excellent food, and the atmosphere of our little community will do her all the world of good."
"Yes," I answered. And she was right. I knew the day I decided to ask her to come stay with me. Despite everything, the people there change me, at least a little.
I think.
It is hard to psychoanalyse yourself. She nodded brightly and turned back around in her seat.
I was feeling fidgety and nervous. When I woke up in the hospital, I had received several hundred thanks yous and get well soons, as well as balloons, flowers, and stuffed animals. The Consortium equivalent of a newspaper interviewed me, against my better judgment. My shrink thought I should do this. It is all right to have a little bit of prideful ego, he said.
hn- sure, fine, whatever.
I told Relena that I was going to the bathroom. She nodded, and then continued to stare at the white puffy clouds out her window. What concerned me the most was the fact she hadn't asked me where we were going.
I limped (unpainfully for a change) towards the front of the aircraft where the galley and the bathroom separated the crew from the passengers. After maneuvering in and out of the tiny restroom, I headed for the cockpit. Willard, a balding 42-year-old with a stringy blonde mustache was talking to a younger freckled faced red head male sitting in the co-pilot's seat. Willard smiled at me when he saw me and waved to the empty navigator seat. He pointed to the headset on his head and motioned for me put the spare set on.
"Ah, Heero-they never soundproofed the cockpit."
"That's because they didn't want to waste money on this antique piece of junk," This was an old argument.
"This 'piece of junk'," he stated regally. "Has personality, unlike some of those new fangled sub orbitals out there."
Hn- personality? He should meet Wing Zero.
"Oh, let me introduce you to my co-pilot," his voice sounding tinny over the headset. " This Jimmy Hutchason" I knew the name, as it was my job as a security officer to know all the Cantilena Pilots. "So SHE came, eh?" He continued.
Why did everybody have to know my business? It must be the worst thing about living in a small community.
"hn."
"She's a tiny little thing," Jimmy spoke up. "Looks like a stiff wind could knock her over."
"hn."
"You're not a talkative fellow are you?" Jimmy pointed out. I wasn't going to dignify that with an answer, but Willard was.
"He's always like that, don't mind him, Jimmy. But one hell of a security officer." He paused. "So interesting mix of passengers, eh?"
"Yes, only eleven this time, I would have thought more." Yes, I was fishing, but Willard is so oblivious I could get away with it.
"Twelve, actually. Jimmy here is a passenger. His plane is at Sargasso, gearbox change. You know those are hell, and he had to get to his sister's wedding."
Twelve? When I called him this morning there was only eleven. It had to be the woman, but I had to be sure. "So Jimmy," I said lightly, at least I tried to sound lightly. "I would have thought, being a pilot and all, you wouldn't be a last minute passenger."
Willard chuckled. "You're right- he's passenger number three, after you and your guest. No, it was the girl sitting by herself." He glanced back at me and saw that my face went suddenly blank. I did not like this at all. "Don't worry," He said, trying to reassure me. "I put her through all the same security checks as usual. That's why we were a little late taking off."
One of nice things about the Seaweed Nations is that they are just as paranoid as me when it comes to security. Even I had a tough time passing their background checks. Still, I didn't feel good about it. Years of experience told me I should trust my instincts. But the girl felt- wrong.
"Did you forward the passenger list to Sargasso?"
"No, not yet..."
I cut Willard off, angry at his lapse in judgment. "Do it now and send a copy to Officer Stransky." I trusted Anton. He'll know what to do.
Both pilots nodded, and I took my leave of them. When reentered the passenger area, I hazarded a glance at the woman. She met my glance but quickly looked down. Busted. I couldn't to anything now, and I didn't know what type of danger it was, but involved Relena and.
Where's Relena?
I noticed a honey blonde head of hair sandwiched between the two gray heads. Apparently Mrs. Jenkins and Relena were forced to look at Mrs. Graham's pictures of her latest grandchild. Only danger there is she would die of boredom of the Grahams' stories of their family. I sat back in our seats and watched the woman out of the corner of my eye.
The rest of the flight was uneventful, but not quiet. When one places a toddler, a sullen teenager and a smart mouthed adolescent in a small place and feed them caffeine and sugar the end result is... well not very pretty. It was a good thing I didn't have a weapon, otherwise I would have shot the mother for having annoying brats.
Ok, the little girl was endearing, slightly, when tried very hard to trade her very dilapidated baloney and mustard sandwich for my cookies at dinner.
Relena eventually returned to her seat. Not speaking except to ask me to move so she could go to the bathroom. The first time, the woman in the back started to get up, but one of my patented 'Death Stares' dropped her in her seat. She could pee her pants for I'd care.
As we finally started to circle the Sargasso Sea, Relena gasped, staring at the sight outside the window. To the untrained eye, it looks like a gigantic Spider on the ocean. Actually all the Seaweed Nations do. She turned to me questionably.
I guessed at her question. "Yes Relena, that is where I work and live." Her eyebrows shot up. "I suppose I don't look the type to live on a yacht." Her left eyebrow dropped. Wow, expressions. "I work for the security, there."
She just stared at me for a moment. She then turned her head to gaze at the large conglomeration of docks and boats below.
We soon landed on a, finally, calm Atlantic. Willard taxied into the huge docking matrix, passing several cruise ships and boats of the non-residents. We pulled up to a pier near a cluster of seaplanes. The plane's outer hatch opened and a gangplank was placed in the opening.
I let the other passengers disembark before us, including Miss Enigma. Relena and I soon joined the queue at the end of the dock.
There, a small open aired building that took up the entire width of the dock. Inside, was the customs offer and the officers that search the carry ons. And the metal detector. And the Chemical compound detecter. I told you that they were paranoid.
The officer, dressed in Yellow and Blue, checked your paperwork and made sure that you were cleared to be here. Standing behind the clerk, was Anton, and several more guards. He saw me and nodded after he caught my eye.
To make a long story short no one had problems clearing customs. Even the cruise couple that was greeted by a rep from the ship. But when the woman approached the desk, she was 'escorted' out towards the holding area in the central area of the Sargasso. Mission Completed.
I would later learn that she was a reporter who happened to be staying in the same hotel I was staying in the Sanq Kingdom. She so happened to be in the reception area when Zechs made his appearance.
hn.
END OF CHAPTER 3
Trust me it was much longer and a lot more boring. More character development next chapter. All I got to do is type it up!!
Reviews please!! Also any mistakes please tell me!