Disclaimer: Usual applies.
(Writing fanfiction again is so inspiring - I was truly afraid that, after the first finalized attempt I made two years ago, I wouldn't be able to produce anything after. HA-HA! - I proved myself wrong! For whoever reads this, and enjoys this - well, thanks, alot, 'cuz that makes two of us - Becca-W).
Ch.2 Doll in an envelope
______________________________________________________________________________________
"Harry, I think my napkin's stained, look - "
"Lis', be quiet, they're going to start any moment now."
"Ridiculous, not even all the guests are here yet." Pause. A sigh followed.
"Will you stop fidgeting?"
"My slip's riding up, Harry.." Lisa whispered.
"Go to the restroom and fix it, then."
"No, I'll miss something, that always happens.."
"Fine. Look, the rest seem to be coming."
Harry and Lisa Feltmann hushed together as they watched the final wave of guests appear at the mouth of the Banquet Hall, slipping in to find their seats at the many little tables set up in neat rows across the floor. The lights dimmed once, twice - any moment now they really would start and not everyone had found their place yet.
Relena sat alone at a table to the far right, in the upper reaches of the Banquet Hall, hands overlapping each other, elbows resting on the table edge, ankles crossed. Her eyes followed the recently-arrived across the floor; they were all people she knew, people she had worked with or talked with at some point, and sometimes only people she had seen at a distance. These functions acted as another way to introduce candidates in an election or new officials: they were regarded with skepticism by the senior members - nevertheless, everyone came. Appearances had to be kept up.
The Countess Florine of Corenette, with one regal Swish of her fur stole, sat at a table on the far left of the hall: a man accompanied her, most likely the Count of Corenette - he stooped to greet a few people on the way to their table. The Countess's eyes found Relena, seated by her lonesome, at the table across the room from her and cast a very cool stare into the other's eyes.
At the moment, Luivani, with a woman at her side, entered and Relena gladly brought her gaze around to them rather than the Countess (the meeting with her and her pack had been very formal and uncomfortable; she held the outcome - or lack there of - against Relena in an almost personally offended manner). As they neared her seat Relena stood up and waved: Luivani moved toward her.
"Good evening, Miss Darlian."
"Good evening, Miss Luivani. Would you care to sit with me?" Luivani raised an eyebrow and Relena smiled. "I hope you don't mind; I would enjoy enjoy your company."
Relena had hoped a number of at least two people would come with her - at such events one came with a partner, it seemed one of the many unwritten laws. The two she had counted on - a lawyer she had befriended a month ago and a personal assistant stationed on earth - needed to back out of the arrangement and she had gone on her own. Luivani was a welcome sight and Relena had usually been on good terms with her, so she happily received both her and the lady stranger.
Luivani pulled up a chair for the other before sitting down, gesturing with an arm toward her.
"Miss Darlian, this is Chea Giole. Chea, this is the Vice Foreign Minister, Relena Darlian." Chea bopped Luivani on the shoulder with the knuckles of one hand, leaning in a bit.
"Of course she is, Rigolda, I'm not blind." Turning a bright smile to Relena Chea offered a hand in greeting, Relena taking it with as much the warm spirit as the other offered. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss..."
"Darlian."
"Oh." The lights dimmed for the final time and they quieted, Luivani curling one hand around Chea's as they watched the stage. Although one would not have been able to tell when they were sitting down Chea was taller than Luivani, her hair as curly but a dark-blonde rather than brown, with eyes of teal, contrasting with the moss brown of Luivani's. The three sat in their mottled group, listening to the brief symphony, followed by the introduction to the evening's activities. Relena felt somehow like the third wheel.
Donations and charity events followed a pattern: music, sweet-talking, bidding, all done without the aid of food. Luivani, by the end of the night, had too much to drink and Relena was on her third half-glass of champagne. Both felt delightfully tipsy and Chea kept a steady hand on her partner's elbow the later half of the evening.
Relena glanced around, eyes somewhat listless and glazing over as she counted heads - hundred, hundred and one, oh look, it's Miz Gerbier - her chin propped up in a hand. In the interval allowed between speakers people danced to the music being played, the Countess of Corenette quite a-dazzling as she was swept about the small dance floor. Relena watched her for but a moment, one eyebrow gently quirked. Luivani glanced over her shoulder, shrugged at the light, reserved show of merriment being cast on the floor behind her and faced Relena.
"How is the neutralization process of the elder Colonies going?"
"Rigolda, not at dinner, please..."
"Chea, I'm bored, she's bored - no offense - and it's a fact." Relena shrugged.
"None taken." Chea patted the back of Luivani's hand.
"Alright, just don't get excited.." Relena smiled at her before being forced to meet the Representative's stare head-on. She cleared her throat.
"Well, we've had little opposition - after all, the materials used to build the Colonies before are now considered ineffecient in comparison with newer 'versions' of the same compound. In the time since their construction the colonies built before After Colony 115 are most likely in need of remodeling, if not complete renovation. In most cases, the riddance of these - mostly residential areas bordering on moon farms - is the more favorable choice. Unfortunately, these are seen as historical sites, which, by law, they are."
"Sentimentalities." Luivani picked the olive out of her drink. "What about the people living there?" Her tone was rough and steady: she didn't look up from the olive pinched between her finger and thumb.
"Each Colony in need of reconstruction and or neutralization possess roughly ten thousand people. In such extreme cases as Colony G15x, though, the population, according to the '185 census, maxes out at twenty-five thousand. This could cause a problem, since Colony space is scarce and expensive. Few Colonies have been built that are legally up-to-date because of the materials used in the war."
"Yeah, scrap-heaps and junkyards are getting alot of money out of the situation. What are your plans for these people?"
"We'll either station them on Earth, giving them the choice of living on the planet or, once a suitable place has been cleared, out in space again, or crowd them on other colonies." Relena tapped the base of her champagne glass thoughtfully. "Therefore, the estimate states that one hundred thousand people are to be moved, temporarily, to other stations by the end of the year After Colony 198. Enough metal alloy and material should have been found and formed into other Colonies by then."
Luivani now sneered.
"All those people." She muttered. Relena nodded, her tone unusually clipped.
"I know." Chea's eyes were worried.
"What do they have to say about it?"
"Not much. It can't be helped. The Colonies, the elderly ones, are deteriorating at a dangerous rate. I'm worried of what will happen if we push the date past the end of this year - little good can come of protest now." Relena now spread her palm flat against the table surface. "Obviously, no one's very happy. One of the Colonies - 4RT-00, I believe - was the first to carry out the Moon Farm plan successfully, and another is the oldest-known training center for pilots and soldiers in space."
"I.S. GI's...." Luivani murmured, the nickname given to the said pilots and soldiers training on 4RT-00 those days.
Relena asked for a coffee.
"Either way, this will be a very busy year. Thank heavens I've got help..."
Luivani raised her head, now tilted to the side, a crooked, thoughtful expression on her face, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth.
"By the way, who was that guy backstage last week?" Relena blinked, her hands enfolded around a very warm mug.
"Who?" Her mind had pulled a blank and Luivani had to think back, her mind muddled.
"Dark hair, dark eyes...dark, dark, dark." Relena shrugged, tipping the mug to her lips. She set it down, staring at the table cover for a moment.
Then she turned to Luivani, who now regarded her with mild, tactless curiosity.
"He doesn't have dark eyes." She paused, her tone laboured. ".....They're blue."
______________________________________________________________________________________
The present season remained cold, leaving the trees naked in their skeletal state and the window panes frosted-over at the edges. Relena, dressed in a sweater, sat on a couch that sat alongside a full-view window. She stared outside, the used, worn material of her sweater all the more tangible, the warmth she felt from her toes to the roots of her hair yet more attractive and appealing. She was not outside: that cold, uncaring atmosphere could not touch it her, it simply existed shoulder-to-shoulder with the room in which she had tucked herself in an hour ago.
In front of her lay the recent reports and progress summaries of Project Old Man Neutralization; the first stages of dismantling and reconstructing elderly colonies was underway and, so far, successful. No problems other than public upset had been encountered: Relena knew how these people felt. She was on their side, especially this time. They had considered burying her father on one of the sites now being destroyed. The entire project was attached to the emotion spilling over the situation.
She glanced up at hearing the door to the study crack open. Rather than knocking or asking the visitor stepped in and headed for her. She greeted him with a large smile; he took her in, sitting on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest, a few papers and a couple of pens strewn around and about, with gentle curiosity.
"Heero." She gestured to the empty chairs and sofas set around the room. "Make yourself comfortable." He nodded, pulling up a padded chair; she added, "Did your..visit go well?"
He shrugged. She left it at that.
"Yeah." Heero glanced over the reports. "I'm going to visit the old training center, before it's destroyed."
"Oh?" She picked up a pen and made a note in the margin of a standard finance report. "When?"
"In a week." He nodded with his chin torwards a small graph beneath Relena's socked feet. "Transportation methods being used?"
"Yes." She tugged the graph from under the growing pile of paper at her feet and read the small summary she had written at the bottom. "The more efficient way of taking care of the people from Project Neutralization is to spread them across other, available Colonies, supply them with benefits and ways of making their independence without spoiling careers - hopefully - and, later, bringing them to newly-built Colonies or finding room for them on Earth. This will take a while..." She reviewed other, more brief notes. "As for the rest of the choices...."
"Have you decided on the method?"
"Well, that's the most efficient way: it also would take a lot of money, a resource we're short on at the moment. The war and recent reconstruction on Earth and in space have depleted tremendous amounts of government money - much of the money wasn't even government-issue, at that." She gave an angry sigh. "We're finding ways to wittle down the expense and mold other features of the above choices into a final product. The result won't come out for another two months."
"Hn." Heero leaned back into the chair and Relena stooped forward, slumping.
"This is tiresome, this entire project." She said, eyes dull. After a moment, though, she went on. "Either that...or I'm tired. I can't say which anymore."
Heero leaned over and picked up a cup and saucer; beside it, a small teapot.
"You didn't drink everything." He observed. Relena stared at the end of the couch: it was now dark outside, the evening's light crushed by nightfall.
"This has to work...what if we don't meet the deadline?"
"What deadline, Relena?" Heero asked, almost impatiently: the teapot was small, meant for a single person, and the handle was cramping his hand. He poured out another cup of tea (decaf, he was sure by the smell). She shrugged.
"Not really a deadline, I suppose." More of a goal. She had hoped by such and such a time, they would have a finished plan - now, it didn't seem as likely....
"Don't worry, then." He handed it to her, shoving the saucer-less teacup into her palm. Relena, briefly shaken at the interruption of his hand in the middle of her thought process, gave him a small smile, taking tiny sips. She breathed out of her nose and watched the tea ripple in the teacup, eyes vacant.
"Mmh."
"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked, glancing around. Again she shrugged, tipping the cup to her lips.
"I can't remember."
Heero propped his elbows on his knees, stare digging into the carpet. There were alot of pens about the floor, and the sofa was littered with paper. Relena seemed to be sitting on the crest of a landfill. They both hazed off for a while, their minds turned off, alert guard momentarily resting. The distant chime-and-dong of a clock knocked Relena out of her reverie and she glanced hastily at her study and research material.
"Oh, my." Setting the teacup on the floor she began sorting everything, grabbing up, organizing the disarray into something she would later be able to go through again. Heero watched, handing her what she needed to complete this file or other, mainly trying to keep his feet out of the way.
Relena flicked open a manila folder of papers untouched and screwed-up her face in a grimace.
"I forgot this." Keeping her eyes trained on the contents of the folder she reached for the teacup again, slowly testing what surface she came in contact with until her fingers met with lukewarm, thin china. Bringing that up at a tilt she turned to a different page, eyebrows at a slant, a crease forming in her forehead, the corners of her mouth jerking...
What tea remained in the teacup then spilled onto her lap, splashing onto a corner of the file, making her drop both. Heero caught the teacup and picked up the packet, shaking his head while she gave a jump, shrinking back into the cushioned armrest of the couch as the stain spread over her thigh and lap.
"Enough." He muttered. Taking the papers in their neat stacks under one arm and leaving the used teaware in its spot he picked Relena up by the crook of her elbow, hauling her to her feet. "Learn to quit while your ahead."
Relena nearly tripped but Heero did not let her.
"Aha, the secret to my success..." She murmured, the sarcasm a mild undertone to her otherwise worn voice. They proceeded in this fashion down the hall into the wide, spacious landing that opened up into the rest of the levels of the house. He stopped, stationing himself at the corner of the staircase leading up. He glanced expectantly at Relena, who took the research, reports, etc. from him.
She grinned.
"Thank you, Heero." She put one foot on the first step before turning. "Will you still be here in the morning? If so, then - "
"I'm coming along, I already looked over the itinerary."
"Oh. Good." She hugged the folders to her chest with one arm. "Goodnight, Heero."
"Yeah. Goodnight."
He watched her climb up the staircase, her head bent forward a little, one hand on the rail. It was well-lit upstairs - the glow coming from around the corner was a tell-tale welcome. There would still be maids, readying rooms for guests, tidying up, preparing for the next day: Relena's room had been made well in advance, she would be coming to a bed laid out for sleep, the covers folded back, the lamp on the nightstand lit low, the door to the bathroom open suggestively.
At least, that's how he imagined it. Whether she had a lamp on a nighstand, or a nightstand at all, was unknown to him. The maids worked hard; he guessed they might even go so far as to lay out pajamas for her. She seemed to be babied by some of the staff: he saw her talking to them in hotels, waiting for the elevator or her car. They enjoyed it, and so did she. Either way, he never found himself ascending to the second floor of the manor. He never needed to. That was not what he was there for.
She had turned the corner without looking back, the hand that had slid up the rail raking her hair back over her shoulder. She seemed rumpled.
It must have been late.
(Writing fanfiction again is so inspiring - I was truly afraid that, after the first finalized attempt I made two years ago, I wouldn't be able to produce anything after. HA-HA! - I proved myself wrong! For whoever reads this, and enjoys this - well, thanks, alot, 'cuz that makes two of us - Becca-W).
Ch.2 Doll in an envelope
______________________________________________________________________________________
"Harry, I think my napkin's stained, look - "
"Lis', be quiet, they're going to start any moment now."
"Ridiculous, not even all the guests are here yet." Pause. A sigh followed.
"Will you stop fidgeting?"
"My slip's riding up, Harry.." Lisa whispered.
"Go to the restroom and fix it, then."
"No, I'll miss something, that always happens.."
"Fine. Look, the rest seem to be coming."
Harry and Lisa Feltmann hushed together as they watched the final wave of guests appear at the mouth of the Banquet Hall, slipping in to find their seats at the many little tables set up in neat rows across the floor. The lights dimmed once, twice - any moment now they really would start and not everyone had found their place yet.
Relena sat alone at a table to the far right, in the upper reaches of the Banquet Hall, hands overlapping each other, elbows resting on the table edge, ankles crossed. Her eyes followed the recently-arrived across the floor; they were all people she knew, people she had worked with or talked with at some point, and sometimes only people she had seen at a distance. These functions acted as another way to introduce candidates in an election or new officials: they were regarded with skepticism by the senior members - nevertheless, everyone came. Appearances had to be kept up.
The Countess Florine of Corenette, with one regal Swish of her fur stole, sat at a table on the far left of the hall: a man accompanied her, most likely the Count of Corenette - he stooped to greet a few people on the way to their table. The Countess's eyes found Relena, seated by her lonesome, at the table across the room from her and cast a very cool stare into the other's eyes.
At the moment, Luivani, with a woman at her side, entered and Relena gladly brought her gaze around to them rather than the Countess (the meeting with her and her pack had been very formal and uncomfortable; she held the outcome - or lack there of - against Relena in an almost personally offended manner). As they neared her seat Relena stood up and waved: Luivani moved toward her.
"Good evening, Miss Darlian."
"Good evening, Miss Luivani. Would you care to sit with me?" Luivani raised an eyebrow and Relena smiled. "I hope you don't mind; I would enjoy enjoy your company."
Relena had hoped a number of at least two people would come with her - at such events one came with a partner, it seemed one of the many unwritten laws. The two she had counted on - a lawyer she had befriended a month ago and a personal assistant stationed on earth - needed to back out of the arrangement and she had gone on her own. Luivani was a welcome sight and Relena had usually been on good terms with her, so she happily received both her and the lady stranger.
Luivani pulled up a chair for the other before sitting down, gesturing with an arm toward her.
"Miss Darlian, this is Chea Giole. Chea, this is the Vice Foreign Minister, Relena Darlian." Chea bopped Luivani on the shoulder with the knuckles of one hand, leaning in a bit.
"Of course she is, Rigolda, I'm not blind." Turning a bright smile to Relena Chea offered a hand in greeting, Relena taking it with as much the warm spirit as the other offered. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss..."
"Darlian."
"Oh." The lights dimmed for the final time and they quieted, Luivani curling one hand around Chea's as they watched the stage. Although one would not have been able to tell when they were sitting down Chea was taller than Luivani, her hair as curly but a dark-blonde rather than brown, with eyes of teal, contrasting with the moss brown of Luivani's. The three sat in their mottled group, listening to the brief symphony, followed by the introduction to the evening's activities. Relena felt somehow like the third wheel.
Donations and charity events followed a pattern: music, sweet-talking, bidding, all done without the aid of food. Luivani, by the end of the night, had too much to drink and Relena was on her third half-glass of champagne. Both felt delightfully tipsy and Chea kept a steady hand on her partner's elbow the later half of the evening.
Relena glanced around, eyes somewhat listless and glazing over as she counted heads - hundred, hundred and one, oh look, it's Miz Gerbier - her chin propped up in a hand. In the interval allowed between speakers people danced to the music being played, the Countess of Corenette quite a-dazzling as she was swept about the small dance floor. Relena watched her for but a moment, one eyebrow gently quirked. Luivani glanced over her shoulder, shrugged at the light, reserved show of merriment being cast on the floor behind her and faced Relena.
"How is the neutralization process of the elder Colonies going?"
"Rigolda, not at dinner, please..."
"Chea, I'm bored, she's bored - no offense - and it's a fact." Relena shrugged.
"None taken." Chea patted the back of Luivani's hand.
"Alright, just don't get excited.." Relena smiled at her before being forced to meet the Representative's stare head-on. She cleared her throat.
"Well, we've had little opposition - after all, the materials used to build the Colonies before are now considered ineffecient in comparison with newer 'versions' of the same compound. In the time since their construction the colonies built before After Colony 115 are most likely in need of remodeling, if not complete renovation. In most cases, the riddance of these - mostly residential areas bordering on moon farms - is the more favorable choice. Unfortunately, these are seen as historical sites, which, by law, they are."
"Sentimentalities." Luivani picked the olive out of her drink. "What about the people living there?" Her tone was rough and steady: she didn't look up from the olive pinched between her finger and thumb.
"Each Colony in need of reconstruction and or neutralization possess roughly ten thousand people. In such extreme cases as Colony G15x, though, the population, according to the '185 census, maxes out at twenty-five thousand. This could cause a problem, since Colony space is scarce and expensive. Few Colonies have been built that are legally up-to-date because of the materials used in the war."
"Yeah, scrap-heaps and junkyards are getting alot of money out of the situation. What are your plans for these people?"
"We'll either station them on Earth, giving them the choice of living on the planet or, once a suitable place has been cleared, out in space again, or crowd them on other colonies." Relena tapped the base of her champagne glass thoughtfully. "Therefore, the estimate states that one hundred thousand people are to be moved, temporarily, to other stations by the end of the year After Colony 198. Enough metal alloy and material should have been found and formed into other Colonies by then."
Luivani now sneered.
"All those people." She muttered. Relena nodded, her tone unusually clipped.
"I know." Chea's eyes were worried.
"What do they have to say about it?"
"Not much. It can't be helped. The Colonies, the elderly ones, are deteriorating at a dangerous rate. I'm worried of what will happen if we push the date past the end of this year - little good can come of protest now." Relena now spread her palm flat against the table surface. "Obviously, no one's very happy. One of the Colonies - 4RT-00, I believe - was the first to carry out the Moon Farm plan successfully, and another is the oldest-known training center for pilots and soldiers in space."
"I.S. GI's...." Luivani murmured, the nickname given to the said pilots and soldiers training on 4RT-00 those days.
Relena asked for a coffee.
"Either way, this will be a very busy year. Thank heavens I've got help..."
Luivani raised her head, now tilted to the side, a crooked, thoughtful expression on her face, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth.
"By the way, who was that guy backstage last week?" Relena blinked, her hands enfolded around a very warm mug.
"Who?" Her mind had pulled a blank and Luivani had to think back, her mind muddled.
"Dark hair, dark eyes...dark, dark, dark." Relena shrugged, tipping the mug to her lips. She set it down, staring at the table cover for a moment.
Then she turned to Luivani, who now regarded her with mild, tactless curiosity.
"He doesn't have dark eyes." She paused, her tone laboured. ".....They're blue."
______________________________________________________________________________________
The present season remained cold, leaving the trees naked in their skeletal state and the window panes frosted-over at the edges. Relena, dressed in a sweater, sat on a couch that sat alongside a full-view window. She stared outside, the used, worn material of her sweater all the more tangible, the warmth she felt from her toes to the roots of her hair yet more attractive and appealing. She was not outside: that cold, uncaring atmosphere could not touch it her, it simply existed shoulder-to-shoulder with the room in which she had tucked herself in an hour ago.
In front of her lay the recent reports and progress summaries of Project Old Man Neutralization; the first stages of dismantling and reconstructing elderly colonies was underway and, so far, successful. No problems other than public upset had been encountered: Relena knew how these people felt. She was on their side, especially this time. They had considered burying her father on one of the sites now being destroyed. The entire project was attached to the emotion spilling over the situation.
She glanced up at hearing the door to the study crack open. Rather than knocking or asking the visitor stepped in and headed for her. She greeted him with a large smile; he took her in, sitting on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest, a few papers and a couple of pens strewn around and about, with gentle curiosity.
"Heero." She gestured to the empty chairs and sofas set around the room. "Make yourself comfortable." He nodded, pulling up a padded chair; she added, "Did your..visit go well?"
He shrugged. She left it at that.
"Yeah." Heero glanced over the reports. "I'm going to visit the old training center, before it's destroyed."
"Oh?" She picked up a pen and made a note in the margin of a standard finance report. "When?"
"In a week." He nodded with his chin torwards a small graph beneath Relena's socked feet. "Transportation methods being used?"
"Yes." She tugged the graph from under the growing pile of paper at her feet and read the small summary she had written at the bottom. "The more efficient way of taking care of the people from Project Neutralization is to spread them across other, available Colonies, supply them with benefits and ways of making their independence without spoiling careers - hopefully - and, later, bringing them to newly-built Colonies or finding room for them on Earth. This will take a while..." She reviewed other, more brief notes. "As for the rest of the choices...."
"Have you decided on the method?"
"Well, that's the most efficient way: it also would take a lot of money, a resource we're short on at the moment. The war and recent reconstruction on Earth and in space have depleted tremendous amounts of government money - much of the money wasn't even government-issue, at that." She gave an angry sigh. "We're finding ways to wittle down the expense and mold other features of the above choices into a final product. The result won't come out for another two months."
"Hn." Heero leaned back into the chair and Relena stooped forward, slumping.
"This is tiresome, this entire project." She said, eyes dull. After a moment, though, she went on. "Either that...or I'm tired. I can't say which anymore."
Heero leaned over and picked up a cup and saucer; beside it, a small teapot.
"You didn't drink everything." He observed. Relena stared at the end of the couch: it was now dark outside, the evening's light crushed by nightfall.
"This has to work...what if we don't meet the deadline?"
"What deadline, Relena?" Heero asked, almost impatiently: the teapot was small, meant for a single person, and the handle was cramping his hand. He poured out another cup of tea (decaf, he was sure by the smell). She shrugged.
"Not really a deadline, I suppose." More of a goal. She had hoped by such and such a time, they would have a finished plan - now, it didn't seem as likely....
"Don't worry, then." He handed it to her, shoving the saucer-less teacup into her palm. Relena, briefly shaken at the interruption of his hand in the middle of her thought process, gave him a small smile, taking tiny sips. She breathed out of her nose and watched the tea ripple in the teacup, eyes vacant.
"Mmh."
"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked, glancing around. Again she shrugged, tipping the cup to her lips.
"I can't remember."
Heero propped his elbows on his knees, stare digging into the carpet. There were alot of pens about the floor, and the sofa was littered with paper. Relena seemed to be sitting on the crest of a landfill. They both hazed off for a while, their minds turned off, alert guard momentarily resting. The distant chime-and-dong of a clock knocked Relena out of her reverie and she glanced hastily at her study and research material.
"Oh, my." Setting the teacup on the floor she began sorting everything, grabbing up, organizing the disarray into something she would later be able to go through again. Heero watched, handing her what she needed to complete this file or other, mainly trying to keep his feet out of the way.
Relena flicked open a manila folder of papers untouched and screwed-up her face in a grimace.
"I forgot this." Keeping her eyes trained on the contents of the folder she reached for the teacup again, slowly testing what surface she came in contact with until her fingers met with lukewarm, thin china. Bringing that up at a tilt she turned to a different page, eyebrows at a slant, a crease forming in her forehead, the corners of her mouth jerking...
What tea remained in the teacup then spilled onto her lap, splashing onto a corner of the file, making her drop both. Heero caught the teacup and picked up the packet, shaking his head while she gave a jump, shrinking back into the cushioned armrest of the couch as the stain spread over her thigh and lap.
"Enough." He muttered. Taking the papers in their neat stacks under one arm and leaving the used teaware in its spot he picked Relena up by the crook of her elbow, hauling her to her feet. "Learn to quit while your ahead."
Relena nearly tripped but Heero did not let her.
"Aha, the secret to my success..." She murmured, the sarcasm a mild undertone to her otherwise worn voice. They proceeded in this fashion down the hall into the wide, spacious landing that opened up into the rest of the levels of the house. He stopped, stationing himself at the corner of the staircase leading up. He glanced expectantly at Relena, who took the research, reports, etc. from him.
She grinned.
"Thank you, Heero." She put one foot on the first step before turning. "Will you still be here in the morning? If so, then - "
"I'm coming along, I already looked over the itinerary."
"Oh. Good." She hugged the folders to her chest with one arm. "Goodnight, Heero."
"Yeah. Goodnight."
He watched her climb up the staircase, her head bent forward a little, one hand on the rail. It was well-lit upstairs - the glow coming from around the corner was a tell-tale welcome. There would still be maids, readying rooms for guests, tidying up, preparing for the next day: Relena's room had been made well in advance, she would be coming to a bed laid out for sleep, the covers folded back, the lamp on the nightstand lit low, the door to the bathroom open suggestively.
At least, that's how he imagined it. Whether she had a lamp on a nighstand, or a nightstand at all, was unknown to him. The maids worked hard; he guessed they might even go so far as to lay out pajamas for her. She seemed to be babied by some of the staff: he saw her talking to them in hotels, waiting for the elevator or her car. They enjoyed it, and so did she. Either way, he never found himself ascending to the second floor of the manor. He never needed to. That was not what he was there for.
She had turned the corner without looking back, the hand that had slid up the rail raking her hair back over her shoulder. She seemed rumpled.
It must have been late.