Disclaimer: I don't own GW or its characters, and I write this without permission from those who do, but for no monetary gain.
The Games We Play
Bane's Desire
Warnings: infidelity, slight angst, 1x2, 1xR, R x others. Not meant as a Relena bashing fic, but rather a story about Relena coping.
Lyrics in italics are from the song, Easy From Now On
/There he goes, gone again. Same old story's got to come to an end./
I flinch as the door slams shut with deliberate determination behind him, then eye the room worriedly, hoping that nothing falls off of the walls and adds to the exorbitant cost of the suite we're staying in for the Earth/Colony Trade Conference.
"Bastard," I snarl after the man I had once foolishly dreamed was my knight in shining armor. He's the main reason my vocabulary has expanded with descriptive expletives since my marriage to him two years ago. I look around and feel some odd bit of gratitude that at least nothing in the room was damaged by our argument and his forceful exit.
Still angry, I move to the closet and throw the double doors open and0. proceed to go through the clothing hanging there, moving from one end of the space to the other looking for something suitable. I figure that if my cheating husband can go out for the night, so can I. I no longer wear the proverbial rose-colored glasses of my youth that allowed me believe in a one-and-only true love and absolute fidelity to your spouse. No, those beliefs were shattered six months into my marriage. I've also don't believe in the double standard, that he can cheat on me and I remain the dutiful, chaste little wife. We have anything but the traditional marriage, though we've both taken extreme care that the press and public perceives us as a happily married, successful couple. In private, however, we're something all together different.
I sigh as I continue through the closet. I own many beautiful and costly apparel, but I really don't really have much in my wardrobe that would be too daring or flashy. The gossip pages would rip me up and call me a slut in ten different, more polite ways and languages if I dared to wear anything deemed inappropriate for the Earth's youngest, very proper and highly moral Vice Minister of Trade Relations who just happens to be married to an ex-gundam pilot. I snort at that thought. I'm such a hypocrite, pretending to be some paragon of virtue when I'm anything but that; but then, so is he.
My hand finally lands on something I've saved for such a night as this. I take out a long, sleeveless and slinky red dress that Dorothy helped pick out a month ago. She insisted at the time that I needed a little spice in my life and that a sexy red dress might help restore my sagging spirits. I hate it when she's right, mainly because she never lets me forget it.
I hold that very same, obscenely expensive dress up in front of me now and, with a growing smile, nod approvingly at the clingy material. The daring neckline dips temptingly low, but is only half as low as the back of the dress which drops to a point just below my waist. It would be scandalous for me to go out in public wearing such a dress; but then again, I don't plan on advertising the fact that it's me who's sneaking down to the hotel bar for a couple of good strong drinks and maybe even some company for the evening. My goal tonight is to get moderately drunk and flirt outrageously, for it's been a hell of a long day and an even a longer couple of years.
With my suitcase resting on the floor of the closet before me, I'm struck with a sudden idea. Carelessly tossing the dress onto the bed, I rummage though my large, dark green suitcase and pull out my opera glasses then move quickly to the window that overlooks the street, five storeys down. Even though it's dark out, the street below is brightly lit by lampposts and the electric signs boldly advertising the businesses that cater to evening amusements, it's not to hard to spot my bastard of a husband. His handsome good looks and mop of unruly, dark-brown hair cause him to stand out in any crowd.
I follow him with my eyes as he exits the front of our hotel and walks to the crosswalk at the north end of the building. The traffic is heavy this evening, so I suppose he's decided to take the safer route across. It's after he gets to the other side of the street that I spot the person he's been seeing on the sly for most of our marriage. After all, the long braid and slender body are anything but unobtrusive. Fortunately, no one who sees the two men embracing - for just a little too long to be normal - would think anything of it even if they were to recognize them for who they are. Everyone believes they're just close friends, and their meeting like this appears on the surface like two war buddies simply getting together for a drink. I comfort myself with the thought that at least Heero has been somewhat circumspect by not announcing his indiscretion to the world.
Still standing at the hotel window, I continue to watch the two men through my opera glasses as they walk shoulder to shoulder to the hotel across the street, talking and smiling as if they haven't a care in the world. As they enter the rotating door of the other hotel, the only thought that comes to my head is that what's good for the gander is good for the goose. Heero told me before he left that he wouldn't be back until morning when we're both scheduled to appear at a conference breakfast with the other delegates, which means I have the night to myself.
"That's just fine, Heero," I say out loud, putting the opera glasses down on the dresser. "This just means a night out for me, too. After all, when the cat's away..." Turning with a grin on my face, I walk to the bed, pick up the dress and disappear into the bathroom to freshen up.
/Loving him is a one way street, but I'm getting off where the crossroads meet./
With my long hair tucked up safely in the shower cap, I step into the tepid shower, letting the lower-temperature water cool off my anger and resentment garnered from our earlier argument. It has the desired affect, and leaves me in a state of drained lassitude. Heero has dragged me through a range of emotions over the last couple of years that all I'm left with now are bouts of anger followed by indifference.
Heero unnerves and unsettles me, he always has, but in a whole different manner now than when I was young and naive. I chased him from one continent to another, and even to space in order to command his attention and affection. What a foolish, silly schoolgirl and grandiose dreamer I was. I can't say he didn't warn me before we hastily eloped. He'd confessed to me on the night he showed up on my doorstep that he'd had a long-running affair with another gundam pilot and that they'd just broken off their relationship after a heated disagreement. He'd come to me for shelter and comfort for his newly-broken heart and I was giddy with happiness that he had. I decided that night that the chance I'd been waiting so long for had finally come, and from that moment on I proceeded to do everything in my power to turn Heero away from Duo Maxwell and into my own arms.
I began my campaign by tactfully telling him that his relationship with Duo had been unnatural, that true love and affection could only be maintained within a traditional male/female relationship. I saw his mind struggling to understand my meaning and balance that with his own feelings that were still a mystery to him at times. As the days and weeks passed, I made sure that Heero had little to no contact with his former comrades and blocked all communication attempts from the braided pilot. I purposely took to traveling extensively, scheduling meetings and lectures all over the globe with Heero accompanying me as my bodyguard. I kept him physically busy and isolated from the other pilots, and made sure his mind was equally occupied to the extent that he didn't have time to think about the pilot he'd had a relationship with. Then, while we were in the unbelievably romantic Caribbean, I managed to coerce him into going to a Justice of the Peace and we were married. It was a day and a decision that I will long regret.
He'd already had a few drinks before we got to the wedding chapel, but afterwards he got horribly drunk at the hotel restaurant where we'd stopped for a romantic dinner before retiring to my room. It was his alcohol consumption that I blamed for his rather poor performance in our marriage bed. I did everything my inexperienced mind could come up with to get him aroused, but I only managed to get him worked up enough that he had to run to the bathroom to throw up. Not exactly the way I envisioned my first night with my handsome husband.
The second night wasn't all that great, either. Heero was much more lucid, but his kisses were rough and his calloused hands exploring my more intimate, tender areas caused more pain than pleasure. When I complained about it, he simply told me Duo had always enjoyed his touch. Needless to say, I blew up and told him, in no uncertain terms, that I didn't give a damn about what Duo had or had not liked, that I didn't want to be treated roughly. I said, rather haughtily, that I was a lady and the only person that should matter to him now. He'd married me, not Duo Maxwell, and that thoughts of his former lover had no place in our bed or our lives. I went on to say that if I could arrange it, he'd never see the other man for the rest of his life. Admittedly, I'd spoken in the heat of the moment, hurt by the comparison to his former male lover. In retrospect, that was probably one of the worst things I could have said. Heero glared at me with such unforgettable venom then climbed out of the bed and left the bedroom to sleep on the sofa. A happy honeymoon it wasn't.
It was a good three weeks before we returned to Sanq where we were greeted by the citizens of my country as husband and wife - the news of our elopement had been discretely slipped to the press a week before. Once we settled into a routine, we finally consummated our marriage. From the beginning, Heero insisted on wearing a condom with no explanation as to why. I let it go, just trying to keep the uneasy truce we'd silently come to. But at the first opportunity I had I set up an appointment for him to visit the doctor for a check up. I thought he might have contracted some STD after having sex with a boy from L-2, and that, I reasoned, must have been the reason for the condom. It never dawned on me that he was afraid I might become pregnant.
Though our sex life wasn't stellar nor all that frequent, we did manage to engage in it several times a month. It irritated me that he always preferred me lying on my stomach or on my hands and knees when we made love. I didn't derive much pleasure from those positions but he seemed to prefer them to any other position I insisted we try. In the long run, I decided it was better to do it his way rather than no way at all.
We were six months into our marriage when I noticed a change in my husband. Heero seemed distracted while on the job. Usually so keenly aware of me and the presence of any potential danger, I often caught him looking out a window, a door, or down a street. It didn't appeared as if he were looking for some potential danger, but for something specific... and daydreaming. He had always been an inordinately focused bodyguard, vigilant in keeping an eye out for any possible lurking danger, but now his gaze was different, and I didn't know why.
Then one unhappy day I discovered just what he'd been looking for.
It was spring and we were in Paris for the opening of a new opera house. They say springtime in Paris is for lovers, and with that in mind I'd looked forward to our time there together, hoping to give our flagging love life a boost. The beautifully designed opera house was elegantly and tastefully decorated, and that night it was filled with wealthy patrons dressed in expensive eveningwear as the crystal chandeliers high above shed their sparkling light over the assembled patrons of art.
As the lights dimmed and the curtains closed, the orchestra started up with the delicate strains of the first act. Well into the first scene, I turned my head to see if Heero, sitting to the right and slightly behind me, was enjoying the lights, costumes and music as much as I was. It was then that I noticed my husband's eyes were focused intently on a point across the room and slightly down from the location of our seats on the second mezzanine, one floor below us. I remember thinking it odd that the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Curious as to what had caused that odd smile, I raised my opera glasses to gaze across the room to the area he was so intently focused on.
I remember my reaction very clearly. My heart felt as if it had dropped into my stomach when I spotted none other than Duo Maxwell, sitting alone in a box seat across the room from us, looking devastatingly handsome and elegant in a black stylish suit, gray silk shirt and a darker shade of gray tie. His trademark long braid was pulled over his shoulder and he looked as comfortable in the rich and high-social setting as he had been in his gundam. My blood seemed to burn in my veins as I observed his head turn and his eyes immediately fix on my husband. He must have seen me sitting next to Heero, watching him, yet he ignored me for my handsome husband, who never once looked back to the stage. By the end of the first half, I could take it no longer, and pleading a headache, Heero promptly escorted me back to the hotel. Our fight, once we were safely ensconced in our room, was loud and legendary. I did all the yelling, accusing and threatening while he leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes half shut as he took my verbal abuse without a word in return.
When at last I'd said all I could and exhausted myself, he straightened from the wall and said in an even-toned, almost bored sounding voice, "I'm going out. I'll come back after you've had a chance to cool down."
With all the anger seething still within me, I said through gritted teeth, "Don't you dare walk out of here. I want your promise that you'll have nothing to do with him ever again. Do you understand me, Heero?" I'd thought..., no, I'd hoped my wants, needs and happiness would take precedence over everything else in his life. I was his wife after all, but I was also dead wrong.
"Go to bed," was all he'd said before he turned and left me standing dumbstruck and furious. He was gone for three days and when he returned, it was without an apology. Again I yelled and screamed at his heartless insensitivity, and once again he stood and took it, not a word to account for his leaving me in Paris, alone in a hotel room during his three-day absence. Sadly, my yelling at him like an uncontrolled banshee and his taking it, seemingly in stride, became our pattern of fighting that continues to this day.
Stepping out of the shower and quickly drying off my skin, I toss off the shower cap and shake out my hair as I move to the vanity and begin to put on my make-up, applying a daring shade of red to my lips and a bit more eye make-up than I would normally wear. The last touch is the black eyebrow pencil applied over my light-brown brows. I put on the slinky red dress, then bring out the wig I've come to rely on for my little outings into the real world. It's black, and matches my mood perfectly.
/Quarter moon in a ten cent town. It's time for me to lay my heartache down./
The hotel's bar is classier than some of the ones I've visited over the last couple of years, but the dim light and sultry music is exactly what I need tonight. Well, that and the strawberry daiquiri in front of me. I sip at the cool, sweet contents within the tall-stemmed and wide-brimmed glass. It's good, but I liked the pina colada I'd had before this even better. Think I'll have another one once I've finished my current drink. Waste not want not, they say. I feel myself grinning and enjoying the warm buzz the alcohol gives me.
"Relena?" I recognize the stunned voice immediately, but I'm not so sure I should acknowledge that, yes, it's me sitting in a bar looking like a not-so-cheap barfly. I ignore him for a moment, hoping he'll go away. He doesn't. Instead, he sits down on the stool next to me and leans down far enough to get a visual confirmation that the person before him is indeed the mighty Relena Peacecraft-Yuy who has fallen. "Are you here alone?" he asks, sounding politely incredulous.
I raise my eyes from my glass and look sideways at the handsome, blond man, a saturnine smile on my face. "Of course I'm alone. I'm always alone."
"Where's Heero?"
"Out."
"Out where?"
I look up and give him a pointedly annoyed glare. "Guess."
He doesn't answer, but the sympathy I see in his eyes tells me he knows very well where Heero is, and more importantly, who he's with. "I'm sorry," he says, and I can almost believe him.
"Yeah, aren't we all."
He sighs and shakes his head. "We could have told you marrying him was a mistake, but you wouldn't accept any of our calls. Then, before we knew it, you'd eloped."
Now I turn fully to look at my uninvited companion, angered by what he's just said. "And just how did you know it was destined to be a mistake? I've tried everything in my power to get him to love me, Quatre. Did you have a crystal ball? Or does that space heart Heero's told me about predict the future?"
The blond head shook and Quatre's face reflected his remorse at having spoken so plainly. "Heero and Duo fell in love with each other shortly after their first meeting, and their feelings for each other have at times seemed to be beyond reason. Though they appear to be opposites in numerous ways, they are very much alike in so many others. They compliment and complete each other, Relena, in ways you can't understand. Heero came to you at a time when he and Duo were going through some difficulties. He was hurt and confused after Duo tossed him out of their apartment and went to you looking for comfort. You took advantage of that, didn't you, Relena?"
"And I've regretted it ever since," I say bitterly as I look down the bar and wave my hand. "Barkeep, another pina colada, please." The good-looking, white-shirt, bow-tied man looks my way and smiles, then goes to work on preparing my third drink of the evening. "Where's your better half?" I ask, turning back to my bar-stool companion.
The handsome blond's face clouds over a moment before he masks his hurt. "I don't know," he answers truthfully.
"Trouble in paradise?" I muse sarcastically.
Quatre snorts and looks to the barkeep as he places my drink in front of me, taking the nearly empty one away. I open my purse and put some credits down for payment and tip. "Club soda," Quatre tells the man. The ordered drink arrives in what seems like an impossibly short amount of time. I realize then that the bartender must have recognized just who he was serving. Quatre Winner, after all, is as well known on Earth as he is in the colonies. Also attending the trade convention, the wealthy businessman was one of the keynote speakers that afternoon. I've always thought of him as being intelligent and intuitive, and he proved to be just that to the large audience today.
"So what happened?" I ask, curious as to what could have gone wrong with the couple that seemed to be happily joined at the hip.
The blond man shrugs. "Trowa has a hard time settling down," he answers, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Every once in a while he needs to take off and follow the circus."
"How long has he been gone this time?"
One blond eyebrow rises at the boldness of my question, but still he answers, "Four months."
"Four months without sex?" I giggle after I realize I'd said that a bit too loud and Quatre's face pinks up nicely. I'm beginning to think he looks pretty damn sexy and wonder if I can get him to blush some more.
Leaning closer, he gives me a sexy, suggestive grin and answers me in a voice that is low and barely above a whisper. "Who said anything about going without?"
For some reason that statement shocks me. "You have an open relationship?"
Sitting back a bit and combing a hand through his silky blond hair, Quatre sighs, sounding weary. "Trowa doesn't adhere to the idea of absolute fidelity. He says he loves me and declares that those feelings will never change. But while we're away from each other, he doesn't see any reason not to satisfy his sexual needs with someone more convenient." The furrow between the blue-green eyes tells me that Quatre isn't in complete agreement with his lover's belief.
"It hurts, doesn't it?"
Taking a sip of his drink, the blond nods his head, not meeting my eyes. I reach out and put my hand on his arm, enjoying the feel of his expensive shirt. "Birds of a feather flock together," I tell him as a way of commiserating with his pain. I suppose we are both stooges to the men that we've given our hearts to.
He sets his glass down and puts his other hand over mine, his eyes turning to regard me. "I don't know if this will be any consolation to you or not, Relena, but you're not the only one Heero's cheated on."
I think I almost swallowed my tongue at that statement. "What do you mean?"
"Trowa slept with Heero also."
"You have got to be kidding." I was honestly surprised at this little revelation.
Quatre shakes his head. He looks hurt. "Trowa's always had a thing for him, from the time he rescued Heero after he self destructed in Wing during the war. They had sex several times as they traveled together, when Heero went on his trip seeking to make restitution to Noventa's family members. Their physical relationship came to an end when they joined the rest of us in space and Heero went back to Duo. It happened once again after the wars and Duo found out. That's what they'd fought about just before they separated."
It was almost poetic justice that Heero cheated on Duo just as he cheats on me, and I can't help but give the blond man a grateful smile for that little tidbit of information a moment before I swallow half of my drink. I'm beginning to feel a bit better already. "Any other indiscretions I should know about?"
"Not that I know of."
"So." I turn to give the handsome businessman an appraising look. "What's a good-looking guy like you doing in a place like this?" I ask teasingly, my eyes settling on his lips. They look so kissable and I can't help but hope he's bi-sexual.
Leaning an elbow on the bar and resting his head on his upraised hand, he smiles lazily at me. "Just looking for some company. I'm not a person who likes to be alone with nothing to do."
"Are you staying in this hotel?"
He gives me a nod of his head and I make a bold move by placing my hand on his knee. I feel his leg twitch, but he doesn't remove it. A slow smile grows on his face and my lower regions flutter. I can't help but think that Trowa Barton is the biggest fool in the universe.
"How about treating me to a nightcap? I assume you have a bar in your room?"
He stands from his stool in an unhurried manner and holds his arm out to me in invitation, which I eagerly accept. "Birds of a feather," he repeats back to me my earlier saying with a sly smile.
"Doves?" I question.
"Hardly." His laughter is light and adds to his attractiveness as he leads me out of the bar and to the elevator.
/It's Saturday night and I'm gonna make myself a name. Take a month of Sundays to try and explain/
With one hand behind my head and another in the middle of my back, Quatre gently lowers me onto his king-size bed. I don't feel the need to ask him if he's ever slept with a woman before as his method of foreplay is perfectly suited to a woman's needs and desires. I suddenly feel a deep need, a craving for him to give me what I've never really had from my husband: honest and tender affection.
As my bare back hits the cool sheets, his strong arms lift me further to settle my body more to the middle of the bed and then he climbs on top of me, his arms keeping the bulk of his weight from resting on me completely. His body is beautiful, his touch sublime, and his hardened manhood surrounded by dark blond curls is worthy of porn. Every move he makes is calculated to bring pleasure, every kiss and touch is pure perfection. I don't require a lot of foreplay when I'm touched as if I'm a precious treasure, and I desperately need him to take my body, and help me forget the unhappy life I've created for myself because of my girlhood fantasies.
No words pass our lips as we engage in the primal mating dance together. He keeps his eyes closed most of the time and I have to wonder if it's even me he's making such tender love to. At this point, I don't give a damn. I haven't felt this good in quite a while and I'm going to enjoy it for as long as I can. After all, I know better than anyone that tomorrow I'll take up the role I've set myself up for, that of appearing to be the dutiful wife and responsible government official.
/It's gonna be easy to fill, the heart of a thirsty woman; harder to kill the ghost of another man. And I'll be riding high in a fandangled sky. It's gonna be easy. It's gonna be easy from now on./
Quatre hands me a fistful of tissues to clean myself with, and I smile with gratitude as I take them and slip my hand beneath the sheets to wipe away the excess moisture between my legs. Even after using a condom I feel excessively wet from the satisfying sex I've shared with my husband's friend. From the corner of my eye I see Quatre slipping on a clean pair of boxer briefs and then he climbs back into bed and turns on his side to look at me. "Thank you," he says in his soft and gentle manner.
I smile at him. "No, thank you. I needed that." I toss the used, damp tissues towards a trash receptacle that sits next to the bed, and smile as I hit my target.
"I don't intend to tell anyone about this," he tells me out of the blue.
"Neither do I." I have a reputation to protect after all and I'm glad he understands that. I snuggle closer to him and place a soft, brief kiss on his lips before I settle my head on his heated chest. "Do you mind if I stay awhile?" I ask. "Heero won't be back until morning and I'd appreciate the company."
/Raw as the wind, the dream has flown. Soft to the touch when you take me home./
"Why do you stay with him?" Quatre asks, his voice but a whisper in the dim lit room.
"I have my reasons."
"Like what?"
"My reputation, saving face and most importantly, revenge... just to name a few."
"Revenge?"
"I don't really feel inclined to give Heero his freedom only to have him run to Duo. He cheats on me and I make him suffer by dragging his cheating ass around the globe and keeping Duo basically unemployed and in a state of near poverty as he follows after us. That's the nature of this game we're playing."
"Not exactly what I expected to hear from a pacifist. What happened to turning the other cheek, forgive and forget?"
"You confuse pacifism with religion. If that was the case, how about 'Thou shalt not commit adultery?" I snap back.
"Touche," he answers. "But you're not exactly in a position to cast the first stone, are you?"
I pick my head up to glare at him. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
"No," he answers simply. When I see he's not going to say anything further, I put my head back down on his bare shoulder. "Why don't you dump Trowa?"
"Sometimes I wonder," he sighs heavily. "I suppose, in many respects, I'm living a life similar to Duo, and Trowa is in some respects like Heero. Heero's attached to you legally and out of some odd sense of duty, and Trowa is attached to the circus and his damned wanderlust. And as Duo loves Heero too much to live without him, I love Trowa too much to give up on him completely, even though he continues to test my resolve to wait until he either learns to settle down with me or leaves me for someone or something else."
"We're pretty pathetic, aren't we?" The smile I try to give him is forced and somewhat sad.
His hand moves across my bare back. "We are what we are, Relena, at least until we accept the inevitable."
I decided I don't want to discuss this any further and I turn to lean over to the bedside table and turn off the small bed-side lamp. As I rest against his side once again, I whisper, "Whatever the future holds, we aren't alone tonight."
/When the morning comes and it's time for me to leave, don't worry about me I've got a wild card up my sleeve./
I slip out of the large bed at five fifteen in the morning and avail myself of Quatre's bathroom. Standing in the shower I let the hot water sluice over my skin and wash away any evidence and taint of my night in another man's bed. As I lather the soap all over my body, I think about what Quatre said the night before, how he relates his role in his relationship with Trowa to Duo, who loves a man he can never completely have, and how Heero and Trowa are trapped in a vicious cycle of their own making, hurting the person they love the most. I don't think I'll ever understand the male species. Of course, I've never had what I considered stellar examples either.
My shower is quicker than usual because I don't wash my hair, and I walk back into the bedroom with only a towel around me as I look for the dress I'd discarded rather hastily the night before. Quatre's awake and watching me as I drop the towel and slip the red evening dress over my head.
"Even though Duo's my best friend and I understand that it's love that motivates him, I don't entirely approve of what he and Heero are doing. You and Heero are married, after all. I want you to know that you can call me any time you feel alone and need a friend, Relena. I hope you know that I'll be there for you."
His offer surprises me, and I find I'm genuinely grateful for it. "Thank you, Quatre. I'll remember that."
I pick up my shoes and clutch purse and carry them with me as I climb up onto the bed one last time to kiss the gorgeous and sexy man in the middle of the mattress. "I'll not forget last night any time soon. Thank you," I say with all sincerity, then move away before anything else can happen. It's important that I get back to my room before any of the convention delegates are up and the chance for discovery increases. Twisting my hair on top of my head, I hold it in place while I slip my wig back on and check in the mirror to see that it's on right. Without looking back, I whisper, "Goodbye, Quatre," then leave the room and walk barefoot and as stealthy as possible back to my own suite on the other side of the building.
After sliding the keycard into the door, I enter the dark, uninhabited room and go immediately to the T.V. and turn it on for the purpose of having some light. Slipping off my dress, I let it drop into a heap on the floor. Then grabbing the wig with one hand, I pull it off and fling it onto a nearby chair as I move towards the turned-down bed. Taking the chocolate mint off the pillow, I climb between the satiny-soft sheets, enjoying the feel of them against my bare skin. I carefully unwrap the foil and pop the candy into my mouth and let my mouth water around the chocolate-mint treat while gazing up at the ceiling, contemplating the night I've just spent with Quatre Winner.
Suddenly, I can't help the smile that comes to my face. I hadn't planned it, so maybe it's fate, dumb luck or some cosmic balancing act that brought him my way last night. I've now slept with all but one of the former gundam pilots, that exception being Duo. I seriously doubt that I can seduce him into my bed while Heero is off somewhere else. Having sex with four out of the five former gundam pilots is something I don't think any other woman in the solar system can boast of; not that I would, mind you. And though I spoke truthfully to Quatre about not telling anyone what we'd done, I know that Heero will eventually find out. If he doesn't view the hotel's security videotape and discover me in my black wig and new dress going into Quatre's room, then I'll let something slip in one of our roof-raising fights, hinting that I'd put another notch in our proverbial bedpost.
Poor Quatre, Trowa is playing him for a fool. Tall and more handsome than most men, with his fine feature, perfect skin and hot body, the former Heavyarms pilot is actively working to become the poster boy for the saying, 'Sewing his wild oats'. Wild best describes the night we spent together. I was tempted to tell Quatre about his wayward lover, to help him cut the strings, but after the tender night I just spent with him, I didn't have it in me to break his heart. It would serve the vagabond circus gigolo from L-3 right if he lost the obscenely rich, ever kind and absolutely sexy businessman to someone more stable, faithful and worthy of him.
My thoughts drift from those two ill-matched lovers to Wufei; now he's a very fond memory. Like Quatre, I met up with him by chance in a museum that was being dedicated to the people of L-5 who'd lost their lives when the colony self-destructed in a drastic, calculated move to keep from being used as a tool to force their valiant warrior into giving up the fight. I found Mr. Chang to have everything that a woman could want in a lover: gentleness, sensitivity and thorough to a fault in his lovemaking technique. Who would have thought that the person who seemed at times to be a misogynist in his youth had grown into a man that was a very passionate lover.
Each of the three former gundam pilots filled some of the emptiness that is a permanent part of me, giving me a feeling of satisfaction that I can't really put a name to. I wouldn't have minded having something more than a one night stand with any of them, but I realize all three men feel much too guilty for having slept with their friend and former comrade's wife to have more than that one, unplanned night with me. I'm sure they justify our brief liaison as being Heero's just desserts for his carrying on with Duo while married to me, something they're all well aware of. The best part of this is that none of them will tell the others that they've had sex with me, not wanting their friends to know of their indiscretion. Because of that, they're inadvertently keeping safe my secret of being something other than the devoted wife, at least for the time being.
I turn on my side and think that it's rather funny how I've changed over the last eighteen months. I can't say I like the person I've become, but revenge does temporarily help ease the sting I feel in knowing my life less than perfect. For a short while, the feeling of having gotten some small bit of payback helps to fill the emptiness I feel from being in a loveless marriage. I've stopped justifying my actions, vindictive though they may be at times. Right now, I'm too tired to even think about anything else but sleeping. I've got to get up in a few hours and be the responsible young woman who came into world and colony politics much too early in life. It was a role I found myself ensnared into by extraordinary events, and similar to how I trapped Heero into the role of supportive and protective husband. In the light of day we play our parts, and we play them well because it's the life we both chose, for better or for worse. Maybe one day the tabloids will discover Heero's affair with Duo, or my little habit of dressing in disguises and picking up men in bars, preferably former gundam pilots. Either scandal would ruin my career, and maybe, subconsciously, that's what I really want. Once I'm free of responsibilities and out of the public's eye, I can divorce my so-called husband and go in search of the happiness that has eluded me.
The sharp click of the door's lock startles me, but I remain still and pretend to be asleep. The door silently swings opens then closes. By the light the television casts and from under my eyelashes, I can see Heero standing in the doorway taking in the discarded dress on the floor, my shoes and handbag next to it and the black wig on the chair. He walks further into the room, strips off his clothing, meticulously folds and sets them on the chair the wig is on. He turns off the television before moving to the other side of the bed and he climbs in, wearing his tee-shirt and boxers. He settles down to sleep, turning his back to me.
And so another day of playing the game begins.
End story.
Song - Easy From Now On is by Emmy Lou Harris.