Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. I am making no profit off of this fic.

The Great Yuy- Chapter 4

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired."

-Random phrase that entered Nick's head after Gatsby's request, F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

4 June AC 202

1800 hours

Counter: 3:30

The dining room seemed empty, though it was filled with more people than was probably the required safety limit. No one said a word, their perplexed gazes shifting from the soldier to the socialite. Relena's cheeks burned, though she was all but oblivious to their stares, too absorbed was she by her own thoughts.

What just happened? She asked herself repeatedly. What did I do wrong? Heero was seated across the table, twisting his napkin into all different shapes- the only indication of any possible anxiety. Otherwise, he was his customary, unreadable self- in other words, normal. It was as if before had never happened, or if it did happen, it was because he had been abducted by aliens. But then, Relena had a wild imagination. Still, it did seem to be an impostor- after all, had "playful" ever been used to describe Heero Yuy before? No, never. But that was what it was. He'd smiled; she was a witness to it herself, though she could hardly believe it.

He was beautiful, she thought silently before she pushed that treacherous idea away, finally remembering that she did in fact have a boyfriend. You should have stopped it, Relena, her conscience nagged her. You have a boyfriend, it isn't right to act like that with another man.

Stopped what? Act like what? We didn't even do anything, really, she retorted, quite aware that having a conversation with yourself was the first symptom of insanity. Whatever it was made Heero happy for a little bit, so what's the harm?

Relena sighed inwardly. She wished he could be happy now. If there hadn't been so many witnesses, she would have believed that she invented the entire incident, another product of her overly active imagination.

While Relena was having a debate with the little angel that represented her conscience, Heero was putting all the blame of "The Incident" (not just an incident to him, but "The Incident") on himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid was his mantra as he pushed around his dinner with his fork hand and strangled his napkin with the other. Though he was only slightly sweaty from the afternoon exercise, he felt dirty compared to the rest of them. He had no time to change for dinner and was still in the faded ripped jeans and tank top he had put on after he got there. Even Catherine and Trowa, and Duo and Hilde looked more presentable than he did, although their economic situations were only a little bit better than his was. Though they were dressed in summery attire, they still managed to look classy. Trowa, in fact, fit right in with the higher-class guests, in a pale green silk shirt and khaki pants that were apparently a gift from Quatre. Heero felt like the spotted saucer amid sparkling china. Of course, no one looked better than Relena did, in a simple blue sundress of a smooth, silky material that his lack of expertise prevented him from identifying. He couldn't imagine how Relena would want to be seen with him on a normal occasion, let alone one that could possibly be considered inappropriate.

He replayed that afternoon's "incident" over and over in his head. In that scene, Relena was dressed as she was, the sweet heroine seduced (he couldn't even say in love with, in that context it seemed wrong), by the uncouth "peasant," that is, himself, who wasn't even presentable enough to be on a romance novel cover. A ripped shirt baring his chest would have even been more appropriate than his clothes- he looked more the part of a mugger or a rapist, at least to his eyes. Of course, it wasn't THAT bad, and if he thought all Relena cared about was his clothes, and perhaps a lack of propriety (which she could also be blamed for), then he really needed to get his priorities straight. Clearly, that was a lesson to be learned for another time though. In any case, he didn't like to be singled out that way. But the frown on Relena's face that was the result of her inner argument hit him harder, as she was staring directly at him when she did it. It was that expression that finally got to him, nothing else. He threw down his napkin and left the table without asking to be excused (another minor faux paux, which he didn't care so much about at that moment).

Tempted though she was to follow him, Relena remained in her place. She wasn't that unaware of her surroundings to know he had been looking at her before he left. And that left her wondering what she could have possibly done wrong, this time.

4 June AC 202

23:30 Hours

Counter: 08:00

Heero rolled over onto his side, his mattress molding to accommodate his shape without a squeak. There were no lumps in it, like there were in his bed at home, but he still couldn't get comfortable. He beat his pillow to flatten it, but the down feathers fluffed back up again. Frustrated, he sat up; beads of sweat dripping down his face from the constant movement, the warm silk sheets and the hot artificial air that blew in from the window. Even in his night wear- a pair of boxer shorts, and no shirt- he was boiling. If he had wanted to of course, Heero probably could have turned on the air conditioning, which there was in every room of the Winner Mansion. But, as he had no such luxury in his own house, he did without, fearing perhaps, that he would get spoiled.

Still, it was hardly fair to blame his environment for keeping him awake. The image of that afternoon haunted him, one that both filled him with a great longing, and a great disgust. The former only made the latter even worse. He'd been so close, just inches away from touching her, from kissing her, from nearly ruining her life, he thought bitterly. He sighed, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Dr. J was right. I'm not good enough for her. I embarrassed her in front of everyone. She probably hates me now. They probably think we're having an affair or something. Humph. If the others hadn't shown up, who knows what I could have done to her?

Heero's conscience ignored the possibility that she might have wanted him to, not to mention that she'd also forgotten that she had a boyfriend at home. And that really they hadn't done anything wrong, he just might have wanted to. But he was more focused at what Dr. J had said and how he looked among the others, his own image, that distorted view that blasted mirror had given him. Because of that, he could never be more than a lover for Relena. He wasn't good enough to be anything but a fun affair on the side. That was what bothered him the most that evening- what they had been doing didn't seem to factor love anywhere in the picture. How could it, she had the perfect boyfriend already, one who was her equal in almost every way. For a moment, he felt a pang of jealousy of that rich brat he had disliked so in high school. He had everything he wanted: money, status, sophistication… and Relena. Everything went back to Relena. The first things would have meant nothing if they couldn't get the last. Relena and Jonathan had them, and that was what made them the perfect pair, the model couple of high society. The only way Heero could ever fit into that picture was wearing a Preventer uniform in the background as her bodyguard.

But that can change, can't it? Heero though suddenly, glancing at the weathered copy of his favorite book that lay open on the night table. It had spent quite a few hours abandoned in the garden before he had thought to retrieve it. And looking at it gave him a sudden inspiration. For if James Gatz could become Jay Gatsby, why couldn't he? Of course, he couldn't get a fortune over night; that was for certain. But he could pretend, as Gatsby had at first. The only difference would be that Heero wouldn't fail. His Daisy would be his, and Heero knew just who could help him achieve that. Flinging off the covers, he jumped out of bed, ready to set his plan into motion that very instant.

23:45 hours

Counter: 08:15

It took 15 minutes of wandering through corridors before Heero finally located the room of his host. And he had no scruples knocking on the door right way (He would have to learn manners too), never thinking that Quatre might be asleep, or otherwise occupied.

He heard grumbling and the sounds of someone fumbling in the dark, before his host opened the door, clad in a sky blue bathrobe, which was wrapped tightly around him, as if hiding something he didn't want anyone to see. His blonde hair was messy, though not a victim of the dreaded bed head, and his face was flushed quite red, from either exercise or embarrassment or anger or all at once. "What's the matter, Heero?"

"I need your help," the soldier replied shortly, barging in the room without further invitation. As he walked in, Trowa exited the adjoining bathroom, a towel around his waist and his hair dripping wet.

The two Gundam pilots blinked at each other as an expression of surprise, but said nothing. Heero wondered quietly to himself why the two comrades had to share a room in such a large house. But the curiosity was brief; right now, he had bigger problems. He turned back to the other boy, repeating, "I need your help."

"Yes, you said that before," Quatre said patiently. Heero had gotten lucky that his richest friend was also the kindest as well; nobody else would have put up with him like this. "What's the problem?"

Heero paused for a moment; wondering exactly how he'd planned on phrasing this. But his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, and before he could approach the subject delicately, he blurted out: "I need your help to get Relena to fall in love with me."

At that moment, two mouths simultaneously fell open.

"What?" Quatre cried, as Trowa grabbed his towel quickly to prevent it from falling to the floor.

Heero shook his head, explaining hurriedly, "No, not exactly. See, look at me, I'm a mess. I'm poor; I have no place in society. And after what happened tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if she never wanted to be seen in public with me again. Who knows what we might have done if you hadn't shown up tonight? But I want to change. I want to be as cultured and refined as that idiot she's seeing is. I want to be someone she won't be afraid to have a public relationship with, someone she could be proud of. But I need your help to do it. Will you?"

His comrades gaped at him, amazed at the spill of words that had just poured out of his mouth. They weren't sure if he was drunk, or had gone insane, or what. Quatre was the first to recover from the shock; at least enough to process what he was saying and disagree with it.

"We could try. But it won't be easy and we need more time. Rome wasn't built in a day, Eliza Doolittle didn't become my fair lady overnight you know."
"Take all the time you need. Then I can go to Earth and Relena and I can…"
Quatre cut him off in this new tirade. "It hurts me to say this," he began, and he knew it to be true. In experiencing the emotions of others, he knew what to expect. It was difficult knowing others' feelings, but it was worse when it was those of his friends. And he had never seen Heero so passionate (not to mention vocal) about something. It would be torture to burst his bubble, but he couldn't let him go on without knowing.

"Actually," he began, choking the words out, "you only have a week, till next Sunday, exactly. That's a week from today, well, it'll be yesterday, in a couple of minutes. That's when Relena goes home. And once that happens…" His voice trailed off and he suddenly felt sick from the rising panic his friend was giving off like radio waves. Trowa reached out to strengthen him, but Heero go there first.
"What? What is it? Tell me, damnit!" Heero demanded him, pulling him violently by the collar of his robe. But Quatre didn't have a chance to tell him delicately, as he hoped.

"Jon is going to propose to her," Trowa said flatly, more than a bit annoyed with Heero now. He grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from Quatre.

Heero's face fell. All the color drained out of it as his hand dropped limply to his side. "What? No- that can't be possible."
"I'm sorry, Heero," Quatre patted his shoulder, apparently feeling no ill will toward the person who could have killed him with his bare hands. "It's true. I saw the ring. He's going to ask her to marry him, the night she gets home. Once I found out you were coming, I managed to convince him to put it off until then, but once she goes back to Earth- it's over." Quatre was taken aback by how much the man's body shook under his hand. Heero's head was bowed; any other person might have started to cry something that perhaps had never happened in the life of Heero Yuy.

But it only lasted a brief moment; soon he calmed himself. Those reactions were for the weak. He would not be among them; he would not break down. Not when he was faced with the prospect of losing the most important person in his life.

"I'm not giving up," he said firmly. Trowa and Quatre looked at him in astonishment. "I will do this, with or without your help. I don't have a choice. I will get Relena back."
"Even if we do this, I don't think-" Quatre started to say, but Trowa shook his head. And he had to acknowledge that the quiet man knew better than he did. He had, after all, followed Heero throughout Europe, just to make up for a mistake that someone had tricked him into making. There would be no talking him out of this, even if it were destined for failure. No matter how stupid the method, Heero would see it through until the end.

"Besides," he continued, a smirk creeping upon his face, "I've done harder things then this, and you know it. I can handle this." But Heero Yuy, the great soldier who single-handedly saved a planet, could not handle this. He could not handle this at all.