Chapter Four

Notes: Enjoy this next chapter, and Relena's first stop at a very familiar colony!

If only the throbbing of her wrists wasn't so distracting, Relena thought, as she walked down the colony streets. Besides that, she felt . . . naked . . .walking out in pubic with only the hospital gown. Even if no one could see her, it was more out of pride. She hadn't seen anyone else in a hospital gown . . .

Actually, she hadn't seen many people period. She was wondering what she was supposed to do. Apparently, she had some task to finish, which she would very much like to finish and then get the Hell out of there, but she had no clue what it was. She'd try to find her way to Quatre's residence, but, besides recognizing the colony, she didn't know it very well. She had no idea how to get to Quatre's house . . . indeed, she wasn't even sure where she was.

There was a little store to the side of the road; she had been watching it absently for some time now. Maybe, because she seemed to have some sort of fascination with it, it held some significance.

Or maybe she was just tired.

Then again, could ghosts get tired? She couldn't get cold; she knew that.

Two people came out of the building. One, a towering, heavily muscled male, the other, also male, but smaller and shorter. Younger.

"Thanks, Rashid." The small one murmured as the tall one held the door open. Relena's eyes popped, and, after a moment, she burst into a run after the two leaving figures. She knew that voice. Speak of the devil! It was Quatre!

She ran to them, and then stopped, a few feet behind. She matched their pace as they trudged up the walkway. Quatre had his hands in his pockets, and he was looking downward.

Relena only watched them. She had half started to call out to him, but had stopped herself, remembering that no one could hear her either. Damn. But, at least she felt loads better at just seeing a familiar person!

. . . Well . . . the back of a familiar person, in any case . . .

She followed them for a while more, unsure what to do. Quatre seemed sad, and neither he nor Rashid said anything.

Finally, though, the taller man broke the silence. "You shouldn't act so down, Master Quatre . . ."

"She was my friend, Rashid," Quatre sighed.

Relena felt a jolt. Was he talking about her . . . Her? Well, of course. It made sense. So, she was supposed to listen to them talk and then find some lesson out of it. Okay! Got it. Now all she had to do was wait, listen, and then she could go on!

"Perhaps if you talk about it?" Rashid prodded, gently.

Quatre sighed again. "There's not much to say. I don't know why she would do what she did, and I'm hoping that she was framed, or something . . . I'm not sure. But, it just doesn't make sense. She should've known that she could've talked to me if she was feeling depressed . . ."

"So perhaps you didn't know her that well after all."

Relena was now only a few feet behind them. She sighed. What was the point to all this? There was nothing to do but keep following . . .

"I knew her well enough!" Quatre's kind voice raised, not in anger, but in defense for himself. His words, all this time, had been coated in a thick syrup of worry. "From the war and after, I knew her well enough." His voice had gone back to it's normal tone, calm and sure. Then again, Relena noted, Quatre didn't sound as sure and calm as she'd always remembered him being . . .

"The news is nothing to go by. That's all." Quatre continued. Rashid paced silently at his side, saying little, but listening greatly. "I . . . I just need to get a first hand account of this. I'm sure when I reach Noin or . . . someone . . . I'll be able to find the truth about this . . ."

Rashid nodded. Then, when Quatre did not continue, he murmured softly, "As it is, Master Quatre, there is little you or I or anyone can do now."

Quatre head bowed, sadly. After a moment, he simply said, "I know."

Relena felt a faint pang of guilt. Then again, she'd known people would mourn her . . . Ah-hah. That was the point: to make her feel guilty, right? Well, she did feel guilty about hurting Quatre, but eventually--as selfish as it may have seemed to say- he'd get over it. It wasn't like she had done . . . it . . . in the spur of the moment. The night had been carefully planned out. And the world would've been much better off without her, really. She was sure of it. She wasn't strong enough to believe she could change the world anymore. People always had a will to fight, to kill . . . to solve problems with violence. And though she didn't believe that, she couldn't convince every single individual in the world that her own opinions were right. Now, though, the way was paved for a stronger leader, a person who could do that.

That way, the world could be the better place she'd always imagined . . .

They had reached a gate. Rashid moved up to an intercom-like-thing, speaking soft words she didn't quite catch. The gate swung open, and Rashid started inside.

Quatre stared forlornly at the opened gate for a moment. Then, he turned suddenly, his gaze swinging back . . . landing strait on Relena! She froze, eyes going wide, staring back. But! They couldn't see her!

His eyes kept going, though, and she calmed down. They swept across the entire colony, it seemed, and the colony delegate and former Gundam Pilot looked very lost, right then. Relena frowned.

Rashid turned, and his frown was more reproving then Relena's was sad. "Master Quatre."

"Coming, Rashid." Quatre's face composed itself, into the diplomatic expression Relena knew so well, and he spun immediately, following the older man inside.

"Oh, Quatre." Relena murmured, softly. She certainly hadn't though he'd be quite that broken up over it . . .

Suddenly, she gave a start. The gates were closing! She meeped and ran through the rapidly dwindling space, nearly catching the hem of her gown in the iron. She turned to frown at it, as if it had purposefully done that just to cause her trouble. Not that she was sure if she even could be hurt in this form . . . besides the throbbing in her wrists, she felt nothing at all . . . even her unprotected feet just felt . . . well . . . like they usually did. She couldn't feel the ground. Couldn't hear, smell . . . well, anything. It was unnerving. Then again, she -was- a ghost.

"This is ridiculous," She stated to the air, calmly annoyed. The air deemed it wise to not reply. That done, she started after her colony friend again, stepping after him through the large door to what apparently was his house.

She could vaguely remember coming in here once before . . . mostly, they'd meet in his office because, usually, they talked about business . . . but once he had invited her to stay the night, and she'd excepted, fairly tired with that day and not wanting to travel all the way back to earth on the same night.

She should've expected that Heero would've been there, that same night. He had been silent, watchful, and stoic as always. But he'd been there, apparently staying with Quatre . . . boy, hadn't she been surprised when she'd finished changing, come out into Quatre's drawing room and found him calmly reclining in a chair, reading a novel? It took quite a lot to surprise a diplomat like herself, who had been through the war that she had . . . but, that had done it.

Now she knew he liked the story Moby Dick, though.

He probably had known she was there even before she'd stepped in the door . . . he'd looked up, given her a small, bland nod, then gone back to ignoring her.

As he always seemed to do . . .

Back to the present, though. Quatre was walking off that-a-way . . . the plan? Follow him, of course!

That she did, blindly hoping this would solve whatever the riddle was. She followed him down a long hallway, the floor covered in a lush red carpet that she wished she could feel. It would be comforting, to be able to feel . . . well, anything, right then. There were a few other people in the hallways, people she didn't know. Quatre payed them little mind, finally stepping into one of the rooms. Relena, remembering what had happened with the door at the hospital, quickly darted in before the door shut. Then, she stood just inside the door, a little smug at her own agility. She could do this.

Sure.

After a moment, she realized that she recognized the room as Quatre's office. Her eyes followed her friend as he sat down at his desk with a small, defeated sigh. Huge stacks of paper awaited him, piled high, as if mocking him in his own work. Yet the blonde man ignore them; instead simply put his head in his hands and stared at nothing for quite awhile.

Relena shifted, standing there silently for a few moments. When nothing happened, she rolled her eyes heavenward and went to sit down at one of the big, plush chairs before Quatre's desk. It was so easy to remember when she had been there before, sitting in this very chair, crouching over trade agreements or other contracts with Quatre, firing ideas back and forth, canceling this, accepting that. She had grown to be quite fond of him, actually, and they had become good friends.

Which brought another thought to mind. Was she going to have to visit every friend before she could move on to . . .where ever? Relena blanched. This was going to take forever! Who knew dying required so much work? Ugh.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. A small clock on the wall sounded out the seconds, and when Relena realized she was absently tapping her foot to the ticks, she looked up with an annoyed glare.

Quatre was in still the same position.

She watched him for a moment, biting her lip. "Quatre, don't be so sad . . ." She murmured, half under her breath. "Look. Things will be a lot easier for you." . . .That was a flat out lie, and she knew it. " . . .Well, maybe harder at first . . . look, there's no reason for you to beat yourself up over this!"

He, of course, made no reply. Deciding that she was getting rather annoyed by all of this, Relena sat back with a small huff, suddenly jerking when Quatre raised his head, as if hearing her. She stared at him with a wide-eyed gaze for a long moment. This was really eerie, she noted. Then the phone rang, giving her another shock.

Quatre closed his eyes, looking away. The phone rang again, and he finally lifted the screen to receive the call with a resigned air.

"I asked not to receive any calls," Quatre murmured quietly, as greeting to a blonde-haired female face that filled the screen, whom Relena though to be his receptionist.

"Mr. Winner, I'm sorry, but the call was most urgent."

He paused, then nodded. "All right. Thank you." So polite.

The woman's faced quickly disappeared. Quatre moved the screen a little to get a better view of it, inconveniently cutting off Relena's view.

She bit her lip, and after a moment's consideration, stood up to go peer over Quatre's shoulder. Could ghosts eavesdrop? She was right behind him when Quatre started in surprise at the next face to fill the screen. Seeing who it was, Relena blinked as well. Now, that was a face she hadn't seen in quite a while. . .

" . . .Trowa?" Quatre asked finally, breaking the silence.

Deep green eyes and dark brown hair was there, the serious man on the other line showing no emotions, as usual, on his countenance. "Quatre." Trowa gave him a small nod of greeting.

It was obvious that Quatre was very surprised, yet happy, to see an old comrade.

"Trowa!" He exclaimed with the most energy she had seen him use that day. "What brought on this call?"

" . . .Things are happening." Trowa admitted after a moment. "They've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"They?" Quatre asked after a moment, smile fading. "Who's 'they?' "

"The Preventers." Trowa paused, then went on. "Since Relena's been . . . hospitalized, certain events and . . .groups . . .are coming to a head."

Quatre didn't answer for long moment. Then, "What do you mean?"

"I think you know."

Again, a long pause, and Quatre shook his head, in a determined fashion. "That can't be right. Heero told me they had been taken care of."

"Apparently, even the perfect soldier can make mistakes." . . .Was that a bit of dry humor? The world was coming to an end. "In any case, they haven't been taken care of."

" . . .What?" Relena finally uttered, very confused, forgetting they couldn't hear her for a moment. When no one replied, she remembered, and nearly stopped a frustrated growl. Who was "they"?

Quatre was being silent again. Trowa waited patiently, making no move or comment. Quatre opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, "What do they need me for?"

"They need to speak with you. In person."

"Why not over the phone?"

A pause. "This line is secure, Quatre. But ears can hear through walls."

Quatre nodded. "I understand." Silence, then, "When?"

"Tomorrow."

Quatre sat up strait with a small sputter. "Tomorrow?" He blinked rapidly. "That's very short notice . . ."

"A plane has already been called for you. I'm sure your work can wait a while . . ."

"Oh, God, I don't care about the work . . ." Quatre sighed, gesturing absently to his already huge and neglected pile of papers that threatened to fall over. "I'm grateful for the excuse, actually. It's just . . . " He paused. "Soon. Very . . . soon. And Rashid will want to come, meaning the rest of them will want to come, meaning . . ."

"You'll need a plan about the size of the one we've gotten for you." Trowa nodded.

She thought she heard Quatre chuckle lightly, a sound that was without mirth. "Yes, I suppose."

Trowa just nodded. "We'll talk more when you get here. The plane will arrive at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow."

"Got it. I'll . . . I'll tell the others." There was a pause, and Trowa moved as if to cut the connection. Quatre bowed his head, slightly, and let his voice stop his comrade.

"Trowa?"

Trowa's only reaction to show he had heard was his swift glancing up.

" . . .How is she?" Quatre's voice was soft. Mournful. Relena glanced at him, taking her gaze from the screen, frowning slightly. He'd get over it . . . he would. The world could move on. No, really. It could.

"She's in the same condition as she has been for the past two days. Not unsabilized, but not stablized, either."

Two days? She'd been a ghost for the past two days? Relena stared in disbelief at the little screen. Two days.

"Oh." Quatre nodded. He looked crestfallen. "Thank you. Please, contact me if . . . if anything changes. Or. . . if I can do anything . . ."

Trowa nodded. Then, after a moment, "Sleep well, Quatre."

"You too, my friend."

The screen went blank, and Quatre simply sat there, still as a statue. He sighed. Relena frowned.

Coming around to stand in front of him, she studied him silently. He looked about to cry. Seeing that, her reserve broke, and she knelt before him, softly.

"Oh, Quatre . . . I'm sorry . . . I had no idea it would hurt you like this . . ."

She reached up, to grab his arm. He simply stared at the floor, forlorn.

" . . . Look . . . It'll get better. Believe me, I thought about it. It wasn't just a whim . . . This was my only way out. I swear."

He still only faced the floor.

" . . .Quatre . . ." She paused. " . . .I'm sorry."

He still only faced the floor. He couldn't see her. Couldn't feel her.

With an exasperated sigh, Relena stood quickly, walking away. She didn't want to see anymore. Besides, what was the point? No one could see her. Everyone thought she was in a hospital on earth, in a coma from a failed suicide attempt.

Oh, yay.

Upon reaching the gate, Relena paused. Looks like she was goingto have to use the up-and-over trick, again . . . Her thoughts cut off when the gates abruptly swung open. She blinked, then followed the road out.

When she turned the next corner, she found the bus. The bus. She paused at the corner, before sighing and hurring to it.

I guess I did . . . whatever I was supposed to do. She thought, then sighed. This whole thing is so pointless. Even if I see people I knew, what good can it do? I can't touch them and they can't see me.

She strode to the open doors of the bus before peering inside. There was that same lady, sitting in the driver's seat, waiting expectantly.

Relena pursed her lips at the driver. "What is this? How come you can see me? How come I'm a ghost?"

"Hop on, Dear." Her voice was gentle. "You'll see eventually."

Relena frowned, before climbing on again. As the bus jerked into motion and she found a seat, she mumbled to the back of the driver's head, "I don't want to be a ghost."

"Not many do." She shruged. "Not many do. And, I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's just going to get worse."

. . . Wasn't that just wonderful?