The Wrong Kiss ch. 4

Shinigaminx

Notes: Ok, let's see… First posted fic, so, of course, pleeeease review. Comments will be replied to promptly and flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Oh, and uber AU Relena, but I promise, there is a method to the madness.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't sue me, unless you want the lint in my pockets.

The Wrong Kiss

Shinigaminx

"What? You're assigning me a -partner-? No way in HELL!"

I placed my hands carefully on Trieze's desk. Leaning forward till I was mere inches from his face, I annunciated very carefully. "I will not accept a partner."

He gazed dispassionately at me. "You don't have a choice." I struggled to keep my breathing under control. Drawing back and taking my hands off his desk, I silently counted to 10.

"Trieze, I don't think you heard me. I will not shepherd around some wet behind the ears recruit at the same time I try to take out -2- vampire courts!" I leaned in again. "They. Will. Die."

I spun on my heels and slammed out the door. Stopping in the hallway, I planted my feet, closed my eyes, and raised my voice to a not un-impressive level. "I hate you, Trieze!" It didn't do anything, and I knew I would be getting a partner, but it did relive my frustrations some. Hey, two plane rides in 48 hours makes me an unhappy person. Not to mention the fact that I was still smarting from Detria. Opening my eyes, I mimed skirts and swept a perfect curtsy to some girl in a skirt and heels, who was sitting in the hallway.

"His Excellency will see you now." With a curt nod, I started out of the office and stopped to say Hi to Catherine. The door closed behind me again, considerably quieter this time. Almost immediately it opened again.

"Darlian! If you would come back a moment. There's someone I would like you to meet." Catherine shot me an 'I'm sympathetic, but you deserve this' type of glance. I rolled my eye and wheeled around. Trieze stood in his doorway, waiting. I walked slowly back, a sinking feeling floating in my gut. I stopped just inside the office door. Trieze returned to his desk and motioned to one of the chairs in front of it. There were two chairs, and was one occupied by the girl in a skirt. I shook my head.

"Fine. Relena Darlian, I'd like you to meet your new partner, Jenna Morganson. Jenna, meet Relena."

The girl held out a limp, bored hand and I shot Trieze a poisonous look before I shook it, dropping it as if it were on fire. This, this -baby doll- was my new partner? If looks could kill, Trieze would be so unbelievably dead. "Nice to meet you Ms. Morganson."

"A pleasure, I'm sure. Please, call me Jenna."

Her voice was soft and smooth, with a bit of the odd accent that is so often associated with Boston. You know, paak the caah in the haavad yaad? She stood and shook out her skirts and I really looked at her for the first time. She wasn't tall, but she wasn't short like me. Probably 5'5, 5'6 with out those cute, but totally inappropriate, high heeled sandals. She was lean, but solid looking. The kind of look you get from a model that actually has hips. Athletic looking, but tennis athletic, not 'I have so many belts you don't even want to -think- about messing with me' athletic. Her black hair was cropped short in a cutesy pageboy style and her large hazel eyes were covered by the thickest, longest lashes I've seen in long time. She stood with her back straight, but eyes downcast, and a feeling of meekness almost radiated from her. She honestly looked like a Barbie Doll whose breasts have been downsized. Though not, I though uncharitably, but by much.

I immediately felt ashamed. No, she would never have been my first choice for a partner. But never the less, she -was- my partner, and I has better like her or someday my back was gonna be open when I though someone was covering it. I dredged up a small smile from the part of me that was still a diplomat's kid.

"Jenna then. My friends call me Lena. I'd be honored to have you use it." Hey, what can I say? Once you learn it, you never forget it.

The dirtbag behind the desk graced us with a smile. "Good. Darlian, you might as well take Morganson out on rounds tonight. Get her feet wet. Have fun ladies." It was clearly a dismissal and I took it as such. Walking quickly out of the office and past Catherine again, I didn't stop till I got to the elevators at the end of the hall. Jenna wasn't with me. I turned. My new partner had picked up a bag from somewhere and was exchanging pleasantries with Catherine. I coughed discreetly and she nodded a last time and hurried to catch up with me. The elevator doors opened and we ascended in silence. Emerging into the underground car park, I headed straight for my bike. Stopping at it I cursed quietly and inventively. By the time the baby doll caught up, I was well into my small but useful store of Japanese. I only had one helmet and she was wearing a skirt. Great. I turned. "Hang on a moment. I have to figure out how to get us back to my apartment."

She nodded, surveying my baby silently. "I've always loved Shadows. It's an 83?"

"No, 85. Same year I was born." This time the smile was genuine. People can pretty much redeem themselves instantly by knowing what my baby is. "Look, you're in skirt. You want to borrow one of the guys' cars?"

"No, not if you have a helmet I can use." She shrugged and smiled. "Maybe someone driving by will appreciate the view."

Well, did that just beat all. A sense of humor. Maybe this would work after all. I grinned and walked quickly over to one of the other bikes in the lot. It was my friend Jacob's GSXR, one of the newest models. A racing bike, and a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than my bike, let me tell you that. There was a passenger helmet under the net on the back seat and I slipped it out, tossing it to Jenna. I patted my pockets, looking for something I could leave in its place so he would know who took it. I found a receipt and a pen. Scrawling my name and 'back in 30' on the back, I slipped it under the net. Turning, I saw Jenna had put on a jacket and was pulling the helmet on. I slipped mine over my head and kicked my Shadow to life. She slid on behind me, tucked her skirt in, and grabbed my belt. With a roar we were gone, into the city.

It's only a 15 minute ride to my apartment, especially on a night when there's no traffic, and we hit the jackpot that night. We passed maybe a two dozen cars. It sounds like a lot but in New York, that's unheard of, even at 11:30, 12 o'clock. As we spun into my lot, I sighed. It's always nice to be home. I pulled up in front of the door and Jenna hopped off. Tipping my shield up I said, "Wait for me here. I have to park the beast, then I'll show you in." At the back of the lot I pulled the giant black cover over my bike and hurried back. Jenna stood under the light on the doorway, her head down and her hands clasped in front of her. She looked like an angel from a renaissance painting, and about 15. Another wave of doubt hit me. This kid was going to be my partner? Yeah, she was bigger than I was, but she looked like a teenager. A preppy, naïve, valley girl teenager.

Moving past her, I tapped in the security code and turned my key. "Hope you like stairs. The elevator never works."

Five flights up, I ushered her into my apartment and closed the door. Looking her up and down critically I said, "You had –better- change into something else. I'm not sure I have anything that would fit you though."

She shrugged and held up her bag. "Don't worry, I don't usually look like this. I just came from dinner with my mother."

"Ah." I nodded. "Ok, second door on the right, light switch is a pull chain on the ceiling." Pointing her in the right direction I dived in to the closet next to the door, looking for my old helmet. "Do you have a coat too? It can get cold later." I pulled a very old leather jacket off the hanger and inspected it critically. It would do. I tossed on the table next to the door.

"Um, no. Can I borrow one?"

"Yeah, sure." Looking for the helmet again, I paused. If I was going to take her to Blue Heaven with my, I needed to know how old she was so no nosy cops busted Dorothy. "Jenna? How old are you?"

Silence. Then, "23."

Oh, bullshit. That made her older than me. I wasn't going to be 22 till the beginning of the summer, 2 months from now. I straightened up and glared at the closed bathroom door. I managed a pleasant tone for my next question. "OK, now that we have the age you –want- to be, what's you real age?"

The door opened and Jenna came out. The change was… starling, to say the least. She now looked like she could have been 20, although I was pretty sure that was the carefully done make-up she'd put on. She'd put on long black pants and low-heeled black boots, with a white white-beater showing off her black bra. A loose, burgundy, velvet choker finished her outfit. She looked comfortably and dressed to hunt. "I'm sorry? I don't understand the problem. You don't believe I'm 23?"

Not by a long shot, sister, makeup or no. "I'm sorry that I have to ask, but could I please see some id? You must get carded all the time." I smiled sweetly and held my hand out.

She pulled a wallet out of her back pocket and handed it to me. I flipped it open and there on top was a military id, saying she was 23. I looked her up and down again, pulling the id to inspect the back. If it was a fake, it was a damn good one. Sliding it back in, I tossed the wallet back. "I apologize. You understand security though, being a military child, and your mother's daughter."

Jenna's eyes flickered to the wallet in her hand, to her bag and back to me. She shot me a hard glance. "What? I'm not sure I understand you…"

I shrugged. "Oh, a mistake, I suppose. You look a great deal like the daughter of a famous congress person. Now," I turned back to the closet, suspicions confirmed. I definitely knew who she was, and didn't care. But lying to me wasn't going to cut it. "Go sit down in the living room. We'll go out as soon as I find the helmet."

I heard her move into my living room and sit on the couch. She moved restlessly as I stood on tiptoe, trying to see the top shelf. I let the awkward silence stretch for another moment, before I found the helmet. Scooping the jacket up with it, I strode into the living room and dumped it on the couch next to her. Moving to stand by the balcony doors, I gazed out at the city, the traffic lights casting flickering shadows along the building lining the road. It was my city, even if parts of it were doing their best to kill me. To avoid the whole dying issue, we have partners who watch our backs. This works great on paper, but in the field you need to trust your partner absolutely, if either of you are to live. Maybe it was because I'd only had one partner, who's never, never lied to me, but I couldn't trust a girl who did lie to me.

"Look…" I spoke over my shoulder, watching her reflection in the glass. "Jenna. I know that's your real name. At least you're real first name. But I know the Morganson thing is crap. It's a beautiful i.d., and I'd love to have one with another identity for myself. But either you can tell me who you really are…" She shifted, moving to the edge of the seat and glaring at my back. "Or I can tell you who you are, and then we can go to your mother and ask her why her daughter is passing herself off as a 23 year old vampire hunter. I really have to wonder, does she know?"

I could feel Jenna's eyes burning holes in me, but I didn't turn around. I was bluffing, and I didn't know if she'd pick up on it, but I couldn't take the chance. I needed to know what she was made of.

"Fine." She gave, but only a little. Her voice was harder than granite. "Since you obviously know about my mother, maybe you can help me. You seem like a decent enough person, if a hard nosed bitch." I couldn't help myself, my jaw dropped when I heard her say that. She never talks on t.v. and she always looks so sweet. "My mother doesn't know I'm here. She thinks I'm safely off the college and hopefully she won't find out about me being gone for a month or so. When she does, I'll call her, tell her she can stay the hell out of my life. I don't want to be 'Congress-person LeBeau's daughter' for the rest of my life, and I certainly don't want to be 'President LeBeau's daughter' either."

At that I turned around. "So, she's really running for president?"

Jenna crossed her arms and stared into space.

"OK, sorry. Thank you for telling me the truth. I know it doesn't sound like much now, and that you're pissed, but its better like this. Secrets make great partnerships crappy. And now," I continued in a much gentler voice. "I can help you when your mother –does- find out. We can go over that later though. We have to get going now." I stopped and smiled. "And darling, your… 'disguise'? Isn't gonna cut it. Even if you being with me is extremely odd, the media won't care. Come with me."

She stood up and followed me down the hall.

Fifteen minutes later we rolled out on my bike and Jenna looked like a whole new girl. Her hair was a little shorter, cut in a much edgier style, and had bright fuchsia streaks. She seemed to have a nose ring and piercings marching up her ears. Good fake tattoos that would stand up unless closely inspected adorned her wrists. She still looked like Jenna, but a more punkish, New York Jenna. And she liked. It was what she'd always wanted but couldn't have. While we were putting this stuff on, she'd told me a little about herself, including the interesting fact that she wasn't even as old as I though she was. She was –barely- 19. Her birthday had been a week ago. This girl was –much- too young to be out here fighting, and I was going to have a few words for Trieze next time I saw him. He –had- to know. In the mean time, I would try to keep her mostly out of the way. I sighed and gunned the bike as we hit straight stretch. This was going to be absolutely ghastly.

Please, if you take offense at this term, don't tell me, I don't like it either. I wouldn't use it except I'm pretty sure that if I called it an A-shirt no one would know what I was talking about.