Mariemaia lays on the sofa for a good hour, staring at the way the shifting light plays across the coffered ceiling. She's bored. She had sent a text to Kenzie after finishing the breakfast room service had delivered, but the time difference meant that it was the middle of the night Earth-side. She misses school. She misses swim practice. She even misses Trowa Barton's yoga tortures. Not enough to attempt any, but enough to be bothersome.
She refuses to admit she's lonely.
After allowing herself an hour to ruminate on her boredom, she gets to her feet and retrieves her laptop. Begrudgingly, she powers it up and logs into the school mainframe to actually attempt some of her assignments. It's a decent enough distraction. She spends most of the morning conjugating ancient Latin verbs before turning to an essay on the positives and negatives of stricter colony regulations.
Lady Une shows up at a quarter to noon. Her hair is still coiled into two perfect braids, her blazer perfectly pressed, but she isn't wearing her glasses which means whatever meetings she had hadn't gone too terribly. She pauses, stares at Mariemaia hunched over her laptop screen with a frown fully formed between her eyebrows and bottom lip caught between her teeth.
"Your father made that same face whenever he got a report in from Lieutenant Oretsev. Or a letter from Duke Dermail." Mariemaia looks up in surprise and Lady Une crosses the room to sit next to her on the sofa. "What are you working on?"
"Dr. Arthav has assigned another biased essay assignment," she grumbles. She reaches up, subconsciously touching her face. She wishes she knew what expression she had been wearing. "You're back early."
"I told you I'd be back for lunch," Lady Une replies. She kicks off her shoes, sinks back into the sofa and slides a sideways glance Mariemaia's way. Her mouth quirks into a smile. "You're still in your pajamas."
Mariemaia shrugs. "I might as well be comfortable if I have to combat propaganda."
"Of course." She nudges Mariemaia's knee gently. "Go get dressed."
"I don't know if I can palate another stuffy dining room experience."
"I thought you enjoyed mocking the delegates." Mariemaia offers a one-shouldered shrug in response, not admitting that she did, in fact, enjoy people watching. Lady Une just chuckles, standing and stretching. "We aren't eating in the dining room. We're going out. Get dressed."
She disappears into her room while Mariemaia still has her mouth open in surprise.
. . ... . .
Outside the artificial sun is warm on Mariemaia's skin. The streets are filled with people and cars, but everything is moving along. The buildings are all sleek and modern – steel and chrome and glass. It's a sharp contrast to the broken buildings and seedy alleyways of the colony in L3 where Dekim had done much of his recruiting in the early days.
Lady Une has changed into something more casual, blazer left behind in the hotel room and shoulders loose as she walks down the street. Mariemaia has to consciously force herself to keep up and not get sidetracked by the upscale street.
"Is all of L4 like this? Or, is this like the wealthy colony?"
L3 had had two colonies like that – the first where the upper class lived in old-style buildings in the spaceward ring while the lower classes lived in the Earthside ring and the second which was half built with new money and sleek buildings. Dekim had set up base in the latter after her mother's death.
"The Winner family has been slowly building the colonies up," Lady Une answers.
She stops in front of a smaller restaurant, pulls the door open and gestures for Mariemaia to enter. She does, inhaling the rich scent of fresh bread and spices. Lady Une speaks with the hostess and then they're being led to a table in the back.
"Why did we come here?" she asks.
Lady Une unfolds her menu, eyes scanning the dishes. "I thought you would like a change of scenery."
Mariemaia waits until they've placed their orders and the menus have been collected before she folds her hands in front of her on the table and stares at her guardian. "What's the real reason?"
Lady Une offers her a fond smile. "I wanted a change of scenery." Mariemaia rolls her eyes, but she can't quite suppress her smile. "How's the essay?"
Mariemaia groans and can't refrain from going into a rant about the essay guidelines, the biased tone of the prompt, and the complete disregard of the lives impacted by the Alliance's previous colony regulations. She runs a finger along her water glass and thinks of the pandemic that ran like wildfire between the colonies, the urn on her grandfather's bookcase she had never been allowed to touch.
"No one knows what it was like," she says finally as the waiter sets their meals in front of them. She looks out the window at the high-rise buildings surrounding them. "They see pictures that look like this, and this is what they imagine. Something shiny and new."
"Public opinion has always been easy to manipulate," Lady Une states. They move on to discussing swimming, skirt around the investigation into Yergin's poisoning, before Lady Une mentions the verbal evisceration Dorothy had given one of the Education Minister's aides that morning. "I'm always conflicted on whether I want Dorothy to join politics or not," Lady Une muses.
"I'm sorry I missed it," Mariemaia replies with a lopsided smile. She can imagine her cousin in her element.
"I'm sure there will be future reenactments," her guardian comments wryly. She frowns suddenly, pulling her phone out as it begins to ring. "Une," she states.
Mariemaia turns to watch the people passing on the street while Lady Une listens to whatever is being said on the other end of the phone. She sees a young mother pushing a toddler in a stroller. They're waiting on the corner for the light to change. The toddler drops something, begins to cry, and the mother crouches to pick the stuffed animal up. Fusses over her child and laughs. The light glints off her light brown hair.
"Alright," Lady Une says. "Ten minutes." She hangs up and looks at Mariemaia. "I have to get back, do you want a box?"
"Minister Yergin?" she asks while Lady Une flags the waiter down for the cheque.
"Another shipment went missing," Lady Une replies. "Did you want a box?"
Mariemaia shifts, turns back to her mostly empty plate and feels her appetite dissipate. "I'm good."
. . ... . .
"Go back to the room," Lady Une instructs as they enter the hotel. One of the junior Preventers immediately makes her way across the lobby toward them. "Are you listening?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mariemaia states. She lets Lady Une guide her to the elevator bank, watches the junior agent redirect to intercept them. "House arrest is back in full force."
"Mariemaia-"
"Ma'am," the agent says. She stops smartly, heels practically clicking together and Mariemaia rolls her eyes. "The car is waiting."
"I'm coming." She pushes at Mariemaia's shoulder, directing her into the elevator. "Stay."
"Woof."
The glass doors slide shut and Mariemaia slumps against the wall, watching the lobby disappear as the elevator car rises. She disregards Lady Une's orders, instead pressing the button for the pool deck. The conferences have resumed and the pool area is empty once again. Mariemaia crosses the tiled floor and sits at the side of the pool. She pulls off her shoes and socks, dips her feet into the cool water and wriggles her toes appreciatively.
She sits there, watching the light gleam off the glass domes outside the windows, watching the colony cycle through its light changes. She drums her fingers on her knees, wishes she had packed a bathing suit, wishes she was older, wishes Lady Une would just tell her things. She groans, falls back onto the pool deck and stares up at the ornate ceiling above her.
Her toes are shriveled up and pruny when she finally pulls them from the water. She grabs her shoes and socks, gets to her feet, and makes her way back to the elevators. She's stiff and tired, cold and frustrated. When she gets back to the room she checks her phone, notes the three missed texts from Kenzie and ignores them all. She drops her shoes by the door, crosses the plush carpet to collapse onto the bed once more.
She can't help but think Dorothy was right. It would be simpler if Yergin had simply died.
. . ... . .
Mariemaia is standing at the observation deck once more, staring at the terran eclipse.
"One day, that will be yours. All of that." Uncle Trowa laughs, but it's wrong, too scratchy and brittle and not warm at all, and reaches over to ruffle her hair. "Leia's little girl. My niece. Ruler of the whole damn galaxy."
"But I'm not," she states, voice soft. The words feel raw, feel ripped from her throat. She doesn't look at him, doesn't want to see the disappointment etched in his face. The observation deck turns dark as Earth crawls between their colony and the sun.
"You will be," Uncle Trowa says, voice firm. He wraps an arm around her, pulls her tight to his side. Mariemaia shivers, bare feet twisting on the gritty floor. It's wrong, she knows. She's too tall and he's too brittle. This isn't how she remembers Uncle Trowa. "Look at them. All snug in their beds. You're going to take them all by surprise. We're going to take them all by surprise."
"Unless you kill her first." She twists, sees Grandfather standing in the doorway with one of his personal guards. Uncle Trowa lets out a deep sigh, shoulders tight as he ignores Grandfather and takes another drink from the bottle in his hand. "For God's sake, Trowa."
"Go away, Father. Marie and I are enjoying the show."
"It's winter and you have her out here in nothing but a nightdress," Dekim snaps, voice tight with reined in fury. "If Michael hadn't seen you sneaking that monstrosity out-"
"Ah, the watchdog is being loyal once again."
"Shut-up before you disgrace yourself further, Trowa." Dekim reaches for her then, hands warm and strong enough to leave bruises on her pale skin. Mariemaia feels Uncle Trowa's arm tighten around her. "Let go."
She feels herself being pulled away. Feels strong hands grabbing her. The air smells of burning, the observation deck is dark, and Uncle Trowa is fading before her eyes. "Let go," Dekim repeats. "Before I replace you."
Mariemaia wakes to the sound of a gunshot ringing in her ears, her pulse erratic in her veins, and a soft knocking on her bedroom door.
"Get dressed," Lady Une calls. "We're having dinner with Quatre Winner."
Mariemaia slumps back into her bed, stares at the ceiling and clutches at her chest. She isn't sure if this is better or worse than the nightmare that used to plague her where she would run down a never-ending hallway calling for Uncle Trowa. At least in this one she gets to speak with him, even if he is wrong.
. . ... . .
Miss Relena is in Quatre's room when they arrive. She's dressed casually in jeans and an oversized sweater. Mariemaia can't stop glancing at her in surprise, but the Vice Foreign Minister doesn't seem to notice. She's reclined on the sofa, a glass of white wine in her hand and her hair loose around her shoulders.
Quatre gestures at the remaining seats with a warm smile. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."
"Thank you for the invite," Lady Une says. She nods at the Vice Foreign Minister. "Relena."
"Une," she greets. "Hello, Mariemaia."
"We're just waiting on one more," Quatre comments.
"I'm sure she'll be fashionably late as always," Relena notes. She leans over to set the wine glass down on a glass coffee table.
"Dorothy?" Lady Une questions.
"Who else?" Quatre replies. He checks his watch and shakes his head.
Mariemaia is handed a glass of sweet tea by one of Quatre's guards or servants or whatever. She takes it in surprise, allows Lady Une to guide her over to the plush sofas and sit down. There's a knock on the door and Relena smiles. "Told you," she says.
One of Quatre's employees opens the door and Mariemaia can hear Dorothy before she sees her. The man offers a slight bow, gestures for her to enter.
"How's the tea?" Lady Une asks.
Mariemaia shrugs. She lifts the glass to her mouth, takes a sip and then nearly chokes on it when she sees her cousin enter the suite with her arm looped through Heero Yuy's. Heero looks as stoic as ever while Dorothy's smile is positively gleeful. She has her hair tied back in a long braid, highlighting the sharp angles to her face and it gives her an almost fox-like countenance.
"Look who I found," she sing-songs.
"Hello, Heero," Relena says. The warmth in her voice is genuine, but there's a brief cloud to her features that she smooths away effortlessly. Mariemaia watches as the Vice Foreign Minister gets up to hug him. Heero returns the hug and then nods at Quatre and Lady Une. "This is a pleasant surprise."
Heero nods again before he meets Lady Une's gaze once more. "Lab reports are in for Yergin," he states. His tone is expressionless, but Mariemaia notes a slight twitch to his mouth, almost like he's suppressing a smile.
"And?"
"Sildenafil, MDMA, and strychnine."
Dorothy snorts inelegantly, leaning against the wall with a wine glass dangling from her fingers. "Sounds like Yergin was overcompensating."
Quatre frowns. "Dorothy," he admonishes.
"Overcompensating?" Mariemaia questions.
Dorothy smirks. "Performance issues, dear cousin."
"Dorothy," Lady Une warns. "Do you have the report with you?"
"It's in your email."
Lady Une raises her eyebrow. "And did you send it there or find it there?"
Heero shrugs, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Does it matter?"
Lady Une sighs, downs the remainder of her wine. "I'd hate to be Yergin's PR team when this scandal hits."
"So that means Trowa Barton's not a suspect anymore?" Mariemaia asks.
"Trowa was released from custody yesterday," Lady Une states.
Mariemaia stares at her guardian, wide-eyed. Lady Une hadn't mentioned anything about Trowa being released or no longer a suspect or whatever it was that had led to him being detained. She sets the glass of sweet tea down next to Miss Relena's wine glass.
"Mariemaia."
Calmly, she steps past her cousin and Heero Yuy. Miss Relena raises a hand as though she's going to reach out, but after a second lets it fall back to her side.
"Mariemaia, stop."
She pulls the door open, lets it slam behind her. The sound echoes down the empty corridor.
. . ... . .
Heero Yuy is sitting in the living room when she exits the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower. He looks up at her and then nods toward the chair across from him. She hesitates, leaning against the doorframe and he narrows his eyes at her. "Fine," she grumbles. She crosses the room, sits down on the chair and tucks her toes under the overstuffed chair arm. "What are you doing here?"
"Lady Une didn't think you'd want to see her."
Mariemaia rolls her eyes, crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn't deny it.
"You're…twelve?" He says it like it's a question, but Mariemaia knows he knows her age.
She rolls her eyes. "If you're about to tell me I'm too young-"
"When I was twelve an Alliance general broke my arm. The scientist who was training me had me reset it myself. He rebroke it until I got it right." Mariemaia looks away, feels her stomach turn over. "You aren't too young. You're too naïve."
She bristles at that, looking up sharply. "I am not naïve, Mr. Yuy."
He snorts, leans back against the sofa and stares at her. "You grew up thinking you were going to rule the world. Now you can't stand not being the one to know everything."
"I don't like being lied to."
"An omission is not a lie."
"Why was Trowa Barton a suspect?"
Heero scrubs a hand over his face. He looks tired and annoyed, but Mariemaia isn't sure if it's with her or with something else. He's silent long enough that she feels a drop of water slide from behind her left ear all the way to her shoulder blade.
"He had intel. It was easier to bring him in as a suspect once Yergin was taken in."
"Lady Une said there was another theft." She picks at a loose thread on her pajama pants. "Maybe I'm not meant for a normal life."
"Maybe you won't let yourself have one," he counters.
She tilts her head, studies him across the coffee table. "Maybe you won't let yourself either."
His mouth quirks into a half-smile and he shakes his head.
"Why did you become a pilot?" she asks. "It doesn't sound fun."
Heero shrugs, stretches his legs out in front of him. He's wearing his ugly sneakers again. "Some of it was," he says. "It only takes one foolish person to change the world, Mariemaia. Make sure you're being foolish for the right reasons."
She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Is that why you protect Miss Relena?"
The half-smile returns. "She can be very foolish," he agrees. There's a fondness to his voice that she's rarely heard. She wants to push, wants to question, but there's a guardedness to his eyes as well and she doubts she'll get anything more. He pulls his phone out, thumb idly running along the side. "Hungry?"
"Starving," she admits.