Chase

Chapter 16

The meeting took much much longer than thirty minutes.

Heero stood with the military precision that he so often took for granted. No bead of sweat, no clenched fists belayed the fact that a near-overpowering sense of urgency seemed to be slowly consuming him; an urgency not shared by the men and women surrounding him. It burned along every nerve, but he couldn't allow it to reveal itself. This was just another type of battle, a different face of war, and a tense soldier would only create time-consuming questions. The only hint lay in his eyes, which instead of gazing blankly over the shoulders of the various speakers, watched each member of the panel with a fierce and uncomfortable intensity.

Never had the military bureaucracy intruded so powerfully against what was needed. They had his reports, knew the circumstances, and had no need of his presence, yet they continued to ask him inane questions that danced around any semblance of a point. And now they seemed to have forgotten his very presence as they argued back and forth with each other, pushing and pulling at a still indistinct future.

This was not a side of the military Heero had any patience with. He dealt with orders, swift and sure in their execution, ruthless in their efficiency. This? This was nothing but politics.

And yet, beneath it all, beneath the scorn for these soft doctors and upper brass, lay something unfamiliar. Twin rivers of need and fear curled amongst the muscles kept so carefully relaxed. There was a reason he had not slipped from the room the moment their attention turned elsewhere. The chamber he'd arrived in so many minutes ago was not the stark and utilitarian briefing room he'd expected; instead a dark wood table dominated the conference room, surrounded with plush chairs meant for lengthy discussions. This room was built for decisions and control. The warm honeyed light turned the panelled centre into a world separate and far away from the cold light of the hospital; far from her and the place he was rapidly beginning to consider as his.

So although every inner sense seemed to whisper that he return to her bedside and watch ever flicker beneath closed eyelids, he couldn't risk leaving. Especially because the people before him were the true powers of this war. These were the men and women that took the blood and sacrifices and metal nightmares that he and others birthed, and shaped them into glorious battle and the triumph of righteousness. Even the aide of their shadowy commander was present, taking discreet notes and offering the occasional quiet suggestion. Something was happening and he couldn't afford ignorance, couldn't follow his own inclination and return to the room that seemed to call to him even now. The discussion had long ago turned from medical graphs and the complications of withdrawal and turned to questions of morale and advantage, of winning over the people themselves.

So Heero did what his training had so prepared him for. He listened for the secrets behind every word.

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Heero carefully observed those who had so blithely decided Relena's fate as they filed out the door, back to their separate duties, secret transportation and important jobs. He carefully watched each detail, noting the slight limp (left side, old injury, improperly healed) of the sleek major and the tight, dissatisfied lips of the head doctor who did nothing to hide his displeasure at the request for speed in Relena's release. But although he appeared the perfect soul of attention, his military stance making him all but invisible, underneath he could feel the violent clarity of battle.

These men, whom he had never met, all wore familiar faces. They were the faces behind the bare words on his computer screen: they were the voice of his orders. They were not the faces of leaders, their names weren't smeared across every news burst or making photographic speeches. But Heero knew them. The faces in the crowd in every photo shot, the names behind the scenes. They were the puppeteers, and suddenly Heero realized that he too may be one of their playthings.

Heero had insulated himself from this great machine of war, focused on flawlessly executing his part, but here he came face to face with the goals and purposes of his infiltrated buildings or bombed depots. Although performed many of their most secret tasks, he did not know their goals. But far more disturbing than any of that was the realization that slowly formed in his mind as their vague and cryptic conversation flowed back and forth; this was not the first they had heard of Relena.

They were too knowledgeable, too prepared. All the rough edges of their debates and reactions had already been smoothed out. The plans had already been made, the possibilities weighed. This meeting in hidden luxury was merely to ensure everyone's co-operation and reaffirm ties. Even his.

Heero was under no illusions. He'd been allowed to stay precisely because they wanted him there, perhaps even considered him vital to their plot. He may have gleaned more than they suspected, but they had no reason to fear betrayal. They saw in him the perfect soldier they'd created so many years before, and he was careful to give no sign that any other options had occurred to him. He couldn't bare to look at the possibility himself, but he knew, knew, that suddenly there were questions, something more than the information they handed him.

For now he was just as much a part of their plan as Relena was; their military presence, their undeniable and public relation link in this perverted push for peace. They'd handed him his new assignment. It wasn't on a file to delete, or a folder to burn. No this assignment had no paper trail, just a short, casual sentence that contained an official command just as surely as any sealed document. But Heero's loyalty no longer hung upon blind obedience to these shadowy figures. When pitted against warm-honey hair and fever-bright eyes, their words lost the royal power they'd once contained. She drowned out their loudest shout with a faintest sigh, and though he knew he couldn't have her, he would make damned sure they didn't get her instead. The choice would be hers, but he had no intention that she accept their offer.

Finally the last of them left the room, chatting amicably about the niceties of life as if they had not just decided the fate of a young girl they knew hardly at all. Heero carefully filed out in his correct place, each step as crisp as a soldier whose mind stood free of any mutinous thoughts. The key was to not think of it until you acted, to hide everything from yourself so that your face could fool the world.

The path to Relena's door lay open and encouraged, and each step brought him closer to her, mended the rift he could feel like a burn. He'd no need to fight for a position beside her now, no need to confess that if they wanted to keep him under their control they shouldn't let him near her again. He couldn't afford to admit that she opened emotions forbidden in a perfect soldier. He didn't have to pick a replacement who would watch over her without being distracted, nor did he have to argue that only he was acceptable for that position, the only one she trusted and who could care for her. They hadn't wanted to hear any of the conflicts his face gave no sign of. As always they had his place already decided, gave him no choice. But she still have a choice. He would make sure of that. And whatever she chose he would make certain happened, regardless of consequences. Her world had already birthed too many nightmares, he would keep them from giving her one more.

The room was empty.

Heero stood in the doorway, unable for a moment to fully register that the vital component of the scene in front of him was missing. The white bed stood in the stark room, small dust spots dancing the sunlight that snuck through the window. The thin sheet trailed forlornly off the edge of the mattress to pool like quicksilver on the tile.

She wasn't here.

A quick scan revealed that the corner's were bare of heartbroken huddles, but suddenly that seemed like the preferable option. She should have been safe here in a military hospital, but should haves were immaterial. Her absence made everything else pointless. Somewhere, even now, there were bright lights reflecting off pale skin, sharp blades grafting new nightmares onto her bones. How would he face her after this failure? How could he have changed so quickly from the one who rescued and protected to the one who left her alone and then let her fall once more into the wrong hands? From her white knight to the neglectful villain? But face her again he would. Of that he was certain. He didn't have time for guilt, or remorse, or even the fear that this would break the gift of trust she had so unexpectedly give him. He had to find her. Had to find her before there was nothing but broken reflections left in her dull eyes.

Heero forced a calm onto himself, fought for it in a way he hadn't needed to in years. Emotions and humanity couldn't help him here, would only keep him from finding her, from finding the dead men who had taken her. He was the perfect soldier and he could find anyone. It was what he did.

He didn't know how the insurgents had infiltrated the hospital to reclaim her. Didn't even know if this was some type of inside job, immoral doctors creating a fresh hell for her in the name of medical science. But none of that mattered at the moment. He would save her, and then have his revenge on those who dared to take her. The red haze rippled across his brain, leaving his sight clear but trailing a dark echo under his thoughts. He would revisit each mark they'd made on her back upon them ten fold. They would know their mistake, and they would write their remorse in blood and rubble.

The IV lay forlornly amongst the sheets that trailed towards the door. It still dripped slowly, yet the lack of liquid surrounding it hinted at a recent abduction. Slowly, with a sluggishness Heero did not recognize, the beginnings of a different option began to crystallize, edging in under the surging waves of fury. The area was secure, the news of her presence still tightly under wraps, no one had heard any signs of a disturbance. This wasn't necessarily a kidnapping, in fact another, equally damaging scenario began to emerge. She hadn't been taken, snatched from under his failed care. She had awoken. Alone.

She had opened her eyes, clawed her way back from pain-wracked and bloody dreams and her first vision had been a hospital, the very stage of her all too harrowing tragedies. Weak and confused she had reverted to her originals plans, and had finally succeeded in what she'd sought for so long. She had escaped.

Heero spun from the the room, not even pausing to gather the single feather that hovered alone on the pillow. He had no need of keepsakes, he was going to find her.

She couldn't possibly be far. The scientists had created in her the perfect trap. In giving her a parody of flight they had crippled her, pumping her so full of foreign drugs they had engineered her collapse should she ever escape. Without the solution slowly pouring out onto the ground that the military doctors had prescribed she wouldn't last long. It didn't matter if she hated him, if he was now part of what she ran from, he had to find her before the poisons in her blood did more damage. Neither of them could escape so easily.

Heero ran down the halls, breath steady in his chest, eyes alert, hunting. But this was not the forest or the field. The tile held no footprints for him to track, no broken branches to point the way. Buildings were meant to hide the passage of their human inhabitants, cool and impersonal. Indoors, people passed through the twists and turns like they had never been; ghosts that left no trace.

It was the work of a moment to redirect himself to the security room and its banks of monitors and flickering images of endless halls and stairways. The room was empty, the empty coffee-pot a depressing testimony to the whereabouts of its usual guardian. Tensely Heero waited behind the soft, plush chairs, watching as the images showed scene after scene of scurrying doctors and studious clipboards. The possibility that she'd somehow already made it outside, was already barefoot on the pavement and gone had him reaching for the radio. If he had to he'd bring in the reinforcements, however disastrous that would prove. He couldn't risk that they'd find her only after it was too late, collapsed beneath a tree in dappled sunshine, cold to the day's warmth. He'd risk anything but that.

Wait.. there. In the windows of a back staircase he'd seen a flash of white amidst the muddy gray. With click he froze the image, noted the location. The picture was fuzzy but unmistakeable. East entrance stairwell; she was nearly out.

The halls passed by in a blur as Heero swerved through the sparse crowds of personnel. How she'd made it that far without anyone spotting her was a mystery he had no patience for. He knew that hospitals and doctors were busy, but she was impossible to overlook.

Heero burst from the staircase door just in time to see Relena's frantic scramble towards the exit. She ran without grace or skill, the wings nearly obscuring the girl amidst them. But she burned with focus, the painful intensity of the last stand, the final gamble. Every feather shook with a final promise, one last hope. She wasn't waiting for him to rescue her, she was fighting for her own freedom.

Heero ran to meet her, to catch her. She didn't have a plan, he could see that in every muscle of her body. She couldn't see beyond the door in front of her. This was pure panic, and he had to stop her before she did more damage than she could realize.

She pushed open the door just as his fingers closed around the delicate skin of her arm. He pulled back too fast, too furiously, trying to balance gentleness with the still unfamiliar fear that skittered along his nerves. She stumbled backwards into his arms, off-balance, the forward momentum of her flight broken.

He felt the first stinging slap as he registered that she had not melted against him in a physical expression of the relief he felt. No, instead of smiling recognition she was struggling, feeble attempts to break free that contained the tragic ferocity of the cornered prey.

No, he couldn't go through this again. Not when there was no guarantee when she finally saw him she wouldn't fight just as hard. But he couldn't just let her go, couldn't set her free from all of this. He just had to hope she'd let him help her.

"Relena". He had to make her see, had to call her back. The world wasn't right, they weren't safe, but he had to know she saw him, had to make her see that he had come for her. Amidst her low voiced litany of imploring prayers and despairing murmurs he'd caught his name. He had to know that she still trusted him.

"Relena". It was the only word he knew, the only syllables of power that his vocabulary owned. He had to see her eyes, hidden by the frantically flying hair, the delicate strands that struck his face like the softest of lashings.

The pulse in her wrists was a frantic bird beating its wings against the bars. But there, her eyes, they weren't blank, still shown with determination and fire. Finally he caught her attention, breaking through her panic, and with wonder she stilled, finally looking at him.

"Heero?" She said his name with barely a breath, and the word poured like balm along the burnt edges of his mind. But as her hands reached out towards him, the fingertips grazing his cheek her face crumbled. Horror filling her eyes she spoke in a hoarse whisper:

"Oh Heero. I'm so sorry."

Author's Notes: Yes, I realize this took two years. Hopefully the next one will be up faster than that. I'm trying to make this story my summer project, but we all know how good I am at self-imposed deadlines. Thank you so much to my readers who have stuck with me, and welcome to those of you who are new. As always your reviews are what keep me going.