Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing
Author's note: I have not written in quite a while, so I want to revisit and finish this story. Naturally, I'm brought back by comfort reading Zapenstap's 'Final Mission Status'. Her writing will always bring me back to my OTP.
BUT, I'm adding a not to let you guys know that I've made some changes. Please, please, please go back over the older stuff so it all flows. :)
Have fun and I hope you all are well.
Prichard awoke with a start. She was still reclining on a dark couch in a neat but impersonal living area. She recalled that she and Heero were still on duty to watch over the Marks family until told otherwise and that her lover-the General-had told her she could nod off for a few hours. She'd assumed they were going to take shifts, but the sun was on the horizon and he was still watching out the window, awake and alert.
The brunette rubbed her eyes and looked up at Heero. "You were supposed to wake me." She tried to sound scolding, but her throat was still dry and her voice cracked for the long slumber.
His head shifted slightly in response, but he didn't speak.
"You're human," she added softly, stretching her limbs and encouraging blood flow to her sleepy muscles. "You need to rest."
He blinked slowly. "I'm fine."
"And what if the Chief doesn't realize he's being irrational? Then when will you sleep?"
Her answer was silence.
She sat in the quiet and listened carefully for any hint that the family was stirring awake. When none came, she turned her attention on him, again. "Heero," she called softly.
He only seemed to stiffen at the intimate tenor in her tone.
"Heero," Lydia said, again, in a firmer voice. "You knew."
The man looked back on her without words. His steel blue eyes were hard and a little more cold than she liked.
"You knew that Chief Wind was Milliardo Peacecraft?" Of course, the question was still more a statement of fact. The evidence was pretty clear at that point. Still, she felt like the only appropriate presentation of the discussion was a question.
Yuy looked away, again, watching as the city began to come to life below him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked in a pressing whisper.
"With your rank," he finally answered. "There are many things you'll know that you should neither question nor repeat."
"But he's the most powerful man on the planet."
The man's next answer came out without hesitation. "And I trust him."
"But Heero—"
"I trust him."
Prichard wanted badly to argue but she'd come to know that Heero was not one to suffer endless debates. His mind was made up, and she knew deep within herself that she could, for the most part, defer to his judgement when it came to men's character. If Heero trusted them, they were on an upward moral trajectory.
After several minutes Heero rose from his perch, moving to the kitchenette. "Drink?"
Of course. Sunrise. He'd make her something. She shyly wondered if the Foreign Minister would mind, but realized that if they were going to be shadowing the family 24/7 for three weeks, they'd have to take advantage of the same living arrangements. She moved to the bar opposite him as he set the automatic coffee/tea machine up for use. She smiled approvingly and he pulled down two cups. Heero brewed a cup of dark tea, setting it next to the cream and sugar in front of him.
Lydia gave it an inquisitive glance but said nothing.
He turned back to the machine, reaching for another order of tea, so she slipped away from the chair and moved beside him.
Lydia put her hand on his arm and smiled. "Coffee," she said in a gentle voice, moving herself still closer.
Heero blinked, looking surprised.
"Tea nauseates me," she reminded him. Of course he had known that, so his behavior was perplexing, but one explanation stood out to her. "You need sleep," she urged, again, pressing her free hand against his chest.
Heero looked thoughtfully from the tea to the coffee.
"Heero?" Her voice was soft, tickling his cheek for her closeness. "Are you angry with me?"
He gave her a confused look.
She bowed her head so the baby hairs that had only just broken free from her bun tickled his lip. She knew knew she'd done nothing wrong and that her conscience was clear, but for the sake of the relationship, she beat the dead horse again. "After what happened, I—"
"It's not your fault," he reminded her.
She smiled with a satisfied glint in her eye, but it was hard for her to really believe that was his judgment when his words and his behavior seemed to be so at odds. Besides, had she been in his shoes, she might have had a harder time trusting a subordinate didn't at least add to the risk. Of course, most of the people she'd worked with thus far tended to be lacking in attention to detail and even, at times, overall intelligence. She grimaced. She knew Heero would never see his comrades that way, though, so she kept her complaints to herself.
She refocused on his behavior, which was something she could address. "You just seem so distant, right now," she explained.
Heero took longer than normal to respond, but he did finally bring his hand up to her face, allowing his knuckles to brush her jawline. When Lydia's golden eyes met his, everything else went away for a moment or two.
A door opened across the sitting room.
Smoothly and quickly the General stepped away from the other officer. She followed his lead and stepped out of the kitchenette to wait on a bar stool. In the short minutes it took him to prepare Lydia's coffee, Relena was already at his side, taking the tea he'd abandoned for her own glass. Colonel Prichard watched, wondering how overstuffed the diplomat had to be to assume the tea was for her. She didn't want it but that didn't inherently make it Relena's. There was also tension between her and Heero, but she wasn't sure what the blonde had done to offend him. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was Wind's behavior from the previous night. He was intentionally avoiding the former Queen's gaze at the same time that he seemed to be allowing her space. He was graceful with it, but she sensed his frustration.
Glancing back at the tea in the Foreign Minister's hand, she nodded, sure of her diagnosis. Rude.
She took her coffee when he offered and moved away from the eating space.
Heero followed suit, moving away from both women to an opposite side of the room from Relena as she stood, statuesque, at the bar and sipped her tea. Heero turned his shoulder to the kitchen and looked back down over the street.
"Wind wants me to stay with the girl," Lydia finally said, hoping that conversation would alleviate whatever strange tension had clouded the room. She threw a glance at the Foreign Minister as if seeking input. "He said you'd feel better if your family was being guarded, as well, while you go freely about your business."
Relena gave a curt nod and looked at Heero.
As if sensing both women's gaze, he turned his head further away.
"Well, then," Relena commented as she finished her glass. "I'll check my agenda."
A Foreign Minister's job was to bridge a gap between peoples. In Relena Marks's case, that meant visiting with the colonies of Earth and acquainting herself with their culture, their needs, and even their daily lives.
Morning had come and she was on the clock.
Relena quietly prepared a small breakfast for her tween child and made her way into her own room for a quick change. She laid out clothes for her husband, but didn't bother to wake him before she slipped out the door. She moved with an agile proficiency that surprised Heero, but she could never have hoped to be fast enough to flee him. General Yuy was on her tail as soon as she reached the exit.
Years had trained Relena that she could best understand her surroundings if she blended in, so she made sure to appear on the streets with a simple ponytail and a subdued grey sweater. Although she still walked with the gate of a queen and a posture that could balance a heap of books, the woman was sure to have something-other than a pencil and notebook-in one hand at all times. Her first day wandering the Martian Cityscape, she cycled through a tea to-go, a chocolate churro, and a lollipop. (She tossed Heero a threatening glare with the last item, but he turned his nose up without speaking.)
Before they found themselves resting and waiting by the city's large, waterfallesque feature, the only note Heero had taken of her shoes was that she could run in them, for sure. Assuming, of course, she could still run under pressure at all. Giving her body a quick once-over and making an educated guess based on her stride, he felt confident that she wouldn't be dead weight in an emergency.
His eyes automatically checked her, again, from her bare ankles upward, noting the changes in her body after bearing a child and aging. Her waist had filled out and her hips even more so, and the changes had only made her more beautiful than before. The girl was now a woman. Still, he assured himself, it was only to survey her ability to adapt to emergencies. He might have missed a detail the first time.
Naturally, then, he was a little disappointed when she leaned over the railing at the water's edge and squeezed her feet into a tall pair of heels she'd apparently been carrying around with her in the large purse he had flung over her shoulder. The fact that they had reached their appointed place was not much comfort, considering that they knew there was some sort of perpetrator on the loose with a twitchy trigger finger and a bomb—or several—with Relena's name on it.
"Do you like it?" A man called out from behind the Foreign Minister.
She straightened and turned, resting one hand on the railing as she graced him with a demure smile.
"The fountain?" He specified. Light brown hair hung over half of his face, shielding one of his green eyes from the lighting. He approached Relena coolly and took her hand in his, bowing to kiss her knuckles. He stood, towering over her, again, and studied her for a long while.
Heero treated the exchange with complete disinterest.
"It's lovely," she answered. There was little beauty in the town, Relena noticed, and there seemed to be no appreciation or drive for the arts. She passively considered how tragic it was that they were bringing up children in this wilderness with no sense of what can be beautiful or how powerful the arts truly were. This fountain, then, stood out. It was not only refreshing in its appearance, but it was the only thing that really imitated their home planet at all. Whomever had built it, she knew, must have loved the Earth dearly.
"Quatre decided the city needed something," the man explained. "It was his pet project when he visited, last."
Quatre?
The man led the Foreign Minister to the door of the building beside her, scanning his hand and retina before entry. "He engineered it so the water flowing through generates enough power to drive this building, twenty-four hours a day. He can be a little obsessive with his work, I suppose." His smile was soft and gentle.
And familiar.
Relena shook free the thought as she made her way into the building behind him. In spite of having the energy to run the building constantly, they appeared to keep the lights off when it wasn't in use. She assumed the matter was as much force of habit as anything and went on ignoring it.
"I'm beginning to gather that you don't remember me, do you?" The tall man threw several switches on the wall and turned back to face her. The auditorium glowed to life.
"I—" She felt like she was being tricked, but she saw no particular shame in answering the question honestly. "I have met several thousand people in my life, sir. You'll have to excuse me."
She heard Heero grunt as he moved away from her.
The taller man looked amused. He waited until Heero was out of earshot and commented, "You two don't seem to be on as friendly terms as you were when I first met you, your highness."
Of course. If he knew Quatre, there was a reasonable chance, at least, that he would know Heero was well. But he had known her? It must have been—
"I haven't seen you since Peacemillion."
The Foreign Minister's eyes filled with a nostalgic sadness, remembering the days of the war. It was dark and terrifying and the world was in a constant rage. Every moment felt like your last. Every decision was life and death. And Heero—
Heero.
She shot him a glance over her shoulder and moved toward her host with an air of pride. "I do apologize. Gundam Pilots deserve better than that. Where are my manners?"
He shook his head, accepting her hand, again. "Trowa Barton."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Trowa. Again, that is."
Trowa took no offense, of course, and went along helping her prepare to meet the people.
The hours passed quickly before Relena stood at Trowa's side behind the curtain, watching the masses file into their seats to hear her first speech. Movement across the stage caught Relena's attention as Juliet came hobbling into view.
"No," the mother mumbled to herself, but Trowa signaled her to stay her ground. The position they held was cleared by both former pilots and he needed to know that Heero had eyes on her before she moved away.
Heero, however, was distracted by the same entrance, as Lydia moved into his reach. She placed a hand on his arm and leaned into the turn of his neck to whisper. Relena knew, of course, that the subordinate officer was clearing her decisions with her commander and being accountable, considering the threat. She hoped, even, the Colonel was informing him where Leland would be found at the moment, but she didn't really have time to give the matter thought. Lydia moved away with Juliet to a front corner, near the exit, and Heero turned and made his way back to the Minister.
"Juliet—" He started to explain.
"I know," she said abruptly, folding her arms in disapproval.
He didn't seem fazed by her attitude. "I have her set next to an exit. If there's any way we can get an advantage—"
Relena cut him off, again, by raising her hand in thought. "I saw him," she reminded the General. "I saw his face. If I see him again, I'll do something, just for you. I'll let you know."
She pressed her pen to her lips, thinking.
"The pen," Trowa said.
They both looked at him.
"If you dropped your pen, the audience would be none the wiser."
"But you would know that he's here," she concluded.
Heero nodded curtly and returned to the far corner of the platform where he could oversee the crowd. Trowa stayed at his perch and signaled her when it was time to face the masses.
"Human beings," Relena began with a pleasant, regal smile. "Have been a creature of survival from the beginning of time. We have have grown and evolved and climbed our way up the food chain, establishing cultures, societies, and governments in which we live…"
Lydia stood against a wall, beside Juliet, arms folded as she watched the multitude for any peculiar behavior. Heero stationed himself a few yards away, between Relena and the door. His experienced eyes, also, were seeking a target. Above Relena knew Trowa stood like an angel, waiting also in case he needed to make a move.
"...as humans we must be willing to be those brave souls who will confront our pasts—ourselves—with change. We must be willing to start over. To try again. And we must be willing, also, to allow our brothers and sisters to do the same. This land—this planet—is a settlement for new beginnings. It is a home for hope..."
Heero stiffened at the sound of a pen dropping to the floor.
