Hereafter

Chapter 15

March Madness Prompt

Coffee Shop

"Do you want to stop for a coffee?" Relena asked him.

Heero had learned in his first few weeks gaining experience as a boyfriend that when Relena asked if he wanted to do something, it meant that she wanted to do it and was asking him to accompany her. He had also learned that she didn't like it when he responded with "if you want to" even when it was the truth one hundred percent of the time. If he said that, she would sigh and pretend she did not want coffee, like it was an inconvenience to him when he didn't care either way and just wanted to do whatever pleased her.

So he found himself sitting in a booth across from his new girlfriend in a small coffee shop with windows that faced the street. There was a television in the corner airing the news. The news was about Relena.

A waitress came by to take their order. She wore a tiny apron but carried no pen or paper. She just asked what they wanted. Heero stared at her blankly.

"A cappuccino?" Relena asked. "With extra foam please."

The waitress hadn't recognized Relena until she spoke. She must not have even really looked at her because Relena was very noticeable. Relena never set foot outside in scrubby clothes. Her ruffled blouse was the color of apricots and it made the blue in her eyes pop in a mesmerizing fashion. Possibly, it was only Heero who found them mesmerizing, but still, she was fetching. And incredibly famous.

The waitress's mouth formed a little "o" as she stared at Relena for a few seconds in stunned silence.

Relena did not embarrass her. She smiled and waited, her hands folded beneath her chin.

"Cappuccino," Heero repeated. "Two please."

The girl jumped and gave them both a hasty nod.

"I didn't know you liked cappuccinos, Heero," Relena said. She turned that beatific smile on him.

"I've never had one," he said. "What is it?"

Relena laughed. This seemed to catch the interest of the whole room. They all turned to stare at her, and then at him—no doubt wondering who this boy was with his faded military jacket and disheveled hair who was having coffee with the most famous woman on Earth and in Space.

Very deliberately, Heero reached across the table and took Relena's hand. He felt the scar on her wrist, slightly puckered beneath his index finger. He had noticed it before. She had told him she'd had it since she was a baby, that she'd gotten it from a fall when she had been barely old enough to walk.

If everyone was staring before, they were pop-eyed now. With his peripheral vision, Heero noted the mouths dropping open, the frantic whispers, the repressed giggles, but he kept his gaze on Relena. He knew his eyes were much too fierce, that it probably looked like he was trying to burn a hole through the woman sitting across from him, but Relena returned his intense gaze with one of approval. He caressed her fingers in front of everyone and said nothing.

They remained that way until the cappuccinos came. Heero discovered he did not like foam.

"Are you sure?" Noin demanded, her cheeks a mess of tears and dirt.

"It's not her," Heero said confidently.

He fell back on his heels, heaving and light-headed. A girl was still dead, and she probably had family somewhere that would grieve, but it wasn't Relena. Relena had not yet been found. She might still be alive.

The fireman and doctor took over tending to the body. Heero rose on shaky legs. He offered Noin a hand and helped her to her feet too.

"She has to be alive," Noin said. "I couldn't bear it if she's dead. How could I tell her brother? Zechs wouldn't forgive me for failing to protect her."

Heero wondered if that was true. He didn't have the energy to really think about it. Like Noin, he just wanted Relena to be alive somehow, though he could not imagine how it was possible. He had seen her just before the building gave way, speaking to the people in the auditorium from the small dais, her hands resting lightly on the podium. She had looked so serene, so certain, so pleased.

Would that be his last memory of her? It didn't seem fair. He needed more time. He deserved more time. He wanted decades of moments like that, a never-ending film of Relena being herself in whatever ways pleased her. He wanted her happy and sad, fierce and calm. If she was alive, he would tell her. He would tell her everything that was in his heart and more. If only she was alive. If she was dead…

But he couldn't finish that thought.

"It's not her," he repeated to Trowa as he stumbled out of the circle, pulling Noin behind him. "I am sure it is not. She's still in this somewhere." He gestured at the piles of rubble.

"Thank God," Trowa breathed. He looked relieved, but also pale and haggard, a shadow of the calm, analytical man Heero was used to. "I thought it was her."

"What about Quatre and Dorothy?" Noin asked Trowa. "Have they found them yet?"

Heero had forgotten about Quatre and Dorothy. He felt a moment's pang of guilt that he had not—for a little over an hour—really cared about them. They were at least alive.

"They know where they are," Trowa said. "But digging them out has to be done slowly and carefully or the pile might shift and fall on top of them. We're keeping in communication with Dorothy. She's irritable, obviously, and doesn't understand what is taking so long."

"God bless her," Noin said. "Is Quatre still unconscious?"

"Yes," Trowa said, "but that might be for the best. The medics don't think his condition sounds too good."