Chapter Three: Dust to Dust
All your acting, your thin disguise
All your perfectly delivered lines
They don't fool me
You've been lonely too long
– The Civil Wars, "Dust to Dust"
"Vi! Thank God," Relena exclaimed as a pair of heavy metal doors swung shut behind her, esconcing her in the kitchen.
"Hey, lady, lookin' good!" Violet Wilshire grinned at Relena from her chef's station, wiping her hands on a towel before making her way over to her. The rest of the kitchen staff rushed around them, assistant cooks loading up plates and servers swanning in and out of the swinging doors, filling up or depositing their trays.
The petite redhead looked adorable in her white chef's outfit and hat covering her stylish pixie haircut. She'd kept her hair short as long as Relena had known her, and she couldn't blame the woman; it flattered her heart-shaped face perfectly.
"Your dress is gorgeous," Violet pronounced, stepping back to admire Relena's ensemble. Relena laughed and gave a little curtsy.
"Why, thank you." She was happy with her selection, although the long, fitted gown with its black chiffon overlay was a sharp departure from her usual style. While it was fully lined with a nude satin slip, the dress appeared to be sheer. That, along with its low-cut, sweetheart neckline, left much less to the imagination than Relena was accustomed to revealing. But when she first spotted the dress in a fashion runway report, she knew she had to have it, and the designer was more than happy to send it to her.
"I never see you in black, but I love it," Violet said.
Relena shrugged one shoulder. "Well, it is a black tie gala, you know?"
"You're lucky you get to dress up…" The chef grimaced, tugging at her work uniform.
"Ah, but you love doing these events, don't you?" Relena gestured around the bustling kitchen.
Violet's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! The money's fantastic. And I have you to thank for helping me land high-profile gigs like these."
Relena waved a hand. "Oh, stop… It's your own amazing talent that has brought you so much notoriety. You deserve it."
"Yes, but if I hadn't catered your wedding years ago, who knows where I'd be now?" Violet's smile rapidly faded, her nose crinkling in the process. "Has it really been ten years, already?"
"Eleven in June," Relena said softly.
"Wow, so Ellie's turning eleven this year, too?" Vi's eyes widened as Relena nodded. "Goodness. How time flies."
"Mm." Relena pressed her lips together. The timing of her wedding and Ellie's birth were not so far apart; the young politician knew it was obvious to everyone why she and Heero married when they did. Relena always maintained that they would have gotten married, eventually; just not at nineteen years old, which had been far from ideal. At the time, she hadn't cared; she was positively giddy about officially starting their lives together. And when Ellie arrived in November that year, Relena truly believed she could never be happier, that her life with Heero could never be so perfect, so complete.
It turned out she had been right.
Vi tilted her head to the side, fixing Relena with a look that was far too perceptive for comfort.
"And how are you and Heero doing these days?" The question was innocuous enough, but Relena wouldn't have been surprised if her friend suspected something. She'd tried to keep things quiet, but after everything that had happened over the past few months, rumors were bound to fly.
"We're doing great," Relena said breezily. "We'll have to be sure to order one of your cakes for our anniversary. But for now… can we talk about your award-winning truffle mac and cheese?" Relena batted her eyes hopefully. "You wouldn't happen to have any more, would you? I missed it when it was being passed around earlier."
Violet laughed. "Don't worry, darling, I made enough to feed an army! Have a seat; I'll be right back." The chef swept back to her station and Relena glanced about, failing to find any place to actually sit. Although there was a bit of counter space that wasn't covered with pots and pans and trays… Relena hopped up and watched as her friend returned with a steaming plate of creamy pasta.
"Oooh…" Relena smiled appreciatively at Vi and accepted the plate. "This looks delicious… and what are the green bits? Parsley and scallions?"
"Kale and leeks," Vi replied, grinning. "It elevates the dish a bit, don't you think?"
Relena took her time savoring her first bite before answering. "Heavenly." She quickly tucked in for another serving. "I don't think I eat nearly enough truffles, you know…"
"Nor would you want to," Vi said with a laugh.
"Oh, I beg to differ…" It was all Relena could do to keep from swooning, which made Vi laugh harder.
"What do we have here?"
Relena was so lost in her savory meal, she hadn't noticed anyone else approaching her corner of the kitchen. She looked up in dismay at the owner of the low baritone.
"Well, you've caught me out again, Trowa Barton." Relena sighed and shook her head. "You never let me get away with anything, do you?"
Trowa didn't bother answering her. "Are you drunk?" he asked, his neutral expression belying the intrusive question.
"No," Relena scoffed while Vi looked on in amusement. "What makes you think that?"
"Perhaps because you're sitting on a filthy kitchen counter in a ball gown, eating macaroni and cheese like it's the last meal you'll ever have," Trowa said pointedly. Relena thought she caught the slightest twinkle in his eye, but it vanished before she could be sure.
"Hey!" Vi whirled on him, balling her hands at her sides. "My kitchen is not filthy."
"I meant no offense," Trowa said simply. When he offered nothing more, Vi rolled her eyes and began to stomp away.
"Your bodyguards are all such characters," she said to Relena over her shoulder. "Give my love to Heero and Ellie, will you?"
"I will," Relena called, raising her plate. "Thank you for dinner!"
Vi waved a hand as she returned to her working area. "Nonsense. Any time."
Relena returned her attention to her meal, fully aware that Trowa continued to stand there, staring at her. "What?" she asked after a minute.
He folded his arms over his chest. "Do you intend to hide back here the rest of the night?"
"Maybe." Relena paused to chew and swallow. "I mean, can you blame me? Have you tried Vi's famous mac and cheese?"
Trowa's gaze flickered. Obviously, he could tell she was dodging his real question. "No," he said flatly.
Relena grinned and held the plate out to Trowa. "Want some?"
He shook his head once. "No, thank you."
"Suit yourself, then."
"I prefer not to share food."
"That's right. I forget what a germaphobe you are," Relena teased.
"No, I'm not. Just…" Trowa leaned his back against the counter, his arms still crossed over his chest as he looked down at Relena's plate. "I find eating off of someone else's fork disgusting."
Relena laughed, finding his squeamishness highly amusing. "Ellie and I share food all the time."
"That's different," Trowa said. "You're related."
"So you don't share with your sister?"
He all but snorted. "No."
"Barton…" Relena nudged him with her elbow. "You need to live a little."
"Really." He sounded incredulous, for someone who was so monotone most of the time. "You do know who you're talking to, right?"
Relena grinned up at him. "So you'll walk a tightrope and dodge knives and pilot giant autonomous weapons, but you won't eat off of the same fork as someone el–"
"Fine." Trowa reached over and snatched the fork from her hand, then proceeded to spear a decent portion of noodles for himself. Relena watched in giddy fascination as he ate.
"Well?"
"It's good." Trowa handed the fork back to her, and Relena would have clapped in glee, if her hands weren't already full.
"See? I knew you'd love it. Now help me finish; it's too much."
"If you insist."
After a few minutes, the two had devoured the rest of the dish, and Relena felt much fuller and happier than she had been all evening. She'd felt the need to starve herself all day to ensure her snug dress would zip up; now, she didn't really care. She rested a hand on her belly and smiled lazily up at Trowa.
"That was so good…"
"Ready to get back out there?" Her bodyguard was no-nonsense, as usual. Relena heaved a deep sigh.
"Not really, no…"
"Well, you can't stay hidden all night."
"Why not?" Relena splayed her hands. "I doubt anyone would miss me. The event is winding down, anyway…"
Trowa's eyes narrowed. "If we don't return to the party, Heero will come looking for you himself. And I know you don't want that," he added gently, although his gaze was sharp and assessing. Annoyingly so.
Relena frowned and flicked a stray piece of pasta off of her lap. "Right…"
"I don't need him lecturing me. He's still my boss," Trowa reminded her. As if she needed a reminder.
"I understand," Relena said sullenly. "I wouldn't want him scolding you for 'catering to my whims.'"
She'd heard the lecture, too. Far too many times. And it wasn't just about Trowa; any one of the rotating Preventers in her detail had a tendency to let her call the shots– even if it meant disobeying Heero's orders, slightly. Which were far too draconian in the first place, in Relena's opinion. But Heero had the nerve to say she "steamrolled" the others. Well. Relena thought he had a lot of nerve, in general…
But while Quatre Winner, during the rare times he actually took Preventer work, tended to pity her plight, and Duo Maxwell was all too happy to be her partner in crime, Trowa Barton was not one to be steamrolled. Before Relena could sputter another word of protest, he was steering her out of the kitchen, back into the crowded ballroom.
Unfortunately, the party was still in full swing. Lively music from the string quartet filled the air, and a surprising number of guests were dancing. Relena shot a panicked look to Trowa.
"What?" He frowned down at her. "I thought you liked to dance?"
"I used to." Relena closed her eyes as memories flooded her mind, most more bitter than sweet. Now, even the sweetest ones were tainted.
But she didn't have time to ruminate on her heartache. And anyway, she was tired of ruminating, tired of seething, grieving, feeling... she was plain tired. She wanted to go home, peel off her constricting gown and crawl into bed, but knew full well how an early exit would look– like she was defeated. She needed to be stronger.
And so, when Relena saw Dr. Montgomery approaching, she squared her shoulders back, raised her head high and smiled warmly at him.
"Dr. Montgomery… That was a wonderful speech you gave tonight."
"Ah, you're too kind, Miss Darlian." He dipped into a slight bow. "After all," he added, his eyes twinkling at her, "I had a very tough act to follow."
"Actually, it's 'Mrs.'" Relena corrected him gently, feeling her cheeks flame. "Mrs. Yuy."
She watched as the doctor's eyes drifted to her left hand, although her ring finger was bare. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "I failed to notice you were married… Don't you go by Darlian, professionally?"
"That's all right; it's an easy mistake. Many still know me as a Darlian or a Peacecraft. But around here, it's just 'Yuy,'" Relena explained, her flush darkening. Why did saying his name ache? Even though, technically, it was still her name, too?
"Well… your husband wouldn't mind if I asked for a dance, would he?" Dr. Montgomery looked to Trowa, and Relena laughed.
"This is Trowa, my bodyguard." She was relieved that Heero still kept a low enough profile that people outside of Brussels didn't recognize him– as her husband, the Preventers commander, or the legendary Gundam Pilot 01.
Relena grinned up at Trowa. "You don't mind, do you?" she teased.
"Not at all," Trowa said, giving a careless shrug to match his non-committal expression. "Enjoy."
Dr. Montgomery offered his arm to Relena. She took it with a smile, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially to him as he led her onto the dance floor. "He'll be watching like a hawk."
"Who?" His brows arched behind his glasses. "Your bodyguard, or your husband?"
Relena laughed without humor. "Both."
A/N: Hi, friends! Happy Monday Funday... is that a thing? Well, it is now :P I've decided to continue posting new chapters of this story on Mondays, for the time being, because Mondays are blah and this makes them less "blah" for me. I hope your Mondays are less blah, now, too. :D
So this chapter was a fun one to write, since it provides a bit of levity to an otherwise heavy story. I nearly cut it out for that very reason. In fact, a good editor would probably tell me it belongs in my "brain dump" doc, where I literally dump scenes that either weren't working or didn't fit with the greater arc of the story. So in order to make this one fit, it means our buddy Trowa here will have to play a significant role in the plot... I hope y'all don't mind ;) Those of you who are familiar with my body of work know that I have a hard time keeping Gundam Pilot 03 out of my stories in general, and an even tougher time not giving him top billing. He's just so mysterious and irresistible, amirite? WAHHH. CAN'T. ANYWAY.
Will Trowa's mere presence derail any hope of a 1xR reconciliation? You'll have to follow and find out! Sorry. I'm mean. ;)
Hugs!
- RFP