The colony is lit up, buildings shining and shimmering in the artificial lighting. Mariemaia cranes her head back to stare up at the steel-and-glass buildings. She feels dizzy. It's like when Dekim had brought her to the Mobile Suits, had stood her on one of the hatches and promised her the world.
Heero walks along the outside of the sidewalk, shoulders loose and hands swinging gently at his sides. Mariemaia shifts her attention from the skyscrapers to him instead. He catches her watching, frowns at her as they wait for a changing traffic light.
"What?" he asks.
She takes a deep breath of recycled air as they cross the street. "Does Lady Une know you've sprung me?"
"You were hardly in jail," he scoffs. He doesn't confirm though and Mariemaia ducks her head to hide her smile.
She expects to be escorted to a restaurant, somewhere secure, maybe not a five-star one, but one that's relatively quiet like the one she and Lady Une had lunch at. Contained. Instead, they make their way to a car park where brightly colored food trucks are gathered and people move together in small groups, laughing and talking above the sounds of evening traffic. It's the most life she's seen in one place since she's gotten here.
"What?" he asks, noticing her expression.
"This hardly seems secure."
"I didn't think you were in need of protection."
Even so, he keeps to her side, eyes alert as she peruses the menus. She's had street food once, during a Preventers fundraiser last year. It had been messy, food wrapped in aluminum foil with juice dripping down her arm and spotting her school uniform. She'd watched the higher ups try and look dignified, sitting at picnic tables with plastic cutlery and forced smiles.
One truck has some type of sushi which seems suspect, another falafel and gyros, and the last one arayes. Mariemaia gets in line for the arayes food truck and Heero steps up behind her like a particularly surly shadow. Mariemaia amuses herself by watching the people ebbing and flowing around them. The teens in front of them chatter loudly, voices a sharp contrast to the music from a nearby busker.
She orders while Heero pulls out a few bills to pay. Once they have their food they wander to the edge of the car park, lean against the wall of a nearby building. Mariemaia burns her tongue on the spicy meat filling, licks juice from her thumb. A car horn blares from across the nearby intersection. The air smells of spice and the hint of metal that always permeates the colonies.
"I expected a restaurant," she says, sips from the bottle of water to soothe her sore tongue. "They seem more to your liking."
Heero shrugs, eats carefully at his own meal. "I don't care for sitting in one place too long," is all he says.
Mariemaia raises her eyebrows, settles a shoulder into the hard wall behind them. "Do you miss the colonies?"
"Parts," he says. "When was the last time you were up here?"
Mariemaia shrugs again. "I come to Lady Une's meetings once in a while. Whenever she deems them not disruptive to school or whatever." She tucks the water bottle under one arm, picks at her sandwich. "We usually don't leave the conference unless there's an event." She chews a piece of spiced meat, swallows. "We actually went to a restaurant for lunch. It was thrilling."
Heero is quiet and Mariemaia falls silent as well. She lets her gaze drift aimlessly, studies the spindly trunks of the colony trees, inhales recycled air and smog. The teenagers have commandeered a picnic table near the park. They're laughing and shoving each other, one girl shrieking as a cup overturns and spills over the tabletop. They're raucous and noisy. They remind her of the kids at school. They remind her of Kenzie and Yasmin, Yen and Julia.
"Is he still working?" she asks, voice soft.
"Yes," Heero answers. He's watching the teenagers as well. Mariemaia wonders what he sees when he looks at them. They're only a few years younger than him, a few years older than her, but they feel miles away. Lightyears even. She wonders if you can miss a life you haven't lived.
"You're worried."
"Concerned," he corrects. He balls up the food wrapper. "He has a habit of being reckless."
Mariemaia half-turns to face him, eyebrows raised incredulously. "It's been my experience that you all have that particular habit." She pauses, considers. "Except Wufei, maybe."
The corner of Heero's mouth twitches. "He's the worst."
Mariemaia doesn't quite believe him, but she doesn't push. She leans against the wall, lets a bubble of comfortable silence settle around them while she finishes her sandwich.
/
"Thank you," she says, voice quiet as they walk back toward the hotel. From the corner of her eye, she can see Heero turn to look at her with something close to curiosity. "You didn't have to do this."
"You were hungry," he replies with a shrug.
"You don't like me."
Heero doesn't agree or disagree, but his steps become a bit shorter so that she doesn't feel like she's power-walking to keep up. His face is as unreadable as a stone. Mariemaia studies the evenly spaced sidewalk blocks, eyes searching for a crack or patch of grass. Everything feels too artificial on L4, too new.
"Why did you go to the observation deck with Quatre?" he asks.
Mariemaia glances up sharply, catches Heero's even gaze. He's assessing her, looking for the same cracks that she'd searched the ground for. It sets her teeth on edge, her jaw clenched tight. Of course Lady Une would have her being watched. Or maybe Quatre Winner had let it slip. Her mouth tastes unpleasantly bitter.
"I wanted to see space."
"It couldn't have waited until the observation deck was open?"
Mariemaia wraps her arms around herself as the fans turn on, a breeze picking up. A car horn blares, loud and sudden in the rush-hour traffic. She feels like a child again, clinging to a motorcycle with the wind against her face. She remembers Uncle Trowa's words, "One day that will all be yours." She shivers.
"Cold?" Heero asks. There's a tone to his voice she can't place, half concerned, half disbelieving.
"Tired," she replies.
"Mariemaia."
"I had a dream about Uncle Trowa," she replies. She lets her arms drop, runs her fingers over a metal fence in front of a building. The metal is cold against her bare fingers. "He brought me to an observation deck before he disappeared, so I could see my future." Her mouth twists bitterly. "I wanted to see it again."
Heero Yuy is quiet. A moment later he shrugs out of the denim jacket he's wearing, settles it over her shoulders. She means to push it off, but instead her arms slip through the oversized sleeves and she wraps it around herself.
"I wanted to see him again," she admits.
"He's dead." She rolls her eyes at the matter-of-fact tone he uses.
"I know that. I still…for a moment I just thought. It was stupid. I didn't know Quatre Winner would be there. He let me in and that was that." She hesitates, sees the hotel come into view. It's lit up with the W shining brightly, casting dark shadows against the wall. "Do you trust Quatre Winner?"
"Yes." The answer is simple, easy. Mariemaia studies his face, tries to gauge if he's lying. "What else have you dreamt?"
"Just nightmares." They stand at the crossroad in front of the hotel. Mariemaia studies the large glass and steel building. There's a cold stone in the pit of her stomach, where the remnants of her dinner previously occupied. "I want to go home," she admits, voice soft under the rush of traffic.
Heero Yuy is silent next to her. She isn't sure if he heard her or not. She isn't sure if she'd rather he ignores her or not if he did. The light changes and they cross the street to the hotel.
/
"Sometimes I think you're trying to give me a heart attack. Or gray hair."
Mariemaia schools her amused expression into something in the realm of innocent. Maybe contrite. At least apologetic. Lady Une heaves a sigh as she stares at the two of them. Next to her, Heero Yuy appears unmoved.
"There's dye for that," Dorothy's voice calls from within the hotel room. Mariemaia frowns, leans slightly to the left to see past her guardian. She catches a flash of blonde hair on the sofa.
"She was hungry," Heero states. His tone is flat, but his arms are crossed over his chest, weight centered like he's expecting a fight in the middle of Quatre Winner's hotel hallway.
Lady Une sighs again, steps out of the way to allow her to enter. "You owe me a report," she states, voice hard-edged.
"I'd think you could make the connections yourself."
"That's not what I'm referring to."
Heero pauses, head tilted as he studies Lady Une. Mariemaia hovers just past the threshold, watches them both. After a minute of heavy silence punctuated by a slamming door in another hallway Heero inclines his chin the barest inch. He turns on his heel, disappears down the hall in the direction of the Vice Foreign Minister's suite.
Lady Une relaxes her own stance next to her. "Goodnight to you too," she mutters.
"Don't take it personally," Dorothy says. Mariemaia twists. Dorothy is seated on the sofa with her elbow resting on a crossed knee. She has her chin cradled in her palm, smile in place. "I hear you've been getting into mischief, dear cousin."
"More like trouble," Lady Une states, shutting the door. She raises her eyebrows at Mariemaia. "Are you planning on standing there like a gargoyle all night?"
"No," she mutters. She steps into the room, sheds her shoes and leaves them in the walkway rebelliously. She keeps Heero Yuy's jacket on, hands hidden by the too-long sleeves. She sees Dorothy's smile widen.
"Interesting fashion statement."
"Why are you here?"
Dorothy's eyebrow raises. "Now, is that anyway to greet your favorite cousin?"
Mariemaia bites back her retort that Dorothy is her only cousin. Dorothy sits up, eyes brightening, as though she'd read her mind. There had been whispered rumors around Minister Dubiel's garden parties, words like demon and witch and spy bandied about with side glances toward her cousin. No one had known what to make of Dorothy and the inside secrets she picked up and discarded whenever it benefited her.
"Come now, I'm not psychic," Dorothy says. There's a smile playing at her mouth, as if she knows what Mariemaia's thinking. Her smile widens, shows off her even-set white teeth.
"Stop it, Dorothy," Lady Une orders.
"Oh, but her face is so expressive!" Dorothy protests. She settles back on the sofa, like a cat watching a mouse, pats the spot next to her.
Mariemaia glances at her guardian, but Lady Une's back is to her as she pours a glass of red wine in the kitchenette. Mariemaia crosses the room, takes a seat next to Dorothy and feels like she's just entered a trap. "What's going on?" she asks.
Lady Une takes a seat on the armchair, sips at her wine. "We're going home."
"What?"
"This was only supposed to be a short trip." She pauses, stares at the glass of wine in her hand. "It's not fair to you being cooped up in here."
"But what about the investigation?"
"I have people in place to continue it. It's no different than any other investigation."
Mariemaia sits there, stares at Lady Une in shock. Next to her, Dorothy twirls a strand of pale blonde hair around her finger. "Why is Dorothy here?"
"To say goodbye, of course," Dorothy replies. She smooths a hand over the skirt of her dress. Her nails are pale pink, tapered at the ends. The history book Dr. Arthav has her read paints her cousin as a war hawk, a spy for Duke Dermail and Treize Khushrenada. Zechs Merquise's right-hand woman. Mariemaia wonders how much blood really is under her cousin's cleanly manicured nails.
"To be warned to be on her best behavior while I'm away," Lady Une counters. She pauses, meets Dorothy's eyes. "The goodbye was a bonus."
Dorothy lifts a narrow shoulder in a shrug. Her eyes are the blue ice color of deep winter, unreadable and hazardous. "I always behave appropriately," she states.
"Did something happen?"
"Your guardian," Dorothy says before Lady Une can respond, "is trying to get you off colony before the scandal breaks. By tomorrow night this hotel will be flooding with reporters looking to cash in on Minister Yergin's downfall."
"Scandal?"
Dorothy's mouth twitches in amusement, but she remains silent. Lady Une downs the rest of her wine, sets the empty glass on the coffee table. "We have the first flight out."
"Shouldn't you be here if there's a scandal? Isn't that your job?"
"My job is to make sure justice is carried out. Minister Yergin has brought this on himself."
Mariemaia sits between her cousin and her guardian and feels immensely young. She tugs at the sleeves of Heero's jacket, ignores the look that Dorothy sends her.
Dorothy stretches, arms long above her head and back bowed like a cat's. "Oh, this is going to be so fun," she practically purrs. She shakes her hair back over her shoulders. "And to think Miss Relena had to convince me not to leave early."
"Honestly, Dorothy," Lady Une sighs. She rubs her temples, looks tired, but she's smiling a little too.
/
Dorothy lounges on the sofa, chats aimlessly with Lady Une. Mariemaia suspects her cousin enjoys seeing how far she can poke and prod before the older woman snaps. Dorothy tires of the game after twenty minutes when the most she can get is a narrow-eyed look and a sharp admonishment. After another thirty, she makes her goodbyes, pulls Mariemaia into a surprisingly strong hug.
"Rest easy, dear cousin," Dorothy murmurs in her ear. Mariemaia feels strands of Dorothy's fine hair sticking to her skin, curtaining them off from the world briefly. She smells of lilies.
Mariemaia releases her cousin, steps back. Dorothy studies her for a moment, reaches out to chuck her under the chin. "Enjoy your scandal," she says. Dorothy's smile is bright and brilliant.
"Oh, I will," she promises.
Mariemaia disappears into the bedroom while Lady Une says her own goodbyes. She's pulled out her suitcase, begun folding her clothes and packing them away, when Lady Une knocks lightly at the door. She looks up at her guardian before returning her attention to carefully folding her socks. Lady Une hovers for another moment before she steps into the room. She takes a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.
"How long will you stay, before leaving?" she questions.
Lady Une reaches over, picks up one of her shirts to fold. "A few days."
Mariemaia nods. She sets the folded socks in the suitcase, heads to the bathroom to collect her toiletries. She spares her reflection a glance, studies the dark circles beneath her eyes and her pale face. She looks tired. She looks ghoulish. She looks young, still in the too-large jacket. She turns away, tosses her belongings into the toiletry bag and leaves it perched on the sink for use in the morning. She shrugs out of the jacket, changes into her pajamas.
Lady Une is folding the conference clothes carefully, smoothing out wrinkles on each item before setting it into the case. She looks up, eyes settling on Mariemaia. Mariemaia shifts slightly, drapes the borrowed jacket over a chair. She isn't sure what to do with the jacket, doesn't know where to leave it for its erstwhile owner. Perhaps she can drop it with Miss Relena to return.
"I…" she trails off, unsure what she wants to say.
"It's late," Lady Une says, glancing at the bedside clock. "We will be having a conversation tomorrow about all of this."
"Yes, ma'am."
Lady Une studies her quietly. She reaches out and Mariemaia hands her the clothes she has bundled in her arm. Lady Une tosses them into the suitcase, zips it up and sets it on the floor out of the way. "We will talk about it, Mariemaia." Mariemaia looks away, stiffens in surprise when Lady Une reaches for her, pulls her into a loose embrace. "You were not lied to."
"It's late," Mariemaia repeats. She stares at the pillow. "I'm tired."
Lady Une releases her, ducks her head to catch Mariemaia's eye. "Get some rest. We'll be leaving early."
She waits until Lady Une steps out of the room before she collapses onto the bed, stares up at the ceiling bathed in the warm golden glow of the bedside lamp. She's tired, her mind sluggish and overtaxed, but her muscles feel keyed up and antsy, her leg throbs a dull ache from knee to low back. She grabs her phone from the bedside table, pulls up Kenzie's name. There's a long litany of texts from her, but she can't be bothered to skim them.
Fun's over, she types. Returning home tomorrow.
Excellent! Kenzie texts back almost immediately. No more exile! ?
Mariemaia drops the phone back on the bed, flops onto the oversized pillows. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she wanted to go home, so she isn't sure why she doesn't feel happier about this turn of events.