Notice!: To my dear reviewer(s) who caught an unforgivable mistake, I thank you. Of course Zech's hair isn't brown! How could anyone do that? Just a typo, I assure you. I'll go back and fix it at my convenience. Also, reviews have been especially interesting to read for this story because of all guesses people have made at what might be going on; no one's hit it yet. Sorry. But it boosts my confidence a bit to know I'm not writing something so predictable. Also, questions about Relena's character have been raised, which have been helpful. As a writer, you know things in your head that you forget other people don't know. But I've tried to address those concerns in this chapter—with grace, hopefully.

Salka- chapter 3- Fixation Adjustment

"It's all my fault, you know."

"Of course it isn't, Mother."

"Yes, it is. I always insisted on keeping you in the same system of private schools. That's why your father was always going away on those horridly long business trips; I refused to relocate because of it!"

"Mother—"

"And we can't pretend that you actually wanted to go to college in your home town."

"I did—"

"I guilted you into not leaving me, and you let me—I'm so sorry—"

"Mother—"

"It's no wonder you've not made any new friends—I've not given you much of a chance since you were five!"

"Mother, if you don't let me speak I'm hanging up."

Silence.

"Thank you. Geez, Mom, I wouldn't have called if I knew you were going to get like this. You're blowing this way out of proportion."

A stifled sob sounded on the line.

"I just mean that you're over exaggerating. I made lots of friends outside of school when I was at home." She bit her lip, groping for a way to continue the reassurance. "It's just a bigger place here; more people to sort through, you know?"

"But, dear, it's the beginning of November; you've been there since July. And you hardly call. I miss our talks. I was thinking that it was okay if I didn't hear from you because you were occupied with your work and a social life. But you're not—you're lonely."

"I'm not lonely, Mother."

"Hmm?"

"I have classmates, and I see my boss every day. And I'm studying very hard. I'm fine, Mom."

"I should come visit."

"No. Mother, do you remember what your therapist said about separation? That it's natural and that you need to deal with it? Not only for yourself?"

There was another sob on the line, unmasked this time.

"Mom, calm down, please. I'll be back home at the end of next month, remember? Now, I'm going to hang up so you can get a hold of your therapist. Call him right now, and don't put it off, because I'm going to call him this evening to check."

Relena's mother agreed in a watery warble, followed by, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Mom."

She disconnected the call and stood up from her chair, shaking her arms out. "Helpless…."

She felt guilty for saying it right away. Her mother's already clingy nature had increased tenfold with the passing of her father. Being without her mother had proven to be both a plus and a drawback of moving away.

It hadn't been wholly a lie when she told her mother she wasn't lonely. Certainly, she felt it—but it was something she'd begun to savor to the point of enjoyment. Amidst an involved mother and a multitude of life-long friends she had experienced certain senses of 'lonely,'—but never solitude. And she was beginning to like solitude.

In the sprawling crowds of the university she was not obligated to greet anyone. Time not spent working or in lectures was her own. No one knew her name or had been an attendee of her father's funeral. And—anyway—she had come to study, not to socialize.

Of course, she wasn't a recluse. Noin spoke to her every day, Miliardo kept in contact, and she had lots to say in discussions with her peers. Still, she nearly felt pleased at the introvert she had become.

The thought surfaced again in her mind on the Wednesday of that week—and it was not pleasing.

"Noin, I know it's my job, but I want to tell you I can't."

"Relena, it's no big deal. You give them the packets and you go, all right?"

"It's uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Relena, they're two dozen half-educated sheep."

"How unkind."

"You will do this."

Silence.

"I'll leave the stack in front of my office."

"Alright."

Standing in front of the class only bothered her a little bit; she was more concerned with someone in the class.

Since the night she'd glimpsed him across the way with a gun on his table—and recognized him—she hadn't only bought curtains, but she had stopped staring out of all her windows. Her obsession was dead. Despite the fact that she knew what kind of socks he wore and recognized the angles and arcs of his hair, she did not know him. It struck her that she didn't really know anything about anyone behind the windows across the way—and the memory of the gun on the table made her feel it might be better if she didn't.

Furthermore, her brother's warning after seeing the man for himself came back to her. Miliardo hadn't frightened her then, but she had seen to it herself. It occurred to her that he might have seen her, too—be it on that night or any other. Then again, he was incredibly cavalier about assembling a fire-arm next to an open window if it was the case that he had seen her. Circular reasoning tormented her.

Whether he would recognize her if she saw him again was something she didn't care if she ever found out. And avoidance was the key to that.

Yet at eight on Thursday morning, she sat in front of Noin's Advanced Dynamic Response class, looking down at the desk's weathered, aluminum surface. She supposed she shouldn't let them wait. She stood.

"Dr. Noin could not avoid missing today's class," she knew she didn't look natural, "but she would like you all to take a packet—" even for being nervous she knew she couldn't be acting natural— "which contains the parameters of Module 2," her eyes darted around, looking for something comfortable to rest on that wasn't him, "and compose a full analysis with proofs," she felt nauseous, "for discussion next week."

With her hand she patted the stack on the desk, and everyone stood slowly to pick copies up.

As she swung her bag over her shoulder she felt someone tap her arm. A man she recognized was standing in front of her, clenching his fists—he had asked her what class he had come to the first time she'd filled in for Noin.

"Hi."

"Uh, hi. Sorry if this is weird or anything, but I just thought I'd introduce myself as long as you'll be showing up now and then."

"Oh, okay." She saw him approaching the desk and tried to focus all her attention instead on the man in front of her.

"I'm Eric Reyes." He held out his hand. She took it and he shook it gently.

"Relena Darlian."

"Nice to meet you. So, you're not in the Engineering Department?"

"Oh, no, I'm in Political Science."

"Oh, I see. Still cool. Do you guys have as many classes as us?"

"No. I think Polysci's more theoretical, and Engineering is more practical, so it—"

"Makes sense."

"Yeah."

"So, you wouldn't happen to have a class right now, would you?"

She swiveled her eyes around to make sure they were the only ones left in the room; they were. "Um, no, I don't."

"Cool. Hey, if you want—and you don't have to if you don't want to—maybe we could go get some coffee."

"Sure."

They walked together through the halls and out of the building without being able to talk for the crowds they had to weave through. Relena looked around her as much as she could to make sure he wasn't waiting for her anywhere. The possibility of a sort of ambush had not occurred to her until just then. She tried to stick closer to Eric. She knew what he was ultimately getting at with his introduction, but—though he was nice enough in addition to being a perfect ruse to avoid a confrontation with someone else—she was sure she didn't want to have coffee with him as badly as he did with her.

When they got outside Eric didn't speak and Relena kept glancing around them.

"So, do you mind if we go to the union for coffee?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"I prefer the place there, don't you?"

"Uh, no. I usually go to the one in the library. It's more convenient because I have an office there- don't you?"

"Yeah, but I also have a space in the lab building. I like it there and it's close to the union, so…."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Yeah. And they serve more stuff there than in the library."

"Really? Like what?"

"Um—lemon bars, bubble tea—"

Relena didn't hear what else they had because Eric abruptly stumbled and pitched forward, landing on his hands and knees. Having a feeling she knew what was happening, she held her breath and spun around in the space of a second.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry—didn't mean to knock you down." A man Relena didn't know was leaning over behind Eric, gasping for breath. She exhaled, relieved it wasn't who she thought it would be.

"Yeah, what's your problem?"

"I was trying to catch up to you—we need to hurry."

Eric stood and straightened out his jacket. "What for?"

"There's been an explosion in the lab building—our floor!"

"What?"

"Yeah, Miranda just called me. We've got to make sure the models are all right!"

"But—" he looked at Relena, "they're not going to let us in if there's been an explosion."

"We need to find a way in; what if there's a fire? We need to get the models out of there!"

"But—" he looked at Relena again, but his friend grabbed his shoulder and dragged him down the sidewalk at a run. He craned his neck around while he ran further away, shouting something that Relena couldn't hear, but that looked an awful lot like "See you later."

Only a little shell-shocked from the commotion that'd had nothing to do with her, she turned in the opposite direction, her new destination her office.

The atrium was still packed with students done with the first morning session by the time she got there. Having already been put in the mood for coffee, she joined the trailing line at the café and promptly spaced out.

She slipped out of her uncharacteristic daze when the back of the girl in front of her turned into a bored-looking barista.

"Tall Americano, please."

"Room?"

"A little, please." She handed over the money and went to join the others milling around the bar counter.

In her jacket pocket her phone buzzed the pattern of an email alert. The barista at the espresso machine was moving fast, so she decided to wait until getting to her office to see who it was from.

She was not looking for anything in particular—it felt like a convulsion, in fact—when she turned her head to the left. But it was definitely voluntary when she turned her head away; she'd moved so fast that a strand of her hair had swung around and hit her face. Only feet away stood the man she'd been so keen to avoid that morning. At first, she meant to make a break for it. But no—that would draw his attention her. Then again, if she stayed, he might have time to recognize her anyway, in which case she would not have a head start on getting away.

The barista at the counter was looking at her strangely. Calm down. You're drawing attention to yourself anyway. She turned her head in the opposite direction of the man next to her. She took a breath, which was lucky, because it kept her from grasping when he touched her arm.

Turning her head slowly this time, she met with a sickening feeling his arched brows and cynically bemused eyes.

"I think that's you they're calling." He withdrew his hand and gestured to the bar counter where two paper cups were waiting to be picked up.

He turned and walked to the counter, snatching up one of the lonely drinks. She didn't follow, deciding instead to wait for him to clear out of the café area before going for her own cup. As she trounced up the flights of stairs to the fifth floor it occurred to her that he must have been behind her for the whole wait in that long line, if his drink was the one called after hers. Without stopping her progress, she berated herself for not keeping up a better watch in a potentially risky situation. Risk? Twice in under an hour she'd come in close contact with a man who was probably dangerous—but whether or not he knew what she knew about him, he didn't seem to have any ill intentions toward her.

Paranoid. With disbelief and the beginnings of self-loathing, she thought that maybe her mother was right about her needing more contact with people.

As she popped up the last stair and headed in the direction of the cube-offices she looked up just in time to see a familiar head of hair disappear behind a corner.

Feeling pettishly tormented and hungry, she knew then that more than contact with other people, she needed to know more about him.

************************************************************************

Though she hadn't expected the email to be from Noin, she felt lucky that it was and jumped on the opportunity posthaste.

She punched in a message on her phone's qwerty keyboard: "Class went fine, thanks for asking. May I call you this evening? Have a question about a student. Also—aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

On her trips downstairs for a refill, for a book of potential use, and to the print station she didn't see him once. And for all the interest she had in him, it was surprisingly easy to keep from preoccupying herself with it.

It did cross her mind, though—as she gathered her things to head out to her late afternoon class—that she and this man likely spent their days in the same group of offices, not very far apart, and their evenings in the same building, close enough to see.

Later, in the quiet and dim light of her living room, she sat upright in her chair with her phone to her ear, waiting for Noin to

"Pick up."

"Hello," she said it almost like a song.

"You're in a good mood."

"Yes. And you?"

"Fine. I hope I'm not calling at a bad time—did you get my email?"

"Uh, yes. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Sorry, I had a—"

"I know who you're going to ask about."

"You do?"

"The quiet, mysterious—"

"No!" She was right on the money; how had she known? "Uh, no. Eric Reyes—I wanted to know about Eric Reyes."

"Huh? Eric…Reyes. Ah—dark guy, on the shorter side?"

"He's my height!"

"But that's who you're talking about?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, I don't think he's been in the program that long. He's into prosthetics, I think. Probably about your age."

"Oh. Okay."

"Why do you ask?"

"Uh, he introduced himself—"

"I'll bet he did."

"—just curious."

"Uh-huh."

"Ah, who was that other one you were talking about?"

"What other one?"

"Quiet, mysterious…."

"Oh, right. Heero Yuy."

"That's his name?"

"Yes, now he's something to look at—"

"Noin, he's your student!"

"I didn't mean for me! For you."

"What?"

"I know him. He's very talented, almost done with his research, and I'm certain he's single. He'd be an excellent distraction for you."

"Wha—distraction?"

"Yes, ma'am. Surely you want to do more than your stuffy work and make photocopies and deliveries for me?"

"No, I—well yes, but—" she took a breath. "Not that I'm interested in the fact, but how would you know that he's single?"

"Just because of all the work he does. I think he does some freelance consulting on the side, but he's been published twice in the last year, and he has a very ambitious project going. I don't know how he could possibly have time for something so personal as dating."

"Oh."

"You want me to introduce you?"

"How do you know him?"

"I've been advising him on something he's been trying to get funding for."

"I see." She moved the curtain next to her slightly aside to get a quick look at Heero Yuy's window. It was dark. "You don't have to introduce me, Noin; it's not like I want to date the guy. I was only curious. I think I've seen him somewhere before."

"Fine, fine. By the way, I wanted to see if I could get you to put a lecture on some slides for me tomorrow. I've already got the text down."

"Certainly. Email the notes tomorrow morning and I'll send the presentation over by noon."

"Ah, maybe I could fax them; they're handwritten."

"Of course they are, boss. Don't bother with faxing them; I'll pick them up in the morning."

"Thanks, Relena."

After she hung up with Noin, she didn't get out of her chair right away. She looked outside again; still dark. She really didn't want to date him, like she'd said. She impulsively looked out again. She wasn't obsessed anymore, either. She knew where he lived, where he studied, the color of his socks, the intensity of his work, the curiosity of his hair, and now—his name.

In the quiet that surrounded her, she decided to disturb it. Taking notice of the ways the foreign words made her mouth move, she said his name out loud for the first time.

Note: Ah, there's chapter three for you. It was written in bits and pieces, but I hope it doesn't feel that way when you read it. I think this was shorter than the last two chapters, but I'd like to think of it as a segue into the story's action. I promise that in the next chapter—which shan't take too long to post—that they will meet. And that other stuff will happen. ^_^ Thank you so much for reading. Drop me a line, too; it's so lovely to hear from everybody.