A/N: Well, faithful readers (*ahemwho-need-to-start-reviewinghemhem*) I'm on a roll and quite happy about it! An update a week will have this finished in a few months, since I'm predicting 14 chapters (but knowing myself and my writing habits it will likely end up to be more _). Let me know if this chapter length is good, or if you prefer a different-sized dose.
I'm already about half finished the next chapter as well, so another update should be up very soon!
I'd really like to know what you guys think is going to happen, what you want to happen, what you like, what you hate, etc. It's really important that I get this sort of feedback, since it is my first fic, and I definitely want to see improvement myself when comparing the end result to the beginning chapters!
Thanks for putting up with the rant. Now, please enjoy!
-picimadár
P.S. Underlined Italics are thoughts while in a flashback. Otherwise, italics are thoughts.
When You Run Among Shadows
Chapter 3: Caged
Late September, A.C. 200, Sanq Kingdom
Elegant, yet simply decorated, the reception area gave off a distinct air of structure. Each shelf had many large texts, old and new, ranging from animal behaviors to neuroscience journals, arranged in a perfect wave from tallest to shortest and back. The month's magazines were arranged perfectly on small end tables, accompanying a few coffee-coloured couches and recliners. Every surface was immaculately polished, from the glass of the lamps, emitting soft yellow light, to the dark hardwood floors. It seemed that the professional using the space greatly valued this sort of organization, however the slightly dazed-looking receptionist clearly did not.
Although the room was beautifully furnished and inviting, Relena desperately wanted to escape. She darted her sea-blue eyes to the door and saw Trowa still standing there, arms crossed, staring directly back at her. To anyone else he would have looked half-asleep with boredom, however Relena was used to reading the typically passive man's face. She could see the minute furrow in his brow, the way he stood directly in her projected escape path, and most importantly, the glint in his narrowed eyes.
She knew exactly what the look meant: Don't even think about it. Although living day-in and day-out with the former pilots ensured her safety, sometimes it became difficult to deal with. Normally Relena was not a very disclosing person, but each one of the men, in their own way, made her feel readable as a child's picture book.
Relena hated it, that feeling of vulnerability. She hated it nearly as much as she had hated being dragged in here, during her lunch break no less. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, the fair-haired young woman made sure the look on her face told her personal detail exactly how she felt about his little stunt. Trowa obviously noted the icy stare and sudden change in posture from her, however he simply looked toward the tiny, redheaded secretary seated behind her radically disorganized corner desk and shrugged, as if he were apologizing.
It was maddening. Relena opened her mouth slightly, choosing between uttering some choice words or simply ignoring him, when the phone on the assistant's desk began to ring. The jarring noise spooked the both women, and Relena resisted the urge to shriek. Get a grip, she internally scolded, becoming more and more aware of how on-edge she was becoming.
"Minister?" The redhead, Stephanie Durand, Relena noticed her nameplate read, timidly called her attention. "Doctor…. Hart will see you now," she finished, looking up from the screen apologetically. "Sorry, Miss Relena. Doctor Hart is here on temporary transfer, and I'm new myself, so I'm not familiar with everyone's appointments just yet."
"That's fine. Thank you," Relena said cordially, giving one final, infuriated glare at Trowa. Seeing no reaction, Relena stood and walked towards the door Ms. Durand was now holding for her. Straightening her pale blue skirt and jacket, she slowly stepped through into the office.
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Twenty minutes later, Trowa decided it was safe to step away from the door and be seated, relaxing into one of the large, padded recliners available closest to the door.
"You really think that's safe?" Stephanie questioned, looking around from her computer screen toward him.
He nodded, before settling his chin on his chest. "The chance that the minister will be attacked in a private building such as this is negligible. Besides," Trowa added with a trace of mirth, "I'm still faster than she is."
"Better hope that's true..," she replied quietly, returning to her task while avoiding his questioning stare.
His unspoken query was answered when the door to Dr. Hart's office suddenly slammed open, revealing a flushed and furious Foreign Minister. Relena rushed past the reception desk, wrenched her coat from the rack, and made for the main entrance. Launching himself out of his chair, Trowa quickly positioned himself between Relena and the door. As she attempted to approach the door and avoid him, he grabbed her by the elbows.
"Minister, what is the problem?" Trowa asked quietly, holding her struggling form as she tried to free herself.
"I don't want this. I don't know what you drugged me with in order to get me here, but I am most definitely ready to leave," she whispered. Seeing a repeat of the same "look" Trowa had given her before, she clarified, "Now," grinding the back of her high-heeled shoe into his toe. I hope that hurts you as much as this is killing me, she thought selfishly, ashamed that her eyes were filling with tears. Relena turned briskly around as she heard another heeled set of feet.
Doctor Amelie Hart was standing nonchalantly in the doorway to her office. Considering her preference for absolute order concerning her personal belonging, it was no surprise that the doctor herself was a picture of perfection. Trowa looked her over, even still, with a slight sense of surprise. Judging from her pristine skin and slim figure, he couldn't assume she was much older than he himself. Her deep brown hair was pulled into a tight but stylish bun, showing the silver drop earrings that brought out the brilliant and mesmerizing slate colour of her eyes.
"It's quite alright, Officer Barton," Amelie assured him charmingly, snapping him out of his momentary reverie. "I believe Relena and I have made enough progress for today."
Relena simply stared at her for a moment longer, a look of alarmingly strong vexation still apparent on her face, before darting out of Trowa's grasp and running, as quickly as her footwear would allow, out into the parking lot.
Trowa turned swiftly to join her, two burning questions on his mind: how do I know this woman, and more importantly, how the hell did she know my name?
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The car ride back to the Parliamentary Building was silent, the vehicle's two occupants seemingly too consumed with their own thoughts to be troubled about the other. Relena simply stared out the deeply tinted window, trying to hide the tears she knew would inevitably come.
Trowa pretended not to notice, unsure of how to approach such an obviously volatile situation.
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"Hello, Minister," the doctor had greeted her genially, shaking her hand before gesturing at Relena to take a seat. "Since this is our first session, I'd like to start by asking you a few general questions, that is, if you don't mind?"
Relena adjusted her jacket as she sat down, sinking into the all-too-comfortable recliner facing the other woman. "Yes," she responded carefully, "that sounds fine." Although she had, at some point while obviously out of her mind, agreed to attend a session with the doctor, she refused to act happy about it.
"Great!" Amelie had responded, reaching over to her nearby desk for a clipboard and pen, then jotting down a little information. As Relena waited, she took in her surroundings. The rear wall, behind the doctor's chair, was entirely composed of large floor-to-ceiling windows, muted by long, sheer curtains. The rest were covered in light yellow paint, tastefully accented with a few wall-mounted lamps. The desk the doctor had opened was of heavy construction, either antique or a well-made imitation. Each piece of furniture complimented the other, a fact Relena appreciated. It was nice to sit comfortably in a well-decorated room compared to her usual stale and sterile meeting rooms. There, she congratulated herself sarcastically, you found the positive!
"So, Miss Relena…. Do you mind if I call you that?"
"Not at all."
"Great. What exactly is it that brings you to my office today?"
My pig-headed personal irritant which most would simply call a bodyguard, Relena thought tartly. "I was referred by a personal friend who believed that it would be beneficial for me to seek therapy as an option to relieve my personal stress," she responded truthfully.
"I see. Why do you think this friend is interested in you attending these sessions?" Amelie continued. "Are they concerned for any particular reason?"
Yes, doctor! It may just be that he found me crying and covered in my own blood three weeks ago. Thanks for the breakthrough! "He has great interest in my personal safety."
"Ah, I see. So this person cares very much for you?"
"Yes, I suppose you could say that. He is a very caring person."
"Excellent. It is very important that you surround yourself with people who care for you," the doctor said slowly, "people that you're sure you can trust."
Their eyes met briefly, and Relena began to feel…. odd. Before she could figure out what had caused it, the doctor continued her barrage.
"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your personal happiness on a typical day?"
"I would estimate a four," Relena answered, trying to be as honest as possible.
Dr. Hart made more notes, jotting the pen quickly over the lined paper, "I see. Why did you choose four?"
Because it's my favorite number? Why do you think I chose it?! Relena was beginning to feel the tedium affecting her. Personal questions were not something that agreed with her right now, or ever.
"I chose it because it reflects what I believe my happiness level is. My job has been called one of the worst in the world. I'm personally held responsible for situations that are beyond my control on a daily basis. I take care of things on such a level that if I didn't handle them, people would die, and when I do, no one notices."
Amelie held up a hand to stop her. "I wasn't asking about your job, Miss Relena, I was asking about you. Please try to separate the two; it will make our progress much faster."
Relena had difficulty maintaining her hatred when Amelie smiled. She's so pretty. Why would you choose to be a doctor when you could be a model? One's certainly easier than the other..
"Now," the doctor continued, "It has been made known to me that your adoptive mother passed away recently." Relena stiffened, angry. How could he! She clenched her fists as the woman continued to speak, "How does that make you feel?"
For possibly the first time in her life, Relena could not think of a single thing to say. Her mother's death had been unexpected, painful, and quick. Her job left little time for mourning, and thankfully the funeral and burial ceremonies had been kept very private. There was no way this woman could know, unless someone Relena had personally asked to attend the ceremony had told her.
Relena fumed. However, the intense, strange feeling returned upon her quickly as she stared at Amelie.
'People that you're sure you can trust….', Relena mulled the thought over, examining the woman's face, for the first time truly scrutinizing her features. Grey eyes, pale skin, dark hair. The hair is obviously dyed, Relena realized suddenly, noting its lack of shine and lowlight.
"Miss Relena?" asked the doctor warily. "Could you answer my question?"
The Minister had to strain to keep from gasping as she recognized the expression, the face, and the woman entirely. Unbelievable, Relena internally scoffed.
"You made it right through a Preventer check by yourself?" Relena asked bluntly, leaning forward in her chair. Let's see you answer a few questions yourself.
Dr. Hart hesitated. "Of course, Minister. I doubt your personal detail would even allow you in the building without ensuring your complete safety. Now, getting back to my question~"
Relena cut her off. "Impressive. Could I see your diploma?"
"Yes, it's just in my desk; I haven't had a chance to hang it on the wall just yet," Amelie stood and opened the bottom drawer of her desk, leafing through a few different papers. Relena stood and placed her hands on the desk, peering down at her.
"You can stop this charade any time now, if you don't mind. I'm a busy woman." Relena's voice was low with anger, not at 'Amelie' herself, but more for having been duped by her disguise for exactly eighteen minutes.
The 'doctor' knew better than to play games; she had been caught. "I do actually have a degree, you know," the crouching woman said in defense, standing back up to slouch against the surface before her, mimicking Relena's position.
"When did you find time for that?" Relena asked genuinely, loosening her stance.
The woman shook a hand mildly. "Oh, you know, in between blowing shit up and running the odd con. Business has been slow," she said, winking at the Foreign Minister. "You know I've always liked figuring people out. I'm 22. I figured it was time for a legitimate source of income."
Relena laughed quietly. "Not to mention it's a great cover."
"Indeed."
The two women stood for a few more moments, unsure of what to do. The dark-haired woman was the first to speak.
"Relena, I am genuinely here to help you," she chose her words slowly and carefully, aware that she was treading on perilous ground.
"I don't need help."
"You're losing it, Relena. Don't think I don't know about your little stunt in Sanq," she started again, harsher. "We're worried about you. I'm here to help you."
Relena felt her anger beginning to boil. "If I needed help, I'd talk to~"
"Who, your mother? 'Cause she's dead, in case you didn't notice."
It was more than Relena could take. "Middie, if I've said it to you once, I've said it to you a thousand times. I don't need to be 'figured out'. I don't need to be told my own goddamn mother is dead!" The blonde grabbed her bag roughly and started for the door.
"Relena, we both know you need this," Middie said softly, attempting to show her sympathy.
Pausing momentarily, Relena turned on a heel. "The last thing I need from anyone is being told what I need." With that, she wrenched open the door and began gracelessly exiting the premises.
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The car pulled to a stop in a nearly deserted parking lot to the north of the where Relena's office was located. Trowa exited the sleek, black coupe and opened the opposite door for her, extending a hand to help her out. The young woman whispered a small thanks, allowing him to escort her back to the large stone edifice.
"I'm sorry," Trowa finally broke the silence as he entered his PIN code on the locked entrance, "I shouldn't have pushed something on you that you didn't want. It won't happen again."
Relena looked at him as if puzzling something beyond comprehension. Finally, she strode through the open door, she simply replied, "Please book me in again next week, if it's possible…. And thank you."
