Adagio
Adagio – musical marking, slow and stately (literally, "at ease")
A/N: The Combat Fitness test details is inspired from a real one. Same thing with the band-aid. I am not very creative, I admit.
Chapter 4: Concession (Mitomeru 認める)
Mitomeru means to 'recognize', 'witness', 'acknowledge', 'concede', 'admit'.
Life cannot subsist in society but by reciprocal concessions. ― Samuel Johnson
"Miss Relena, you are doing this wrong."
"And hello to you too, Dorothy."
The platinum blond waved a hand, "Oh spare me the pleasantries."
Relena plastered a smile on her face, staring at the video screen. She wondered to what did she owe the pleasure of this sudden call from her... friend.
She wasn't sure what to call Dorothy, actually. An acquaintance? An ally? She was one of few people who had remained in contact on semi-regular basis, who continued to speak to her frankly and openly.
In the years they knew each other, they had developed an unusual relationship.
Lady Dorothy Catalonia was a complex individual. To put it mildly, she did not always leave the best impression. Their particular interaction on Libra when Dorothy offered her a gun to shoot her own brother was quite unforgettable. Relena cringed at the memory. Many of her beliefs ran counter to hers, but as hard it was to see at times, her heart was always in the right place.
These days, Relena found Dorothy's brutally honest attitude almost refreshing.
For some reason Dorothy was rather invested in her, or more likely in the peace that she was working to build, taking up the mantle of an unofficial advisor.
Unlike Relena's own openly political role, Dorothy had mostly retreated from public eyes after the Eve Wars. The woman had not been idle though. As the granddaughter of the head of the Romefeller Foundation and a distant cousin of Treize Khushrenada, Dorothy had held sway during the wars. The influence remained strong even now. Yes the Romefeller Foundation had dissolved, yet its roots ran deep. The Foundation had secretly manipulated world affairs for centuries. Rather than completely died, the old tree had simply reverted to its pre-colonies era form, staying under the radar and mostly non-militaristic.
Relena knew Dorothy had lent her a hand several times. Back then when she was made the Queen of the World, she was aware that she had not won people's support all on her own. She recognized there was a force working in the background, maneuvering to gain the support of the anti-Dermail faction. She credited Marquis Weridge – much later she found out that Dorothy had also been part of that movement. Recently during the hostile takeover of Brussels, Dorothy helped rallying the masses and even providing trucks for transportation.
Tacitly understanding that Dorothy would like to remain in the background, Relena chose not to bring it into their conversations. Her advisor-slash-friend was rather fond of her secretive ways.
Relena carefully assessed the violet eyed woman, keeping her own face neutral.
Pausing in her stricture Dorothy said, "I suppose I should congratulate you on your successful tour of the colony."
"Why, thank you."
"Five colonies on a nine-day tour, that's quite a packed schedule Miss Relena."
Relena blinked back her surprise. The official news only stated four colonies, her last stop in X-18999 was off the record. Supposedly.
She simply smiled at her friend.
Raising an eyebrow at her calm demeanor, Dorothy continued. "It was disappointing to only see three news articles covering the tour. The last one didn't even count – it was only a footnote lamenting that you would miss a climate summit in Egypt due to the off-planet trip."
She started, "I don't see why the press coverage matter in this–"
"Au contraire," the other woman cut her off, sharp disapproval in her voice. "Public opinion is an important force in statecraft. Don't you know that in the past era, countries ruled by dictatorships made every effort to keep the public in line?"
She smiled at the reference. "We are living in a democratic society, Dorothy."
"Which is why the media plays an even bigger role," she countered. "Since Christmas, your name hardly appears in the news anymore."
"The ministry's Public Relation team think–"
The other lady finished for her, "–that it is better to lay low for a while, I know. That is why you won't be there for the L3 colony unveiling next week."
Relena didn't bother to hide her amused look this time, raising both of her eyebrows at the screen.
"So you think that I should be there?"
"Not for the unveiling, but you should get back in the radar soon. Political campaigning and all."
"Election is not in two years," she refuted, more for the sake of form.
"It is never too early to start a campaign, whether officially or not. Getting your name out there is always a good idea."
"I know," she conceded. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run again. But the thought was there at the back of her mind. "I will pass the input to the Public Relation team."
Her unofficial advisor clapped in mock approval. Relena resisted the urge to roll her eyes, torn between amusement and exasperation.
"Official press aside, you are mostly absent from the tabloids and gossip magazines too," cradling her head in one hand, she coyly commented.
"...isn't that a good thing?"
"It depends," she replied airily. "I thought the ministry had finally hired competent professionals. I did some digging and it turned out that the scarceness of articles was simply due to someone upping the ante on your anti-surveillance measures."
Relena caught the teasing glint in those violet eyes, wariness creeping up her spine.
"The security improvements are necessary. The kidnapping incident revealed a gap in the old protocols."
"Of course, Miss Relena. I was rather glad the government finally saw the light. The Preventer's budget got increased, didn't it?"
The sense of dread heightened, "Someone told you."
"Oh I only knew they were on a hiring spree. Until recently, that is." She looked at her with a shark-like grin, white teeth visible. "Commander Une recruited a rare and unexpected talent, I heard. Very well versed in the art of surveillance."
Oh well.
Changing her tone, Relena lightly replied. "My former security commander got promoted after all. Someone had to backfill the vacancy."
Dorothy laughed at that. "The old captain was horrid, he had no concept of personal space."
"He meant well." Smiling, she defended the staid captain.
Her friend was not done with her teasing. "And you thought you were finally free. Agent Yuy doesn't strike me as someone less stringent."
"Within a reasonable range." That was all she said.
Eyeing the vice minister closely and not getting a single twitch, Dorothy relented. "Do tell your security commander to adjust the his approach. There is a fine line between anti-surveillance and counter-surveillance, the latter is better."
She stared back in incomprehension. "I would prefer not to be gossiped about."
"Oh Miss Relena, you know how people love idle talk. It doesn't matter if you do right or wrong, no one will leave you alone."
She closed her eyes at that. "That's what I am afraid of."
The answering laugh was sharp and gleeful. "There is no good publicity or bad publicity, Miss Relena. You should be the one controlling the message."
She smiled at the advice. "I should do more personal interviews?"
Her advisor-slash-friend nodded. "Leak a few juicy bits once in a while."
"Lady Catalonia," she admonished.
"Oh it doesn't have to be scandalous," the platinum blond entwined her hands, casually propping her chin on it. "Bring a date to one of your charity galas or political dinners."
"They will need to run security screenings first."
"Overprotective much?"
She shook her head, "Just stating the fact. They even ran Pagan through a five-point security check."
Her friend shrugged, "All right. There are other things to use. There is a cute picture of you and Adenauer Junior from the art center's ribbon-cutting ceremony."
"His name is Ben," Relena said, giving up on confidentiality. "You know, I really wonder how you know all of this."
"Oh, I have my ways," she gaily replied.
"On a second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
Dorothy was still laughing when they said goodbye.
Wrapping up his warm-up sets, Heero stood in the Preventer physical fitness uniform.
Several other officers stood in the same garb. It was a plain olive-drab green that looked almost brown with white reflective piping, Preventer's logo on the left chest. The same logo, in a smaller size, was embroidered on the upper left thigh along with a vertical PREVENTER lettering on the lower right leg of the pants.
He shed off the track suit jacket which had his distinctive unit insignia and rank colors. Placing the jacket on a bench, he was left wearing a black short-sleeve shirt with the PREVENTER lettering across the back.
The veteran sergeant's voice boomed in the gymnasium.
He announced out loud: "You are about to take the Preventer Combat Fitness Test, or PCFT, a test that measures total body fitness. Within the last 48 hours, you have been given the opportunity to review the test events and standards. Are there anyone who failed to complete this task or who do not fully understand the testing requirements?"
Satisfied with the answering 'no sir' he continued.
"The test results will give you and your commanders an indication on your level of physical fitness and will serve as a guide in determining your physical training needs. You will rest and recover at each station while others in your testing group complete their turns. Do the best you can on each test event."
As an active duty commissioned officer, they had to take the PCFT regularly and had their scores recorded twice a year. Those who failed the test need to retake the test no less than 120 days and no more than 180 days from the test failure. Anyone failing the test two consecutive times would be barred from continuing service. The Army National Guard, reservists, and those with civilian badges only needed to record the test once a year.
The six events for the PCFT included the three-repetition deadlift, standing power throw, hand-release push-up, sprint-drag-carry, plank, and five-mile run. The test had to be conducted in that sequence. The PCFT was intended to be completed in 70 minutes or less. It was a basic test, but it served as an effective prevention measure against declining health and fitness standards of incoming recruits.
Certain units had additional mandatory trainings and ways to measure combat-readiness, mostly at the discretion of the unit's commander. He was working on establishing a standard within his own team as well.
He arrived at the last station for the run test and spotted Wufei. The dark-haired man recognized him with a nod.
Minutes into the run, they unsurprisingly pulled much further ahead than the other officers. Maintaining a steady pace, they ran side-by-side.
"Maxwell called me."
Heero glanced at his side. He knew Duo had picked up the habit of dropping a random message, a call – or even a surprise visit, in Quatre's case – every once in a while. Apparently the long-haired former pilot did so for all of them.
"He caught wind that you have joined the Preventer," Wufei continued with a smirk. "I told him to send any questions or complaints directly to you."
Heero made an acknowledging grunt at the heads-up. This might be a good time to revamp the Preventer's firewall. There was a new call-routing software that needed to be tested.
For accuracy purpose, the test mandated that there should be no more than four soldiers per grader. The corporal, who supervised the group who just left, stared at his e-pad.
His sergeant noticed his dazed look and called him to attention.
Snapping out of his stupor, he saluted. "Sergeant, Sir."
Asking him what the problem was, he was shown the test results. The younger man pulled up the grading scales and honestly told him he wasn't sure how to rate the results.
Seeing the names and the numbers, the veteran nodded sagely. He clapped the young corporal on the shoulder. "Six tests, sonny. The maximum is 100 points each."
The other man blinked, "Yes Sir."
"Come on along," the sergeant beckoned him. "We haven't got all day. There are other groups to grade."
Catching the back of the two agents who disappeared into the stadium exit tunnel, the corporal turned to follow his sergeant.
"Are all agents like that Sir?"
Having been an instructor for years, back from the Alliance days, he knew there were occasionally some outstanding talents. He told the younger man just so.
He didn't comment that these ones took the cake. Having supervised the pre-enrollment tests, he had his own speculations. Such young men, he shook his head. Must be OZ specials.
"That's what I am telling you!"
Justine S. Randolph, the vice foreign minister's aide, turned to enter the break area. She saw the familiar faces of Relena's security entail sitting and chatting with each other.
The group was so absorbed in the conversation that they didn't notice her.
"Seriously?"
"Check it yourself if you don't believe me," the only female in the group replied indignantly.
"But really? Panda band-aid?" the other officer scratched his head, still in disbelief. "Agent Yuy?"
That caught Justine's interest. Grabbing her chosen drink from the vending machine, she straightened. She turned and walked closer to the group.
They almost jumped at her greetings. "Oh hey Justine."
"Don't mind me," she said. "Please do continue."
"Er... we are not–"
The female officer cut him off. "Oh Justine is fine. She won't tattle. Right Justine?"
She smiled and mimed a zipping motion in front of her mouth. The male officers' faces relaxed.
"I was just telling them that I noticed the agent was wearing a band-aid on his finger."
"Which is pretty normal if you are injured," the oldest officer commented.
The younger blond sent him a dirty look. "Not the cutesy one, no."
"He is not the type to wear a band-aid, in my opinion."
"Yeah," the blond laughed. "The way he kicks our asses in the hand-to-hand combat training, the guy doesn't flinch at punches."
"I wonder if he got it from someone else."
"Probably," Justine chimed in. "Did you say it has a panda print?"
"Yes. Hard to believe but I swear it's there." The dark-haired officer lifted a hand solemnly. Shooting the taller blond a challenging look, she added. "On the right hand, middle finger. It is black and white and fairly small, so you all did not even notice..."
Justine nodded. "Then it is probably Miss Relena's."
All three heads snapped towards her, eyes comically bugged.
"..."
"...really?"
"That actually explains some," she started. "Wait, how do you know?"
"Miss Relena gave me some before, for my heels. You know how new shoes are." Justine shared. "She said she keeps some around to deal with papercuts."
"Papercuts do sting like hell."
"...and I can definitely see her using that kind of band-aids instead of the regular ones."
"Well," Justine added cheerfully. "It actually comes in two prints. One is black with white Xs. The other is the panda one."
"The black one is a little plainer then?" came the laughter. "She must have run out of those."
"Who knows, maybe Agent Yuy prefers the panda one."
"Yeah like I'd believe that."
"I didn't figure him to actually use it though. That's kinda sweet."
"It is hard to say no to Miss Relena, isn't it?"
"That's what makes her so good at her job."
"You know I think the two of them–" she started before stopping abruptly.
Two other men in suits entered the break area. Justine signaled 'later'. They smothered the snickers and nodded.
"We should head back."
"Kudos to your powers of observation, by the way."
She scoffed, "As if it will win me any brownie points from the boss."
"Yeah, he doesn't seem like the type to take a joke that well."
Following them out, Justine had to stifle a laugh with her hand.
"Heero, one minute please."
On their way to their next appointment, Relena pulled him to the side.
He waited expectantly, watching her rummaging her pocket. Pulling a plain brown band-aid she handed it over to him.
She smiled at his blank look.
Tilting her head towards his right hand, she said. "That one is a little too conspicuous after all."
He blinked, clearly not understanding her. Heero had hurt his finger while handing her some papers and she had offered him a band-aid without much thought. Now she almost felt bad forcing him to wear one.
She found a regular one in the car's first aid kit and took it with her. She carried it for a few hours, debating herself, unsure if she should hand it over or not.
She made up her mind in the afternoon. Her entire team, never very good at pretending, had noticed the unusual patch on her security commander's finger. Her own aide clearly did, twinkling in recognition. Even the oldest officer in the team, usually so professionally indifferent, had tried to catch a view. No one ever said anything when she had a printed band-aid on. Yet on Heero she belatedly registered that it was indisputably eye-catching.
Heero remained blessedly oblivious, but she felt somewhat guilty.
"You can switch to this one," she said, placing it on his hand. "Or if the bleeding already stops maybe you can take it off entirely."
Justine turned to check on them. Relena nodded. "Coming."
Turning to Heero one last time, she mouthed 'sorry' and hurried to catch up with the group.
Heero had no idea what she was apologizing for.
He stared at her back, then at his hand. When she helped him to plaster the wound she did comment on the print, lightly saying that the she ran out of the 'plainer' one.
Frankly, he couldn't care less. Color or print wasn't something he ever paid much attention on. His first thought when she offered him a patch was that it was not needed.
He had survived much bigger wounds without bandages.
The rejection hung on his tongue when she took his hand with both of hers. Commenting that it might be difficult to put it on with his less dominant hand, she took it upon herself to put it on him.
Her hands were a little cool to the touch, but her smile was warm, her touch careful. She had been unnecessarily gentle with the shallow cut.
Touching the patch with his thumb, he relieved the memory. Pocketing the unopened brown plaster, he strode towards the conference hall.
He decided he would keep the original one on.
It was hers after all.
Once you consent to some concession, you can never cancel it and put things back the way they are. ― Howard Hughes