Adagio

Adagio – musical marking, slow and stately (literally, "at ease")

A/N: No good deed goes unpunished. Not that any of us needs a reminder.

Chapter 15: Intention (Tsumori つもり)

The noun つもり (tsumori) means intention, purpose, plan. The most common use of つもり is the form つもりだ (tsumorida) or つもりです (tsumoridesu) in the polite form. The grammar is often used to express definite intention or firm determination of the speaker. An expression of intent, a statement, something that 'I'm trying to make happen'.

There is a softer way to express intention, using the volitional form ikoukei (意向形). It is usually not used alone, but in conjunction with ～と思って いる (~to omotte iru) or the more polite form ～と思っています (~to omotte imasu). It means 'I am thinking of doing～' so it is less definite and more ambiguous.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. — 17th century proverb

There are two kinds of people who are impossible to shop for. Someone who wants nothing. And someone who has everything.

AC 198 Spring

"Nothing."

"Nothing."

"I think we may need to be a little more proactive."

Justine smiled. "Because someone clearly isn't?"

Jason did a half-shrug with one shoulder. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Nita said. "Something. Secret glances in the hallway. A little spring in You-Know-Who's step."

Justine's eyebrow lifted. Jason coughed. Kyle laughed out loud.

"I'll even take a bit of hand-holding," Nita shook her head. "But nothing. Zero, zip, zilch, nada."

"Aren't you being dramatic?"

"Am not. I expected some kind of development."

"I know," Kyle commented, leaning back in his seat, hands raised behind his head. "This is kind of disappointing."

"Well," Justine consoled. "Miss Relena is in an excellent good mood these past few weeks. Doesn't it count for something?"

"Since she is of a perpetually sunny disposition, not really. And the glow is likely due to April being her birthday month."

"Speaking of which, what are we getting her this year?"

"Not cake."

"Yeah no way we are repeating that mistake again."

"The poor girl, she must be getting sick of cakes by this point."

"Tea? It is a safe bet."

"Ditto. She's got enough to open her own teahouse."

"Bath bomb? It was surprisingly popular at Christmastime."

"Inappropriate conduct towards the principal." All three looked at Jason. "What? I know nothing about gifts for ladies, but it doesn't sound right."

"I kind of want to go with it," Kyle grinned. "Maybe it will trigger something."

"A spark of a certain kind, to be sure." Nita smirked, "Go for it. I dare you."

"Gah. Just say it's from you and Justine."

"I don't know about that. Do you use bath bombs, Justine?"

"Only the ones I bought myself. It is a bit personal," she smiled. "It is popular with kids though."

"Let's see… gifts for eighteen-year-olds," Nita scrolled through the search results.

Reading out a few items at the top of the recommended list, it was met with comments like: "Too hippie." "Too gaudy." "Too college student-ish."

"Is candle warmer a thing?"

"What the heck is a candle warmer?"

"Why is this so hard? It is not that she is picky."

"It is actually hard because she is not picky."

"Note to self. For my next girlfriend, find one that's…" Kyle trailed off in confusion. "Not not picky?"

"One who knows what she wants," Justine suggested, sharing a smile with Nita. She nodded in agreement. "And isn't shy to express it. Anything of your choice under an agreed upon budget? Tacky, I have to say, but practical."

"You think she'd be offended if we do that?"

"I will be offended. It's money in an envelope."

"We can get her a really nice envelope." Jason threw him a sour look. "Chill, man, she probably signs off our paychecks."

"Just expenditures," Justine smoothed out. "Overtime, equipment purchases, and such. Though she does directly manage mine."

"To our eternal envy and dissatisfaction."

Justine tilted her head towards Nita in acknowledgement, blithely replied, "We each have our own choice career."

"Gift card?" Came another suggestion, which was promptly and mercilessly shot down. "Nah." "Isn't that practically the same thing?"

"Dinner and drinks."

"That's…" Nita faltered, staring at Kyle. "That is actually pretty normal."

"Should I be offended?"

Jason clapped his shoulder, "Just take it as a compliment. We're going with it."

"OK. Who's going to talk to who?"

A brief pause and shared looks. Kyle balked.

"All in favor, I take it…?" Justine said.

Jason nodded, "It was his idea."

Nita shoved a fist in front of Kyle, in lieu of an actual microphone, "Mr. Elected Speaker. Give us a word, sir."

"Hell no."

"Ah-ah." "That's two words." "Minus point for cursing."

"I'm not going to do all the talking on my own," he put his foot down. "You can't make me."

Jason made a half-shrug at the declaration. "Don't think you can, to be honest."

"Neither do I," Nita added hesitantly. "But someone has to. Talk to the boss, I mean."

"Well now," Justine said. "While I do know a certain someone – and I don't mean you, Kyle – who could find a way to get Agent Yuy agreeing to and possibly joining us for a kind-of-but-not-really surprise birthday celebration…"

"All in a neutrally friendly, totally non-awkward way?" Nita added, then snorted at her own comment.

"For once, I'm actually happy being incompetent," Kyle said dryly.

Jason breathed out, "A tall order."

"Exactly. While I have no doubt that if needed be, our trusty and all-around wonderful speaker would accomplish such a miraculous feat, I don't think we could ask it of her."

"I gather. Not for her own birthday." "Maybe we've been relying on her a little too much." "Make you think, eh?"

A solemn silence to digest the damning fact.

"What now. Flip a coin? Roll a dice?"

"There are three of us. Rock, paper, scissors?"

"I could do it," Justine lackadaisically offered. Realistically speaking, she was the second best option. "Or we could all talk to Agent Yuy together."

"And he can talk to Miss Relena?"

All three heads snapped towards Kyle.

"Officer Kyle MacLachlan," Justine said admiringly. "I am impressed."

He put on a winning smile, "A recognition from you Miss Randolph, warms the cockles of mine heart."

"He sure can be clever."

"On occasions. Like when he's trying to avoid work."

Turning to his two closest colleagues, Kyle grumbled, "Now I really should be offended."

Justine smiled. "But it really isn't a bad idea, don't you think?"

"I guess. A group date kind of thing? It kind of spells 'friend zone'."

"Or low-key interest. Can go both ways, I suppose."

"It has to start from somewhere."

As the rest of the team argued over it, Jason quietly sighed. "Zealots, it isn't good to plot."

A few days later…

Smack! Smack! The sound of hard slaps rang loudly: one on the forehead, one on the mouth. It echoed in the relatively small, but otherwise empty, gender-neutral locker room. That they had borrowed for the so-called emergency meeting.

Well, Justine thought. She did tell them that it wasn't a good update.

"…of course it'd be a text," Jason said after a lengthy pause.

"No it wasn't," Justine turned to reply. Then, unable to completely mask her own incredulous laugh, added, "It was a 'timesheet approval' request."

"A what now?"

"An email notification," she replied to Kyle. "You know, the system-generated one when we submit things like sick leave? This one, it was an overtime request."

Nita, one hand still glued to her mouth, let out a strangled sound and dropped onto the bench. The guys stared on in horror.

"And what did she say to that?"

"That she would be 'absolutely delighted' to go. With the sorriest, most sincere look on her face," Justine shook her head slightly, closing both eyes in mortified mirth.

*** Flashback start ***

INT. OFFICE OF THE VICE FOREIGN MINISTER - LATE AFTERNOON

Relena paused mid-type, looked up to see Justine shutting down her laptop, preparing to go home.

RELENA

(calling out apologetically)

Sorry Justine, before you go.

JUSTINE

(smiles readily)

Of course. What can I help, Miss Relena?

RELENA

It is about our schedule. There's one thing I need to check with you…

JUSTINE

(walking over)

RELENA

(checking her link)

Heero pinged me earlier. Hold on, let me just pull the message up… Something about Tuesday evening overtime.

JUSTINE

(pales up)

RELENA

(continuing lightly)

I can't recall we talked about it, but I might've missed the details. Could you fill me in?

INTERCUT - PRESENT TIME

JUSTINE (V.O.)

Let's just say it took every single diplomatic muscle I had, and some I didn't know I have, not to completely give us away.

(heavily)

I don't think I did a great job.

OTHERS (V.O.)

(mutter in unison)

Can't blame you on that.

INT. OFFICE OF THE VICE FOREIGN MINISTER - MINUTES LATER

JUSTINE

(inhales in after frantic explanation, waiting)

RELENA

(blinking)

Ah. I see. It's a... private dinner then, shall I say?

JUSTINE

(unable to say either yes or no)

RELENA

(brightly)

I'd be delighted to go. Let me just… erm, let him know that you have the access to approve things on my behalf.

Administrative tasks like such did fall under an aide's job. Relena gave her wide-eyed aide her patented worry-not-I'll-take-care-of-it look, then went to type a quick reply.

(smiling to herself, commenting)

Someone does have to update the timesheets.

*** Flashback end ***

"Giving credit to where it's due… He didn't say a word about her birthday or the surprise."

"Yeah," Kyle snickered. "Just asking for OT approval, is all."

"Which is, the furthest thing from romance." Jason sighed. "Friend zone might be a target too far."

"She actually got the message though. Handled it rather perfectly, I have to say."

"And took zero offense? I can't believe that."

"It'd take more than that to try her patience. Secretary's word," she lifted one hand, palm up. "I daresay she found it amusing."

"That's just–" Kyle cut himself off.

"Wrong?" Justine smiled. "It's wrong on so many levels it actually turned up right."

"Up, down, and sideways." Kyle shook his head. "There's just a crazy level of understanding going on there."

"Or ignorance," she said. Then more thoughtfully, "Willful blindness?"

Jason gave a pained grimace. "...that's actually worse."

"They are totally meant for each other."

"In a way. Or neither of them are thinking about each other that way at all," Justine pointed out, to no one's remonstration. "That is possible too."

There was a gloomy pause. A prevalent sense of hopelessness, permeating. Becoming even more noticeable than the musty smell of the locker room, which the central AC and deodorizer couldn't completely absorb.

"I feel… regrettable."

"Very."

"Drat if I don't feel that right now."

They slowly turned towards the most vocal person in the group, who curiously had not expressed her opinion yet. In fact, they had not heard much from her at all… other than occasional, constipated 'agh'.

"You." Kyle gave Nita a poke. "Throwing in the towel yet?"

She threw him her water bottle instead.

Later that evening…

While there was indeed a dearth of romance, not to mention nowhere near enough explicit hand-holding going on, there had been plenty of personal overtures issued. Ones that one commanding officer didn't need much persuasion to accept.

"Would you like to come in for tea, Heero?" was what the excellent, and all-around wonderful speaker asked as the house came into view.

As all the best negotiators did, Relena made full use of the power of a pause, smiling through the rearview mirror.

"Aa," was his short reply, turning the steering wheel to park the car neatly inside.

She waited until Heero went around to open the door for her, readily taking her briefcase off his hands. All smooth and casual-like, she went on to offer, "Join me for dinner, perhaps?"

A simple, direct, yes or no question, timed perfectly to receive a favorable answer.

Which she did end up getting, no unnecessary embellishment needed.

It was Friday after all.

It was Friday.

Another Friday, another end of a work week, where he found himself seated on her sofa, over a steaming cup of tea. Or any other beverage of his choice. Except coffee – something she somehow always added at the end.

It made for a second Friday for such invitation to come from her. The second consecutive one of the season, not the second overall.

In fact, tonight made it the seventh time, the second being the eve of that snowstorm in December, just before the ESUN Foundation Day celebration.

Heero wondered what this evening's conversation would be about.

Last Friday the conversation had revolved around sorting out souvenirs and return gifts. She took care of the selecting and purchasing, while he did the packaging and dispatching of items. To L4, L2, and the Preventer HQ. Beyond anti-tracking directives and measures to ensure the items arrived safely in the recipients' hands, there were rules, social ones. She wasn't content remain ignorant, and he wasn't opposed to learn either.

It made for a nice change, spending time in her home, for reasons other than ensuring each other's well being. The very first time was, as he recalled it, more an extension of emergency stitching-and-bandaging session. They had not done much talking then.

Without unavoidable circumstances such as injuries and/or terrible weather, he had wondered if such invitation would cease to be. He was pleased to find that it wasn't the case, the increasing occurrence making it less of an excursion, if not yet a regularity.

He managed to get a better read from her too, a little sense of satisfaction, in correctly predicting the kind of tea she would serve tonight. A non-caffeinated, herbal kind, practically the upgraded version of the bagged ones from their hotel suite in L2.

What he didn't foresee was, the tea wasn't the only takeaway the trip had brought.

"Heero, I'd like you to take some time off."

Best intentions, they didn't always bring the best outcomes. Wasn't there a saying about it?

It didn't take much to get that Heero was displeased with her. Or more specifically, what she had just said. Proposed, more like... but she guessed he had gotten the impression that it was more an order than a request.

Well, that wasn't too far from the truth. She had meant it to be a nudge, a strong counsel. Exploring possibilities, shedding light on uncharted path.

It might her fault for coming on too strong, being too insistent...

Oh dear, was that repulsion on his face?

Not for the first time, Relena felt like taking back the words she had spoken. But she really couldn't back down now. This was something important, something they needed to discuss.

"Did I do something wrong?"

So shocked she was at his question that she didn't even blink. "Pardon?"

Relena had always thought she was good in reading people. Body languages, expressions. It was a skill she had cultivated. A useful, occasionally life-saving skill, in both personal and professional life, especially when facing people who didn't speak their mind. Intentionally or otherwise.

She wouldn't deny having used it on Heero, though with him it was half-guess, half-inference.

Her current read was a strong dislike. Aversion. There was subtle tension around his eyes, shoulders, muscles locking together.

"Am I getting reassigned?" His torso lumbered forward as he bit his next question out. Both fists clenched, every muscle clenched, like they were bracing for impact.

"No! That's not– It's not–" she grappled for a word, oddly feeling winded, like she was the one getting the hard punch. "It's just... just, a suggestion."

The tension didn't abate. He was locking his jaw now, with a shuttered, closed off look. A reflex to a newly inflicted wound. His face flattened into an expressionless mask, unfeeling. Retreating, walking away from the hurt.

As if she was saying something offensive. And perhaps she did.

She had brought up the topic, knowing him enough to expect disagreement. An argument of sorts, even. But not… this. Whatever this was.

"I think I used the wrong words… I meant vacation. Paid time off. Leisure and recreation?" she said, trying to smooth things over, to erase the stricken expression on his face. "Circus and Irish pubs."

She breathed in relief as recognition entered his eyes, lightening them. "It just occurred to me that you haven't really taken any. Days off. I think you are overdue."

Those eyes went back to inscrutable. "I have days off."

She smiled. "Weekends?"

"Those are plenty." He flicked his eyes to the side, another avoidance signal. "Statutory holidays."

Of which a great many of his had been sacrificed to work. Not to count the after-hours support and overtime. Precisely why she truly thought this discussion was necessary.

"Not the same," she returned, and Heero did his equivalent of a sigh. Short and inaudible.

She continued on, despite the obvious negative response. "I just figured you need a vacation," she said, reading his mind, adding, "Including from tending to my vacations."

"Unnecessary," he said curtly.

Just like her unsolicited recommendation, sure was. It was clear that vacation was always an optional item on his list – a luxury, not a necessity. Honestly, it wasn't as if she couldn't see his viewpoint.

"Maybe not," she conceded. It was kind of hard to preach, when one didn't really practice the religion.

"But you still need some time off. Take a break," she insisted, pushing the oddness of actually arguing about this with him to the side.

"Why?"

"Why not?" she challenged. They had sufficient coverage, second-in-commands assigned. It wasn't as if he had never been away before. Scouting. Field mission. Her team was in a better shape than ever. The entire division was in a better shape, in fact, no small thanks to him. She was more than ready to convince him with logic. "Everybody does."

"I don't." His eyes burned hot, then cold. "I'm not–"

Normal. The word, the thought, hung in the air.

His eyes lowered, and her heart dropped along with his. "I'm not bothering anyone, am I?"

She had to pause at that, discomfited by his tone, the hilarity of the entire conversation, hiding it behind a bright, "Absolutely not."

And he wasn't, she thought. She was. Being a major pain and a bother.

Attempting to negotiate vacation days, benefits, improvements of workplace conditions, like some overzealous labor union. When he himself didn't see the need.

But someone had to.

She really didn't mean to force it. She had only meant to introduce him to the idea. Because to him that was all it was. A distant concept. A nice-to-have. Maybe for other people but not for him. Not for a soldier in a war.

Sometimes, she got this feeling that he still viewed himself as one. And perhaps she was being meddlesome again, but she would really like to have him change his mind. Live a little. Stop denying himself things, take a shine to something. A vacation, to start.

It wasn't as if she expected him to suddenly jump onto the 'use up all your vacation allotment and personal days too' bandwagon. That wasn't him, that wasn't her, that wasn't the bandwagon most everybody they knew were on anyway.

Her own late father, for all his merits, was never on it either. There were other things that he put more importance on, and she, even as a child, had understood.

She understood too, instinctively, that Heero's situation wasn't too different. Time off, especially a long one, wasn't something that he was at all familiar with.

But they were no longer at war. It was not a life-or-death situation. Not all the time. Not anymore.

It might take time, but she hoped he would come to see that.

If she was meddling, surely this much was allowed.

"Listen, Heero," she called out, waited until he looked back at her.

So he did, reluctantly. She smiled, aware that he didn't want to, thankful that he did.

"I have given this some thought…"

By the time she had finished patching together an explanation, Heero's combative stance had fallen off, replaced by an odd disquiet.

Work-life balance. That one idea turned out to be a much harder sell than Relena had ever thought.

She barely made her way through, by taking a page from the way he presented things. Laying down the facts, followed by a recommendation. An actionable plan.

Keeping to a single focus, she had centered her arguments around the benefits of personnel rotation. Alleviating accumulated fatigue, delegation. A chance for him, to unplug and recharge. A chance for others, to step up. A few days. Just a few days, was all.

Compared to other causes that she had committed herself to, improbable and far-reaching – such as the non-violence movement, pacifism, or disarmament of mobile suits, nuclear weapons, and other WMDs – she found herself having trouble to speak on this particular matter convincingly.

It might be the 'do as I say, not as I do' hypocrisy. Which was kind of ironic, because he seemed able to connect to the 'when you get sick, you rest' bit.

Or perhaps it was the audience. For reasons, she was a lot more conscious while conveying the message. She kept halting midway, trying to gauge his expression. Changing her words.

Worrying if she was sounding too adamant, conscending. Too timid or faint. Dismissive or ungrateful. Worrying if she was being too impersonal, then subsequently worrying if she was being too personal.

She didn't think she did a great job, noting the poor delivery, on her part, and poor reception, on his part. An awkward silence ensued, and she forced herself to wait, letting him mull things over.

The idea didn't sit well with him, she could tell that much. He sat there, cloaked in a heavy air of disappointment, and she looked on, trying in vain to identify what it was about, wishing they could just talk it over.

Please say something.

It wasn't anger or disapproval. Not exactly annoyance or dissatisfaction either. What was it?

He looked like the fight had left him, and as the silence stretched on, she felt like losing some of her conviction as well.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, resigning herself to the fact that she had upset him for nothing. "I didn't mean to imply… It isn't my place to tell you what to do."

What did a civilian, a pampered one at that, know about military life?

"…no," he finally said, low and quiet.

And considerate, despite his own discontent. And she was dismayed at herself, for not being able to do the same with him.

"I just hope you'd consider it," she drew out. They couldn't just let this slide into oblivion, no matter how sore a subject it was.

She wasn't about to give up on the message, on the reminder. Not just because someone ought to.

But because she wanted to. Returning his thoughtfulness and care. Helping him to find something else other than the greater good. Individual joy.

Or at least, try. She did botch up her first attempt though, so she would have to try again another time.

The day's event had greatly disturbed him, as evidenced in his inability to fall asleep.

Heero laid on his bed, staring at the rough texture of his apartment ceiling. He had not bothered to move after throwing himself on the mattress. Not to cover himself with a blanket, nor to place his head properly on the pillow.

Closing his eyes, he replayed the conversation from last evening.

Heero, I'd like you to take some time off.

He was aware that he was different, compared to an ordinary person. Acknowledging the fact, he had long since given up trying to align his thought process to hers. But this was one rare instance when he had failed to connect with anything Relena had said.

I think you are overdue.

Listening to her trying to explain the concept of 'burnout', which he had not personally experienced, while still trying to get a handle on his own visceral reaction, was difficult.

She was talking about the importance of rest, a good personnel management, how it was beneficial to avoid a single point of failure. All the right, reasonable viewpoints.

Just a gentle, guiding hand, helping him to see the error of his ways. Not unlike the usual.

Yet he had felt such an intense rejection from within, like a heartburn. An acid reflux, that left acidic taste in his mouth. He wasn't used to sudden bouts of emotions.

He thought to fight back, to express some of that frustration, but that was difficult as well. She was all rational and practical and convincing, that there was no edge left for him to hang on to.

In the end, after the searing, angry blister of pain had receded, all that was left was this odd feeling of deprivation. One that he couldn't quite explain… even now, when his rational mind was back in full working order.

Because, more than anything, she was kind. Courteous. Treating him with the same level of courtesy, a certain care and respect, that she had always afforded him. Doubly so, perhaps, as she typically was, when she felt that she was imposing upon someone. Gentle to the end.

And he was… he couldn't remember how he was. Uncommunicative, he supposed. He recalled saying a few words, but couldn't remember how he said it. He recalled sitting through dinner, exchanging good night on the doorway. He recalled driving back to his apartment.

He remembered what was served on the plate, every piecemeal. He remembered the low-beam headlights on the road on the way back, how it reflected on the wet asphalt. Just not the taste on his tongue as he swallowed. Not the drizzle of spring shower on his face, as he went out of the car and into his apartment.

The smell of chamomile, however, lingered.

And with it, time passed neither more slowly nor quickly. The time hardly passed at all, since both the clock on his link and on the microwave oven showed the same time. It was, still, four in the morning. He let his head fall back down with a thud.

Relena, she had told him that chamomile tea had a mild sedative effect. That it was good for inducing sleep.

He closed his eyes despairingly. It clearly wasn't working.

The greatest gift you can give someone is your time. — Rick Warren

Performing well provokes two things, and two things only: it is either you are commended or condemned. There is no in-between.

A/N: Oh the indignity. Oh, the sheer cruelty! The chamomile tea bears no fault. None whatsoever.