Dangerous Games 2: Deadly Pasts

By the Black Rose

AN: Well, as promised, if a bit late….  You guys know by now, they’re never short.  The original one was 25 chapters, or 45,000 words.  This one will be no less. 

I do apologize for taking my time on getting this posted, here.  I have quite a few fics sitting in various stages of completion on my hard drive – but inspiration has only recently struck as to just where I’m going with this one.  Knowing the bad guy is a good thing….  ^__~   Expect more flashbacks to their high school days, as we find out more about Heero’s life growing up.  Each chapter is written in first person point of view, and I switch characters per chapter.  So, this one is in Heero’s, the next in Relena’s.  Chapter 3 goes back to Heero, then 4 gets into Duo’s head.  5 is the mystery chapter, and I don’t think I’ll reveal whose perspective that is from just yet.  Just wanted to lay out the game plan a bit.  Thank you to those of you still reading.  Much love, Rose.

Chapter 1

Heero’s POV

            I wake up as I always do, never gradually like most people claim to experience, but immediately alert almost as if there is a switch I can flip on and off in my brain.  I look to my left, as I am instantly aware of a warm presence that has been sorely missing over the last few months.  Her golden-blonde hair glistens in the young sunlight streaming in through the cheap aluminum blinds on my apartment window. It hits my eyes at an odd angle, forcing them shut again.  Strange emotions burn themselves into my chest, and I realize how much I've missed her.

            Completely unwilling to leave the comfort of my bed, I gather her into my arms, pulling her tight against my body. I touch my lips to her forehead and can’t help but breathe in the clean scent of her hair. She stirs from my movements.  Relena…

            A few moments pass, or days, it doesn’t matter.  I feel the odd desire to just continue to lay here, despite the fact it’s Monday morning – a sarcastically glorious work day.   I open my eyes again as logic finally takes hold of my actions and I give in to my call of duty.  I have time for a quick shower before dragging my ass into the office.  My pleasant mood quickly dims as I think about my job.  I'm still on desk duty for Treize.  Of all the people that had to get a 'fabulous career opportunity' in Dallas, why couldn't it have been my boss?

            I tromp into the bathroom and turn on the shower.  I don’t have time to care what the water temperature is, and so the cool streams hit my body, drowning the remnants of fatigue and replacing it with sharp, frozen needles throughout my skin. I take a shuddering breath and wet my hair.  Because of my distraction with rising this morning, I'm running late. But even a lecture from Treize won't ruin my mood today.

            There exists, within the known universe, a fundamental rule of lateness: when you are running only slightly late, intangible if unknown forces take great pleasure in conspiring against you to make slightly late turn into really really no-way-you're-boss-will-miss-it late.  As I sit at a virtual stand still on the long Virginian highway, I can't help but let my mind wander to the events of last night.         

            "So, how's Dallas," I ask, my eyes drinking in the light of her form, despite the darkness throughout my small apartment.  I haven’t seen her in months; her job has kept her ‘busy’, and the last time we spoke, before her father’s death, we ended up in an argument.  But right now, I can’t remember why…It seems so unimportant.

            "It's all right, I guess.” Relena inclines her head in a thoughtful pose, but her eyes avoid mine.  “The traffic is terrible and I always have too much work, but you know how that is." She pauses for a moment before continuing.  "How's Duo? Has Treize let you off desk duty, yet?"

            She always knows how to get a reaction out of me.  I can’t help but let my mouth twist into a grimace.  "Still on desk duty.  Duo's all right.  His oldest son's having some trouble in school, but other than that, they're all fine."  With that answered, we fall back into an awkward silence.

            "I'm sorry that I couldn't make it back last month…"She peers up at me through long black lashes, as if trying to gauge my response without having to look me in the eye.

            Anger flashes for a moment at her words. "Or the month before that," I snap automatically, my hands clenching into white-knuckle fists.  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.  ‘I'm sorry,’ I think, but for some reason, I can't say it out loud.

            I can see the water in her eyes as she looks away.  "I…I've realized something since the night - the night you called to tell me about my father…" Tears begin rolling down her cheeks.  I frown at the display of emotion; my hands itch to wipe away her tears, but I manage to keep them still.  But I've always hated to see her cry.

            "I know it sounds so cliché, but it's really true.  And he died not knowing that I still loved him…"She bows her head, her hair bobbing in front of her face as she continues to break down.  A lump catches in my throat that I cannot ignore, and I find myself moving towards her. My hand comes up to rest on her shoulder despite all the hurt and anger I've been harboring over our recent distance. All my carefully manufactured walls suddenly dissipate like a useless mist, and are replaced by a genuine feeling of concern.  She's lost her father; she is permitted to cry over her grief.

With an inaudible sigh, I attempt to comfort her.  "Relena, I'm sure he knew," I say, trying to sound tender, which is not something that comes easily to me.

            She wrenches from my grasp and her head comes up, her eyes finally locking into mine.  "No! I was so hateful to him.  I told him to butt out of my life," she cries in a strained voice.  Her eyes hold that look of utter helplessness that could eat away at my resolve.  Her face is flushed, her eyes puffy and bloodshot.  I can see the lines of grief etched into delicate features swollen with pain.  Damning myself to whatever fate she’ll deal me, I pull her into my arms and rest my cheek on the crown of her head. My heart tells me it’s where she belongs, but does hers say the same?

"You had every right to, Relena.  But he knew that just because you were angry with him didn't mean you no longer cared." I try to make my voice sound soothing, but I don't think I quite managed it.  I really have no talent for comfort.

"Relena," I began.  Her muffled voice comes from my chest and so I draw back to let her speak.

            "No, Heero, I…" her jaw continues to move but no words make it passed her lips.   The strain of the last few days must have been too much for her - the grief coupled with the startling news her father had been murdered…

            I take a deep breath and push her away, ignoring the protests of a body fate has somehow programmed to only respond to her.  "Relena, you should get some rest. Take my bed, I'll pull out the sleeper sofa in the living room." I turn away and run a hand through my hair.  It isn't right to take advantage of her when she’s vulnerable.  She will be here for a few days; we had time to work things out between us. She doesn’t respond, so I turn back to face her, and am astonished to see a new flash of hurt spark in her eyes. 

            "So it is over…" Her voice is barely audible in the stillness of the room.

            I have been called stoic; people claim I am an expert at hiding my emotions. But around her, my expression becomes this brilliant canvas with everything in my heart painted in glowing colors that even the darkness cannot hide.  The shock of her statement is soon replaced with a darker feeling of resentment.  I can feel my pulse quicken with my anger and I glare down at her.  "Is that what you want?" My voice sounds more severe than I had intended.

            Her eyes widen and she meets my gaze.  Any mask to her emotions is gone; the intensity of those sparkling blue eyes steal the air from my lungs and I can feel my anger slipping from my protective grasp. 

            She reaches out and places her hand on my arm.  I fight not to flinch at her touch.

"No, I don't want it to be over, Heero.  That's what I've been trying to say.  I've become too involved in all the wrong things - a career, my independence… And suddenly I realized that what I missed and what I needed was you." Her voice is still set in that soft, melodic timbre as she speaks.  "It's been difficult, I know, but please don't say you gave up on me - I don't think I could take that right now."

            I can't say it; I've never been able to.  I've never been one who could express all that I feel in words.  I did only what I knew how, I pulled her close and seized her mouth in a kiss that I hoped said everything she needed to know.

 I had promised her I'd wait, and I had stayed true to my word…

            A loud horn blares from the car behind me, startling me from my remembrances of how it had felt to touch her soft skin and silky hair.  I blink myself from my daze and realize I need to turn left, or I'll miss my light.  On any other day, I'd be tense and stressed from the miserable traffic jam, and pissed off at anyone honking, but today I just smirk and make the turn into the parking lot.  Nothing can ruin my mood.

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

         “You’re late, Yuy,” Treize greets me at the doorway in his two piece suit and wearing his typically cross expression.  He falls into step with me as I walk into the secure area of the Washington, D.C. FBI Metropolitan Field Office where my gray, five foot cubicle is located on the sixth floor.

         “Bite me,” I growl, schooling my face into a dark scowl.  But I must not have done a good enough job of sounding pissed off at the world because he stops mid stride, causing me to turn and look back for the reason why he let me off so easily.

         “She’s back, isn’t she?” Blue eyes twinkle in tanned features. Hints of gray already seeping into the temples of his hairline give away his age, but his face looks younger than a man of thirty-six with two ex-kids and an ex-wife.

         “None of your business.”

         “I happen to know for a fact that she’s in town because she’s scheduled to accept some sort of award on her late father’s behalf at that memorial service Governor Winner is holding this afternoon.  What I didn’t know was whether or not she would be staying with you.  I guess I now know the answer to that,” he says with a smug smile.  My left eye twitches; he irritates me, but I have patience this morning, so I ignore him.  I again start walking towards my desk.  To my perpetual annoyance, he follows.

         “Did you receive anymore strange emails this weekend?” He inquires as we wind our way through the maze of cubicles.  More than once I have found myself marking the resemblance between this office and an experimentation lab.  But if there’s cheese lying about somewhere, it won’t fit in these cardboard boxes they call our ‘personal space’.

         “No, our ‘informant’ has been quiet these last few weeks. I wonder if he’s moved on.”

         “I don’t know, but I’ve been having this weird feeling lately.”

         I shrug.  “Sounds like a personal problem to me,” I say in my typical monotone.  I want him to go away, but dutifully turn on my computer and watch it boot up.

         “My question is why did he pick you to contact?”

         “Hn,” I growl as a frown creases my forehead.  I have been wondering that myself.  How does an informant just randomly pick heero.yuy@fbi.gov to send his precious information to?  It would have to be someone I know. Correction, someone that knows me.  I sit down and log into the network waiting impatiently for the logon script to execute and update my virus scan software.  Damn security bloatware.  I can tell he’s going to stay until I retrieve my email and either lay his fears to rest or provoke them further.

         “Oh, and good news.  Your psych evaluation came back, and I’ve decided to let you go back to active duty.  Expect your next paycheck to reflect the change,” he says, his eyes glued to my computer as it finishes updating. It finally allows me access to my files.

         “Effective today?” I ask and open up my email program and begin downloading the multitude of corporate garbage being sent out on a regular basis.  The government is no different than most large corporations in that respect.  The blue bar inches across the screen.

         “Yes.  Effective now.”

         “Hn.”  Finally the darn thing is finished.  I scroll down the list of messages and my breath catches as I see the post from an unknown recipient with no subject line.

         “You’re welcome,” he says absently, and his hand comes to rest on the back of my ‘ergonomic’ chair as he leans over to read the email I’m pulling up on my screen.

         THE MEMORIAL SERVICE AT THE GOVERNOR’S MANSION.

         That’s all it says.  In vain, I pull up message headers and run the tracing program I modified after failing to track the last piece of mail I received from this mysterious informant.  But whoever it is, he’s an expert.  I find nothing. I look up at Treize who is still standing just inside the confines of my cube.  “I have to go.”

         “Yuy, we don’t know what this means, or if it’s the same guy,” Treize argues, but his face lacks its usual conviction whenever he contradicts me.  It’s a feeble excuse and he knows it.

         “It is the same guy.  It matches the pattern, and the other two times he was dead on.  I don’t know who he is, but if there is something going on at that memorial service today, I’m going to be there – officially or unofficially doesn’t matter.” My eyes narrow as I inwardly burn with the thought.  “Relena could be in some danger.”

         “Yuy, if the guy is good enough to want to make his attempt on Governor Winner out in public, then it’s not likely there will be any stray bullets threatening your girlfriend.  He’d have to be a professional.” He leans his head back on my wall, bringing his hands up to cross over his chest.  “But we don’t know if that is what is going to occur.  The informant doesn’t say.  He’s never tipped us off to an incident before it happens – only pointed out clues to what went on after the fact.” Treize says in a strained voice and glowers back at me.

         But he knows I’m right.

         “He’s already had his say on Darlian’s death, alerting us to the fact it was a murder and not a suicide.” I shake my head slowly from side to side, considering possible alternatives.  But nothing else fits.  “This is the only logical explanation. So like I said, I’m going to be there.” I take a deep breath, raising my chin obstinately to the point where my seething eyes meet his gaze.  “Am I taking a team, or going alone?”

         He knows better than to contradict me, I think.  He knows too well that when it comes to Relena, I won’t be moved.  He nods slowly.  “Take a team, I’ll pull Sloan and Rodinall off the strangler case. Maxwell just finished up his latest, so you can have him, too.  I’ll radio ahead to the Governor that you’re on your way.”  He pauses, then adds, “Maybe there’s some link in their administration – if it is what you think it is and this informant is alerting us to a possible assassination attempt.  I’ll assign someone to backtrack through Winner and Darlian’s histories to see if anything questionable pops up.”

         I nod, surprised by the fact that he acquiesced so easily to my demands. I am thankful for once that Treize has his ambitions and so he doesn’t offer to call our Richmond office and assign the case over to them. Is this his way of trying to apologize for the time he almost succeeded in removing her permanently from my life – when he tried to blackmail her into marrying Trowa to protect me? 

         “Hn,” is all I say to the man before he finally turns to leave.  No apology will ever be enough, and he should know that by now.  But I am thankful he’ll let me go, no matter what his reason is. 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

AN: This is newly revised (Huzzah!) as of today 2/27/02.  Chapter 2 just needs some revisions, but here is a preview of what’s to come:

(Relena’s POV, set on the same day as the original epilogue)

            “I’m fine,” he says in a harsh, gravelly voice.  The years spent in the Barton Foundation have made him harder, but I can still see that lost little boy he was never allowed to be. He’s there, always there, watching, listening, trapped beneath an icy tomb, but waiting patiently, desperately, for someone to say the magic words to set him free. 

And I am still searching…

And from Chapter 3

(Heero’s POV)

My thoughts suddenly die away, and the world seems to slow down as something glints in my peripheral vision, and causes my heart to practically stop beating in my chest.

“Everyone down!” I have the presence of mind to yell out to the crowd.  A loud gunshot echoes in the square as I lunge across the distance towards the startled Relena who turned at the sound of my voice.

         Mass chaos erupts from the crowd. I can hear the screams of the women in my ears and the orders from Treize being shouted through my earpiece, but all I know is that I’m too late….

         “We need a medic!  Call a God damned ambulance now!”

Thanks guys… I hope you will enjoy this.  ^__^  Love, Rose