The Spring Ball was a total success. People milled about at the edges of the dance floor, talking with one another and watching the couples that danced to the music that swelled from either the orchestra at one end of the cavernous room or from one of the speakers hidden in alcoves. Tables laden with food and drink were along one wall, servers making their ways through the crush to distribute drinks and finger foods. Other servers winded their way through to the tables for those who were taking a break from the dancing.
It was a riot of light and color from where the young woman stood, concealed by the shadows cast by a column as she watched the throng of people below. She smiled softly as she caught sight of someone dressed like a Roman centurion pass by below, his arm draped around a woman dressed in a harem costume. That was the one detail that had caught the imagination of everyone invited to the ball-it was to be a masked ball, with everyone showing up in costume, their identities hidden behind a mask that they either wore or was provided for at the door before they entered. It was a chance to be someone else than who they were until at the end of the evening when the masks would be removed for all to see.
A couple pirouetted gracefully on the dance floor and the woman smiled again. There was her brother and his wife. He had complained at first that everyone would know who he was immediately, since he had spent a good portion of his life wearing a mask in the first place. Lucrezia had laughed but convinced him to show up anyway, telling him that his costume would confuse even those whom had known him back then. She was right-no one would ever link the infamous Zechs Merquise with the red-haired man dressed in full Highlander regalia. Lucrezia was dressed as a blond milkmaid, her bucket sitting back at the table.
Relena moved forward, forcing a smile to her lips. This was a night to be someone you weren't and she was determined to enjoy herself. She had danced with several partners already, never letting on to her identity, though she was sure that she had guessed at some of theirs. It was a hindrance at times to have been trained to spot people not just by their faces, but how they moved, their body language. She had slipped away after the last set, eager to get away from the throng.
She was dressed in a long, strapless gown of white silk, an iridescent overskirt making her appear to sparkle. Her hair was wrapped around her head in a coronet of braids, through which flowers had been inserted, surrounding her with their aroma. A white mask covered the top part of her face, with sheer wings attached to the back of her gown. She supposed that she was to be an angel, though she was uneasy with the images that word brought to her mind. There had been only one angel in her life, an angel of metal. But others had said before that she was an angel of peace. Perhaps that was why this costume had been chosen for her. She had been too busy with her duties to bother with details.
Coming down off the last step, she stopped, listening to the music for a moment. She then consulted the small piece of paper attached to her wrist by a short length of ribbon. That was another detail that was making this ball so enjoyable. The ladies all had dance cards for certain sets and the men would be able to request a certain dance with the women they chose. She wasn't to dance for the rest of the evening and she smiled again, a sense of relief washing over her as she made her way over to the table she was sharing with her relatives.
Carefully sitting down, taking care of the wings, she watched the dance floor again, amazed again that so many people showed up. She saw at the edge of the floor someone pass by, dressed as the Grim Reaper, complete with scythe. There was also a person dressed as a harlequin doing an impromptu flip in the middle of the dance floor. She smiled, this time truly smiling, because she felt happy. Then her amusement faded as she remembered the one reason why she couldn’t leave the fete. Among the list of replies were Ann, Sally Po and Chang Wu Fei. They would be here tonight and she was supposed to see them at the end of the evening for a meeting.
"May I have the next dance, miss?" A deep voice asked from next her and she turned to see a man standing there, his hand outstretched to her. She looked up, taking in his costume. A black mask covered his face, shadowed by a brimmed hat; the brim folded up on one side, a feather curling up from beneath. A black shirt with billowing sleeves were tucked into black trousers, which in turn were tucked into high black boots. A dress rapier sword hung from his waist, a black cape draped over his shoulder as he bowed to her.
She smiled, amused. "A lady never dances with one she cannot recognize."
There she went again, trying to flirt. The man bowed again, this time deeper.
"I am but a simple man who rights wrongs and ends the suffering of the people as they struggle under the rule of a tyrannical leader."
"A vigilante” she replied, standing up and taking his hand. Her partner shook his head.
"Not exactly. More like an avenger of the people." She looked over at him, taking note of how much taller he was than her, and she was by no means a short woman. She smiled again as a thought occurred to her.
"We'll make quite a pair out there on the floor. I’m all in white, while you could almost be my dark shadow." The man didn't reply as they stepped onto the dance floor and the music started. She let him lead for a moment, and then she heard the lyrics of the song set to a haunting melody, and almost faltered.
*Every night in my dreams
I see you, I feel you
That is how I know you go on*
The words filled her with sadness, as if the woman who was singing the song knew exactly how she felt about him, about Heero. His face haunted her waking hours whenever she was alone, and at night filled her dreams with the recollection of how blue his eyes were. And with the memory of that one time she had seen him almost smile. But he was gone, vanished from her life. She felt her partner adjust to accommodate her shifting steps and she offered him a weak smile.
*Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on
Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And you're here in my heart
And my heart will go on and on*
How could this old song have any effect on her? It was merely words set to music, yet she felt as if the woman knew what it was to love and lose in the end. Everyone else was happy with their lives. Everyone else had someone to talk to. She had no one to hold close and tell her woes to. No one to kiss her at night and tell her she was special. There had been only Heero that she wanted, and she knew that that was but a pipe dream. But the ache in her heart continued to grow with every word the woman sang.
*Love can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime
And never let go till we're one
Love was when I loved you
One true time I hold to
In my life we'll always go on*
She couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was too great. Even as she registered in her mind that it was the height of rudeness, she tore free of her partner's grip and ran off the dance floor, heedless of the gasps of the crowd around her as she made her way through them. She ran as fast as she could down a hallway, coming to a halt at a secluded balcony that was surrounded on all sides with flowers in either special hangers or trained around the curving railing.
Forcing back the mask, she wiped away the tears that had come to her eyes.
It wouldn't do her any good to think about him. But the tears came anyway. She was glad for once that her makeup was waterproof. She was able to wipe away her tears with her gloves and not worry about her mascara smearing. Not that she cared. She really had no reason to go back to the dance-her card was empty and she had left it in such a way that if she went back she was sure that everyone would point in her direction and whisper.
A bitter laugh forced its way past her lips. Seemed like Heero still had the power to make her leave parties. First her own birthday party years ago, and now this one. Heero…
She shivered slightly, feeling a sudden chill. It may be spring, but there was a hint of crispness to the night air. She rubbed her arms, the satin of her gloves sliding over her skin. She could simply turn and go back into the main building and be warm again. But there was a deeper chill that ran through her soul. She was alone, as she would be for the rest of her life.
She wondered briefly how the song had ended. Would it have held hope at the end, full of promises kept? Or would it be on a sad note? She knew she had only to ask and a copy of the song would be sent to her quarters where she could listen to it at her hearts content. But she no longer wished to wallow in self-pity; she had to be strong.
Unexpected warmth descended on her shoulders and she turned to see her deserted dance partner standing behind her, silhouetted by the illumination from the lamps in the hallway. The shawl from her chair was draped around her.
"Thank you, kind sir. I apologize for my actions. There is no excuse for what I did. I can only ask for your forgiveness." She smiled weakly at the dark figure who had yet to speak. The man in black turned away briefly, closing the carved French doors behind him. As he turned back, she caught a gleam of metal as he brought to bear on her head a small pistol with a silencer attached to the muzzle.
"Relena Darlien, you must die."
She stared at the pistol, unblinking, then nodded in resignation. "If that is your wish, so be it. I am not afraid to die."
"You and your reforms for peace took away my livelihood. If you die, war will break out again." The man's voice rose increasingly on the register with each word.
She nodded again. "If you think that my death will have that kind of consequences, you are mistaken. People truly wish for peace and will fight for it, if need be. Peace will win out in the end."
The pistol raised to aim at the point between her eyes. She smiled sadly at him, lowering her mask back into place, closing her eyes. She had no wish for her last memory to be the sight of someone pulling the trigger.
"Ojousan, duck!" A voice yelled in the sudden silence. Her eyes snapped opened to see a dark figure leap through the doors, shattering the fragile glass and wood, sending splinters and shards everywhere. She ducked out of sheer reflex. Black cloth swirled about as Death grappled with her assailant, hitting him with his scythe. The man fell to the ground as another came through the entryway, executing a flip that landed him behind the attacker.
"Oi, I need help. He's slippery!" She watched in horror as the two newcomers struggled to hold down the one with whom she had danced only a quarter-hour before. His mask slipped off and she spied wild eyes staring into her own. She didn’t recognize him. She came to her feet as the fracas continued, the man seeming to hold off the other two with a wild strength. She saw a braid of long brown hair whip about and suddenly recognized Duo Maxwell, who had dressed as Death. Old habits died hard, she mused vaguely.
Then the acrobat could be none other than Trowa Barton. But why were they here? She didn’t remember seeing their names on the list of RSVP’s, though she had been sure to send one to each of the pilots whose whereabouts she knew of.
"She must die!" The assassin had somehow regained the pistol and he pointed it in her direction. Duo stilled for a split second, seeing it right next to his knee before he dived downwards in a desperate attempt to stave off the attack.
"No!"
A blurred figure landed next to her, but she didn't take heed as all heard a small sound, like cloth tearing, resound in the confines of the balcony. The figure before her jerked to the left, but not before she felt a small pain in her left shoulder. She looked down to see a small hole piercing the skin above the edge of her bodice, blood starting to tickle down, a dark red stain on her white gown. The world wavered before her as she stumbled back, blinking. Arms steadied her and she looked to her right to see Duo's violet eyes staring down at her. She smiled up at him, noting that he seemed taller somehow. He turned to look at someone to his right and she turned her head slowly. She observed Trowa looking down with concern as she was lowered slowly to the flagstones of the landing, propped up so that her wound was away from anything that might aggravate it further.
"Am I -," she started to say when Duo shook his head.
"No, ojousan. You're only wounded."
“Is he-,” she began again when Trowa also shook his head.
“No, he’s dead. Neither of us killed him, though. Must have had a cyanide pellet or something similar. There’s nothing we can do now.”
She was cold, but there was an incredible warmth behind her and she leaned back into it, shivering. There was a sound of rustling cloth and she watched distantly as Duo took off his cloak, laying it across her body, wearing a white shirt beneath. There came the sound of cloth tearing and she shuddered at the noise. When she was able, she turned to smile at Duo again, who smiled back at her, the smile never reaching his eyes. Moments later a pad made up from torn strips of Duo’s costume were pressed to her shoulder. She turned away from the pain, seeking comfort in the softness that seemed to encircle her shoulders. As soon as the pain passed, she looked back up again at her rescuers.
"Thank you. I didn’t realize that you were here."
"We received an invitation to a costume party and you really think we would pass up on that?" Duo replied lightly, smiling. She smiled back-wasn’t he ever serious?
Trowa leaned forward, brow creased. "We were extended a special invitation by Ann for the meeting later tonight. She had something she wished to present to you after the party.”
So that was the reason why. She had wondered at the late hour, but had thought nothing more about it. It was just another late night meeting among many others.
"I see. I’m sorry this happened," she replied, feeling weak. The pad of cloth was darker now with her blood and she reached up tentatively to touch it, feeling no pain as she did so. She shivered again, looking over at the two men.
Trowa met her gaze, his face solemn. "It is we who are sorry that we didn’t show up in time. Perhaps we could have prevented this whole thing from happening in the first place." Duo nodded, glancing at her. No, not at her-at something beyond her shoulder
She followed the line of his gaze, turning slightly. To her surprise, she saw that she wasn't lying against a bench, as she had thought, or a railing. Instead she was in the arms of someone wearing the familiar blue and tan jacket issued to the Preventers. Her gaze traveled up slightly, then stilled, her eyes growing wide. Dark blue eyes looked down at her, their depths fathomless.
"Heero…" she whispered before her eyes closed.