Yeah!
Another chapter bites the dust! This one takes place roughly on October 1
(night) and the 2nd (morning).
A note for those who don’t remember what happened before: Relena’s pregnant
for Heero’s baby, and due to the many attempts on Relena’s life by the
organization called ERIS, Relena, Trowa, Wufie, and Duo are living together in a
remote house . . . somewhere (I don’t know where). In addition, the only clue
to the one behind the assassination attempts is a pair of lockets and the name
‘Evelyn’. Heero’s stuck in ERIS’ headquarters ;-;
Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, and emailed me! You guys are great!
Disclaimer: Ha! I don’t think so.
Made of You: Chapter 9
by Kysra
~ She was drowning, the darkness cradling her in its cold depths, the water
freezing her flesh with its icy waters. She couldn’t breathe, her lungs
burning in her chest, and she felt her mouth open unconsciously, trying to take
in air but only finding water to fill the emptiness. Streaks of warmth lanced
across frost bitten cheeks, searing the delicate skin.
She was crying, her body sinking deeper into the abysmal deep, and she never
wanted to return to the surface again.
“Relena . . .”
Her lungs collapsed, expelling what little oxygen had miraculously clung to the
largely empty organs along with the water she had previously inhaled.
“Relena! WAKE UP!!”
Furiously pumping her legs, she attempted to swim to the surface, her body numb,
a force pushing down on her shoulders, hindering her progress and preventing her
from reaching her goal. She couldn’t give in.
She was dying. The proof was their haunting voices, and as much as she wanted to
follow them to the next world, her baby didn’t deserve to have her life cut
short by her own mother.<p>
“Damn it Relena! Open your eyes!!”
They were so close. All she needed was there just beyond her reach. All she
needed was them, to know they were alright, then she could die in peace.
The pressure upon her shoulders intensified, jagged steel fingernails biting
into her back as she began to jerk violently against the pain, the unyielding
weight when -- ~
Relena gasped, her body thrusting up against the bands of strength across her
shoulders, stomach, and thighs, holding her down. Her eyes shifted around her
wildly as three dearly familiar faces came into focus above her. Sweat and tears
ran down her face as her mouth opened and a sob escaped her lips. They were
alive. Her boys were alive! And she was alive as well!
“C’mon Rel, you didn’t really think we’d lose didja?” Duo smiled
gently as his hand skimmed over her forehead, his other arm resting against the
swell of her stomach protectively.
A tremulous smile quivered upon her bloodless lips, the numbness fading away as
her shaking subsided, “I . . . I thought y . . you were . .” Her voice
cracked upon another sob. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t say what she had
feared, couldn’t admit that the possibility was always there looming just
beyond her vision, couldn’t accept the reality that one day they might lay
down their lives for her.
“We know. You were crying and screaming,” Wufei took his hands from her
shoulders, one hand grasping and squeezing hers, and she suddenly noticed how
pale he was, how distressed each of them looked, how wounded . . .
Wufei’s hair had come loose from its tight restraints, blood smeared across
his smooth forehead and under his left eye. He was noticeably favoring his right
leg, a line of blood, vibrant red, slashing across his left thigh, visible
through the long tear in the dark material of his pants.
Kneeling on her other side, Duo’s braid was not longer as neat as it had been
before he had gone to meet the enemy, a few errant strands of light brown hair
escaping the arrangement. He had somehow lost the black suit jacket he had been
wearing and one arm of his white dress shirt was died a grizzly copper color . .
. dried blood gluing the material uncomfortably to his skin. There were several
black smudges upon his face, hands, and shirt, as if he had been very near some
form of fire and the ashes had settled into his skin and clothes. The scent of
gunpowder clung to him.
Blue eyes looked to Trowa, alighting upon the flowing blood rolling down his one
visible cheek. His green eyes bore into hers, the concern buried deep within the
cold depths, concern for her.
“Wh . . what --” Panic rose to her throat, blocking any words that wished to
flow to her tongue.
“Calm down,” Duo patted the hand Wufei wasn’t holding as Trowa lay a
reassuring hand upon her ankle, “The guy was taken care of. We can go home
now.”
A noise from the far side of the room alerted them to an intruder, and the three
men shifted slightly to better protect their charge as Relena tensed slightly,
the fear not completely drained from her system, adrenaline still pumping in her
veins as her hands came up to clasp tightly together, flexing and unflexing
spontaneously.<p>
“I see the Princess is awake,” the old man from earlier smiled gently at
her, nodding to her caretakers as Wufei assisted her to a sitting position.
“How are you dear? You scared my wife and I nearly to an early grave when you
fainted.”
Relena bowed her head, feeling a tidal wave of guilt engulf her already frazzled
nerves. It seemed that no matter what she did, no matter where she went, no
matter her intentions, she would always endanger and cause worry to those around
her. She very suddenly wanted to cry, her throat swelling with the burning salt
of the suppressed tears, the whites of her eyes flushing red as blood rushed to
the straining orbs, and her face reddening with the pressure of keeping the sobs
from crossing her lips.
Sliding an arm about trembling shoulders, Duo glared at the old man before
helping Relena to her feet. “She’ll be fine,” he answered, his voice even
despite the rage churning in his gut. This guy had something to do with the
attack. He could feel it in his bones. The fact that the old man had called
Relena ‘Princess’ was proof enough.
“Indeed,” Wufei spoke softly, his voice like a coiled snake ready to strike,
the tension in that one word enough to strike fear in the heart of any man,
“we should get her home to rest. Thank you sir, for watching over her in our
absence.”
Trowa watched with a slight smirk as Duo and Wufei ushered the quiet, reflective
Relena out of the little shop/house, before turning to their host, allowing his
smirk to drop into a frown, his green eyes probing sparkling brown. This man,
one Mario Boticelli, the maker of the two lockets, had betrayed one he had sworn
allegiance to. This man had nearly cost Relena her life and the life of her
unborn child. Of course, Trowa had experienced a sneaking suspicion before, but
now . . . with that one slip, the elderly man had made a huge mistake.
“She’s a delightful girl,” Boticelli said lightly, trying to make small
talk, not knowing he had been found out.
“Yes, she is,” Trowa commented flatly before taking a step forward, his hand
coming up to grasp the other man’s windpipe through sagging skin. Gnarled
hands clawed at Trowa’s arm in the hopes of finding purchase to freedom, but
the ex-Gundam pilot wasn’t about to let this slide. With an animalistic gleam
of command in his eye, Trowa stared at the old man’s face with a cold
indifference that told poor Mario that he had gotten mixed up in a whole heap of
trouble.
A few moments of frightening silence followed, Trowa staunchly holding onto
Mario’s windpipe, Mario fighting for breath and his precious hold on
consciousness, before the younger man finally spoke in controlled, even tones,
thinly veiling the fury that burned behind the cool green eyes, “A warning.”
With a snap of the wrist, Trowa let the man go, the deceptively frail body
collapsing to the ground as Mario coughed, his hand massaging his abused throat,
trying to get his wind back, his mind working furiously to understand the threat
behind the words as the sound of Trowa’s footsteps faded.
The sound reminded him of a death knell, and it resounded for the inevitable
fall of ERIS.
*A few hours later near the Peacecraft/Maxwell/Barton/Chang residence (say that
10 times fast)*
“You guys didn’t have to gather all those clothes. I could’ve just had
Noin and Milliardo send some over,” Relena said softly, half dozing on Duo’s
shoulder. It was so quiet in the car, Trowa driving while Wufei stared out the
passenger side window thoughtfully. Even Duo wasn’t talking, his hand stroking
her hair in a strangely hypnotic rhythm. She wanted to sleep so badly, her body
crashing from the sudden chemical reaction forced upon her by the traumatic
experiences of the evening. Her baby wanted rest.
“It would be a waste of perfectly good clothes that *you* picked out for
yourself. Besides we can search them all for bullet holes tomorrow. Until then,
you can borrow my clothes. You’re not *that* big just yet.” Duo semi-jested
with her, but even in her pseudo-conscious state, she could still pick up on the
lack of humor in the reply. The guilt that had stabbed at her psyche just a few
hours before attacked her mind with renewed vigor. It was her fault they had
nearly gotten killed.
It was all so stupid and silly. She was just one person, a nobody who had become
somebody through rather extreme and unusual circumstances, and even though she
held a highly prestigious position with limited political power, she could not
understand why anyone would wish to kill her. It was unfathomable why some were
willing to resist the peace she and so many others had struggled to build and
maintain.
Studying Duo’s profile, Relena thought these men, the famed yet secretive
Gundam pilots deserved that peace more than anyone, and yet, they were the ones
who constantly suffered because of the peace she had helped to usher in, because
of her.
Pushing herself away from Duo, Relena rested her back and neck against the seat
cushions, fervently wishing she were at home instead of the car, trying to take
her mind off the fact that she very desperately needed a bathroom soon. With a
slightly shaking hand (probably caused by the gradual flushing of adrenaline
from her system), the Peace Minister rubbed her round belly softly, talking to
the baby inside her mind.
Tears came to her eyes as she thought of the child within her. She had hoped
that she could tell Heero by now. She could just imagine how it would be,
afterall, the man would have to be blind not to know just by looking at her. He
would walk into her room, see her extended belly, and . . . What would he do?
What did she expect? Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you’re
automatically ready for a family. What if he didn’t want children? What if he
. . . left . . . What if he didn’t care?
*Why don’t you just admit what’s bothering you, Relena?*
She was so scared. Fear seemed to be her constant companion these days. She was
afraid of the people after her life. She was afraid Heero would resent her for
unknowingly getting pregnant. She was afraid her child would never know his/her
father. She was afraid one or more of her friends would get hurt or killed on
her account. She was afraid she would be left alone in the end. Most of all
though, she was afraid of closing her eyes and forever living in the nightmares
that sought to trap her every night. She was afraid she was losing herself.
Shuddering harshly, Relena breathed a sigh of relief when the car pulled up to
the house that had become home to her, even if it was only her home away from
home. Reaching to open the door, she was halted by Duo taking her elbow and
pulling her against him. She gave no resistance, trusting him, and an
explanation wasn’t long in coming.
With stealth and grace, Trowa and Wufei both exited the car, guns drawn, and
began to inspect the grounds for any signs of intruders.
Relena buried her face in the curve of Duo’s shoulder, desperately fighting
the tears that were begging to be released. She had done enough crying. The
stress wasn’t doing her child any good.
Wrapped up in Duo’s warm, brotherly embrace, Relena’s mind wandered from
this place to Hilde, Catherine, and the others. She wondered how Hilde was doing
with the wedding plans, speculated on how Catherine was getting along without
her usual target, and tried to imagine how Dorothy was handling Devon who was on
the brink of foregoing the terrible two’s to enter the fantastic three’s.
Thoughts of those she had left behind inevitably forced her to remember her
brother . . . her only living blood relative, and with the picture of his face,
his words echoed in her mind, the message as loud and clear as it had been at
its first utterance sixteen years ago.
*”It’s always ok to cry Rele. Remember that, ok?”*
And so she did as her brother willed her, as her heart entreated her, crying for
those who had suffered and were suffering for her sake, weeping for her lost
parents, and sobbing bitterly for Heero who was missing out on his child’s
prenatal development.
She vowed it would be the last time she allowed tears to fall from her eyes.
***
~ A few hours earlier . . . with Heero . . . ~
Heero grunted as he gave one last tug and his left hand finally popped free of
the iron manacles they had imprisoned him in just a few hours ago. Gingerly
rubbing his raw and bloody wrists, he absently popped his thumb back into its
correct socket, then cracked his knuckles as his eyes took in his less than
attractive surroundings.
As far as he could tell, it had been about two to three weeks since they had
first brought him to this rank prison, the dirt floor hot and itchy beneath his
sweaty form, the air stale from disuse and poor circulation (there was no air
conditioning to speak of), and the metal walls were rusted to the point of
flaking, a rather bad leak in the metal ceiling allowing a downpour of water
through the ruined seams. He guessed they had placed him beneath the communal
baths.
The only light he was allowed was a stream that filtered through a tiny window
in his cell door which was used as the guard view, and there was always at least
two guards standing by at all times. There were no grates or vents he could slip
through, no trap doors to speak of. He would have to bide his time, besides, Mai
would be coming soon. She was the only one who connected him to the outside
world now.
Glaring at the door and its small bulletproof window, Heero leaned back against
the burning metal, stretching his legs out and slipping his hands back into the
manacles. It wouldn’t do for them to guess he had gotten free of their
medieval restraints.
Just then, there was a soft click-hiss as the door to freedom opened and a
short, female outline filled the space between himself and the hall.
It was Mai.
“Hey Jaggie, how they treatin’ ya in this here hell hole?” She stepped
into the dark, hot cell, and wrinkled her nose as the stench of sweat and raw
human waste met her nostrils, the door giving booming shut behind her. “Damn,
it’s like a friggin’ convection oven in here . . . A convection oven without
a flushing toilet.” The tray she held propped on one shoulder with her hand
supporting the bottom was shifted downward where both hands could grasp the
handles on either side.
“. . .” He really didn’t feel like talking to her if all she would do is
make fun of the situation.
“Well fine. You don’t wanna talk, you don’t get to eat, and trust me
honey, you need all the calories you can get.” She knelt, poking him in the
ribs, before setting the tray she had been carrying on the ground, her hands
coming up to unlock the iron bands around his wrists. Actually, for someone who
had been trapped in a sweatbox for weeks, he was still in remarkable shape.
“What did you do?” Mai asked, concern lacing the secretive inquiry as her
fingers worked the rusted key into the abused keyhole, her eyes fixed on the
blood trailing down Heero’s arms like the tears he had never shed.
“. . .” He wasn’t about to answer that one either. He didn’t want her
feeling guilty. She had to stay focused if she was going to help him.
Mai rolled her eyes and unlocked the stupid manacles before sitting back on her
heels, “If you don’t talk to me, I won’t tell ya what’s been going
down!”
“Tell me after,” Heero said finally, picking up the tray of limp, boiled
cabbage, charred mystery meat, and something that resembled refried beans with a
side of stale, black crusted bread. A small cup of water was his drink of the
day. These were the only nutrients keeping him alive and aware at this point.
Watching him eat the ‘food’ with a green expression, Mai sighed weakly,
“Fine, but I thought you might be interested to know that the Mistress finally
found what she was looking for.”
Heero choked on his ‘beans’, and Mai heartily slapped him on the back, a
rather sadistic grin on her childish face.
“I knew that would get your attention.” The young girl’s face was far too
proud for Heero’s liking, but he took the bait anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Mai didn’t answer right away, her hand nervously playing with the light brown
bangs falling into her eyes, a somewhat calculating look on her usually open and
friendly face. She rose to her feet, walking over to the door, testing it to
make sure it was locked before coming to kneel before him again, not minding the
dirt that was ruining the pristine white material of her dress uniform, “You
tell me who you really are, and I’ll tell you what the Mistress has planned
for your girlfriend, Relena Darlian Peacecraft.”
Schooling his features, Heero was careful not to let even the slightest hint of
his surprise slip into his expression. His reply was as flat and to-the-point as
ever, “You know who I am.”
“You’re lying,” Mai frowned at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the bruised
spirit within. He had hurt her. “Look, I need to know who you are before they
make good on their orders. They’re planning on killing her! They’ve already
sent snipers to her proposed location! Please, if she’s who I think she is,
tell me who you are!!!!”
Heero stared at her appraisingly. Her face was glistening with a sheen of sweat,
her eyes wild and desperate, her manner mature but skittish in the face of such
a serious situation. She trusted him, Relena was in danger, and she was willing
to help him by taking his place as Relena’s protector for the time being.
There was no decision to be made.
“I’m called Heero Yuy . . .”
***
~ That night at the Winner Mansion ~
“Devon!” Dorothy chased after the giggling two year old, making a grotesque
looking ‘monster’ face while shaping her hands into something resembling
open claws. She roared, “I’m gonna get you!”
The little boy ran on sturdy legs away from his mother, naked as a jaybird, and
squealed, falling on his rump as his Aunt Hilde jumped out from behind the
couch. He just laughed at the funny face his Auntie was making before struggling
back to his feet and trying to run away again. His mommy, however, didn’t want
to play “Chase the Dirty Baby” anymore.
Lifting him up, Dorothy pressed her open mouth to her son’s belly and blew, a
rather . . . unsavory but funny noise issuing from the action, sending the
toddler into a frenzy of giggles again. “C’mon you little monster. Time for
a bath!”
The little munchkin stopped laughing and began squirming in his mother’s arms,
sniffing as tears pooled at his eyes lids. The dreaded b-word had been uttered,
and if there was one thing little boys hated it was the b-word and all the
horrors that went with it.
“WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
Hilde followed Dorothy and the screaming child down the hall to the large
bathroom, trying to cheer the crestfallen boy out of his hissy fit by making
wierd faces behind Dorothy’s shoulder.
It wasn’t working.
WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
As they neared the door to the bathroom, Devon’s stuggles became more violent,
and Dorothy had a hard time keeping her hold on the tike. Luckily, Rashid saved
them by announcing there was a visitor and taking the still-wailing child into
the bathroom.
“Who do you think it is?” Hilde asked as she watched Dorothy comb one hand
through her long, tangled hair while the other smoothed the skirt of her dress.
“I don’t know, but if I were to venture a guess, I’d say Mrs. Darlian. She
called this morning saying she might stop by after visiting with her
relatives.”
“Mrs. Darlian? Why would she wanna see you?” Hilde cringed at how rude that
sounded, but her pale colored friend didn’t seem to mind one bit, a smirk
curving her lips.
“I don’t know. She said something about planning something for Relena. A
baby shower perhaps?”
“But Dorothy --” Hilde started before . . .
“Miss Catalonia! Miss Scheibecker! How are you?!” A pair of silk sheathed
arms hugged both of them simultaneously as they entered the living area of the
large Winner estate.
“Actually, it’s Mrs. Winner now Mrs. Darlian.” Dorothy smiled as the older
woman released them. A tolerant smile, Hilde noted.
“Ah, yes. Sorry about that.” Whether she was sorry that she had made such a
grievous error in addressing the hostess or sorry Dorothy had married Quatre and
into the Winner fortune, Hilde didn’t know, but she smiled and nodded her head
in greeting while she shot a side-long glance at Dorothy whose smile was
somewhat tight and forced. Hilde got the distinct feeling that something was
wrong here.
After a few verbal meaningless pleasantries, the three women adjourned in
Quatre’s study since it was smaller and more personal than the expansive and
spacious living area. Mrs. Darlian made a few compliments about the interior
decorating while they sat, Dorothy in a leather upholstered chair while Hilde
and Mrs. Darlian took the leather couch.
“So . . . what did you wish to talk about Mrs. Darlian?” Dorothy inquired
after they were all settled, one hand airily gesturing the servant at the door
to bring some tea. Hilde cocked an eyebrow at her friend. She never behaved like
this. It was almost as if she were trying to make everyone uncomfortable . . .
her old sly and scheming self making itself dominant after years of suppression.
“Please dear, calling me ‘Mrs. Darlian’ makes me feel so old. Call me
Joan.”
Dorothy nodded slightly, her eyes shifting to Hilde when the silence fell over
them, and the dark haired woman stuggled to find something to say, an unusual
situation since she ALWAYS knew what to say.
“Mrs . . . Joan, you must think of Relena quite a bit since she left,” Hilde
tried to keep her voice level and genuine despite the suspicious thoughts
running through her head. If this woman had indeed suggested organizing a baby
shower for Relena, the mere mention of the baby condemned her as an enemy. Hilde
knew for a fact that Relena had never mentioned her condition to her foster
mother.
“Oh yes! In fact, I was wondering if you could tell me when she’s coming
back or how I can get in touch with her. I wanted to know when she’s going to
be free so I can organize her baby shower.”
Called it, Hilde thought darkly.
“That’s wonderful!” Dorothy gushed, her hands clasped to her chest in
excitement, and Hilde had to restrain herself from severely hurting the blonde
woman. Either Dorothy didn’t know Mrs. Darlian wasn’t supposed to know about
the baby, or she was an extremely good actress. She fervently hoped it was the
former.
Mrs. Dar . . . *Joan* looked pleased with herself, “Well, she is my daughter,
and I am pretty excited about being a grandmother, but there’s one thing
bothering me . . .” She trailed off for dramatic effect, and Hilde felt a
snort coming on, “Who’s the baby’s father?”
At that point, Dorothy did her best impression of an owl, blinking absently in a
masterful display of serious confusion and cluelessness, her mouth formed into a
small ‘o’, “Didn’t Relena tell you? We were hoping you could tell us!
Isn’t that right Hilde?”
“Yep,” the blue-black haired woman took a calm sip from the steaming cup of
tea set before her despite the rather unsettling feeling of being seated near a
suspected enemy.
The Darlian matriarch aimed a sharp stare at Duo’s fiancee, “And what about
you dear? I tried to visit you earlier this month only to find an empty house.
Trouble in paradise?”
“Nope,” Hilde said cooly, inwardly growling at the woman. It was no secret
Relena’s mother disapproved of the friendship between Relena and the Gundam
pilots. It was also equally obvious to their tight little group that Mrs.
Darlian -- sorry, *Joan* -- cared even less for her foster daughter’s
attachment to Hilde, Catherine, and Sally. Hilde resolved not to let the older
woman’s feigned friendliness and civil insults get to her. “Duo’s out of
town on business, so I’m staying here till he gets back.”
“My, my . . . isn’t that strange?” *Joan’s* mouth turned down into a
frown, “Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Barton, and Mr. Chang all gone while Relena’s on
vacation . . . “
“Coincidences -- so thought inducing,” Dorothy murmured, her eyes somewhat
vacant, and Hilde somehow knew she was thinking of Quatre who had left that
morning with Sally Po to check on Relena and the others. It was the same look
she often got when thinking of Duo.
An uneasy silence fell on the trio before *Joan*, making excuses and begging
pardon, made to leave, but not before asking, “Are you sure you don’t know
how I can reach Relena? It’s really important that I speak to her.”
“No.” Dorothy said with some finality before graciously inviting *Joan* to
visit again sometime and asking a servant to see the older woman out.
When the study door closed, Dorothy rested her chin on her palms, elbows
supported by her knees as she leaned away from the soft cushions of the chair in
which she sat, “Well, THAT was interesting.”
“I didn’t even know she knew Trowa or Wufei . . . or Duo’s last name for
that matter,” Hilde added thoughtfully, bright blue eyes meeting solid
blue-gray across the short distance between them, staring at each other as
realization set it.
There was no doubt about it. Relena’s foster mother was a part of this. All
they had to do was figure out how.
***
~ The next morning . . . around 2 AM at the Peacecraft/Maxwell/Barton/Chang
residence (say that ten times fast O.O) ~
*1243 . . 1244 . . 1245 . . 1246 . . * Relena stared hard at the ceiling of her
room, trying to count sheep, wondering why the ‘sheep’ all looked human,
male, Heero. Pausing in her count, she glanced at the digital bedside clock. Two
in the morning. Great.
Abandoning the idea of sleep, she first made her way to the bathroom to make a
deposit, before quietly tip-toeing down the hall to step carefully down the
stairs. She was still way too keyed-up from the whole attack, not to mention,
the baby inside her seemed to have his/her days and nights mixed up. The kid was
in danger of breaking one of her ribs.
She began to hum softly, rubbing her belly and feeling the movement within her.
She then proceeded to fix herself a cup of warm milk, trying her best to keep
the noise to a bear minimum. This was her private time to converse with her
child and come to terms with the happenings of the day, and she didn’t want to
be disturbed by her bodyguards.
Staring into the ivory depths of the warming liquid, Relena’s mind took her
where it usually ended up anyway, settling on thoughts of her missing love. She
wondered if he was ok, if he was thinking about her . . . She wondered when he
was coming back.
The baby settled down, the head a pronounced lump bulging on the left side of
her abdomen, and she giggled softly, wishing she could hold him/her in her arms.
“Well, Baby, what shall we talk about tonight, hmm?” Relena sat at the head
of the small table, pouring the warmed milk in a pink mug with her name printed
on it. She took a short sip, decided to let it cool a bit, and set it down on
the table, leaning back against the chair and running a hand up and down her
round belly, eyes closed.
“How ‘bout I tell you about your Daddy?” A kick was her affirmative, and
she smiled drowsily, her voice becoming faint as she spoke, “Your father . . .
where do I begin? Sometimes I think I know what’s going on in his mind,
sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy, loving a perfect stranger, but I’ve known
since we were just kids, only fifteen years old, that my heart was his
forever.” She giggled a little, “I think he knew it too. I think he thought
it was just a crush, and then he came see me that last time.” Another kick and
a wiggle. “Yes, sweetie . . . and that’s when we made you.” She kissed her
palm only to press her hand against the evidence of her pregnancy.
Her voice became a whisper as she went on, all humor gone from her face, “I
hope you look like him, girl or boy, with eyes as bright and blue as the most
perfect of skies and infinitely unkempt hair. I hope you grow up to have his
strength and purity, but unlike him, you’ll have a happy childhood, you’ll
have a big, loving family, and I adore you already.” She smiled widely only to
let it fade from her lips, “And I know that if he knew about you . . . I know
he’d love you too.”
Opening her eyes slowly, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Trowa
standing across the table.
“How long --”
“How long has the baby been moving?”
Staring up at him, she felt a growing unease. Would he be hurt that she hadn’t
told them about the baby moving?
“About a week now.”
He nodded then walked around to sit next to her, “Your milk will get cold.”
Obediently she drank, wondering what was going through his mind, waiting for him
to reveal his thoughts, but he said nothing, just sat and watched her. He was
always watching her it seemed.
Taking one last gulp of the lukewarm liquid, Relena stared into her empty cup,
biting her lower lip nervously, “Are you mad?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because I hid something from you and the others.” It seemed to her, he had
every right to be angry with her. They were friends . . . closer friends that
she could have ever anticipated. Didn’t friends tell each other this sort of
thing? Shouldn’t she be excited enough to want to tell him?
She felt his hand grasp hers under the table, “Everyone has their secrets.
Come to bed.”
Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to find him smiling at her, really smiling,
“You’re smiling.” The baby kicked in agreement, and Relena gasped, not
prepared for such an intrusion. She had thought the baby had fallen asleep.
“What’s wrong?” The short-lived smile dropping in his usual
non-expression, green eyes alight with concern.
“Nothing. Would you like to feel?” She didn’t wait for an answer, pressing
his hand to her tummy and giggling when the child inside her greeted Trowa. Her
eyes rose to meet his only to find that his eyes were already fixed on her
enlarged belly, his gaze bespeaking wonderment, his features softening as a
small smile once again graced his lips, and a fledgling idea that had entered
Relena’s mind more than once over the long weeks spent in this house suddenly
became clear and fixed.
“Trowa?” She smiled at the sparkling light in his eyes. He almost looked
happy, his hand warm against her child’s resting place beneath her heart, and
she suddenly knew that this was the way it was meant to be, that what she was
about to ask was right. “Trowa . . . I want you to be the baby’s
godfather.”
“Me?” His eyes widened, mouth becoming lax with shock, and Relena laid her
hand atop his to keep it there, nodding her head emphatically.
“Yes you. Please, consider it. You’ve been such a wonderful friend,
supporting me through all of this, and I know I would never have survived if you
hadn’t been there by my side . . . To me, you’ve been like a guardian angel,
and I want my child to always know he or she is looked after. I know that this
is right. I want you as my baby’s godfather. Please Trowa.” She stared into
his eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering, and gasped when she saw the
glittering mist of tears form in his eyes. Trowa was . . . crying . . .
Getting up from her seat, Relena wrapped her arms about his shoulders, pressing
his head to her chest as quiet sobs wracked his body. His arms came up and
around the small of her back as he whispered that it would be an honor, and they
stayed like that, Relena holding him as he cried, until he calmed a few moments
later.
Looking up at her, Trowa wondered at the influence she exerted over nearly
everyone she came into contact with, even those hardened and dehumanized by the
lots life and destiny had handed them, even those like himself and Heero. She
was amazing, and he realized how fortunate he was to have met her and to have
gotten the chance to know her. And now she was asking him to be a permanent
fixture in her child’s life, the emotional overload pushing the boundaries of
his self control. He dried his cheeks before standing and offering her his hand.
“Let’s go to bed.”
She nodded with a heartfelt smile, placing her hand in his much larger one, and
together they ascended the steps to their bedrooms.
In the hours that followed, Relena fell into a deep sleep, no nightmares
plaguing her rest for the remainder of the night.