SCHADENFREUDE
by Ash Wednesday Lee

The characters of Shin Kudoseki Gundam Wing
belong to Sotsu Sunrise Agency. I am sure they are
wonderful people who I don't want to mess with ^.^.

Some heavy 1xR angst (though no one's gonna die... yet ^^;), 
drama, hopefully some waff in between. 

TIMELINE: AC 203. Six years of peace, tracing back to the EW
	  timeline.

"The cruelest lies are often told in silence"
			- Robert Louis Stevenson

CHAPTER 1: Anatomy of My Death

The day reeked with normalcy. It drenched 
my bed, stained the bathroom walls and dripped 
from the kitchen counter. I tasted it in 
the cereal that I took for breakfast 
and felt it expand in my stomach. 
Threatening to eat me from the inside.

Then I remember who I am and have 
reality wash me back to shore before 
I drifted completely with my follies.

I have to be reminded constantly, harshly 
if you may, that while everyone is devoured by 
the routines they build around themselves, those 
that I create continually degrade. My name
deprives me the privilege of such banalities.

Supposedly, it is one's name 
that validates a person's existence. 
An amorphous form that you mold in accord 
to your whim. I, however, 
am an unwilling exception. My name 
pre-fabricated who I am, even before I 
was delivered from my mother's 
womb. It shapes me according to *its* whim.

The last few days was a valiant attempt 
for me to be included in the paradigm that 
has long been nothing but a concept to me. 
Though I do not long for it, it is an incentive of 
my efforts that I am all too willing to 
accept. A freebie if you may.

I paused at the door leading to the relatively
empty room, still apalled at the idyllic illusion
of the morning. I could see the sky from the large
window ahead confirming my thoughts. Droves upon
droves of purplish clouds eating their way to
the recently risen sun. The brewing tempest, making
its presence known. A buzzing sound accompanying the 
sharp scent of caffeine as it wafted its way to my
senses couldn't have been as more a convenient warning
as the racing clouds outside. I chose to face the
inevitable and hope for the best.

"Good morning Noin," I greeted the robed 
figure attending to the coffee maker as I made my way
to the small table meant for snacks and small talk. You
smiled, perhaps because of the fact that it 
was the first time I ever got to favor 
you the greeting outside the confines of my
office or within a speech written by a staff. 
The sound bounced awkwardly among the immaculate 
walls of the kitchen. I never noticed it 
painted so blindingly white.

You returned the greeting, in a voice cracking 
with sleep. The soft clinking sound of metal against 
porcelain as you stirred coffee reverberated in 
my ears loudly. I could feel its rhythm
beat inside my ears, making its way to 
pulse in my brain.

Our pleasantries decayed even before I identified it.

You picked up the newspaper lying beside 
your cup and tossed it in front of me. 
It landed with a dull thud, echoing your dour sentiments. 
I really cannot take that away from you. 
To be angry. To feel betrayed. You should. You were. 
I certainly would hurt if you pranced around 
and went about in our normal routine.

Oh yeah, we don't have a normal routine.

With nothing more than a sweep of the eyes 
and a shrug, I returned to more pressing matters... 
like the apple I have began to peel. 

"I'm giving it until tomorrow. After that, I'd be nothing 
more than a footnote next to the classified ads." 

I didn't mean my voice to sound too... blithe. I meant it as 
a reassurance. I meant it to kill the subject. It only takes 
your frown to know that I've failed to do both. This morning 
will start as how my last six mornings did. With caffeine charged 
arguments leading us in endless circles. "I hope you've considered the repercussions of your actions before you indulged yourself 
with this... this..."

"Insanity? Madness? Rubbish?" I never meant my voice to 
sound challenging either, but the issue has long 
outlasted my interest and though I've never really 
opened my side for discussion, the mere time it took me 
to come up with the decision calls me to run 
to the other direction at the mere mention of the subject. 
I can only take so much attempts and so many one-sided
counselling when I've already made it clear that I owe
no one any explanation. It's getting old. 
*I'm* getting old for this. I'm beginning to wonder
when they would realize that as well.

"Noin, I've survived a war, brought senile 
diplomats to their senses and broken down barriers set 
up by the old world," I trained my eyes against yours, almost 
in defiance, "I would like to think 
that I deserve better."

I heard the escape of a sigh and the quiet 
hiss of the chair sliding against the floor. While 
I have resumed my attention back to the apple, you 
resorted to studying me intently as you have yesterday. 
I would guess they devoted an entire session in military school teaching you how to draw answers from uncooperative witnesses. 
I've been subjected to enough scrutiny to validate my theory.
And you almost made me hate you for it.

Almost.

"Is this about..." your voice quivered, the question 
dying on your lips.

I know you missed the small crescents my nails 
created on the apple's pulp; the slight shift of my gaze 
to the right; the retreat of my feet to curl slightly bent 
against the front legs of the chair. I could almost hear the 
quiet ticking of the wheels in your head as you 
weighed the silence. I've learned much these past few
months. But evidently, you've learned much more about me.
Perhaps, I am as prosaic as I fear I am.

I patiently sliced the apple into halves. Then fourths. 
Then eighths. Not a rustle of movement nor a shift of 
gaze from you. You unknowingly become my brother a little 
more each day. And I have to smile inwardly
on the prospect. 

"Have you found it yet Noin?" I asked, my voice steadier 
than I intend it. A slight tilt of your head and you 
become Lucrezia again. The idealist. Naive to a certain extent. 
Just like someone I used to identify as me. "Peace?" I supplied.

I fixed my gaze on your unchanged expression. "It's been five 
years, Noin," I saw your eyes avert to the neglected knife 
on my right. "I still sleep for two hours. 
I still can't go to the bathroom without an escort 
and I still dream of blood and the dead's keen for 
mercy and help," I paused, feeling my words 
slowly settle around us in a waltz imitating
the fall of leaves after a silent afternoon breeze.

"We all have our own little battles to fight, 
Relena," your voice, and
your resolve, finding its way to be heard. 
"And we all need a victim, Noin."
My palms felt sticky as my sweat and the 
apple's juice mingle. I stare
at the now dark flesh in my hands, coppered 
by the past minutes. "It's
become a mute dance that I seemingly am the 
only one willing to learn," 
the sharp turn of your head bespoke 
the anger you kept at bay. 

"You know that's not true," 

I allowed a wistful smile, "I used to 
think this would be a 
fairytale, with the ending written 
even before we started," the smile
slowly broke into a thin line of desperation 
in my lips, "then I learned
that there's only one Prince Charming and 
no amount of mutation can turn
pumpkins into carriages." And in that moment, I have to
pause and remember what it was we were talking about. 

"I'm no longer qualified,"

"I thought you were stronger than this," 
the storm that raged 
in the depths of your eyes remained subdued by 
your downcast gaze. Then I met its ill-concealed
wrath as you raised them to meet my own sad pair, "I 
thought you were stronger than us."

"And I thought strength was enough," I hope 
you could take appreciation in
that. I hope you could understand just 
how much those words took from me. 
"I'm tired of being everybody's victim." 
Looking at how your eyes 
melt in comprehension, I know you saw my deaths
in its numerous varied forms. I know you're watching
me die now as we speak; as you hear
the hushed and weak 'yes' to your
question beneath our exchange of words. But still...

"You've survived a war, brought senile 
diplomats to their senses 
and broken down barriers set up by 
the old world," your voice sounded soft
and beautifully cruel at the same time, 
"I believed that it will eventually be
enough." I almost missed the quiet acquiescence
in your eyes. But I saw it. Accepting what I've offered,
including the answers that hung in silence. 

It would be foolish of me to think you could not see
beyond a lie. But I would like to think that
there's wisdom in letting things be. Like, indulging
ourselves in fabricated truths. Pretending
that, yes, we understand everything. And cling
on that understanding for the sake of our sanity
and for the sake of each other's pride.

There would be time for answers, I promised.
*Truthful* answers.

My legs felt gone when I got up and  
strode to the trash can on my way
to exit with nothing more than a
sad final glimpse at the mug trapped
between your curved palms. I levitate 
slowly, thinking of 
reassuring you of my non-existent happiness
before leaving. "Relena?" you called.

I turn my head, though not looking back, 
fearing you have changed your mind and chose to hurt
both of us with the truths that I begged of you
to keep to yourself. 

"Milliardo wants you to meet him at 
your new office after lunch," In mild 
confusion, I turned fully to see you pour 
the now cold coffee down the 
kitchen sink. "Ofcourse." 

"You'd be meeting with Minister Petrov of the ESUN
and Sylvia Noventa," you
had your back on me and your voice sounded 
clear against the rush of water
from the faucet. I started to walk back to 
the door, letting the name
hang for a moment, trying to sift through my memory of
acquaintances and allies, before I repeated it in question.

"The new Vice-Foreign Minister."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR

1. SCHADENFREUDE - the book where I got this escapes me 
of the moment but I remember it to describe 'one's joy
over seeing another's demise or suffering'.

2. "Everyone needs a victim" - is a line from a movie
called "Bayaning Third World (Third World Hero)". 

Thanks for the time and whatever else you could spare ^^