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 ^.^.

Genre: Drama, Angst, Fluff
Pair: 1xR mainly, though you might pick up some others here and there.
Keywords: 1xR, non-yaoi, Sylvia Noventa, Quatre Winner
Warnings: non-yaoi. Though certain parts may be interpreted
as otherwise if you *really* want to ^.~ (same goes for incest
and yuri)


CHAPTER 3: MAELSTROM

The expanse of the driveway outside has morphed
to a complete cacophony of chaos from
the relentless pounding of rain
against asphalt, glass and metal. 
The yellowing, gauzy material that stands
as a curtain to the single, unevenly
shut window, occasionally flutters---
the storm's fingers dipping into the murky
depths of the room, creating non-existent
ripples. Ripples that die as chills against
our skins. 

Maybe it was the musty scent of old furniture, long
decayed by neglect,  being resurrected by the
pseudo-storm outside; Or perhaps the windows,
carelessly shut, that traps us with the heady mixture
of mildew, moth balls and the chill permitted by the
non-existent heater; But I feel something
errant in the picture.

Or it could just be the new Vice-Foreign Minister.

It has been a good thirty minutes since we chose
to plunge ourselves into this quagmire of silence.
Discussions of policies, treaties left unreviewed and
situations that demand immediate attention are but a
far memory whose outcomes I can't remember. I can't
even remember how the discourse, which began in the
most professional way possible, died all of a sudden
in a most malicious silence. Or whose fault it was
that it did.

But I do remember Sylvia Noventa's blue-green eyes,
boring through mine, probing me so, that it could have
hurt; that they could have been  Prussian blue.

"Heero Yuy," came the clear voice of the
Minister, as if identifying my thoughts. I could hear
the faint squeak of worn  springs as Zechs shifted in
the  couch. I momentarily favored my brother another
glance before settling my gaze back at the Vice-Foreign
Minister.

Sensing that his implied question would be greeted by 
another set of odd sounds and shifting eyes, the 
Minister went on. "There have been sporadic cases of 
insurgencies, both old and new, in the  colonies and 
on Earth," his beady eyes found their way to me, 
"since  your announcement came." The old man's evident 
ire has been so blatant that in the short span of 
our discourse I could no longer tell when his face 
was straight or contorted with it .  "It seems that 
betrayal gives a deeper impression than the image of 
peace that you've been so bent on leaving," he smirked.

I saw Zechs' knuckles turn visibly white as he
gripped at the tattered cloth that once fully covered
the couch. Looking  at the minister, it wasn't so hard
to imagine him leading a handful of representatives
and delegates demanding the complete abandon of
absolute pacifism as soon as my resignation came out.
But the fact that the ESUN chose to name an advocate
of peace in my place has already earned both mine and
Zechs' relative patience towards the detestable man.

"We have to be assured that the  Preventers know
where their loyalty lies," he finished. Assured? I
thought in wild disbelief. He wants to be assured of
the Preventer's allegiance? Of Heero Yuy's loyalty? I
gave out a mental bark of laughter at the thought,
made visible only as a faint twitch of my lips, while
my eyes kept trained on Noventa.

"Why don't you ask him yourself, Minister?" I
began easily, "I'm sure Col. Yuy has heard enough of
the past hour's discussion to be
able to answer your questions." A dead antelope might
have landed on my desk and I wouldn't have paid it any
heed. The play of emotions in Sylvia Noventa's face
was, by far, the most interesting aspect of this
entire shite. 

Confusion melting to curiosity then ... was that
fervor? The dim fluorescent lamp that has been in
sporadic seizures since I switched it on began to
blink frantically,  rendering me with nothing but
short stabs of images made further hazy by my own
confusion.

If I wasn't so immersed in figuring out the
Vice-Foreign Minister, I probably would've heard the
paint peeling off the wall as Heero shifted his back.
Or the shuffle of his boots as he drew nearer to
our huddled group and into the light. My senses,
after all, have been so attuned to his presence
for so long. Much to his dismay. And perhaps, now,
mine as well. That too has to go unlearned.

The Preventers' allegiance is to peace," he
paused, choosing to lean against an errant pole behind
the Vice Foreign Minister. "And to those who protect it."

Heero's words could not have been more pregnant
with meanings than they already were. Meanings that has
grown worn and old, but, in our wretched shelter fetid
with doubts and malice, has found a new womb in
which to be reborn. And, we... I... I am nothing but a reticent
witness. As the fevered blinking of the fluorescent overhead;
as the fibers of cotton squirming their way out of the
open gashes on the couch's skin; as the adultrous
caress of the gauze of a curtain into our own chosen
hell.

"Col. Yuy," the minister acknowledged after
taking a sharp stab of air into his lungs. His skin
was still pasty from the recent knowledge that the
single most deadly man on the planet was in the same
room with us... without his even knowing. I smoothed
the crease that I felt had formed on my forehead. With
Heero Yuy's presence, the minister's interest
obviously peaked. And this parody that we've found
ourselves caught in seems to have a demand for an
extended play.

"I think whatever subject you want to discuss with Yuy
is no longer of Relena's concern, minister," Zechs
interjected. He must've been watching me closely and
picked up on my motions. Watching me closely? I caught
the promising glint in his eyes that bespoke of
brotherly concerns. 

The minister glanced in the general direction of
Sylvia, whose eyes had notably ceased their interest
in me and found  the intricate patterns of the arm
rest more fascinating. Without letting the old man
utter another word of protest, Zechs rose to his full
length and towered over all of us. "It has been a
pleasure meeting you Vice Foreign Minister Noventa," 
he began, "we look forward to the implementation of
your policies in the legacy left behind by your
grandfather."

On my feet, I found her hand extended halfway. I
clasped it firmly in a gesture of friendship and felt
her grip tightening at Zechs' words. With luminous green eyes 
against alabaster skin, suddenly filled
with something akin to contempt, the chill in her grip
suddenly amplified its way to my heart. And I suddenly
feared her and whatever memories or past she carried
around with her.

"Relena Peacecraft," her voice held a promised warmth
that never quite reached her lips.  I am suddenly
reminded of the priest who held the services in former
Vice-Foreign Minister Darlian's funeral and how his
voice rasped over my father's name. And if it weren't 
surreal enough, she broke into a sunny smile to which
I could only nod as understanding dawns.

She hates me.

"And you Minister Petrov," thrusting my hand
into the greedy clasp of a reptile, guised as a noble. 
I suddenly pity the reptiles for such unfair comparisson. 
"I hope this will not be the last of our pleasant 
meetings," in response, he leered at me in a most 
disgusted way and withdrew his hand. 

And then there was Heero Yuy.

For two minutes I've allowed my two-month old
fortress to crumble ever so slightly. For two minutes,
I am again fifteen with libraries of self-made 
fantasies and have become the same girl who leaves the
lamp on and the door to the veranda unlocked every
night in wait. I turned away as I felt his imagined
gaze reach and spread its
palm  against my cheeks along with warmth. The shuffle
of feet heading for the door, a faraway sound.

I fully expected a cliche.

I expected him to ask for some time alone with me.
Zechs would acquiesce and leave with the guests after
some protest. And we would talk. We would argue. 
Like we always did. He would admonish me for my 
impetuous actions and I...

I turned at the sound of my name being called out by a
voice that wasn't his.
 
Our two minutes are up. I would have felt
shamed by the disappointment of my foolish fantasies
and childish thoughts had it not been so frequent that
it has become as facile as, say, the tying of my hair
in a ponytail. Disappointment is not any different
from me taking in air.

Reality is a ravenous beast that feeds on a young 
girl’s self-made fantasies; and later hope; and
later the young girl herself. Making her real. Making
*me* real.

I did not need to part the flirtatious curtains
and watch them through fogged windows under the shelter
of a black umbrella as they made their way to the open doors 
of the waiting luxury car to remind me of certain realities 
that I almost forgot. That *this* is right. A searing 
comfort came along with the realization that things 
had not changed. And whereas there are those who choose 
to change, there are also those whose hands are tied to 
change and whose eyes are blindfolded to notice any.

Heero Yuy's hands were not tied nor were his eyes
kept under a blindfold. His hands held that of the
new Vice Foreign Minister as he helps her into the
car, while his eyes were in careful survey of the
premise they were about to leave. But that too I
chose not to see. 

The fluorescent lamp blinked on furiously on both of
us.

I belatedly smile at Zechs' call. 

We waited for the storm to settle.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zechs darted a quick sidelong glance at the slender
form seated across him. Fearing the weight
of his stare might break her into pieces            
and have the wind carry her away. He's already
lost so much of her in the past few months.
He returned his attention to the safety of hands
folded to hold a document. Hands that have taken thousands of
lives in the Eve Wars. Looking at his sister made him
wonder if he'd taken just one more. A graveled
path shook the vehicle a bit too vigorously.
He strained a wince as he watched Relena's bony
fingers clasp the armrest.

Instinctively, he thought it was Yuy. It always was.
Very few people can offset Relena's exuberance and
rein in her free spirit. She refused to. But Yuy pulls 
her back to the ground in a resounding thud. 

At first, he disproved of her attempts to grow closer to
her chief security officer. But soon understood just how
young his sister was then and how juvenile her whims were.
An aspect of her that is mostly overlooked
because of the sheer nature of her responsibilities.
If her adolescent heart chose to play
threats and gun-aiming (with her as the convenient target)
with the former pilot,
then he felt every single person in the planet
owes her that much freedom. Bizarre as it may be.
There is the comfort of her growing out of it,
after all.

Then the changes came like the pitter-patter
of rain on the roof, small warnings for a coming, unprecedented
storm. 

The time she spent in her room became more frequent, 
and with them more sparse. He would have meals brought 
to her, only to be brought back with the glass 
of water half-filled, while everything else left 
untouched. In the few times he spoke to her, 
he would find her staring blankly at him, to 
realize later she has not been listening at all. 
Lucrezia insisted that they should have a doctor look 
at her, in worry of her suffering health
but Relena insisted otherwise and would 
dive back to work as if saying, 'see? I can 
still do this. I'm perfectly fine.' 

He'd guessed it as one of her schemes to have 
Heero notice her. But the evident gleam in 
her eyes whenever the pilot was close was amiss
along with her spontaneous smiles. 

This wasn't about Heero anymore. And he was almost proud
of her. 

Almost. 

Instead, he reluctantly accepted the small truth 
that she can offer in her silence as maturity 
and dismissed the 'little' changes as her passage into
adulthood. He accepted it without any demand
to know what is going on. For that too, he felt,
he owed her. If only not to hurt her any further.

The storm came in the form of a piece of paper
carrying her resignation from her post in her even,
legible writing. He remembers the joints of her fingers
jutting out of relief as she clasped the sheet gently
before handing it to him. He remembers the bleak 
shade her eyes had turned to, begging him not to ask 
and just pretend. Pretend that it is right. Pretend
that everything is normal. Pretend that he understands.
He remembers doing as they pleaded. Again. Hoping that maybe, 
everything will get better after this. That *she* 
will get better after this. It was the least
he could do to keep him from pulling her in his arms. 
Keeping her from a world that doesn't deserve her. 

Her shoes lay cluttered close to his booted foot,
bespeckled by their short walk to the car. She had
her legs tucked to her side while her eyes chose
to watch the dreary panorama behind the glass.
She looked like the fifteen year old she never was. 

Though she's been eating fairly better the past
week and has slept substantially, her eyes
failed to register any recovery. Instead, it
told stories of the horrid past months.

Or past years, he thought to himself, still trying
to keep his attention focused on the few papers left
for Relena to have a look over. 

"Did you know her grandfather?" Relena asked. It
took him a second longer to respond to a voice that
almost sounded like his sister who has left
them two months ago. "Sylvia Noventa's grandfather?" 
she supplied.

"Not personally," he answered, still pretending to
be distracted, though his senses tensed at her inquiry.
She cast a brief glance over him, "He was for the complete
disarmament of the Armed Forces during the earliest surges
of the war, no?"

A nod. "He died in New Edwards." 

A brief memory flashed-- of blinding explosions and
staticized figures; Of the screams of destruction and
cries for mercy; Of a whispered name she used to cling
on to... 

'But not anymore' her thoughts so defiant,
she wondered if it went heard. She was suddenly remembering 
things she has been wont on forgetting. Memories that she only
allowed to haunt her dreams. Only because she's so tired
of being alone that she holds on to them if only for 
company in a lonely bed. Thus are the memories of her
childhood that was never.

"Treize tricked the Gundams into thinking that they
were bent on starting a new war." 

She turned her head to fully face him. New realities
shaping behind her unfathomable gaze while Zechs kept
his eyes on the documents whose fine print had
turned to blotches of ink. He feigned a note being
made on the margin. Her blank stare went unnoticed.

"It must have been very painful to lose such
dear family," she commented, before turning back to
the window, now in disinterest. "Milliardo?"

A pause. A moment to create a ready lie to an 
anticipated question. "Yes?" 

"I love you," she said it to the window, her fogged
breath creating a mist over it. In a voice
as flat as the window she was telling it to.
"Just in case you don't know."

The sound of her voice had as much life as the pen
he was holding, but truth held onto it with a grip.
He felt the grip travel from her words to his chest.
He favored her with his full attention and a small
smile.

"And I love you," he answered.

"Do you?" she asked in weak challenge after he's 
resumed to reading the document, deciding that 
the silence between them has reverted back to relative 
comfort. He waited for the punchline
but when it became evident there wasn't going to
be any, he gave out a choked laugh anyway
despite the intensity of her now-focused gaze, 
"you're my sister, Relena. What kind of question is
that?"

Another pause. This time she didn't turn her interest
back at the window. "If I wasn't your sister, would
you still love me?" The mirth in his lips died, not so 
much because of her question but *why* she was asking
them. "Why are you asking this?" he asked before
realizing it wasn't the right answer. He could never
win word games with Relena. "Why are you not answering
the question?" she asked back, her face telling him
nothing. Not bemusement. Not annoyance. Not distress.

"If I were the same spoiled, disobedient and irrational
person that I am. Would you still love me even if I
wasn't your sister?" 

Zechs' thoughts no longer lingered in the cryptic 
question. It has drifted back to the words absently whispered
to the cavorting silence between them in her cluttered
new office long after they were left alone. 

'Always a mission'

He was to answer her with that memory when the door
swung open and she stepped out of the car leaving her
shoes.

Home.

He followed suit with an aide at pace with him, holding
his things and the unnecessary umbrella. The cobbled path
to the doorway patched with drying puddles stretched between
him and an anxious Lucrezia waiting at the doorstep. Relena
paused and pecked her on the cheek before moving on without
a care for her soiled feet. 

"Milliardo..." Noin began.

He watched his sister slowly take the ardorous carpeted steps 
to her room. Her pace was tired. Her skirt was crumpled
by her previous position in the car and disheveled by her
short walk to the door. The shadow she casts on the
steps she has conquered keeping her company on her way to
bed.

"Relena?" he called. She made no indication she heard him, 
looking infinitely young, tired and lonely at the same time.

"Yes."

She kept on walking until she disappeared behind
the imposing sculpture at the end of the stairway. Making
no motion to acknowledge his words not any indication
if she heard at all. His troubled eyes, seeking refuge, 
returned to those of Noin's. He found greater trouble
and deep concern. "Lucrezia?" he asked.

"Heero Yuy called," she answered. A crease between his brows,
made permanent by the strains of the previous war and
concerns regarding the Kingdom, deepened. The name never
failed to bring it out.

"Vice Foreign Minister Noventa's residence was bombed."

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1. Much thanks to the reviews on the past chapters ^_^
   Its quite apalling to read authors, whose works
   I have admired from afar, comment on your work.

2. Some tweaking in the events in the GW timeline are in order ^^;
   I will identify them as I go along, but I'm treading
   very carefully. 

3. The scene in the car may sound a bit weird only because...
   it IS weird. I looked for other ways to cut the message
   across but I ended up back to square 1. (I did, however,
   get to read a 6xR fic from ff.net... interesting concept
   if I may say so myself ^.~)

4. Final thanks to Iris Anthe for being such great help. Really,
   she deserves half of the story ^^

Thanks for the time.