Desires of the Heart
Chapter 20
By Zapenstap
Relena dreamed of Heero Yuy. She had always dreamed of him, every once in awhile since she first laid eyes on him, but she hadn’t had this dream this since long ago, when her career as Vice Minister had been shaky and he had protected her elusively from the shadows. Her dreams of late had been of the more casual sort; imagined conversations and doings and sexual acts where Heero was her boyfriend and their life together was simple and lovely and full of longing. This dream was different, older, but she recognized it once it began.
She emerged from some political gathering and entered a private room with red carpets and walls covered in expensive tapestries. This time she was dressed in a gown with her hair done up, the way it had been when she was Queen of the World for a short time, only something more elegant and beautiful. As the sound of applause from the grand hall faded, she found herself alone at last. Or mostly alone. Heero was there. In the sense of dreams she knew that he was her bodyguard and his presence was expected. But not only expected; also anticipated. He was dressed in the uniform of a Romafeller soldier for some reason, perhaps because the building they were in reminded her of Romafeller. She never remembered what she and Heero talked about once the door was shut. It was the way he stood with his hands properly behind his back but his eyes all on her that she remembered. She had the feeling that something had just happened between herself and the whole world but that it was Heero she sought, searching for his silent support of her. They smiled at each other, a secret smile reserved for a private place and time like this to be shared between the two of them.
There was never any uncertainty. She closed the door and they were alone and that was what mattered. She knew somehow that they had both been waiting for this moment, and once the door was closed she knew what they had been waiting for. He would touch her cheek, caressing her skin with the back of his fingers, and she understood that he found her indescribably beautiful. His eyes were dark pools of mystery that were somehow not mysterious to her, glinting of steel and strength and gentle reprove that was nevertheless tempered by a kindness and deep respect that was not at first discernable. Just as she would begin to smile—knowingly, not blushingly—he reached up to undo her hair from its constraints and cupped her face as the golden locks fell around his hands. They would kiss as if it was something they were used to, not deeply, but intensely and thoroughly, as if the hours in public were spent hovering in anticipation for this time alone that they had to snatch and make use of together. While the world outside celebrated Queen Relena Peacecraft—or Vice Minister Darilan; it varied—she and Heero would kiss and caress each other behind closed, private doors, oblivious to the praise that neither she nor he cared about. His body would bend to hers, closing every available gap, holding her close, his hands and lips adoring her face and neck and shoulders. The passion would heat up, each sparking off the other, the attentions growing more aggressive as their hands explored each other’s bodies. It was always when he started to remove her clothes and she his that she would wake, always with the knowledge that, though in the dream it wasn’t unusual at all, somehow reality kept her from enjoying it.
The floor in Heero’s apartment was uncomfortable by morning. Relena woke with her head cradled on a bunched-up corned of the blanket, the rest of it twisted around her body. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and she shivered as she realized that she was alone. Sitting up, she looked around for Heero, the man she had loved with a carefully censored passion for years, and was startled to spot him seated on the couch with his laptop on his knees, showered and dressed and apparently absorbed in whatever he was doing. The fire in the hearth was out and the blankets strewn on the floor were rumpled and twisted about her legs and body. She looked at Heero and felt resentment that the vague expectation of waking in his arms had been disappointed. The covers fell off her as she rose naked to her knees, and when she moved Heero turn to look at her.
“Good morning,” she said unsteadily, and wasn’t sure how she felt. He couldn’t have anticipated her expectations.
“Good morning,” he replied. There was something in his eyes, those piercing, steely eyes that caused her heart to drop out of her chest. She couldn’t read them at all.
Her dream flitted through her head, toying with her heart and memory. She wondered why she had had that dream last night when she hadn’t had it in so long. She used to dream of Heero in that way when she was still pining for him, long before he had actually called on her and long after she had given up that he ever would. Now that she living a dream come true, she was still dreaming. Why? The look in his eyes didn’t make her feel the same as it had in the dream. Asleep, she knew his thoughts and actions before he performed him, her emotions swelled until her blood burned in her veins and her head suddenly became so light that she struggled to find solid ground. Awake, the look he shot her way plummeted into her stomach, like a block of lead hitting pavement, his leveling, assessing stare catching her in her nakedness and exposing her under some ultra violet light. Her body felt heavy, like iron chained to the earth.
He turned his eyes away, his fingers clicking against the keyboard in an otherwise silent room. She tried to smile, shooing away the uneasiness that lingered from her dream, reminding herself that she couldn’t expect real life to be like her fantasy. Perhaps something was upsetting him. She wrapped the comforter around her body as she rose to her feet, and the smile she forced to grace her face snatched at her lighter emotions and held them fast, somewhat settling the sick, heavy feeling in her stomach and dispelling her darker feelings. Heero looked up again as she approached and when she smiled he smiled back, adding to her confusion. If something was wrong, why would he smile at her so easily? She couldn’t think of anything that could be wrong, or at least not anything that she had done wrong, and if it was something else, how was she supposed to guess? She didn’t know what to think.
Determined to show him how she felt about him at least, she leaned over to kiss his temple, caressing the side of his face in a gesture that was affectionate and caring and honest. The warmth of his body comforted her, the thought of being so close to someone she loved so much easing her heart. When she pulled away that same look in his eyes assessed her even more sharply. It smote her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he said, and looked at her so intently that she suddenly had the feeling that he was forcing himself to look at her. “Do you want breakfast?”
Relena found herself taking a shower while he rose from the couch to make her toast, laying his laptop aside to accommodate her wishes. She remembered the fantasy she had had about having sex with Heero in the shower, the passion she had felt for him dominating any embarrassment. But now the thought was wrong somehow. As she washed her hair and cleansed the sweat from her body, her uneasiness grew. She reached for the soap blindly, her thoughts boiling. Was something wrong? Perhaps it was just a bad morning that would clear up later in the day, or maybe Heero was bothered by something that had nothing to do with her or their relationship. She wanted to ask, but it was hard to talk to Heero sometimes. Was that bad? Shrugging her shoulders, she pushed the thoughts back, decided to give the situation time and see what came of it. She felt sometimes that Heero needed time.
After her shower, she dressed in what she had worn the day before, sitting at the table across from her lover in a rumpled evening dress and wet hair. She felt awkward, but it wasn’t because of her hair or clothes. Heero barely spoke three sentences to her. Even as he assisted her with breakfast, pouring her orange juice and setting a plate with buttered toast and jam before her, he seemed to avoid looking at her, as if his thoughts were turned on more important matters elsewhere. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no words escaped her lips.
“You have to go to work today, right?” he said as he sipped on a cup of tea, meeting her eyes in a glance that didn’t hold for long.
“Yes,” she replied.
He nodded. “Do you want me to drive you home so you can get ready?”
“If you would.”
How else was she going to get there? He had driven her straight here from the restaurant last night. She forced down a flash of irritation. She had to go to work. If she became angry now it would bother them both all day until there was really time to talk about it. There wasn’t time now. So instead of making an issue out of it—it was dumb anyway—she forced her lips to spread over her teeth in a smile, as if by sweetness and sheer will she could bridge this mysterious gap that had widened between her and Heero. Once she smiled she even felt better. Emotions were like that sometimes. “Thank you,” she said.
Heero eyed her oddly as he cleared the table. For a moment, she suspected that he knew she was angry, but he didn’t say anything. As he cleaned up, she made sure she had all of her things, waiting quietly for him by the door.
When Heero walked her to the car, he opened the door for her. She almost wished he hadn’t; it just didn’t make much sense to do it now. The genteel effort seemed to clash with his uncommunicative behavior and it confused her. She just wanted his thoughts. She wanted honesty. It seemed strange to wish for less attention and fewer displays of romantic clichés, but although those things were nice, without the thoughts and feelings behind them, she couldn’t trust them.
In the car, Heero didn’t say much more than he had at breakfast, but he seemed to notice her edginess and reached for her hand to hold while he drove. His fingers curved gently around her palm and she took a breath as her grip tightened around his hand instinctively, the sudden fluttering in her stomach betraying a host of conflicted emotions she fought to keep low. When he caressed her hand soothingly, she smiled at him, relieved by the contact, and had the impression that he knew something was wrong, though he didn’t speak. Perhaps it was silly of her to be so upset when nothing had happened. It might, after all, be something about the mission that he couldn’t talk about. Maybe it was just her attitude that was making something negative out of Heero’s silence and introversion when Heero had always been quiet and introverted. Slowly, she relaxed, holding his hand as she began to talk a little about what she expected from her day today and then asked when she could see him again.
“I have some things to take care of tonight,” he said slowly.
She was disappointed, but tried not to show it. “Like what?”
“Some follow up work from the mission. It’s not very interesting.”
“I don’t mind just being over while you do it,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to entertain each other all the time.”
He glanced at her sideways. “It’d be easier if you’re not there,” he said. “And it might take me awhile.”
She fell silent, pondering that. It was true that it was easier to get work done alone; she knew from personal experience. She ought to just respect his request and entertain herself for a night. After all, she had her own work to do and before the mission she had Heero had been spending most every day together. There was a lot of work she could use this time to catch up on and it had felt rather good to do her best job while Heero had been away before. “All right,” she replied.
He let her out at her doorstep and waited until she walked up the front of her steps and into her house. She ought to have brought a separate change of clothes, she thought ruefully. The memory of Heero’s hands and lips on her skin was intensified when entering the front door of her home in what she had been wearing the night before, especially something as inappropriate as an evening gown. As she stepped inside and watched her boyfriend drive away, she felt strangely undignified. To anyone who had seen her, it would seem obvious where she had been last night and likely what she had been doing. Well, she would feel better once she changed for work.
As the morning was lengthening, she had to hurry. She hadn’t quite realized how late it was. It was back to the old routine again, the one that had taken precedence since Heero had entered her life and taken over her time as well as her heart. She liked giving her time to him. She wanted to spend every moment with him, but she laughed at herself as she fumbled for a suit and matching shoes while watching the clock with a frantic eye. She dressed quickly and styled her hair wet, once more unable to spend the time getting ready that she had had before Heero took over her life. It amused her somewhat that the manifestation of a boy with all the accompanying social, mental, emotional and physical pleasures could so thoroughly possess her that she would sacrifice aspects of her job for him. After all, her work was more important to her than anything, important to the whole world, and though she wasn’t slacking by way of results (she was doing rather well on the panels) her effort was not executed with the same enthusiasm she had employed when she was single. There had been a time in her life when she wished that Heero would rescue her from the stressful demands of her job, or would help her with it like in her dream, but now she just wondered what had happened to all of her energy.
Once she was dressed, she stowed her make-up in her purse, hoping to touch up over the essentials on her way over. Her briefcase was still in the car so there was no need to worry about that. She’d already eaten breakfast. Did she need anything else? She spun in a circle in the living room, heeled shoes twisting the strands of the carpet. No, there was nothing else. Grimacing at the position of the second hand on the clock, she fished her keys out of her purse and ran out to her car.
At work, she found herself thinking about Heero again.
Was there something wrong that had led to the strange awkwardness between them last night and this morning? She thought back on the night, trying to pinpoint some particular gesture or phrase that would offer up a clear clue in explaining Heero’s actions. It frustrated her that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, trying to puzzle it out. It used to not matter to her why Heero thought or acted the way he did because it was enough that she could go on thinking of him. But that was before she had a claim to him. She loved him then, but it was different now. She needed him. Her hands froze on her desk, fingers clenching at the marble. Now that they were together, she wanted something from him—from them—that she couldn’t quite define, something reminiscent of her dream. She wanted to be part of his life. That was what it meant to love someone.
So why was she thinking so anxiously? If something was bothering him, it bothered her too. If she was not just panicking about nothing, then there had to be some particular thing that was wrong.
Hours ticked by as she sat with her pencil tapping against the desk, wondering what Heero’s mission had been about. She had sensed a definite change him after those few days they had spent apart. He had told her that he wanted to keep her separate from the chaos that was the battle he couldn’t stop fighting, but if something bad had happened, oughtn’t he want to seek comfort and solace in her company? Talk to her about it? It hurt her to think that Heero would not share with her something that was bothering him. Did he think he was strong enough to endure his troubles without having to burden her? Hadn’t she communicated often enough that she wanted to worry about him? To care about him? What could be so horrible that he would keep it from her?
It occurred to her in a fleeting thought that maybe there was another girl, but she rejected the idea with a rueful smile. She didn’t have suspicions of those kinds with Heero. It didn’t make sense with someone like him. She shuffled papers as she thought about it, resuming her work as she tried to conjure up an image of a girl that Heero would like more than her, but she couldn’t form a picture in her mind, and even if there was such a girl, she couldn’t imagine someone so exact and straight-forward as Heero playing cheating games and jeopardizing her heart. What other kind of woman would Heero find interesting enough to do something so out of character? Maybe someone who shared more of his interests? Guns and mobile suits and battles and things? Maybe, but she didn’t really think Heero wanted a girl who only reminded him of the things he wanted to forget … the only things he knew. No. There was something troubling about Heero’s behavior, but she didn’t think it was another woman. She chuckled as she read over a document assigning materials to a resource satellite. If it was another woman, she pondered, it gave her the right to be angry. She almost wished he was cheating on her.
She set the document down, shocked. Why in the world would she wish for such a thing? The emotions that rose up in her gut when she imagined something like that actually happening were decidedly unpleasant. Jealousy rankled, an unfamiliar sensation that made her pause with her pen poised just to analyze it. She had a fierce desire to hold Heero close to her and lash out at whoever it was that might take him away. But something in her wanted to hurt him too. From her imaginings she felt betrayed, horrified, and so furious that a number of passionate speeches arose in her head, assaulting verbal abuse that would drive any guilty man to his knees. She imagined shouting at Heero, or speaking in a cold, justified tone that reeked of underlying anger. She enjoyed imagining his hard, impassive expression changing from smug and sure to surprised and angry, and then to remorseful and guilty. It was ridiculous, of course. She didn’t really think Heero would behave that way even if he was guilty, and getting angry had never been natural to Relena unless the issue was important enough to be righteous about. She could fight Romafeller when lives were at stake, but she couldn’t argue with her mother or her staff or anyone close to her. She always collapsed in the backlash, her diplomatic nature more suited to smoothing over intense emotions by enduring assault and surprising her opponent with mature kindness, thereby undercutting their anger and instead using her voice to talk rationally about the root of the problem. She was a peacemaker by nature and by trade; religious principles and an austere upbringing forced her to assess a problematic situation objectively and working it out diplomatically.
Relena’s fingers tightened on the pen she held in her hand as the contract on her desk blurred under her eyes.
But sometimes… sometimes she wanted to get angry, to lash out wildly with her emotions and not be afraid that those who knew her normally would look at her as if she had changed into some other, evil version of herself. Was that why the idea of having something to get really angry about appealed to her? If Heero cheated she would have a good reason to rage at him and to expect him to try and smooth her over, something which never, in all her memories, had ever happened.
It was an irrelevant speculation. Heero wasn’t cheating on her.
Her anger was unjustified and irrational, as was usually the case whenever she was sensitive, and the reason she kept her emotions in check. With a sigh, she let the fantasy go. Maybe Heero was acting strangely, but she didn’t know why. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t really want to discover that it was because Heero had chosen another girl over her. Of course not. The feelings she had imagined were bad enough in fantasy; in real life, they would tear her soul to shreds. If she felt in time that something was really wrong, she would just have to confront Heero about it, but she could do so fairly and calmly, without accusation or excitement. Diplomatically.
She couldn’t dismiss her uneasiness, but she didn’t dwell on it either, or tried not to. She had work to do. Anxiety was ever-present when her thoughts wandered Heero’s way, but she finished what she was about, if in a more determined fashion than usual. Her mind was a mess of unsorted feelings. She didn’t really want them sorted. She just wanted them to go away. But the wheels kept turning and the imaginings kept coming. At half-passed two, Relena threw her pen down and covered her eyes with her hand. Tears wet her fingers. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She gasped, her breath heaving, fighting back a sob that came from nowhere.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered aloud, and wiped her eyes determinedly, blinking as she shook her head and tried to dislodge her thoughts. This was ridiculous. Was she premenstrual or something? Blinking, she shook her head, hoping to shake her thoughts away, and spent a few minutes combing her hair and refreshing her face. Once she felt poised again, she went back to her documents, trying not to be distracted, but it was almost useless trying to work. She couldn’t focus.
As soon as she could get away, she went home, canceling her last meeting of the day. One of the secretaries blinked as she saw her leaving and Relena wondered what her face looked like. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her way out of the revolving doors and half ran to her car.
She went straight home, seeking the solace of her personal space. For awhile she wandered around her house in a state of agitation, taking deep breaths and dismissing wave after wave of unconfirmed anxieties as flights of fancy. She reasoned to herself. Something was definitely wrong, but she needn’t be weeping about it. It could be something small, something to do with the mission, or Heero’s personal feelings about himself or the world or any number of things. Perhaps he wanted to talk about something troubling and just didn’t know how. Why was she crying about something she didn’t even know was a problem? This was not like her.
To get her mind off of it, she made herself dinner and a whole pot of tea. She drank it alone, drumming her fingers on the tabletop, wondering if Heero would call. He didn’t. She had no messages from the day and as the sun set and darkness washed over the earth, still no phone calls. There was no reason to expect a phone call and after awhile she wondered why she didn’t just call him if she wanted to talk to him so bad. For some reason, it seemed difficult.
“What’s wrong with you, Relena?”
Getting up, she lifted the phone with fingers that felt weak and dialed a number she had memorized, but Heero didn’t answer. She listened to the rings until the message machine beeped at her. For a second she panicked, not having thought about what she would say if she got his machine. She didn’t want to say she was upset on the phone, or even that she wanted to talk. That sounded too ominous. Smiling, she cleared her throat, hoping that she would not sound distraught.
“Hello, Heero? It’s Relena. I know you’re busy tonight, but I just wanted to… well I wanted to talk to you, but it’s not that I mean to bother you. I mean, um… Well, just call me back. I don’t know where you are right now, but…” She paused, not even sure now why she had called. She rarely stumbled when she made speeches, but leaving a message was different. It was awkward and strange and she asn’t sure what her point had been. She should just end it quickly.
“Well, I guess I’ll call you tomorrow since I know you have other things to do. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll…” She sounded like an idiot! “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Hanging up the phone, she stared at the receiver for awhile as if it were a snake, her fingers cold on the edge of the desk. God, that was horrible. She had never left such a horrible message in her life.
Blinking, she turned away, determined to forget about Heero until he called her back, whenever that might be.
She refused to sit here moping all night.
Relena left half of her tea to grow cold in her mug and grabbed her purse from the couch, deciding she might as well go out to the video store and rent a movie. Watching movies wasn’t something she usually did, but involvement in some sort of story would be welcome. Her television was located in a little room with no windows, a place she had set aside where she could retreat when she wanted to be alone and not think about work. She rarely used it. When she did, she usually read, pulling a book from the case adjacent to the couch in front of the television. Today, she didn’t think she could focus enough to enjoy a book. She wanted to engage in something that required no effort.
The video store had quite a selection, especially for someone who rarely watched movies and had seen very little of anything that had been filmed in the past several years. She chose an adventure with a romance subplot and settled into her television room with nothing but a movie and a blanket. The film was neither realistic nor terribly exciting, but the plot was easy to follow and the characters were decently portrayed. She hoped it would calm her down and remind her that real life was not like the movies, that she shouldn’t expect Heero to offer her the world with a kiss and a bouquet of flowers. At first it seemed to work, the story drawing her somewhere else, allowing her to escape. But as she watched the film by herself, in a darkened room where the television emitted the only sounds, she found herself strangely disturbed.
“There was this girl,” the male lead narrated, “that I just couldn’t leave alone.”
They were just lines, and not even very original ones, but Relena felt her breath catch and her heart thud dully in her chest. It was not a sad movie, but she felt depressed. She noted the nuances of the romance plotline, ignoring its fallacies and concentrating instead on the subtle cues that she suddenly wished were true with all her heart. The heroine’s inner, independent strength and the hero’s besotted determination to win her affection pulled at something inside her. Even as she thought to herself that this was not real life, that she shouldn’t base her expectations on a movie script, she felt there was something in the exchanges between the leads, the way their eyes caught and held each other spellbound, the minute gestures and touches, and the simple comfort of knowing that someone loved you, that she wanted.
She thought of Heero and a thought rose up in her mind like a shadow seeping through a small crack, engulfing her in a veil of partial darkness. The thought came unbidden and unwanted, but it came powerfully, loud and harsh and blackly blindly. She forced it ruthlessly down. Her fingers clutched at the blanket around her shoulders, staring at the screen with a lost, sinking feeling in her stomach. She felt sick and wasn’t really sure why.
She turned to her memories, sifting and rummaging through a pile of buried emotions so that she might understand the underlying situation and deal with it. She pondered her New Years dinner with Heero yesterday, remembering how he had been cavalier about her work and recounting that that had bothered her. She recalled also the conversation in the parking lot with Quatre when he had stumbled over the word “girlfriend,” and remembered a sense of hurt that had overtaken her before she dismissed it. She thought about their return to Heero’s apartment where they made love for the first time after a long absence and the way it had felt half-hearted. Heero had been distant, not bothering to call her until the very last moment before their date, refusing to meet her eyes when they were physically intimate, not talking to her about his deepest problems and now, this morning, practically ignoring her. She thought back to how she had lost her virginity to him just before his mission, and the lack of communication that had surrounded that incident.
Why was he being so cold to her?
A tear escaped her eye, moistening her lower lashes before it fell through to wet her cheekbone and slide down to her chin. Relena did nothing to halt its progress. She looked at her reflection in the television screen as the credits rolled, taking stock of her heavy expression, her obvious depression, and wondered why she was experiencing these emotions. Her fingers were numb. Her heart thudded slowly. But her mind was busy recycling memories like a broken record or an old film projector, the images cast upside down, backward and silent onto a flimsy screen.
She realized suddenly that she had no friends to call, no family members who she could talk to. Relena Peacecraft or Vice Minister Darilan was not supposed to have problems like this, sensitivities like this. She was not supposed to get angry or feel needy and lonely and betrayed. She was not supposed to make mistakes or exhibit weakness. As lonely and isolated and righteous as she was, there was somebody to call, no shoulder to cry on. She was like a lighthouse at sea, and the ocean was violent now. Why was she this way, so miserable and needy and desperate? How had she come to be like this? This wasn’t her. She didn’t want to be this person.
Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she stood up and wandered back into the kitchen, pouring herself another cup of tea and sipping on it without sugar. She knew what she had to do, but her mind would not wrap firmly around the idea. She didn’t want to talk to Heero. She didn’t want him to see her like this, or to feel stupid again for having a reaction like this. Sipping silently at her mug, she listened to the dead silence in her house, devoid of all life except for the flicker of her own movements. Was it snowing outside? She thought she saw a glimpse of flakes.
Relena brought her tea into the living room and sat out her couch to look out at the streets, blonde-brown hair streaming around her shoulders and tickling the bare skin of her forearms. She sat with her feet tucked under her and a blanket thrown over her knees. Her attention was detached, her eyes staring dully at the light sprinkling of snow that had fallen on the grass overnight, looking past the outside world as if it were a mirror by which her thoughts were reflected inward. Sharp winter air seeped through the paned glass and chilled her skin, but she hardly felt the cold.
She wanted to fill her insides with something other than the heart-rending, soul shrinking dread that beat against her heart. The snow intensified as she watched, little flurries of glistening flakes coating bark and tufts of grass like silver glitter. It melted in the street, turning to rain, and what remained was like a softer frost. Another day it would have been beautiful, but Relena could find no joy in it now, the wonders of nature falling flat on her senses, like a struck bell stuffed with cotton to deaden the clang.
“Heero,” she whispered, but the sound dropped into empty space, addressed to nothing and nobody but herself. She bit her lip to quell a surge of emotion and fight down another flood of wasteful, weak tears, but dread accompanied the word she had spoken. Lowering her forehead to the back of the couch, Relena settled her face against her crossed arms and shivered, tears leaking into her wrists where they could not be seen by outsiders. She knew she had to speak to Heero, if just to relieve her mind of the incessant dread. The shadows in her mind were like the wings of some black-dark creature caressing her face on either side, just out of sight of her eyes. She could not live like this, depressed like this, lost in the dark without any kind of certainties.
The phone rang.
She started at the sound, sitting up suddenly, swinging her head away from the window and to the deeper, lonely interior of her house. Tottering to her feet, she made her way down the kitchen where her phone hung on the wall. Her fingers brushed against the receiver and she hesitated before she picked it up with hands that shook slightly, closing her eyes and gathering her strength.
“Hello?” she said.
“Relena. Hi.”
“Hi,” she said in a whisper, and knew that she couldn’t pretend anymore.
“I received your message. What are you doing?”
She put her hand to her forehead and leaned against the wall. His tone was normal, the way it always was when he wanted to spend time with her, asking what she was doing so that they could come up with something to do together. Biting her lip, she fought down her emotions, confusion with fear and love and anger. Why was it so changeable? If something was wrong, why didn’t he tell her? Why had a movie upset her so much? Or was she imagining depression just to torture herself? Either way…
“Heero,” she whispered, and had to stop before tears choked up her words.
His silence was ominous. She hated what she was about to say, but she couldn’t think of another way to say it.
“I want to talk to you,” she said, and was proud at how normal her voice sounded, how calm and collected she felt.
“About what?” His tone was dark but different. He wasn’t annoyed like he seemed to be when she was irritated that he had neglected to pay her a compliment. It was just dark, almost… concerned. “Relena, what’s wrong?”
That was what confused her: the ambiguity, the hot and cold, the attention and detachment that pulled her two different ways. She couldn’t process his feelings as well as her own. She needed to just ask, as hard as it was to talk to him. But not over the phone.
“Can I come over?” she asked, and it was barely a whisper, seeping out of her like a tired, aching sigh. “Are you busy?”
“No,” he said, and she sensed kindness in his suddenly caring tone, a confused and surprised and almost emotional reaction. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
“No,” she declined. “I’ll drive.”
They hung up without further words.
She made herself pretty, partly out of habit, but somewhat because she wanted to know that she was beautiful. She was surprised to feel herself already more relaxed. Was it just the lack of communication that was making her feel so insecure? Perhaps her mistake had been in bottling up her irritation and disappointment all this time. Maybe if she had been more honest and less accommodating, she wouldn’t have come to depression and she and Heero could have worked things out a little sooner. She could have been happy.
Driving helped her relax. She was able to think more carefully now that she had determined to do something. It felt good to be proactive, to make decisions for herself.
She scrubbed tears from her eyes. “I don’t care anymore about upsetting you, Heero,” she murmured to herself, and bit her lip. “I love you.”
It sounded different said out loud, but she felt her heart echo the sentiment and took a deep breath. First, she wanted to hear what he had to say. It had been so hard to keep silent all this time.
She drove to the sound of her thoughts, the music turned off and the heat a little too warm. Tears clung to her cheeks, the salty residue on her face make her skin itch, but no more fell. Parking her car on the street outside Heero’s house, she climbed out with nothing but the clothes she wore and without a firm idea of what she wanted to say. She wondered if she ought to have dressed up more, but perhaps this was better. Sometimes she felt like she did that too often, and though her hair was combed and her face looked decent, she was dressed casually. If Heero didn’t like her as she was then he simply didn’t like her and that was that. She had tried to be nice and sacrifice her bad habits and nasty reactions in favor of more mature responses, but she was tired of that. She didn’t want to change who she was. She didn’t even think it was possible.
She knocked on the door and waited for Heero to open it, a little nervous and shaky, her mind crammed with how “I love you” would sound next to “I’m upset” and if she could really convey either appropriately. Years of stage performances guided her to looking calm even if she didn’t feel it, and she hoped that Heero would see the Relena everyone knew in her eyes when she confronted him. At least she was done crying.
Heero answered the door casually, wearing that dark green color he favored so much. With that unruly hair falling in sharp angles over his eyes and the lithe, dangerous posture of a man who could kill suddenly if the situation arose, he looked more like Heero now than at any time she had seen him in months. There was a demeanor about him that was sharp and subtle at once, a deadly weapon belied by its shape. But underneath, lurking somewhere in his eyes and the
smoothness of his skin was the perplexing kindness that had captured her since she first laid eyes on him.
That kindness broke through her more than his power ever could.
“I…” she began, and felt the tears rise to her eyes in a sudden upwelling that she couldn’t stop. She clasped a hand over her mouth.
Heero’s expression changed, the glint in his eyes softening, lips parting as he reached for her. His hand grasped her elbow and tugged gently. She allowed herself to be pulled inside, feet stumbling over the threshold. Heero did not move back to give her space so she found herself stepping close against him. The heat from his body washed over her, a musky scent of a male clouding her senses as the door shut behind her. Heero’s hands wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a rough hug that was awkward yet tender. She half-fell against his chest, almost tripping into him, and her stiffness drained out of her as he held her the way she had longed to be held for weeks. As her muscles relaxed, she began to tremble.
“What’s wrong?” he said. His voice quiet, maybe even worried.
She pulled away from him. “I need to talk to you,” she said, and though her voice was firm, she held onto his shirt with the one hand, fingers fisted around the material and unwilling to let go. “Not in the doorway.”
Heero led the way to his bedroom and she hugged herself as she followed him, keeping her eyes fastened to his back between the shoulder blades. He turned at the door, ushering her in, his eyes following her with a bit of a worried, wondering crinkle. She paced across the floor and sat on the edge of his bed, refusing to meet his eyes. Her gaze strayed to the sheets and pillows, remembering the way Heero’s naked skin felt against hers, the way Heero’s hands and mouth had explored her body in a way she had always dreamed of. For a moment, she felt choked and suffocated, her heartbeat racing as he sat facing her with a patient, steely gaze.
His expression was difficult to read. All she could see at first was the contours of his body and the steely power of his eyes. She wanted to touch him, to trace her hand down his chest, to push down on the bed and wrap her arms around him, to feel him hold her, his hands caressing her skin and his dark voice speaking sweet nothings in her ear. She wanted intense love behind his silences, understanding and trust and reverence for her in his eyes. She wanted everything that was in the stories and more. With Heero… It was indescribable, the way he made her feel. She wanted support and communication. She wanted the dream.
Looking at him, she opened her mouth, daring herself to speak as he watched her patiently. His eyes opened her heart like a pair of pliers. He could force himself inside her soul whatever she wanted, where he could hurt her to death if he wanted. Her heart lurched in her chest and she bit her lip, hands clenching into fists at her sides. She wasn’t sure she could do this.
“Relena,” he said reassuringly. She closed her eyes as his hand brushed against the side of her head, wiping her hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ears. It was such a loving gesture that she trembled, shaking harder now than she had at the front door, suddenly cold and nervous in a way she had never been before, not even when speaking in front of a crowd of thousands. This feeling she had for him, this love that threatened to shatter her bones and boil her blood terrified her. She was afraid of him in a way she had never been afraid of mobile suits or politicians or even the destruction of the Earth. She fought just to breathe, struggled to get her words out.
“Heero,” she gasped. “I’ve been thinking and I…” This was so much harder in real life than in her head. Her eyes could not turn away from his. They bore too deep and saw too much. Her visions of powerful speeches that would leave him shamed and repentant washed away like a flashflood cleared the riverbank. His gaze was like thunder, his eyes the storm. But he was not angry. His stare cut deep because it was soft; as soft as she had ever seen it. No matter how angry or justified her motives, she could not fight her emotions under that gaze; they tore her down like a splintered fence. Tears came, unbidden and unwanted, thankfully blurring her vision and the sight of his face. She couldn’t hold them back, but she managed to talk through them, to lift herself up elegantly, her words coming out smoother than she could scarcely have hoped. “The way you’ve been behaving lately has got me thinking,” she said. “Something is wrong. I know it. You’ve been cold and aloof and I can’t stop wondering what has changed. Tell me what is going on.”
For moment, his face looked as if it had been smashed with a hammer. Her tears dried instantly as he blinked the expression away and stood up, arms straight at his sides and fists clenched.
“Heero,” she said, and stood up with him, reaching for his arm. “Heero, talk to me please. I just want to know what is going on.”
“No, you don’t.”
He refused to look at her and she could barely understand him. His words were muttered low, humming like the grumbles of the earth in the deep places. She could tell by the way his arm felt under her fingers how tense he was, his muscles clenched tight. She swallowed, smoothing her hand over his skin. “Heero, I’m not afraid of your life.”
He closed his eyes. “It’s not that.”
He shook her off, a quick jerk of his arm causing her hand to spring open. He strode past her before she had time to react, out of the room to somewhere else in the house. Relena followed, surprised at how fast he had moved. “Don’t run away,” she said. “We need to talk.”
“Relena, please,” he said.
She found
him out by the back door, letting his
“Heero, I know you have a habit of just not responding when you don’t want to talk about something, but I can’t do that. Please tell me what is going on. What happened on the mission?”
She knew she had pushed a button by the way he flinched, shifting with agitation.
“I don’t understand why you are so secretive,” she said. “If your commander told you not to speak of the mission then tell me that, but don’t say it wasn’t dangerous if it was and don’t lie to me or evade my questions! I know you haven’t done field work in awhile. What happened? What changed? You didn’t call. You’ve behaved strangely.”
“I told you,” he said, and she could hear the steel in his voice, though it did not frighten her. “I don’t want to mix you up with that part of my life.”
She clenched her teeth shut to keep from saying something less than kind. “I want to be mixed up in your life. It’s a big part of your life. If the war still bothers you, I understand. Just, please, talk to me.”
He was silent and she responded with silence, refusing to move until he spoke. He stared straight ahead with Ted’s head on his knee, scratching the dog’s ears inattentively as he stared at the wall, or perhaps into the past. Relena waited, taking small, quick breaths, trying to gather her thoughts. There were specific things she wanted to tell him dissatisfied her, but his inattentiveness accounted for much of it, and that’s what she sought to understand now. Whatever had happened…
Heero was upset. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she could tell that something inside him was breaking down. His clockwork efficiency jolted and stopped, catching on emotions he was careful not to show, emotions he carefully hid for fear of their power over him. She knew that. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew.
“The mission wasn’t anything,” he said stoically. “We gathered information. We worked in teams. There wasn’t much risk.”
She closed her eyes. “Heero, that doesn’t explain anything.”
When she opened her eyes, he was standing, walking slowly to the back window.
“If you’re afraid of something…” she began quietly. “Heero, I want to hear about it. The way I feel about you…” He turned his head to look at her and she had never seen his face look quite like that, almost like he was in pain. He looked beautiful to her, the slope of his neck to his shoulders wonderfully attractive and the discernment in his eyes an image that would never fade in her memory. Her words became garbled, her heart thumping so loud it hurt in her chest. “What it feels like to be near you… It’s too hard like this. It’s hurtful. You have to tell me something about what happens in your life, about how you feel.”
“Relena, don’t,” he said. She leaned toward him and her hands leaped to his face, caressing his cheek as he stared at her with hollow eyes.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes and she was startled to see him react so much, pulling his head away from her hand and seeming to sink backward. Momentarily he recovered, straightening in a slender blade of a young man. What caught her was the way he pulled away, his breathing regularizing as if he was going through some sort of training exercise. A feeling of dread formed in her stomach as he looked at her.
“Heero…” she began.
“It wasn’t the mission,” he snapped, and his sharp, exact tones cut her off like a knife. His voice was so cold that she almost tripped. His expression was as hard as rock, but his shoulders began relaxing as he spoke, as if a great weight was being lifted off his chest. “I didn’t call you because I didn’t miss you.”
She stared at him, not comprehending. Quite suddenly she realized why that movie had made her cry. She understood why she had dreamed last night. The reason he didn’t want to look in her face and forgot to compliment her, the reason conversation was so awkward and devoid of passion…it all became clear. It was as if a shroud had been lifted from her eyes. In lieu of her own emotions, she was able to see a map of Heero’s thoughts, an unfamiliar pattern slowly becoming clear. Her own wishes had clouded her understanding, but when her mind was devoid of the desires of her heart, she suddenly understood. Her desires were not truth, and in this case they had led her astray.
He touched her face, his thumb tracing just beneath her eye to wipe away her tear, the same caress he had always used to show his affection, the one that had fooled her into thinking that his emotions were deeper than they were. There was no noticeable difference in his touch, but she recognized it now as a mimic. The emotion behind his fingers was caring, but not specialized. He could have touched anyone like that. She remembered suddenly the way he had touched her when they met at St. Gabriel’s institute, the way he had wipe her tears back then, and how she had been fooled by it until he spoke. He could do things without having to feel them. Heero always could.
“I don’t love you, Relena.”
The floodgate behind her eyes broke open and she turned her face away, pulling her cheek and chin away from his hand and covering her face to hide her tears from him.
“Relena,” he said, and his voice shook a little, so much that she managed to look back at him through the storm. He looked like she had hit him again, a blow to the heart that had collapsed his face. She couldn’t feel her own heart. She thought it must have stopped beating.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to control her tears, knowing that it wasn’t right to cry in front of him, that he wouldn’t care to see that. Her mind wandered, toting up accounts at work she had yet to settle, organizing grocery lists, searching for any distraction to keep the pain at bay.
His eyes were open, like windows of melting ice, and they searched her frantically when she looked at him. “Relena,” he pleaded, and he seemed to be speaking too fast for her to understand. She rotated her shoulders as his hands grabbed for her, stepping back in a daze, her vision a blur. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, don’t cry.”
“I have to go,” she said vaguely.
He grabbed her wrist, his expression steely, determined, the soldier that could make anything happen, that could complete any task to which he assigned himself, who could endure any misery, any difficulty. “Relena…”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said.
“I wasn’t ready,” he explained, slowly and efficiently, “for a girlfriend. I thought I was, but not what you want. You should know you’re important to me, Relena. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I care about you. It’s getting late. Stay over tonight. Tomorrow we’ll…”
“No.” Her tone was indignant. Stay over? She knew what he meant and she couldn’t keep the shock from her face or her voice.
He didn’t seem to understand at all, but he released her arm when she yanked it away.
Looking at him standing there, it was so clear suddenly. When Heero really wanted something, he went for it, and made his intentions as clear as a bell. That was what Wufei had been trying to tell her, what he own conscience knew to be true. Even her mother had warned her and none of it had registered. This whole time she had scorned the advice. She was a blind, naïve, foolish idiot. Heero could care about her and treat her well and sleep with her and still not love her. He hadn’t been ready. He probably hadn’t tried to be. She hadn’t asked for that.
“Did you ever love me?”
Stoically. “No.”
“Did you always know that?”
“Yeah.”
She moved away from him, tottering on her feet and half stumbling to put space between them. “Did you ever intend to…?”
“Relena…” The growl was low and guttural, but it was also desperate.
She knew the answer. Half-dazed, she turned away, searching for the front door blindly with her hands. Heero did not stop her and if he spoke she couldn’t hear him through dead white space that encompassed her as a buffer from the main. Memories of shared smiles and caresses and intimate moments flooded through her mind. The look in his eye when he touched her body and kissed her and brushed her hair away from her face collided with the words, “I don’t love you.” He said he had never felt anything.
She believed him.
“Relena!”
Tears blinded her vision as she stumbled out the door to her car.
She didn’t remember driving away, but she didn’t get very far before she had to pull over, unable to see in the flood from her eyes. She almost drove into a ditch. Her body felt soiled, used, her heart broken, and she clutched at the wheel of her car as something solid to cling to, hair hanging in front of her face in strands that pooled on the dashboard.
Afterward, when she had cried to the point where there were no tears left and only a hollow silence remained, she sat lonely and solemn in her car, all of her dreams dead like scattered child’s toys, her hopes grounded as a felled tree, splintered and rotting away. She wondered if this was what it meant to lose ideals and finally be grown up.
TBC