Shameless

by the Black Rose

Chapter 1 -  I don't have a prayer

            Heero could feel the magazine’s presence behind him – sitting on the table, taunting him, practically screaming for his attention.  He stood staring out the window, trying to ignore the damned thing even though he had been the one to buy it, bring it home, and tear through it like a madman.  He closed his eyes and tried to clear the red haze from his vision.

            It’s none of my business.  None.  I took myself off her guard duty.

The image of her from page fifty-three leapt out and burrowed its way into his head: her hair mussed, and full, sticky, red lips pouting seductively at anyone who opened the cover.   He whirled around, and slammed his hand down on the table. His fingers sunk into and crushed the pages with his fist before he hurled it across the room.  It struck the far wall with a thud before fluttering to the ground.  The publication mocked him and landed right side up, the title gleaming off the glossy page: CSM’s 50 Sexiest Stars.  SHE smiled up at him from a tile on the cover, top button undone - the camera angle just caught the swell of her cleavage above a white, lacy bra. 

How DARE they?  

Heero felt his nostrils flare as he tried to remember to breathe.   Relena obviously didn't know the slant the photographer had taken with the film.  The poses were mostly innocent – a pen lightly pressed to the tip of her lip, her eyes stared at something off camera in what seemed to be a thoughtful expression.  But the photographer didn't care what Relena was thinking about or studying.  The lecherous lens caressed her curves through a cream colored blouse, and focused on the deep red of her painted lips.  Her hair was teased a bit to give her a wild look, and the makeup was too dark - easily explained, of course:  "It has to be dramatic to show up on camera." 

Heero snarled.  She had been tricked, he was sure of it. Tricked and taken advantage of.  Preventer isn't doing their job. 

His eyes narrowed at the slick magazine on the floor.  He retrieved it and brought the publication over to the table to examine with a magnifying glass.  The freelance photographer's name was in tiny print near the margin: Jeffrey L. Cole.  He could go hack some banking mainframes to trace him, but the name was too common looking, and would take hours, days even, to track down.  He snatched the rag magazine up under his arm and headed back towards the door. 

It's none of my business… 

He scowled and threw the wooden panel against the frame. 

Like hell it's not.

Heero had barely tramped through the doorway of Duo's office at Preventer Headquarters when he flung the offensive piece of garbage at his friend's desk.  The man with the long chestnut braid reeled back, and turned his open-mouth gaze towards the intruder. The door rattled when Heero slammed it shut behind him.

"Geez louise!  What the hell's your problem?" Duo exclaimed. He eyed the crumpled magazine like the old-style alarm clock Heero got him for Christmas last year. The former Zero pilot had installed the batteries, and wrapped it, not so much as a gift for Duo as it was for himself.

"Never mind." The braid-wearing Preventer lowered his voice to a sigh.  "That was a loaded question if I ever heard one."

"Page fifty-three." Heero stepped further into the room, then detoured to take his customary posture against the wall: arms crossed, head bowed, eyes closed.

"Fifty sexiest stars? When did you start care—"

Heero's head shot up; he opened his eyes so he could glare at his friend. "PAGE. fifty-three."

"Ooooooooookay. Page fifty-three…" Duo licked his thumb and started turning pages.

Heero closed his eyes and counted under his breath. One….two…

"WOW! Is that Princess? Our Princess?"

"I want you to dig up what you can about the photographer.  I need an address, phone number, anything traceable.  The magazine office should have that information."

"Woah woah woah.  Back up the boat, here.  Why exactly do you need to trace the photographer?" Duo held up the despicable rag and pointed.  "She looks hot, Heero.  That's the point of the article."

Heero snarled.  "I know the point of the article.  But it's clear that she wasn't aware of the photographer's objective.  What do you think this will do to her career?"

"Give it a boost, I'd say." Duo leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk.  The braid-wearing moron had the gall to flip through the journal like Heero had just brought over the latest issue of Counterterrorism & Defense Monthly.

"I think you're overreacting."

Heero's eyes narrowed. "I just want to…" He ground his teeth together. "Talk with him."

Duo stopped perusing the magazine and looked over at Heero.  The former Zero pilot could have sworn he saw the color drain from his friend's cheeks.

"Uhhhhh, are you referring to that activity which usually requires movement of the lips and not words hissed out from between clenched teeth?" His feet dropped to the floor and he sat up in his chair.  "Or are you referring to a discussion of the lead variety?"

"The photos have been touched up."

"So?" Duo shrugged. "A lot of photos get touched up.  It's the biz, as they say."

Heero stood up from the wall. "Look at her lipstick.  It's too red.  Relena never wears that color."

"So? They made her lips a little redder."

"A lot redder."

Duo threw the magazine down on to the desk. "Big deal!"

"Look to her right.  See the jacket on her chair?"  Heero crossed the room to stand beside the other man's desk.

Duo peered down at the magazine in front of him.  "Yeah, what about it?"

"I know that suit.  The skirt in the picture is missing four inches."

"What?"

"Four inches, Maxwell." Heero stabbed his index finger at the picture.  "She wears that skirt to work, and you know as well as I do that ESUN's Congressional bylaws include a dress code.  A dress code that forbids skirts shorter then one inch above the knee." He held the magazine up directly in front of Duo's face.  "That skirt is barely to mid thigh.  They doctored the photo."

Duo grabbed the publication from Heero's hands.  He looked up.  "B-but how can you tell?"

"I can't. I just know."

Duo stared at the picture for a moment before placing it back down.  "So, you want me to go get info on this photographer guy so you can talk to him about erasing Relena's skirt."

"Maxwell, if he's erasing part of her skirt in these photos, imagine what else he can erase for the right price." Heero crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk.

"Ohhhh shit."

"If he hasn't already."

Duo slumped in his chair.  "Yeah, yeah, I get it.  So, where am I going, and whose wheels do I need to grease?"

"Here's the address and the contact." Heero handed him a slip of paper.  "I'm going to talk to Une, but I'll be waiting for you to get back."

Duo glanced at the page then looked up at his friend.  "Guess I'd better not return empty-handed, then, huh?" He held up a hand. "You don't have to answer that.  I know, I know." He got up and walked towards the door, stopping only to grab his Preventer jacket from the coat tree in the corner.

Heero closed his eyes and waited for the usual complaint.

"You're just not human."

There it was.  It was never a complete visit until Duo had uttered those words at least once in the course of their conversation.

"Other guys would just tell the girl how they feel about her, but not you.  No, you just shut her out and leave her shivering in the cold, and then want to kill any guy that dares to look at her."

He spoke slowly to keep his voice sounding calm and even. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh sure.  I'm sure I don't.  The great gundam pilot Heero Yuy doesn't have any feelings, I forgot."

He whirled around. "Shut the fuck up.  You don't have any idea what I've sacrificed for her."

Duo held up both hands.  "I'm sure you've done the noble deed and all pal-oh, but maybe you should have asked her first if she wanted you to make whatever sacrifice you think you have."

"I did the right thing.  She'll find someone else. And I…" He stumbled on the words.  "I can live with that."

"But this isn't living.  I hate to say it, but…" Duo shook his head. "You've been dead for a long time.  She's the only thing that keeps you breathing."

Heero turned away.

"Well, these touching moments are always a thrill.  I'm off to go locate the corpse formerly known as Jeffrey L. Cole and deliver the bad news.  I'll be back in a few hours.  Wish me luck!"

Heero glared at his friend's retreating back.  A breathing dead man.  That struck too close to home.  How many times had he considered ending it all only to be stopped by an image of sadness in her eyes?

"I don’t want to be on someone's pedestal, Heero." She crushed her lips and her body against him.  His hands found their way to her waist and his tongue slid into her mouth.  She tasted like sweet champagne and strawberries.  They paused for breath and then he seized her lips with renewed fervor until she finally broke away.

 "I'm real, can't you see that?" She held his gaze even with every inch of her  pressed against him. "I'm human - living, breathing flesh and bone. Just like you." She kissed him again.  

He felt his head begin to spin.  He should stop this.  He shouldn't want to….

Heero pushed her away. "You're not like me." He shook his head. His hands gripped her elbows and held her an arm's length away.

"Just like you." She took a step forward, slipping easily through his grasp and embraced him again. 

"Who decided one life could be more valuable than another? Who decided that I can't be with you if that's what I choose? What you choose? What we choose?" 

He turned away and brought a hand up to his face.  "Relena, I can't."  Heero straightened his shoulders.  "Your position…"

The memory skipped forward straight to the words that made his fists clench and his stomach lurch.

"I have no desire for a deeper relationship between us, Relena."

A growl erupted from his throat and he stomped out of Duo's office to find Colonel Une.  It was time they had a little 'chat' about Relena's security.

            *                      *                      *                      *                      *

By 3pm, Relena Darlian had usually accomplished more than most people did in an entire day.  She had to.  Because from 3pm to 7pm could easily be spent doing a myriad of activities: attending Congressional meetings, listening in on her twice-weekly conference call with Colony diplomats, or giving the occasional public speech.  Today, the colony leaders were on hold, and she had been pulled out of a Congressional hearing, on granted, something she really had nothing to do with, but had to attend because someone thought she might have intelligent insight into the affair. Relena held the phone a foot away from her ear and could still hear her publicist's shouting.

"If you don't do it for anyone else, please, I'm begging you, consider my career!"

She took a deep breath and counted to three.  "John, calm down."

"If you ever fire me, I'll never work in this town again! WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"

"Are you through?"

He sighed into the mouthpiece on the other end. "Yes, I'm through."

"Now, tell me what the problem is." She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. 

"Relena, say you're in love with the guy and I'll lay off, but—"

Her eyes flew open.  "In love with…Tim?"

"BUT, I don't think you are."
            "I'm not."

"Good! Then the sooner you dump him the better."

She swallowed.  "I would say I don't understand, but…"

"He's using you to boost his image so he can get a lighter sentence, maybe probation, on the drug possession charges.  That's all he's after."

Relena leaned back again into the cushion of her chair.  She didn't know if John expected the news to bother her, or not - but it didn't.  "I see."

"I know you're going through a rebellious phase right now…"

She shot upright in her seat. "Rebellious phase? Mr. Parker—"

"Don't get upset, Relena.  But look at the guys you've been dating recently.  They are not good for your image, much less your career. Oh, and that magazine spread you did, the 50 sexiest stars, that…" He wheezed, paused to breathe, and then raised his voice again, anyway. "Just, don't DO that kind of stuff without checking with me first!"

"So what I want doesn't matter." 

To hell with position, Heero!

"It's not that, Relena." His tone softened somewhat.  "If I thought you had an ounce of romantic emotion for any one of these guys, I wouldn't fight you on it. You know that.  I'd do my job and advise, not try to overrule." 

You have more faith than some people I know.

"But I can tell.  You just don't have that light in your eyes anymore, and for the life of me, I don't know why. Your actions lately, your choice in escort…"

She bristled. "My choice in escort is exactly that.  MY choice.  If I wanted to go to a charity ball with a homeless man, it shouldn't be of anyone else's concern."

"Relena, it shouldn't matter who you want to spend your time with - to an extent.  The company you keep reflects a lot about your character.  Homeless, penniless, shameless, it doesn't matter.  What people are going to see is the way you look at him.  If you can love him, they'll accept him.  It may take some time, but they will."

She swallowed against a lump that swelled in her throat.  "Do you really believe that?"

"I do. You're a wonderful, compassionate young woman who has earned the trust and heart of the people.  When you fall in love, they'll see him through your eyes, and they won't be able to help but love him, too.  But we're not seeing love." His voice turned harsh again.  "We're seeing hoodlums and inappropriately dressed…scumbags, and swine photographers." John growled into the phone. "Don't get me started on him.  I have to go for a meeting at Preventer tomorrow over that damn photographer that Key set you up with."

He paused and took in a breath.  "But the point is, Relena, you're tarnishing your image."

She frowned. "This isn't about my image."

"It IS about your image.  You're doing this on purpose, and I don't understand why." His voice escalated once more.  "Why, Relena? Do you hate yourself or your job so much that you're going to lower yourself, disgrace yourself, ruin your career?  For Christ's sake, Key is up on charges of drug possession!  You've always stuck to a strict anti-drug platform. Is the word hypocrisy really something you want associated with your name?" John panted into the phone.

"No, it isn't." She closed her eyes again. 

Heero, I want to be with you.  Whatever it takes…. The world doesn't matter if I can't—

"Don't say it, Relena."

Don't say what? That I lo--

"Fine. I won't see Mr. Key any more.  Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes.  That, and I want you to be more careful about whom you date."

"It's a useless dream, Relena. People still think of you as a queen.  You were born into royalty, have been a heroine for the masses who still need you. And they need you more than I do."

But I need you….

She shook her head.  "I won't promise that, John.  I will date whomever I choose."

He sighed.  "That's fine.  Just make better choices.  That's all I'm asking."

Relena rolled her eyes.  She knew he was only trying to do his job, but it was still tiresome when he pretended not to understand.  "I need to contact Mr. Key and cancel our engagement tomorrow evening.  It's too late to find a new escort, so I'll be going alone. Again."

"You'll be fine.  And allow me to call Mr. Key." She could hear the smile in his voice.  Her publicist hated Tim Key. 

I wonder what Heero thinks of him….

"I can handle it."

"But I'd really really like to," John huffed.

"Fine.  Just, be gentle."

He snorted into the mouthpiece.  Relena heard him say something in a derogatory tone about 'gentle, yeah sure, ' then hung up.

She sat there and stared at the phone. 

"When you fall in love, they'll see him through your eyes, and they won't be able to help but love him, too."

"What are you so scared of, Heero?  Do you really care so little about me?"  She remembered his eyes when she had kissed him - it was like she had stabbed him, or worse: betrayed him.  He had removed himself from her guard duty after that night.

One way or another, Heero.  I'll come down from that pedestal.  You may not be able to love me, but…

She bowed her head and clasped her hands in her lap.  I won't let my career, or this 'image' ruin my chance at happiness forever.

No matter what the cost.