by the Black Rose

Prologue: There ain't that much left of me

            Heero took the last swig of his beer and contemplated throwing it at the television screen. Instead, he deposited it next to the growing pile of discarded bottles on his coffee table.  He glared at the reporter on his TV, one finger poised on the remote. He had been flipping channels, but a camera shot of her face had stopped the signal from reaching the box.  Or maybe it had kept him from pressing the button.

            "We caught up with the Vice Foreign Minister at a silent charity auction Saturday night.  The blond diplomat attended with tattooed rocker, Timmy Key…." The television footage showed Relena in a light blue dress that fell to her ankles, accompanied by a thug.  He was tall, thin, with black, spiky hair and one of those thin-lipped smiles that looked like he knew something Heero didn't.

            Relena, I can't.  Your position—

"Key is currently taking a break from traveling with his band, Stain, while awaiting trial on charges of drug possession." 'Timmy' sported a pair of sunglasses and a sleeveless tuxedo that showed every filthy tattoo.  Earrings in each ear, and chains at the neck, he looked completely out of place next to Relena and the others at the event.

            Heero clicked the button to turn it off and threw the remote at the table.  Empty bottles scattered with the intrusion.  Several hit the floor, but didn't shatter. 

"Don't I have a right to be happy?  Don't you?

What the hell was she doing?  This was the third loser boyfriend in twice as many weeks.  Why was she dating these guys? 

            You misunderstood.  Your position makes any public association between you and I…difficult.  But I have no desire for a deeper relationship between us, Relena. 

Stain boy was wearing a torn suit, a nauseating grin that just begged to be wiped off and had been arrested?  Relena had dated some marginally pathetic guys in the last few weeks, but having a record was a new low.

            No desire…

            No relationship…

            No—

“Relena…”

            They were the seeds of nightmares, those words.  They followed him everywhere, always one step behind, or lurking in shadowed corners.  They strung thick cobwebs through his mind, forbidding him to forget that he had uttered them. 

To her.

The memory haunted him on every TV screen that showed her face.  It's none of my business. 

The Preventer growled at the darkened monitor and repeated the mantra in his head.  If Relena wanted to associate with criminals, it had nothing to do with him.  She had security staff charged with watching over her and ensuring her protection.  Tattooed rockers with drug habits, in Heero's book, should be forbidden, but he had to believe Preventer knew what they were doing.

But did Relena know what she was doing…to him?