Unrefined Certain Deceptions

[Desert Bloom]

Warning: Strong lime in some parts of this series, maybe bordering on lemonish stuff. Some use of profanity, though it?s really not bad at all.

Couples being: RPxHY, RPxQW, HSxDM, TBxMI (Miidi Une), TBxDC, QWxDC, WCxSP, LNxMP

Authoresses Note:

Gawd, I don?t think I?ve ever had this much trouble with a fic before. Now that the first part is finally done, after I don?t know how many months of revision, all I can do is sigh and shake my head and wonder why I even had that much trouble in the first place.

Two things, though. One: Some of the stuff that happens in this fic is kind of different, in the sense that it really builds on the eccentricity of the Wing Zero machine. Don?t worry, nothing too weird or voodoo like or anything, I?m not a fan of that stuff. ^^; Just classic science fiction, really. If anyone thinks that that?s just not possible in the GW world, then I?d like to remind them that it?s not entirely normal for a fifteen year old to be a perfect assassin who can pilot a high technology machine with the kind of ease that only years can bring. I mean, the couples are great and everything, but GW, contrary to some popular beliefs, is actually science fiction (gasp!) and I?m just trying to build on that.

Two: I most definitely am continuing my other fic, Two Steps, if *coughs* anymore of my prior audience hasn?t left in disgust at this authoresses? horrid lack of commitment and are curious as to what the heck is going on. I probably wasn?t very clear about Taking Time, but that is finished. Sorry! ^^;

***Part One of Unrefined Certain Deceptions: What?s This About Love, Now? ***

Records show that Rose Chloe Moore was born during the Eve Wars, around the same time that a certain Perfect Soldier and a certain meddling rich schoolgirl met. She was born to Christopher Christian Moore and Marian Moore in the United States of America, or, more specifically, Houston, Texas.

Early on there were hints of genius, in so many ways. Mathematically she could do times tables and formulas instantaneously that might take others the better part of years. Lyrically she put Shakespeare and company to shame with her well thought out award winning poems, plays and stories, all of which were put out in circulation around the time most were still struggling to come out of diapers and comfort toys and all the rest.

She was hailed as less than nothing as a prodigy, deservedly so. The new wave of child genius, the Mozart, Shakespeare, Einstein of her time, and many more. Unfortunately, she had to take a back row seat to other more pressing political matters of the moment, such as the fact that the Colonies wanted to destroy the Earth. Earthlings would make sure that they still had a world around before they crowned the child genius of their generation culture leader (So that you there could be a next generation child genius, so that there would be a next generation, simply).

And by the time Rose Chloe Moore could once again resume her post as celebrity, there was only silence.

She no longer worked. No more theories that shook history, no more amazing plays, just nil, silence, absolute zilch. It was like she had ceased to exist ? or, at any rate, like her work no longer existed. All the magazines and such that had once had her name in big bold letters during the week of her discovery now dropped the subject with startling speed. Those that were really curious could find that Naomi and her family had been resituated to somewhere in Paris, France, and that was that.




The first six months after the conclusion of the Eve Wars went fairly well. The Gundam pilots happily went into reclusion and were not heard of ever again. Lady Une reigned as leader of the Preventers and did her job well as one of the most genius military figures to have ever lived, while her gender certainly worked wonders with the female rights world. Among her elite team of peace-holders sat Lucrezia Noin, Sally Poe, Wufei Chang, and, occasionally, Heero Yuy and Milliardo Peacecraft with their brief cameos.

Meanwhile, in the political arena of things, Relena Peacecraft kept her post as a well-loved peace embracer, sometimes known as a tree-hugger, but for the most part she climbed the social standings until she was among the likes in history of John F. Kennedy. Dorothy Catolonia remained constantly at her side, a loyal ally with enough political and financial influence to help her less able Miss Relena when things in politics got a little dark and dirty and required the sort of manipulation that Relena was incapable of, whereas where her blue-eyed and light-haired friend exceeded. Quatre Winner remained a key financial player, and early on made it clear that he was a supporter of Peacecraft?s ideals. (Naturally, this spurned some tabloid articles on the subject, but both parties denied anything other than a professional relationship.)

Trowa Barton and Catherine Bloom, meanwhile, kept their positions in the circus, traveling around as necessary for their job. Occasionally, unbeknownst to Catherine, Trowa would serve as a somewhat unorthodox agent that did some researching/investigative probing for the Preventers, most of which was along the lines of posing as a member of several terrorist organizations, nearly all of which ended within a couple months, due to several factors: Preventer intervention, loss of finance, loss of morale, loss of leader, ect., although the last two can really be thought of as the same. Duo Maxwell helped his friend Hilde Schiebeker with her repair shop, until; with some financial help from Winner Corp. he was able to found a small orphanage aboard L2, which, although small, became a very respected institution. Mind you, he financially run the place, but put a hired caretaker in charge, stating that he couldn?t stand kids. Of course, this intrigued many people?s curiosity, and even somes capacity for anger, but for the most part people didn?t care about a no-name that lucked into knowing Winner god knows how.

But war is never far beyond the human psyche.

A small band of colony rebels, still not satisfied at their treatment, stupidly decided to attack the Preventers. What should have been a minor threat soon turned into, thanks to a series of right-move-at-the-right-exact-moment-let?s-all-be-idiots-now-and-cheer-for-the-bad-guys-until-we-realize-our-mistake-and-are-near-dead, a full-blown political catastrophe, with several societies taking advantage of the moment to launch their mounting tensions unto others that they believed had done them wrong. In the middle of it was Relena Peacecraft, unable to stop the chain of falling dominoes/lives that had now begun. It seemed that every country hated each other and wanted to blow each other up with their big and fancy bombs, and hats off to the person with the fanciest bomb, yay!

Thank god for manipulation.

Dorothy Catolonia was finally forced to step in and work her magic. A year before, when she had wanted war, she had, bluntly, gotten war, and, now that she no longer wanted war, there was no longer war. It was really that simple. In a method that was divinely basically consisting of getting what she wanted, Dorothy very quickly donned her many masks and pulled her many strings and talked her many talks, and, by the time it was done, she had almost single-handedly stopped the horrid procession of stupidity/misunderstanding.

Therefore, at the end of that harrowing and trying three years, Relena Peacecraft was more able to step down from her post as Vice Foreign Minister to E.S.U.N, relinquishing her vote immediately to her genius ?aide?, Miss Catalonia herself. Naturally, Miss Catalonia won the popular vote and got the part, her past as an OZ agent not quite forgotten, but, at least, more than forgiven.

For a time, the former Foreign Vice Minister lived in New York, citing that she wanted a place away from her past, just for a little while, a place where her name wasn?t hung from bulletin boards wherever she went, where she could just live and breath and occasionally drink a couple cocktails if need be. Unfortunately, her fame wasn?t about to just be thrown away so easily, as was demonstrated when Peacecraft began to be getting threatening phone calls that very bluntly told her she was devil incarnate and so forth she should die. Peacecraft, showcasing her perseverance over all, began to make it a joke, saying that she was really such a card, going from Ms. Darlian to Ms. Peacecraft to Ms. Satan so quickly, but, eventually, the calls began to really unnerve her and action was necessary.

Miss Relena Peacecraft relocated herself to a pleasant small house in the farmland region of the Cinq Kingdom, immersing herself in several charities. The small stalker threat brought Preventer agent Heero Yuy to her side as bodyguard; besides that, after the three year catastrophe the other pivotal people during the Eve Wars resumed their ?normal? lives.

All in all, four years had passed since the Gundam?s reign of terror.




The rain that had been plaguing the early morning, accompanied by a harsh wind, finally slowed; until there was a total diminish come afternoon. She was finally able to step out of the shower and onto the patio then with the sun pounding down on her and her towel-baring body, and that subtle fact, combined with the view of lush green country meadows spread before her, was so charming and storybook romantic that Relena Peacecraft couldn?t help but gaze out for a couple long moments, watching the blue sky and the green grass and breathing the clean air, a casual smile lighting up her otherwise pale face.

The little white house with the little rose garden around it certainly had its charms. She stood out for a little while more and then finally went back in, thinking to herself that she didn?t want to surprise any country folk too much. Not that she really cared what they thought of her, but it was quite possible that cameras could be involved in such an incident and then she would certainly care what a world thought of her, especially because she wouldn?t just be devil incarnate then but also an evil seducer, the horror.

As she slid back the sliding window door that separated the patio from her bedroom she was suddenly aware of some footsteps sounding from deeper within the house. It struck her how they were there and then they suddenly weren?t there, at the very same moment that she had fallen within range of hearing them, and with that realization came the nagging feeling that the creator of the sounds didn?t really want to be heard. That, combined with the phone calls she had been getting at her previous apartment in New York, with the classic dark voice and the low growl stating her descriptive demise, that made her think of stuff she didn?t want to think of, and made her grab a tennis rack that had been lying idly on the bed.

With the tennis racket in hand, not just a weapon of play anymore but also a weapon of defense, she slowly crept forward, careful to not make a sound. Two could play this game; she mused to herself, and was delighted/terrified when the sound of footsteps started up again. She crossed the last distance of the bedroom, waiting apprehensively by the locked door, as very distinctively she could make out that the sounds were coming closer, closer meaning towards the bedroom, closer meaning towards her, damn.

Another moment more. She raised the racket above her head with a two handed fist as the person just in the next room fiddled with the lock on the bedroom door. Finally, he had it (she was pretty sure it was a he, due to the shape and the sort of sixth sense all people have concerning these matters), and, as this newcomer strode into the room, she began the racket?s long descent down to the offender?s head, only to stop suddenly about half-an-inch away as she recognized the face and deduced the obvious.

?Heero.? The name was a soft breath issued from a stressed bosom, as she loosed her grip on the racket and stepped back a couple steps. Actually, it was more like a slide, because the bedroom floor had successfully remained soaked from the previous shower due to a very wet Relena very unwisely wandering around.

There was not even a blink or a slight widening of the eyes to illustrate any sort of surprised reaction from him, because, simply, he was seldom surprised. Such was his duty, to never be surprised. His eyes saw the racket, barely elevated and struggling against gravity with the subtle strength of Relena?s loosely clenched fist, and then they saw her expression: her soft blue eyes softer looking in a relieved glint, and the general slackness in contrast to when he had first walked in the room and she had had such a crazed warrior woman look creasing her features. Needless to say, he put the two and two together.

?You thought I was an attacker.?

She simply nodded, allowing a long pause to go by. Then, as he silently watched on, she developed a fit of giggles, what was first a chuckle developing into a full-blown laugh. It struck him for a moment how?kind?she looked, when she was laughing and smiling like she was now.

?I ? I?? The racket, which she hadn?t been holding very tightly onto anyway, clunked silently to the wooden floor, where it rotated several times on impact and then spun to a very complete stop, finally a weapon of play again and forevermore. A small effort, and she composed herself again, straightening her back to an almost painfully rigid position, however professionally accurate it may have looked. ?I didn?t expect you here so soon. When you said you were going to the market I expected it would take maybe an hour or two.?

?The car had a flat. I just wanted you to know that I was going to have to take it to a repair shop.?

She folded her arms and sighed, kicking the racket under the bed. ?That certainly sucks. I could call someone if you want.?

?I don?t want any strangers coming to the house.?

?Not even to fix a flat? You know, like a professional company that tends to not hire stalkers.?

Her sarcasm was all but lost on him. There was a little flash to his facial expression, depicting seriousness. He was good at being serious ? that was the only damn thing he was good at, after all, but at least it meant he was human, that he was human, and, even, that he was quite possibly sane in the respect of the word meaning the same as her, looking up at the stars and wondering who he was, what he really was, and then going to sleep and waking up and thinking as he gazed out at the new morning, damn, I don?t care what I am, because it?s so beautiful here, and I?m alive to enjoy it.

Nah. She was forgetting herself here. He worked so that other people could do that, and, in consequence, he had lost the ability to ever think about stuff like that. At least, that was what they said. They said he had had training, and they said the training was hard, and that was enough for them to say.

?You don?t know, Relena.? He stated simply.

She couldn?t resist a little smile. ?Overprotective of me, huh??

He blinked. ?What??

?Never mind.?

?I?ll leave.? He said, checking her lack of clothes besides the towel, and turning to the door.

She watched him for a moment, her expression a very obvious look of contemplation, until finally she forced herself to speak up. ?No, wait, stay. I wouldn?t mind some conversation. I mean, if you want to. But,? She glanced all around the room, checking the fact that it was a bedroom and that she was only in a towel. ?I suppose it isn?t the best scene here, anyway. You want to go to the family room and just talk or something??

?I don?t care.? He replied, still facing the door, and she pushed down the impulse to question if he cared about anything really. Because it certainly didn?t seem so. Oh well, his I-don?t-care was really a yes in disguise anyway, so best not to make a mountain out of a molehill, her only problem in life was that she was a failed politician and some guy wanted her life for that, because being a failed politician obviously means that she?s devil incarnate. Not that bad, sigh.




She was determined to make a fire. ?I?m cold and you?re cold and I don?t feel like turning up the heat, that costs money. Which I suppose I have, more than enough, but it wouldn?t hurt to do something I?ve never done before, huh? Might be fun.? All said with an honest smile, as she kneeled next to the little hearth that sat at one end of the family room. ?You know, I tried that with politics once, the whole thing of trying things I?d never done before, because it turned out that my real father was the last in a great dynasty and all. And you know, I was pretty good at it for a while, hailed as the next John F. Kennedy and everything, until hell came along and I realized that politics is all about manipulation and dishonesty.?

Here her smile faltered, to be replaced by a slight frown, as her eyes, unchangingly quietly upset, watched what she was doing with an astonishing, however exactly necessary, concentration.

She fiddled with the matchbox, hurriedly striking a match and lighting several key spots in the pile of wood, temporarily silent, because she needed acute focus for these dangerous heat-providing maneuvers. ?At least,? She continued, turning back to face the silent man that stood quietly behind her, her hands on her knees as she smiled up at him, ?This fire won?t have anything to do with manipulation and dishonesty, huh??

Heero gently slid back into an easy chair in the area, though he kept his focus very determinedly on Relena?s face. His attentive dark eyes swept over her the expanse of her gentle face: blue eyes, this time creased into the folds of the smile that had now befallen the Peacecraft?s face, her pleasantly pink lips aiding the demonstrative human gesture that signified happiness ? or, at least, in this case, an extreme use of sarcasm.

To her surprise, he chuckled.

She blinked. ?What? Is my hair on fire or something??

He shook his head, but that didn?t help her. It wasn?t an explanation, in any way, shape, or form. As she waited for something that may help her in some way, shape, or form, he stopped chuckling, but maintained an easy smile, a very odd thing indeed from him, until she was left with no choice but to mockingly reenact anger. With an obviously very laborious effort she set her face into a scowl, crossed her arms, and simply kneeled before him that way, adding a pouting lip for effect.

?Come here.? He said then, surprising her.

She blinked, but did as asked, dropping the act to get to her feet, and then moving to his side at the chair. As she stood there he made another motion, one that obviously meant she should bend over. She did so, suddenly very aware of how close they were, her with her head suspended over his lap.

Heero was also very aware of that fact, her long golden hair spilling somewhat down onto his legs, her perfume pervading the air around him like a wonderful obsession. Which may explain why he very quickly did what he did, quietly picking out some ash that had fallen onto the top of her head as she had haphazardly bent inwards toward the hearth.

He rubbed a couple of the gray specks between his fingers between flinging them away, and then, his fingers somewhat brushing her naked shoulders, proceeded to inform her that he had achieved that precarious surgery of the hair by taking his large calloused hands and placing them gently around her chin and tipping her face forward and upward, back to a normal position (instead of staring at his groin). She, blinking all the while, with a questioning glint to her angelic blue eyes, glanced first at him, and then at the small pile of ashes on the floor. There hung a suspended silence, both of them a little nervous and a little amazed and a little out of breath at the fact that they were so close; then, with a smile, Relena straightened up, grabbed the pillow that lay behind Heero?s head and pulled it so that he no longer had a head rest and the back of his head clunked uncomfortably against the back of the chair. He winced, not at any pain, but rather at the quickness of it.

?Hmph. Serves you right, Mr. Yuy. You should have warned me about that, or I might have lit my hair on fire anyway, with that fuel sitting up there and all. And then I?d really be Satan, or his wife, at least.? She made a face. ?Ewie.?

?I got rid of it.? He said, almost defensive. ?And your fires gone out.?

She blinked, looking backwards to see if it was true, which, of course, it was. Accidentally, the pillow flung out of her hands at her quick swerve, catching Heero very neatly in the face. Instinctively, the pillow returned to her, whapping her in the face as well; she returned it to him, and then him to her, and so it went, until Heero was finally left holding the pillow, determinedly not about to throw it again.

?What you?re doing is called aggressive therapy.? He informed her. ?Raising tensions by determinedly wanting the last shot, or the weaponry. The weaponry in this case being the pillow.?

She laughed. ?And what you?re doing is called bait-and-tease. Gimme that pillow.?

He shook his head.

?Heero, c?mon.?

He shook his head.

?Please??

He shook his head again.

?Purdy purdy please, with sugar on top??

A pause.

??Did you say sugar??

She nodded enthusiastically, holding her hands out. He nodded as well, standing up and walking up slowly to her, until they were two silhouettes against the window, each standing in front of the other, waiting patiently.

At last he held the pillow out. But when she tried to take it from him he jerked it back, hiding it behind his back.

She blinked, hands clenching air and then slowly un-clenching again. Looking up to him, he was serious as ever, eyes straight ahead, focusing on some point that she herself wasn?t aware of and was pretty sure didn?t exist in the long run.

?You?? She began to say something weakly, but stopped, and with a sudden set determination to her facial expression, her hands lunged forward at him, grabbing at the pillow behind his back. When she finally had a couple of her fingers secure a bit of the plump cloth, he jerked it back and tried to wrestle the thing out of her grip, which, of course, ended in disaster ? both of them successfully off balance and kilter, collapsed in a wild fall to the floor, Relena?s one cheek falling to rest against Heero?s chest as her legs were accidentally intertwined with his ? while her arms were uncomfortably positioned underneath his torso.

She groaned a little, removing her legs from his, so that now she was merely kneeling against him, her arms still, however, trapped under his weight. ?Ack, Heero, my arms??

There was a pause.

?If I move, you?ll get the pillow.?

She blinked.

?Yeah. That?s true.?

They stared at each other for a moment, each suddenly keenly aware how close they were, again. They were also aware that they weren?t complaining.

At last, he let out a little gruff sigh and rolled over, Relena released and falling to a somewhat uncomfortable position on the floor, pillow now in hand. As Heero got to his feet and began to move to somewhere else in the room, Relena pulled the pillow up to her bosom and cradled the bit of nighttime comfort cloth, as she herself rocked back and forth, back and forth, contemplating Satan and stars and the bait-and-tease manipulation and perfect things, though, most importantly, perfect soldiers.




The sky was beautiful that night. It was the kind of beautiful that Relena had had in mind when she had picked this farmhouse/cottage. It was perfect, nice and dark, with a little bit of a twilight lavender hue descending fragilely over the horizon, but above that was all a classic, perfect dark ? the exception being the dots of white, the stars, which, of course, were welcomed as an alternative to an otherwise desperately black setting. The moon, full and lushly gold in color, was like a final encore to nature?s flawless performance. Relena sighed at it all, back on the patio, arms crossed on the railing while she allowed her usually rigid customarily perfectly positioned form to slack somewhat, her shoulders rounding uncharacteristically.

Footsteps sounded again behind her. She whirred on the spot.

Heero blinked, surprised at her obvious jumpiness. She sighed, and returned to her prior position, this time putting her head in her hands. ?God, I?m sorry. I?m just a little out of it right now, that?s all, Heero. Sorry.?

Though she could not see it, he nodded to himself and her, stepping forward again, until he was by her side at the railing. ?You?re scared.?

?Undeniably. But it?s probably nothing. This guy is probably just a kook somewhere who pulled a few strings and got my Manhattan number, and he actually doesn?t have any intent at all.? She sighed, pulling her head out of her hands, but still refusing to look at him, as she instead stared down at the ground beyond the railing, which basically consisted of a bunch of rose bushes, all now a darker red because of the dusk setting.

He shook his head. ?You don?t know, Relena.?

She smiled wanly. ?That?s the second time you?ve said that.?

He was silent for a moment. Then, not quite understanding why he did it, he, carefully and slowly so, raised his one arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. She reacted by hugging him back, arms wrapping around his torso and holding his body like she would die for the entire world if she let go ? it took a moment, but he realized that she was crying. Not quite used to this kind of situation, he weakly squeezed her back, and then simply stood, not knowing what to do next, not sure if it was enough or not. Unbeknownst to him, he had already done everything right.

Relena began weakly to talk; her face still pressed somewhat into Heero?s chest. ?You know??

He waited silently for her to continue. She began again, considerably weaker than before, but this time was able to continue the procession of word usage.

?You know, I?ve always loved nature. I?ve always loved the stars. Whenever I used to travel with my father ? I mean, Mr. Darlian ? sometimes we would go to this place in the country kind of like this, and we would just watch the stars together and pick out the constellations. Sometimes we would try and make up these theories about what we?re doing here, you know, who made us and all that stuff.?

She paused, chuckling to herself. After taking a great big breath she started again, the fact that Heero was still hugging her and not stepping back in disgust convincing her into a more steady flow of vocalism. ?It would always end with him going on about how we were all pod people so that none of that mattered anyhow, and how the mother ship would come eventually and then all would be understood. He was quirky like that. That?s what people never saw, you see ? the corniness.?

?You loved him.?

The statement surprised her. ?Well, yeah.?

?You miss him??

She looked up at him slowly, her blue orbs engaging his darker set of eyes, and then the instant communication taking her aback ? he was practically saying to her, That?s good, but I never even had anyone I could miss.

?I?m sorry.? She said.

He blinked, as if to ask, For what? She merely sighed and shrugged, taking a step back, their hug ending, as she understood that she was probably leaning too much on someone who had his only problems anyway, problems probably more unsettling than her own. But he stopped her, grabbing her shoulder gently, hands accidentally brushing back the cloth of her towel.

He blinked. ?You?re still wearing the towel.?

She nodded, eyeing him with a scrutinizing look that was, despite her own efforts to have otherwise happen, very quickly falling into a gentle pondering of the perfect soldier as he was before her now, natural and uninhibited ? and all the while she found herself leaning in a little closer, a little closer. ?Oh. Yeah. It?s still a little wet.?

?Are you cold?? He asked, leaning in as well.

?A little.? She said, and then could not say another word as their lips met in a brief, but very pleasant kiss. As they drew apart, almost like a drowning man does for air, she murmured, ?Thanks for listening,? and they fell into another kiss, Heero?s hand slowly bringing the towel further down her arm.

He?d never kissed before, but this ? this he certainly liked, if he didn?t understand. Her lips were supple and her perfume was filling him as he leaned in closer and gently teased the towel halfway off her body, to finally expose her naked bosom, which was stressfully heaving up and down as she continued to have the air knocked out of her by his surprising passion.

She rested her body up against him, loving the intimacy of the feeling of her how body fit perfectly against his. Her hands traveled first around the expanse of his back, ruffling the cloth of his blue shirt, before finally ending up at his neckline, where she, with some nervous agitation, began to undue the buttons that lined his front. All the while, he busied himself with her back as well; kissing the gentle beautiful thing that was her neckline while his one thumb stroked the sensitive spot people always have in the middle of their back.

And then it all stopped. He realized what he was doing and he stopped. He was the bodyguard and she was the one that needed to be protected and didn?t the grounds need a little investigation before dark anyway? So, as Relena, very perplexed, stood there weakly, he dropped his hold on her and silently took her hands from his now bare chest and placed them firmly back at her side.

Then he walked away.

Relena blinked and sighed and brought the towel back round her bare body, once again lost in the contemplation of stars and the bait-and-tease manipulation and perfect things, though, most importantly, perfect soldiers.




They caught him the next day.

There was no doubt that he was the one that had sent the terrorizing phone calls. All of the proof the police needed was in his one room flat: Relena photos with long scratch lines, several Bibles with pages ripped out, and a little sticky pad with Relena?s Manhattan place?s phone number on it. Irony was also on Relena?s side as it turned out that he was a runaway suspect in a murder that had happened some time ago, so the man would be forced to stay away from her as he tested in court anyhow. There was little doubt that he wouldn?t be proven guilty, and little doubt that he wouldn?t spend life in prison for the charges.

An hour after receiving the news from a very relieved Noin, Relena found Heero packing his suitcase in his room.

She stood in the threshold watching his bent form throw a t-shirt into the briefcase.

?You?re leaving.?

He turned at her voice, ironically just as the packing job was finished, and the case closed shut with a little click. A quick nod from him to illustrate her correctness in that subtle accusation, and then the suitcase was over his shoulder and he was heading to the door with a very quick turn.

She stayed where she was, even though she was in his way.

?So, just like that. You just pick up and leave. Tell me, Heero, where are you going next??

A long silence then, when he had no answer for her.

?Relena, you?re in my way.?

Once again he found himself studying her gentle facial features, however non-gentle as they were now: Her black eyebrows clashing with her light eyes as they drew down in an angry expression, her lips tightened in a straight line that wasn?t laughing or smiling, damn.

?Just like that. You don?t do that, Heero. You don?t just kiss a girl like ? like you really mean it ? and then just walk away. You don?t do that, Heero, you really don?t do that.?

Seeing that she wasn?t about to move for all the world, and, consequently, certainly not for him, he set the case down with a clunk to the wood floor, and then, without any effort or any aggression at all, he simply picked her up by the waist and relocated her to the side of the door. Then, without daring a look at her, he picked his suitcase back up and made his way out the door.

Eventually he made his way out of the house altogether, to realize dismally that it was once again raining, and hard. With a little inward sigh he ventured outward from the patio, weakly holding the suitcase over his head as a sort of makeshift umbrella as he made his way a good ways down the road. The car still had a flat and now Relena could call that repair shop to make a house call, and the train station was only a mile down anyway; he could take the train to the airport.

?Please wait.?

He turned in surprise, to find her, soaked and wet just a few yards away. The odder part though, was that she had the pillow from before in hand, weakly offering it to him.

As he looked on at her clueless, she sighed and shrugged, explaining, ?Just take it, okay? I?m corny like that, kind of like my father, I guess. But if you?re so determined to remain a wanderer and fighter to the end of your days, I want you at least to keep something of mine.?

When he stayed where he was, she moved forward instead, until she was in front of him, both of them staring expectantly at each other as they had done yesterday, however under much different, more playful circumstances. With a sweet smile that just killed him inside, Relena pushed the pillow into his free arm and then stood on tiptoe, planting a little kiss on his forehead. With that done, she stepped away, and sighed a nice long sigh.

?You know, I always thought you were better than most. You never?? She paused, closed her eyes, and then, with the fluttering of eyelashes required to refocus her gaze on her silent perfect soldier, continued, ??you were strong, Heero. Basically, you don?t take shit from people, but I don?t mean that you?re arrogant. You?re just?stronger?than most. And I found that so wonderful, you have no idea.?

?But you live your life, don?t listen to me. I?m probably just someone else speaking shit right now, and you?re not being arrogant or stupid, you?re just being ??

?Relena, go back to politics.?

? ? You.?

A long moment passed then. Relena raised an eyebrow, casting an especially scrutinizing gaze on Heero, who nearly ran from that, but stopped by focusing very quickly on the ground as if the little dirt pebbles down there were the most interesting things in the world, because look, when it rains it turns into mud! Eventually Relena sighed again, because sighing felt to her like the only thing she could do in the present murky, rainy, just completely dismal situation.

?I guess I will.?




?What? You told her to go back into politics??

Heero nodded, not quite understanding what was so controversial about the five-word sentence he had uttered a week before. But, nonetheless, it was controversial, as was depicted on the mingled expression of horror/astonishment that lay in Duo?s eyes. The fellow Gundam pilot shook his head and leaned further back in his office chair, while Heero sat silently in an easy chair right before his desk. They were both in the office of Hilde?s repair shop ? admittedly a small business, and admittedly a small office, but no one was complaining. And Duo had jumped at the chance to see his own war buddy and put away some tax paperwork for the moment.

?I can?t believe you, man. You had a pillow fight and kissed under the moonlight and you?re saying that?s just business? I mean, I love you and everything, you?re my best bud and all that crap, but this is ?? A long sigh here, to accentuate Heero?s error, while Duo rubbed his brow, ? ? this is really pushing it.?

?Thanks.?

?I?m serious. Here, look at this.?

Heero raised an eyebrow as his friend pushed back in the chair and repositioned himself so that he could burrow around in the drawer of his desk, before finally pulling out a large novel type book with a flourish and waving it around in Heero?s face.

?See this here? It?s called Misfortunate Aggressions. It?s one of those really big shot fictions where people question reality and all that. Characters say stuff like ?Simply by living we?re asking for something to do.? Do you understand that??

?Not really.?

Duo sighed, dropping the book down to the top of the desk. ?Neither do I.? He paused. ?But you?re a fighter.?

Heero couldn?t deny it.

?But Heero, man, as one fighter to another, there?s no fight right now. Dorothy?s got such a tight vice on everyone?s nuts that it?s near impossible for there to be any sort of war. It?s heaven. We went through hell and both of us managed to get a wonderful woman out of it, and now there?s heaven and you?re telling your angel to go back to hell??

?I told her to go back to politics.?

Duo waved this away like it was a particularly annoying fly. ?Same thing.?

Before Heero could argue that particular point, the vid-phone beeped in its corner of the desk. Duo shot Heero one of those I-never-get-rest looks, which Heero had to sympathize with. Then, Maxwell leaned forward and with a long sigh accepted the call with a little click. He was forced to eat his attitude, however, as the screen blurred into focus and Quatre Winner was on the screen.

?Oh.? Duo blinked. ?Hey Quatre.?

?Hello Duo.? Quatre replied cheerfully.

?Good, good, I?m glad you called.? Duo whirred the screen around to face Heero, who merely sat there and stared like he always did. ?Convince this big lug that he is a big lug.?

Quatre blinked. ?Oh, hello Heero. I?m glad I found you. I was looking for you, actually, and I was going to ask Duo where you were, because he always seems to know.?

?I was at Relena?s.?

Quatre raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Duo smirked. Heero wished very much that he had a gun. He didn?t understand what the big deal was at all, and he voiced this particular fact.

?I was a bodyguard. That?s -all-.?

Quatre was still giving him that inquisitive look, and whatever Heero was expecting he didn?t get, because the blonde Arabian, instead of looking relieved or reassured or whatever it was he was supposed to be ? basically, his eyebrow went up a little higher and his voice had a sure-sure-what-ever-you-say-yeah-yeah attitude to it. ?The stalker fiasco??

Heero nodded. ?Our relationship is strictly business, that?s all.? He paused. ?I find this interesting coming from a man that, according to the tabloids, is engaged to Peacecraft.?

?Yeah, yeah. First thing is, Heero, she?s Relena. All of us have known her long enough, and been through enough with her, so call her by her first name. ?Peacecraft? makes me want to throw up. And besides, let?s not accuse here. For all you know, I could be going out with her.?

Both Heero and Quatre jumped a little at that, Heero whirring in his mobile chair so quickly that there was a screech as the metal wheels played havoc with the wood floor.

?Relax! Jesus Christ, relax!? Duo was made to instantly regret his words because his friend?s reaction was so strong, as could have partially been expected ? from Heero, of course, but Quatre? ? So he held up his hands palm up in a giving up sort of mannerism, a little grin lighting up his face. ?I?m not. I?ve got Hilde. But this is stupid. Quatre, he kissed her. Heero kissed her. The man freakin kissed her and then told her to go back to politics.?

Heero wondered distantly if Duo couldn?t have stressed the fact that he?d kissed her a little less. He shot Duo a little death glare, which Duo returned with a raspberry to boot, so with a sigh the perfect soldier merely turned back to the vid screen, where he saw a very worried Quatre staring at him like there was something horribly wrong. Kind of like how Duo had looked when Heero had told the braided baka about the kiss ? and he still didn?t understand why he had done that ? maybe there was a message here.

Maybe. Probably not.

?Heero,? Began Quatre, his pale blue eyes burning with a fiery strength that betrayed the man?s unnerving way of being gentle and kind and wise at the same time, ?I don?t want to know the details about what happened. But why did you tell her to go back to politics?? He sighed. ?Relena tried very hard. But things were ? crazy ? a while back. It?s like everybody hated each other, like there was another will pulling the strings behind everyone?s hate; everything was so strong. A servant that had served my family for generations almost killed me. Do you know how many times Relena got attacked? She was actually shot once. They hid it from the news and everything, but she -was- shot in the leg. It was?harsh. She might actually be scared of politics, you ever think of that??

Even to himself, Heero sounded like he was making excuses. ?She?s a valuable political figure. The world needs ??

Quatre?s eyes flashed. Heero wasn?t sure if he?d ever seen Quatre with that look in his eyes, except for ? yeah, that time in space. But he?d gone a little not right then. Still, it was the same, the same sort of anger that Quatre very rarely resorted to.

And Heero couldn?t stop thinking to himself ? Quatre god mad when his father died ? he gets mad when people he loves gets hurt ? but no, I didn?t hurt her ? but he thinks I did ? so ?

?The world doesn?t need her, Heero. The world needs Dorothy maybe, and Lady Une, and quite possibly me. In the financial world, at any rate, they need me. But the world doesn?t need Relena. Dorothy made sure of that, because Dorothy saw something you never saw ? she saw that our beloved Relena was tired and guilt-ridden and not capable of doing that job after those three years of hell.?

A little laugh here from the blonde Arabian who had never grown up to the old rune of dumb blondes, his normally sweet and pleasant voice curving into the folds of mocking. ?You know what I think, Heero? I don?t think the world needs her ? I think you need her.?

?Didn?t you have a message to give to me?? Heero demanded finally, eager to turn to other subject matter.

Quatre sighed a nice long sigh. ?Yeah. Lady Une wants to meet you. Up in space, on the L5 colony.?

?And if I don?t go??

He shrugged. ?It was something about the Wing Zero machine.?

?Which means,? Said Duo suddenly, as he wheeled forward in the chair and wearily put his forehead down on the table, ?That Heero is definitely there.?




?What? He told you to go back to politics??

Relena nodded wearily, a long sigh making it?s way out of her stressed bosom despite her strenuous efforts to prevent it. She didn?t want to seem weak, because, simply, she wasn?t. God, she may have been the single most influential teenager ever, and she had been called one of the best peacekeepers that had ever lived. She just didn?t want to do that anymore, was that such a problem? No one needed her anymore; those days were over.

Noin shook her head, slowly roping her one arm around Relena?s shoulder and pulling the considerably younger woman in for a hug, her maternal instincts working overtime. Relena was more than happy for the comforting interaction, resting her head lightly on the other woman?s bosom and pulling her knees up onto Noin?s lap.

So the two of them sat for a moment, in the farmhouse?s living room, on the couch, an unattended box of cheese snacks on the floor and the television blaring wildly on in it?s little desolate corner. Besides the television?s annoyingly invading vocals, and their own muttered complaints about males and life overall, silence existed in such an absolute manner that it was somewhat eerie.

There was a long pause. Relena was more than happy to play the child for the moment, her absolute determination and drive to prove her feminine strength now forgotten in the presence of the one woman Relena felt she could always depend on.

?I think I?m going to do it.? Relena finally said.

Noin?s eyebrows went up. But she continued to rub Relena?s arm in a comforting way. ?Oh??

?It?s what I was born to do. I was a Peacecraft ? I mean, I am a Peacecraft.?

Noin paused before going on. ?But Relena, it?s not what you were raised to do.?

?Mr. Darlian was a politician.?

?He told you that you could be whatever you wanted to be. He never put any pressure on you to go into politics.?

?Noin, can?t I just want to do it anyway? Who cares? How do you know that I wasn?t going to do it even if a Mr. Yuy hadn?t told me to??

?Because I know you.?

Relena breathed out a long sigh, cuddling up closer to Noin. ?Darn you.? She said, closing her eyes for a long moment, enjoying the mannerisms of the black that surrounded her then, as well as the sleepiness that accompanied the black. Being sleepy was a good excuse to not have to think about serious things. ?But I?m still going to do it. I?m just rotting away here, anyway.?

?Mmm.?

?Eating old cereal. Watching stupid television movies that make no sense.?

?Huh.?

?Watching the sunset. Taking long walks in the evening and then getting hopelessly lost.?

?Heh.?

Relena let out another sigh, and gently detached herself from the comforting arms of Noin, pushing herself back into a leaning position on the couch. She drew her knees up to her chest, intertwined her arms around her legs, and dejectedly rested her chin on her knees, rocking back and forth a little, back and forth. ?All that boring stuff.? She finally finished, letting out another sigh. Then, after a pause, ?God, I don?t know why I?m so damn depressed. I?ve got a great life. I?m lucky. I?m about to go back into politics and everyone that doesn?t want me to can fuck themselves.?

Noin chuckled. ?A simply philosophy.?

?A true one. Say Noin, is there a reason you came here? Or do you just spend your days visiting political figures and old war friends and cheering them up by being a wonderful person??

A smile creased Noin?s equally pretty face; however different it?s style of beauty may have been from Relena. ?I can try to make a habit of it, if you like. But no, I did come here with a purpose in mind.?

Relena was suddenly strangely aware of an unknown dread descending upon the atmosphere reeking of maternal love, as Noin?s facial expression fell from a warm smile that warmed Relena?s soul and heart to an expression of slight worry bordering on acute distress. The woman Noin rolled herself off the bed and left the room for a short while; upon return it could be noticed that Noin had a briefcase in one hand, a tape machine in the other.

As Relena watched with a skeptical look befalling her face, Noin put the tape machine and the briefcase on the coffee table. She left the tape machine alone for a moment, instead choosing to ruffle around in the briefcase until she had pulled out a single paper. For a long moment that seemed to stretch by painfully, Noin stared at the simple collaboration of crumpled wood and paste, better known as paper.

She was still looking at it when she next spoke.

?Milliardo had this sent to him. It disturbed him so much that he wanted you to see it, and he wanted me to take it to you personally. With your approval, we?ll then take it to Lady Une.?





?After going over the data of the Wing Zero?s reported performance in battle, it was determined that the machine had capabilities.? Lady Une explained from her post by the hangar doorway, uncharacteristically severe looking in her white lab coat, even though her hair was long and loose down past her shoulders, therefore invoking a feministic subtleness.

Of course, she had always had a side of her that was always severe ? but which was also a side that had been disposed of after Treize?s death, so that now the only flashes of such an alter ego were reserved for those moments when she needed to seem particularly imposing and serious. And, he supposed, such was a requirement when dealing with him, the fabled Perfect Soldier, the feared 01 Gundam pilot, the only one that could handle the Wing Zero without the side effect of a suicide attempt, crazed delusions, severe depression, ect ect.

She continued, as he stood awkwardly a little within the desolate hangar bay that was momentarily absent of all activity. It was almost hauntingly empty, in fact, and he had the impression that if he suddenly felt an impulse to yell something nice and loud it would bounce back to him off the white tiled floor and the equally white walls. But, of course, he never had such impulses, at least not when he was sober. He knew that most people his age were prone to such silliness ? he wasn?t though, and that was why he had stayed alive in times of war and achieved such a perfect soldier persona.

?Dangerous capabilities, Mr. Yuy, ones that could prove severely hazardous placed in the wrong hands. Since you?re the only pilot that seems capable of dealing with the high stress levels involved with the use of the machine, I figured you would be a good test subject.?

?Test subject??

?Maybe I haven?t phrased things so well. I mean tha ??

He interrupted. ?You want me to fight some simulated battles. That way you could draw up some example scenarios, if some terrorist organization were to get it.?

?In so many words.?

?I can be simpler. You want me as a guinea pig.?

She sighed, shrugging. ?You?re not being simple, you?re being damn blunt. And you?re the only one I can turn to, other than the other Gundam pilots.?

Notice how she didn?t deny it, though. The guinea pig part.

There was a little flash in her eyes then as she regarded him during a slight pause in their little ?debate?, and he got the instant message: While your other Gundam friends could handle the job for a while, it would be harsh. And besides they might end up killing themselves after a time, you know that, and, despite what you may think, you don?t want them hurt either. They?re like brothers to you.

Except that there was another message intended in his own eyes. Intended, but not voiced, because a difficult childhood had robbed him of the ability. But if his eyes could catch a glint like the Sir Treize?s Lady, instead of just staring inhumanly on, they would say: I?m not as good as you think. I could die too.

But, of course, in the same sense that he could not voice that message with any usage of body language, any attempt to do so vocally was complete lost somewhere within the wanderings of the Perfect Soldier?s mind. Instead, he stated his next words in an almost simple direct manner.

?Fine. I trust I?m battling mere dolls.?

?They?re not of the cute and cuddly kind.?

A little sarcastic smile poked at his otherwise rigidly military expression. ?I might find that scarier.?

She blinked. Sarcasm, actually brought through well? How very?unlike him.

Of course, he could just be catching on to her little game. Sarcasm had been a very useful coping device in the aftermath of Treize?s death ? if you took nothing seriously, than nothing was serious.

A shake of her head then, to make herself forget the little psychological maze she was falling into. He was a resource, nothing more, so let this business be over with already. He would perform and they would draw up their plans and Dorothy would continue to do her little manipulative job as well as she did, which was actually pretty well, while the rest of the aristocrats and bureaucrats and all the other damn crats ran in their little circles pretending they were in the ?in crowd? while they were really miles away, whee, military and political fun!

?Anyway, you?re right, you?re fighting mobile suit dolls. I trust that you, of all people, can handle it.?

There was a single nod from him then to illustrate her correction in that subtle accusation, and then they went through the details of the ?experiment? before finally putting their plan into action.




It was all very familiar to him.

He honestly didn?t know how many thousands of times he?d strapped up in a mobile suit and shot out into battle, his instincts and almost artful ease with which he commanded his instincts guiding him throughout the maze of metal figures against a black backdrop.

How many times had he battled against unknowns in the desolate confines of space?

Ironically, no matter how poetically one could phrase it, the reality of battles was really much more coarse and not so fine, starting with the fact that he had never battled unknowns. He had been in space, true, and perhaps space could be termed somewhat along the lines of desolate confines. But he?d never battled unknowns ? he?d always known who exactly was his enemy.

Wing Zero made sure of that.

Now he was back here in space again, in the cockpit of that very suit, with the multi-colored controls spread before him, and then the front window with which he could view the very absolute black and his enemies, the other life-like hunks of metal, the other mobile suits. And he was back in his standard garb, his typed orders issued through gloved fingers, his hot breath coming back to him after bouncing against the glass plate set within his helmet.

And he was fighting.





***Preview of Part Two of Unrefined Certain Deceptions: She?s Laughing And Smiling And I?m An Idiot, Go Figure ***




It was all gone.

All the beauty that had once existed here, and all the living activity that had benefited from the unequalled loveliness ? it was all gone. The ground, once the proud recipient of lush green grass that bureaucrat?s little children used to play tag on, was now empty, with nothing left but a horrid maze of cracked dirt and mud. Trees that had once stood proud and tall, elevated to wondrous heights that touched the sky ? now they were lucky if they touched the ground, and of that once incredible ensemble of oaks and cherry trees was but left a couple of trashed wooden stumps, almost incomprehensible now as plant life.

The children used to climb the trees too, she could remember. So where are the trees and the children?

Even as Dorothy looked towards the sky, there she was able to detect differences. Earlier it had been one of those clear blue afternoons with not a cloud in sight, but now the entire thing ? no blue at all ? all clouds and fog and a strange yellowish-gray that was pervading one area of the sky, most definitely poisonous in the fact that Dorothy knew that most who saw it didn?t have the ability of sight minutes later. Or the ability of breath.

Now she looked at herself, and was amazed as she did so. Completely unscathed. Her long black dress that Mr. Willeford had complained about earlier was still there, without a rip or tear, even though Mr. Willeford no longer was. When she looked at her hands, and turned her palms up, she could still see her pale skin without any trace of the injuries it should have ? no, it did have.

Breathlessly, not out of any laborious threat of the yellow smoke above them, but merely because she couldn?t believe her eyes and for the first time in her life didn?t have a wisecrack to throw ? breathlessly, she turned back to the silent Trowa behind her.

He, too, didn?t look harmed at all. She was thankful, but that confused her even terribly more.

?Why are we still here?? She asked. With a little effort she picked her knees off the ground, winning the minor struggle against gravity, although taking a newly accumulated dirt stain with her as she began the short trek over to Trowa.

How ironic that she would be with him now, in this odd, watered down version of hell.

He looked at her for a long moment, his silent eyes conveying a message more powerful than anything his vocal chords could ever produce, and then he turned his gaze to the ground. ?A lot of people just died now, Dorothy.?

?Or they just disappeared.? Dorothy returned. ?No bodies, no nothing. We just see a flash and then everything is gone, like an atomic bomb exploded.?

Trowa merely continued to look at the ground, once again mute in the despair of ensuing chaos. Dorothy didn?t need to ask what he was thinking. A couple of months together, as well as a brain for tactical prediction, already told her. He was thinking, What?s the difference? And she was agreeing with him. She couldn?t see the difference, because they were none. All these people were simply gone, like they?d never existed.

But here, at the end of the world, she was glad to be with him. ***




Authoresses Last Word:

Let me offer a little explanation here.

I already have Two Steps. Why am I starting another long fic now? Well, the better question is, why did I start Two Steps when I did? Yes folks, I admit it ? I started this fic before I started Two Steps! That long! *nod nod* Unbelievable as it is, it?s true. I had *such* problems with it, you will never know, and you don?t want to know. But now that I?m finally done, I can breath a sigh and laugh ? haha writer?s block, I did it, in your face, and I did it! Top that, booyah!

Happy reading. ^^