Title: In the Silence chapter 1
Warnings: Eventual NC-17, as well as scattered violence and scattered limes.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all relating to it in no way, shape, or form belong to me. They are the sole property of Sotsu, ANB, and gang. I just get to write about them and dream.
Notes: This fic is the result of my boredom while at work one weekend. I grabbed a half-used notepad from my desk and just started scribbling. I make no promises with this, as I can't tell where it's going just yet. I do know, however, that it takes place seven years after Endless Waltz. ^^
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She stood straight and confident, pride etched in the slim set of her shoulders, lessened in severity only by the demure clasp of her hands at her waist and the gentle curve of her lips. Hair the color of soft brown, woven with strands of honey, fell in a single curtain across her upper back in a near perfect line. It spoke of the careful attention given to appearance.
The pale pink traveling suit clothing her figure was conservative and feminine, yet it did nothing to hide the fact that she was attractive, nor did it detract in any way from the mild authority she wore with ease. It was unrumpled, smooth, as if the act of flying had no impact on her at all.
"Ma'am? The shuttle will set down shortly. May I ask you to take your seat?"
She turned, all poise and grace, smiling with practiced ease now. It would never be apparent that she had stood in front of a mirror and smiled until she had perfected that, smiled until her facial muscles fairly quivered from fatigue. "Of course."
Settling back into her seat, she fastened the safety strap across her lap and cast a half-curious glance at her traveling companion. Where her expression had been serene, his was stern and unyielding, revealing nothing of his thoughts as he read the book balanced in both hands. Eyes darker, it seemed, than the black of space itself shifted only slightly as they passed over words and his mouth remained in a firm, pressed line. He would, she knew, be content to say nothing the entire trip if she allowed it.
"Enjoying your book?"
"As much as I was when you asked me an hour ago," came the steady reply, his eyes never leaving the page they rested on.
Rather than grow exasperated, she only smiled. "You might have found a part you didn't like by now."
"Rest assured, that will not happen."
She crossed her legs at the ankles.
"That's good. I wouldn't want you to get bored."
Finally, he lowered the book and regarded her with his usual intense stare, as if he were putting every part of himself into this one moment.
"Boredom is a weakness I can ill-afford."
"You are bored," she stated with the calm of someone who is completely certain in her conclusion.
Irritation crossed his features before he tucked it away.
"I am not. But if you were looking for conversation, you will find none here." And to punctuate that, he went back to reading.
She had no intentions of allowing him to retreat so easily and remain tucked safely away. Someone had once told her in passing that she possessed a gift for setting people at ease and getting them to talk regardless of how reluctant they felt. This one, however, was a great deal tougher than the others she had come up against. It was as if he wore a protective shield you could see through, but never penetrate. Being brought up short by it hurt, too, so she could see why few people tried after the first few falls.
While not close, they had met numerous times over the years. It was not the sort of contact that prompted him to feel at ease around her, however. Their meetings had always been in a professional capacity, and even then, she had the feeling that he didn't entirely like her, or at the very least didn't approve.
Her days of needing approval from someone other than herself, however, were over. Or at least, she hoped they were. There was that moment every once in a while, when she felt disconnected, or trapped, and found herself looking to someone else to pull her up again. Usually, it was only when she was weary and felt suffocated, cornered, and not in control of her own life. Everyone felt that way at some point; so she told herself she was only human to feel it too.
Shifting her attention back to the man next to her, she pursued. "Why not? Am I really that terrible of company?"
A short sigh issued before he looked at her again.
"I simply want to read my book."
"You've been reading since we boarded the shuttle," she pointed out.
"Yes, and I want to continue doing so."
Once again, he attempted to ignore her.
This was hardly a social call.
He was sent with strict instructions that he escort her safely to the stopover point on colony X5589F, and remain with her for the night. In the morning if weather permitted, he would then accompany her on another shuttle returning to Earth. Why he, of all people, when she had hoards of bodyguards, had not been divulged.
As there was little reason for him to question that (it was a relatively short trip) and his superior could be a very difficult woman (one he grudgingly respected) when she so chose, he left it alone. That didn't mean, however, that he had to interact with her any more than was necessary.
It wasn't that he didn't like her.
At one time, he had not agreed with her ideals, true enough, but he had always respected her. She was a strong woman. She had proven time and again that she could stand on her own. For that alone, she had his esteem.
He hadn't, and never would be, one for conversation simply for the sake of it. He said what he needed and left it at that. There wasn't any reason to drag it out until words simply became words with little meaning but to fill the space between silences. Sometimes, there was more to be heard in the silence than in the sound.
"We've almost landed. Surely you could spare me a few moments out of your very busy schedule. I realize it might be taxing, but you might be better for it," and her expression was as serious as her tone, but her eyes glittered with unshared humor.
"No." He said shortly and tried to capture the sentence he had been reading at her first interruption.
"I was warned you were a difficult man."
He only grunted, turning the page.
Difficult yes, but not as difficult as another.
Memory made her go still, eyes distant as she stared out the window, unseeing. But she recovered herself easily enough, leaving a half-wistful smile in the wake of memories treading the passages of time. It hurt to remember, but it filled her with a gentle sort of melancholy that tugged at those secret places hidden from prying eyes. It was, she supposed in a way, her reality check. Reminiscence reminded her of who she had been and where she had been so that she could appreciate what she had become.
That didn't mean, however, that she had lost so much of the little girl it kept her from wishing now and then on the first star to grace the night sky.
Wishes, however, were always second to responsibilities.
Allowing a soft sigh to escape, she rested her head against her seat, content for now to leave him to his book. Forcing him to talk with her was only going to earn a healthy dose of nastiness, and only a fool asked to be made a fool of.
To her surprise, he glanced at her. Irritation was there again in the flat press of his lips. Not that she had expected any less, or thought he would give her anymore.
"You sound like a lovelorn schoolgirl. What troubles you?" And had he said it in a friendly manner rather than an arrogant demand, she might have felt inclined to answer him.
As it was, she simply offered a measured glance that told him it was none of his concern, before turning back to her view of their slow descent.
He shoved his bookmark between the pages and closed them together with a noticeable slap. There would be no chance of getting any reading done with her sitting next to him, asking endless questions and making distracting little noises.
Pulling his glasses from his face with an impatient gesture, he secured them in an inner jacket pocket and gave her a disapproving glare she did not see. No, she now sat with her eyes closed, no doubt daydreaming about whatever it was women concerned themselves with. Had she been another, he might have been able to say. As it was, he didn't consider it any of his concern what troubled her or what didn't. He had only asked what he did because it seemed her audible expulsion of air asked for it.
"Our destination," she murmured into his musings, and he thought she sounded disappointed.
Casting her a glance, he asked, "You object to visiting your brother? I was told he would be meeting you in the morning."
"No... No, it's the politics that will follow," but here, she shrugged as if it didn't bother her at all.
The truth was actually something else entirely, but she wasn't about to admit that to him. She was not in the habit of spoiling well laid plans. As silly as it seemed, she was pleased to have been asked to be a part of them at all. Given her usually hectic schedule, one that was generally made out months in advance, she had to consider herself lucky as well to find a few days to herself. The same seemed to be the norm for most people in the working world, however, so she tried not to focus on it.
"I feel like I'm interrupting his vacation," she added, when it seemed he was waiting for her to say more.
"He made this decision to return on his own," he reminded her.
"I know. But by my being there, he won't get a moments peace. My face is too well known," she added ruefully.
"You should be used to it by now," he dismissed.
She eyed him wryly. "This from someone who has no idea what it feels like."
"My job heralds its own scrutiny," he replied evasively. Then added abruptly, "The people are grateful. You give them the illusion of hope. Accept their thanks gracefully."
She laughed aloud. She couldn't help it. "Sound advice. But let me assure you, I don't need your help. I'm used to this, remember?"
He snorted. She wondered if anything could get him to smile, or even show vague amusement, any sign that there lurked a sense of humor inside that unnaturally serious person.
The illusion of hope? She thought about his words. They weren't a surprise coming from a realist such as he presented himself to be. But, illusion or no, what that tiny word represented was enough to hold nations together, perhaps even worlds. Maybe, even reaching beyond both.
It was never more evident to her than it became in the silence, when there were no crowds, no people to shield her from the stillness. In it, she found answers that often eluded her, and a peace that centered her. Whether that came from false hope, or something more real, didn't matter. She had learned long ago not to question everything. If it worked, it worked.
Shaking her head, she was about to say something to that effect, when a flash of blue from the corner of her eye signaled the arrival of the flight attendant. Smiling, she looked to the pleasant woman instead.
"Ma'am, sir? We're planning to set down now. Please make certain you are sitting and your straps are secure."
Before he could inform her that the comment was ridiculous, considering they were sitting, she hurried away, presumably to find her own seat.
Casting a glance at his seatmate, he said precisely, and without any humor, "Sit down and buckle up."
She shook her head, trying to determine if he had actually made a joke or was simply mocking the poor woman. "Don't be so critical. She's just doing her job."
"Her observational skills are severely lacking," was all he said in reply.
"And so are yours," she informed him, pointing to his lap. "You aren't buckled up."
He wasn't. And he didn't appreciate the fact that she was laughing at him, albeit silently, either.
"Thank you," he ground out stiffly, pride keeping him from immediately remedying that.
Feeling quite smug, and more than a little satisfied, she leaned back, pretending not to notice when he strapped himself in. She was not above a bit of infantile victory now and then. And since she hadn't thrown it in his face, she thought she was entitled to it. After all, it wasn't everyday one could say they bested a man bent on being the epitome of perfection.
And she found as they prepared for landing, she wasn't going to get another word out of him. Men were so obvious when they pouted.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He walked next to her as they headed to the lobby to claim what luggage they themselves could carry. As he would only be staying one night, he packed lightly. Her trip would be lengthier. The rest of her luggage, however, would be shipped to the hotel compliments of the airline.
While he was close enough that the fabric of their clothing brushed, the dark suit he wore in place of his usual uniform kept from drawing further attention to them. It wasn't overly obvious that he was her protection, nor was it obvious yet, who she was. People rushed around the spaceport with such detached hurry, he doubted they saw anything but their destination.
"It's crowded," she remarked offhand.
He made a vague sound in the back of his throat that might have been agreement. "It always is."
That, she thought, was going to be the extent of that. He was still pouting.
Leaving him to wallow in his wounded male pride and lick whatever imaginary wounds he might consider relevant, she pulled in as much of what was around her as she could.
She hadn't exaggerated in the least when she mentioned it was crowded. As a matter of fact, that had probably been an understatement. There were people everywhere, expressing nearly every human emotion possible, and wearing nearly every style of clothing in existence. It wasn't unlike the crowds that gathered when she gave a speech. Only these people didn't have microphone after microphone ready to thrust in her face.
Someone jostled her from the side, sending her stumbling into her traveling companion. He reached out to steady her automatically, cupping her elbow as he guided her through the ever growing throng, half certain they wanted to go in one direction, while the others fought to prove they had legitimate reason to go the opposite. Mildly irritated, because it was a parental gesture, one that reminded her of the role he was here to fulfill, she attempted to jerk away. Long fingers held fast, however, tightening along her forearm.
Mindful of causing a scene, she deferred for now, fully planning to extract herself when the way was clear. Her entire life it had seemed as if someone was always protecting her in some way or another. Her younger self might have found this a romantic notion, but independence had asserted itself some time ago and she had no intentions of letting go of the little ways it had manifested. If it was simply in walking without having someone guide her, then it was. For that she wouldn't make apologies.
He felt her strain against his hold again, and threw a slightly annoyed glance at the top of her head in response. She obviously didn't understand how easy it was to get lost in a place such as this. The crowd would gladly pull her in and push her along until he lost sight of her completely. Since he knew his touch wasn't repulsive and he wasn't attempting to insult her, he gathered she wasn't thinking about the consequences of their being separated. Which meant it was just as well someone was.
Someone screamed to his left. Pursing his lips, he needed no reminder of why he chose to avoid the majority of public places. He disliked the noise intensely. So close to a holiday, one in which he paid little attention, it was even worse. Everyone was scrambling madly to find their last minute gifts regardless of weather, heedless of price, and ignorant of long lines. That was the one thing this colony could say it had going for it. There was no snow.
The moment their feet touched the sidewalk separating them from the spaceport doors, she deftly pulled her elbow out from under his hand. Letting her have her way, he made a point of slipping ahead of her and holding the door open. Most women would have been appreciative of the show of manners. She only stared at him for a moment as if trying to decide whether or not to go through, before finally making up her mind and stalking past him. He decided right then that he would let her hold all the doors open from now on.
Pausing on the carpet, she looked both ways, wondering where the baggage claim was located. Better yet, the exact one for their particular shuttle. To make matters simple, she would rather have carried what she could off and hailed a taxi to the hotel their reservations were made for. Protocol forbade it, however. She noted he didn't have a problem with it. It was probably because he was used to the strict formalities that went with what seemed nearly every profession. He probably adhered to his own particular set.
"This way," came the murmur behind her, and he reached out to gently shove the arch of her back.
She doubted she needed to tell him what a contradiction he was. One moment he possessed manners, the next he didn't. She supposed she ought to be grateful for it. Few people forwent formality and addressed her as if she were on level. Standing on a pedestal could hurt when you finally fell, and it was certainly a lonely journey, both to the top and the bottom.
Casting him a quick glance, she reflected that he didn't seem to care one way or the other. A smile tugged at her lips when she realized it was actually a mark in his favor.
There was little time to digest that however, because the thought was driven from her head as he looped an arm around her waist and jerked her to him so roughly, her neck snapped back and her head clipped him painfully under the chin.
"Wufei, what in the world-"
"Be quiet, Relena!" He hissed harshly, his breath a tense, warm snap next to her ear.
And she saw why.
Not far away, a man was screaming and waving a gun, a frightened, sobbing child tucked beneath his arm.
In the Silence chapter 1(CWxRP - eventual NC-17)
Moderator: Silent Moon Sphinx