The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.
-Anonymous
Disclaimer: I only own the plot, and I?m not even sure if the plot is original.
The flowers looked incredibly bright and lush as Relena fingered the petals. She removed one of the roses from the bouquet, running the smooth bloom along her palm. The roses seemed out of place with the rest of the mournful scenery. This was the fourth funeral she had ever been to in her twenty years. The first she could barely remember; a great-aunt who died when she was six. The second was her father?s funeral that she could remember so clearly; the tears stung the sides of her eyes even now. Then there was Milliardo?s funeral, but that one was for a man who wasn?t really dead. He was happily married on Mars with Noin and their little girl who was just born a few months ago. So maybe this was technically her third funeral.
Either way it didn?t matter. Her mother was still dead. She was never coming home. Relena looked down at the floor, vaguely recognizing the rose that had fallen to her feet in her blurred vision. She had crushed the poor thing. The flower lie there by her foot, decimated as it was by her hands. She felt oddly satisfied.
Rounding the corner past the gift table, Relena bumped into a familiar face. Quatre?s bight face was much like the flowers; inappropriate for the circumstances, but she would have had no one else there. He placed his hands on her shoulder, a soft look in his eyes.
?Now, I know you don?t want to talk about it, but?? Quatre began softly.
?No, it?s alright,? Relena replied. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself down and cry. But she had to remember, she didn?t do those kinds of things.
Quatre pulled her in close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled of tea and light cologne. She could have stayed like that for hours. She had felt so alone, and it was nice to have someone hold her. People didn?t touch her very often. Then the dim silence was broken by Quatre?s question.
?Are we going back in anytime soon??
?I don?t know. I don?t think I want to do this anymore,? she answered in a choked voice. She was gong tot get Quatre?s suit wet if she kept crying this way. She could already fell the cloth dampening beneath her skin.
?Don?t want to do what?? He pulled back to look her in the eyes. As he brushed a stray hair to the side of her face, he continued. ?Are you talking about the funeral?or your job??
?Maybe both.? She didn?t want to look him in the eyes. ?I?m just so tired. I want to sleep. Do you think it?s possible to sleep forever??
?Relena?? Quatre said, his voice pained. ?I don?t know what to do for you. It?s been so long since my father died, I can?t remember what it was like. Wars don?t allow people to mourn much.?
?I?m pretty sure there is nothing you can do,? she sobbed as she threw herself back into his arms. After a few minutes Quatre patted her back, trying to comfort her, or at the very least try to soothe her hiccups.
?Maybe we should go back in. They?ll wonder where we went,? Quatre suggested awkwardly. ?But this conversation isn?t over.?
?Trust a gay guy to get nervous holding a girl,? Relena sighed. ?I suppose you?re right.? He led her back down the hall towards the dining room with his arm around her shoulder while she wiped at her tears.
?By the way, I brought Trowa along. I hope that?s alright,? he mentioned as they neared the door.
?Well yes, I suppose it is,? Relena coughed. She had never really known Trowa, only having met him a few times. She had rare instances when she had come to find him to be cold and aloof. Relena had always been rather uncomfortable around Trowa, even though she was well aware that he was Quatre?s lover.
?Don?t worry, Relena,? Quatre said, trying to reassure her, ?he likes you. Really he does.?
?Oh, I?m not worried about that,? she lied. It was half the truth really. Her mother dying took predominance over her inability to favor Trowa, but she still felt uneasy with him here.
?Like I said, everything will be okay,? Quatre repeated trying to ease her nerves.
They entered the dining room, booming with noise. People quieted as Relena and Quatre passed. There were whispers and looks of sympathy. So many of the occupants of the room were faces Relena could hardly recognize. Was that Gregory, her father?s half brother? She couldn?t recall his face. And that group of little girls? was she related to them? Or were they the children of some diplomatic relation? Then it had occurred to her, these people may have meant something to her mother, but her mother wasn?t really her mother, was she? Not biologically anyway. Relena mentally slapped herself for thinking those thoughts. How could she think that? Of course she was her mother. She was her mother in all the ways that had mattered.
Relena took her seat at the table, and Quatre took his beside her. Not long after a young man with cropped tan hair assumed his seat by Quatre. Trowa leaned over and whispered to Quatre. Quatre nodded and went back to sipping his tea. Everyone else in the room had started to sit at the table by now. Some starting new conversations, all were waiting for the food to arrive.
This wasn?t your average funeral of course. Relena?s father had been the Vice Foreign Minister, the role Relena had accepted after his death. They had more than enough money to avoid the normal funerals with their trappings of casseroles and desserts that people made so the family didn?t have to cook. But everyone knew that Relena didn?t cook even if she wanted to, so they came bearing gifts of porcelain and wine. As if she needed more alcohol around the house.
Waiters began bringing in the first dish on large platters and placing them in front of the respective consumer. Some began pouring glasses of wine, or for the younger children who weren?t allowed to have wine, grape juice. Relena took a sip of her glass and winced. This was her mother?s favorite wine, and Relena had always hated it. Another thing to chalk up on the list of things she?d miss about her mother, her terrible taste in wine
A small tear slid down her cheek on to the plate the waiter had just recently set in front of her. It traveled onto her chicken breast with lime and avocado. She wanted to go to bed, but it was only twelve thirty in the after noon. Why couldn?t they all just go home and let her be alone. She took another gulp from her glass of wine and sat back, watching everyone else eat.
***
Relena was thoroughly drunk by the time the last guest had left for home. Quatre was speaking with the chef in the kitchen while Trowa wandered around the house. The halls had all been decorated with art that the decorator had seen fit to grace their walls. He was currently taken with a painting depicting a girl on a swing.
When Quatre reentered the living room, Relena was sitting on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine barely clinging to her fingertips. When he placed his hand on her shoulder to gain her attention, she looked up at him with blank eyes.
?Do you need something to eat? You barely touched dinner,? Quatre said. Relena barely responded, but gave him a negative grunt.
?Are you drunk?? Quatre asked incredulously.
?What do you think happens to us when we die?? Relena asked. She was obviously trying to avoid the question. She set down her glass, and then looked at Quatre waiting for his answer.
?What?? Quatre choked out.
?Do you think there is a God?? Relena continued.
?Why won?t you answer my question?? Quatre replied, he was starting to get a little worried, he could see where this was going, and he wasn?t sure if this was something they should be talking about right now. Seeing as Relena was completely plastered.
?Why won?t you answer mine?? Relena retorted. She was beginning to sound angry.
?Because I asked first!? Quatre exclaimed exasperated. He realized his retort seemed incredibly childish, but he didn?t care. It was then that Relena was over taken with a fit of giggles that wouldn?t seem to end. Quatre stared at her in disbelief. As Relena?s laughter got louder, Trowa came into the room. Relena fell to the floor in her fit. Her laugh was far too forceful, like she was faking it. As the two young men watched her in amazement, her laughter began to subside to a raucous bought of tears.
It was almost as if her entire life?s sadness had added up to this moment. Every betrayal, every loss, all of the world?s sadness she had ever felt, she cried for it now. All Trowa and Quatre felt they could do was watch. Quatre ran his hands through his light blonde hair, and winced.
As Relena?s tears dwindled to hiccups Trowa leaned down. She looked so pathetic lying there on the floor. He placed his hand on her cheek. He would have wiped away a tear, but they had become something more of a pool soaking her entire face. Her tears reddened her entire face, and her eyes were blood shot. Her breath came in ragged gasp like hiccups.
?I know you?ve been told this countless times, but everything will be alright,? Trowa whispered, barely enough for Relena herself to hear.
She looked up at him, her eyes so swollen with tears that her expression was unreadable. Then as if by some secret impulse, her head jerked forward and the sounds of her vomit spraying the floor and Trowa?s shoes was all that was heard. Trowa was thoughtful enough that he held her hair back for her as she puked, even though the warm liquid was starting to penetrate through his black socks.
Once she was finished spilling the contents of her stomach, Relena rested her forehead against Trowa?s shoulder.
?Sorry,? she croaked. The word had barely left her mouth.
?That?s no problem. Let?s get you cleaned up and put into bed,? Trowa assured her.
?Okay,? she whispered. She felt like a child as he picked her up off the floor. Quatre followed the two as Trowa carried her to the bathroom and they washed off the puke. They then placed her in bed leaving on her mourning clothes, since they didn?t think it was their place to undress her. Quatre followed Trowa out of the bedroom, turning of the light as he went. Before he completely closed the door, he heard a faint whisper from the bed.
?I wish Heero were here.?
Okay?don?t really write a whole lot of fan fiction, but I figured I?d take my shot. Don?t worry, this really isn?t going to end sad. I?m not that mean.
All Things Considered
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dragonlorelei
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