No One Knows Who I Am (2/?)
Posted: Sat Aug 14, 2004 4:37 pm
No One Knows Who I Am
To all my wonderful reviewers: Thank you so much for the outpouring of support. It means a lot to have people say they like my work. It?s also great that I don?t know most of you. My friends are nearly always kind. (Except for Dark Goddess Kali) To have complete strangers say they honestly like what I do makes me overjoyed.
This story is from Relena?s point of view for most chapters, but I reserve the right to switch perspectives.
Warnings: A little self-pity. : (
Rating: PG?
I?m going to have to get a dog. Or maybe a cat. Or both, both would be good. What better way to have someone happy to see me when I get home? I could really use some unconditional love right now, along with a massage, a hot bath and a brick of chocolate. He pities me. He wants to make me feel better, but I don?t think he realizes that that is not going to be an easy task.
Mr. Winner cornered me after the conference. I suppose I should have known he would, he probably had the whole thing well planned. I was halfway to the door of the conference room when he took hold of my hand and led me over to a private corner. I noticed a few raised eyebrows from the other delegates, and I knew I was going to hear about this later in the media.
?Miss Relena,? he began hesitantly, and I almost told him not to use my first name. Before I could work up the nerve he continued. ?I?m sorry.? That was it. That was all I was going to get.
What in the name of God was he sorry for? Was he sorry for me? I would rather have him despise me then pity me. ?Sorry for what?? I said, my perfect calm emanating from every fiber of my being. I come into my own in high pressure situations, and I had detached myself enough from what was happening to treat this like any other political crisis.
He stared at me in disbelief. My cool was unnerving him. On some level, that brought me satisfaction. This boy would crack long before he would see any weakness from me again. ?I?m sorry for the way things are? And I want to explain.? By then he was looking at me with pity again, and I hated him for it.
?Explain? I?m sorry Mr. Winner but I have a flight in a few hours and several pressing things to handle beforehand.? And with that I brushed past him. I could feel his eyes on my back and for a moment I thought he would pursue me. To my satisfaction he let me go.
Flights are usually when I catch up on my sleep, but this time I can?t seem to shut my mind off. What had possessed me to look on Heero?s birthday gift as a sign of affection? In fact, what made me sure that the bears were coming from Heero at all? Certainly the first one had, but what about the next ones? No, the bears are from Heero, I have simply misread their meaning. Heero probably treats giving me a gift like his yearly good deed. It?s like going to the soup kitchens at Christmas; it?s just one act of charity a year. Yes, I have become Heero?s community service. He must spend hours laboring over these bears. I can only imagine what runs through his mind as he sews them together. Does he resent that he has to make them? Is he trying to repay me, or make up his rejection to me? I have no way to know. What I do know is that I?m getting rid of those teddy bears. All of them, they need to be removed from my room. If I look at the shelf where they sit every day it will only serve to depress me further.
I saw the headlines and I almost laughed. Instead, I screamed. On the front page of nearly every newspaper were photos of Mr. Winner and myself having dinner. Most of the delegates at the conference have given interviews, some of them were honest, and some stretched the truth. The myth about politicians is that they lie. That is rarely correct. We simply know how to phrase the truth in just the manner we want to.
My brother wants to know what is happening. For once, I didn?t even have to lie. He dislikes that untrue things are being insinuated about me, but there is little he can do about it. Personally, I think the press was just so shocked to see me out to dinner with someone that they immediately assumed I had finally begun to date. It?s not all that unnatural an assumption, I suppose.
The most laughable article is the one that says I call him Quatre. Honestly, I?m not even on a first name basis with my bodyguard! I barely manage to call Noin by Noin, and that?s not even her real first name! The only man other then family that I?ve ever been comfortable enough to call by his first name is He-. Is someone who is no longer a part of my life.
Old memories die hard. I tried to destroy the bears, but all I have the strength to do right now is put them away in boxes. They are carefully stacked in my closet, right where I can get them out in my moments of weakness. I need a more permanent solution, but I can?t think of one.
Large crowds usually energize me, but this speech is dead and I know it. I?m muddling through at best, and everyone seems to be falling asleep. Hell, I?m falling asleep. There is a man coming up the left aisle, but I suppose he?s just another late arrival trying to find his group. I?m almost done anyway, so I suppose it doesn?t matter if he came in late. Someone will fill him in later. What?s he doing? Come one Relena, pay attention, someone spent a long time writing this for you.
The crack was what caught me by surprise. It didn?t even register in my mind that he had a gun; I didn?t have time to be frightened. One of my bodyguards went down in front of me. At first, I wasn?t sure what was happening, but then it clicked.
It?s funny, the things you think when you see yourself in a dire situation. As my bodyguard was plunging toward the Earth in front of me I had the most irrational thought of my life, and given my history that?s saying something. When he hit the dirt, the only thought in my head was, ?I wish that was me.?
Then I got my wish.
Being shot does not hurt at first if the world has slowed to a crawl. When things are very surreal, you tend not to notice pain or sorrow or anything of much significance. What you do notice are the odd things. It may pop into your head that you left the stove on, or you may have an oddly detached thought about the situation you are in. You don?t actually feel pain until someone snaps you back into reality. In my case, it was a screaming woman in row three.
Once I had snapped out of my haze I felt fire ripping through my body. My legs suddenly lack the strength to support me and I collapsed on top of my bodyguard. I was gasping for air. Someone pulled me off the guard and I then recalled that the man in front of me was a father of four with a sweet disposition. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. Above all, I wanted Heero.
The people around me were frightened; they were looking for someone, anyone to reassure them. I gave those gathered around me a tight smile. I tried to murmur something about being alright, but all that came out was an awful croak. I couldn?t breathe, if I had been thinking logically I would have known that meant I also couldn?t speak. I looked down at myself and instantly wished I hadn?t. I was bleeding. Someone was speaking, saying rapid things about three people down, two dead already. The world was growing dark; I felt like I was swimming in a storm swept sea. I couldn?t get air, I couldn?t see.
Waking up in a new room is no new experience for me. At first I assumed I was in another hotel room, and I tried to get up. Pain instantly ripped through me and reminded me immediately of where I was and why I was there. That poor man was dead. Three, they had said three people were shot. I needed to ask someone, but I was alone. I turned my head experimentally, and then I began to move my shoulders. I couldn?t sit up, but I could move my head enough to see the door of my hospital room. I was in a standard surveillance room; I had a bedside table and a chair, white walls, and a ton of machinery. There was a breathing apparatus on my face and briefly I wondered if I needed it to survive. Then I remembered what I had been thinking when I was shot. I felt shame sweep through me. What right did I have to pity myself that much? Of course I didn?t want to die. It was foolish to think otherwise.
Author?s Note:
I?m sorry this is so short! I wanted to have a longer chapter but I won?t be able to post more for awhile so I wanted to get this up. I promise I will do more as soon as I have time!!!!
To all my wonderful reviewers: Thank you so much for the outpouring of support. It means a lot to have people say they like my work. It?s also great that I don?t know most of you. My friends are nearly always kind. (Except for Dark Goddess Kali) To have complete strangers say they honestly like what I do makes me overjoyed.
This story is from Relena?s point of view for most chapters, but I reserve the right to switch perspectives.
Warnings: A little self-pity. : (
Rating: PG?
I?m going to have to get a dog. Or maybe a cat. Or both, both would be good. What better way to have someone happy to see me when I get home? I could really use some unconditional love right now, along with a massage, a hot bath and a brick of chocolate. He pities me. He wants to make me feel better, but I don?t think he realizes that that is not going to be an easy task.
Mr. Winner cornered me after the conference. I suppose I should have known he would, he probably had the whole thing well planned. I was halfway to the door of the conference room when he took hold of my hand and led me over to a private corner. I noticed a few raised eyebrows from the other delegates, and I knew I was going to hear about this later in the media.
?Miss Relena,? he began hesitantly, and I almost told him not to use my first name. Before I could work up the nerve he continued. ?I?m sorry.? That was it. That was all I was going to get.
What in the name of God was he sorry for? Was he sorry for me? I would rather have him despise me then pity me. ?Sorry for what?? I said, my perfect calm emanating from every fiber of my being. I come into my own in high pressure situations, and I had detached myself enough from what was happening to treat this like any other political crisis.
He stared at me in disbelief. My cool was unnerving him. On some level, that brought me satisfaction. This boy would crack long before he would see any weakness from me again. ?I?m sorry for the way things are? And I want to explain.? By then he was looking at me with pity again, and I hated him for it.
?Explain? I?m sorry Mr. Winner but I have a flight in a few hours and several pressing things to handle beforehand.? And with that I brushed past him. I could feel his eyes on my back and for a moment I thought he would pursue me. To my satisfaction he let me go.
Flights are usually when I catch up on my sleep, but this time I can?t seem to shut my mind off. What had possessed me to look on Heero?s birthday gift as a sign of affection? In fact, what made me sure that the bears were coming from Heero at all? Certainly the first one had, but what about the next ones? No, the bears are from Heero, I have simply misread their meaning. Heero probably treats giving me a gift like his yearly good deed. It?s like going to the soup kitchens at Christmas; it?s just one act of charity a year. Yes, I have become Heero?s community service. He must spend hours laboring over these bears. I can only imagine what runs through his mind as he sews them together. Does he resent that he has to make them? Is he trying to repay me, or make up his rejection to me? I have no way to know. What I do know is that I?m getting rid of those teddy bears. All of them, they need to be removed from my room. If I look at the shelf where they sit every day it will only serve to depress me further.
I saw the headlines and I almost laughed. Instead, I screamed. On the front page of nearly every newspaper were photos of Mr. Winner and myself having dinner. Most of the delegates at the conference have given interviews, some of them were honest, and some stretched the truth. The myth about politicians is that they lie. That is rarely correct. We simply know how to phrase the truth in just the manner we want to.
My brother wants to know what is happening. For once, I didn?t even have to lie. He dislikes that untrue things are being insinuated about me, but there is little he can do about it. Personally, I think the press was just so shocked to see me out to dinner with someone that they immediately assumed I had finally begun to date. It?s not all that unnatural an assumption, I suppose.
The most laughable article is the one that says I call him Quatre. Honestly, I?m not even on a first name basis with my bodyguard! I barely manage to call Noin by Noin, and that?s not even her real first name! The only man other then family that I?ve ever been comfortable enough to call by his first name is He-. Is someone who is no longer a part of my life.
Old memories die hard. I tried to destroy the bears, but all I have the strength to do right now is put them away in boxes. They are carefully stacked in my closet, right where I can get them out in my moments of weakness. I need a more permanent solution, but I can?t think of one.
Large crowds usually energize me, but this speech is dead and I know it. I?m muddling through at best, and everyone seems to be falling asleep. Hell, I?m falling asleep. There is a man coming up the left aisle, but I suppose he?s just another late arrival trying to find his group. I?m almost done anyway, so I suppose it doesn?t matter if he came in late. Someone will fill him in later. What?s he doing? Come one Relena, pay attention, someone spent a long time writing this for you.
The crack was what caught me by surprise. It didn?t even register in my mind that he had a gun; I didn?t have time to be frightened. One of my bodyguards went down in front of me. At first, I wasn?t sure what was happening, but then it clicked.
It?s funny, the things you think when you see yourself in a dire situation. As my bodyguard was plunging toward the Earth in front of me I had the most irrational thought of my life, and given my history that?s saying something. When he hit the dirt, the only thought in my head was, ?I wish that was me.?
Then I got my wish.
Being shot does not hurt at first if the world has slowed to a crawl. When things are very surreal, you tend not to notice pain or sorrow or anything of much significance. What you do notice are the odd things. It may pop into your head that you left the stove on, or you may have an oddly detached thought about the situation you are in. You don?t actually feel pain until someone snaps you back into reality. In my case, it was a screaming woman in row three.
Once I had snapped out of my haze I felt fire ripping through my body. My legs suddenly lack the strength to support me and I collapsed on top of my bodyguard. I was gasping for air. Someone pulled me off the guard and I then recalled that the man in front of me was a father of four with a sweet disposition. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. Above all, I wanted Heero.
The people around me were frightened; they were looking for someone, anyone to reassure them. I gave those gathered around me a tight smile. I tried to murmur something about being alright, but all that came out was an awful croak. I couldn?t breathe, if I had been thinking logically I would have known that meant I also couldn?t speak. I looked down at myself and instantly wished I hadn?t. I was bleeding. Someone was speaking, saying rapid things about three people down, two dead already. The world was growing dark; I felt like I was swimming in a storm swept sea. I couldn?t get air, I couldn?t see.
Waking up in a new room is no new experience for me. At first I assumed I was in another hotel room, and I tried to get up. Pain instantly ripped through me and reminded me immediately of where I was and why I was there. That poor man was dead. Three, they had said three people were shot. I needed to ask someone, but I was alone. I turned my head experimentally, and then I began to move my shoulders. I couldn?t sit up, but I could move my head enough to see the door of my hospital room. I was in a standard surveillance room; I had a bedside table and a chair, white walls, and a ton of machinery. There was a breathing apparatus on my face and briefly I wondered if I needed it to survive. Then I remembered what I had been thinking when I was shot. I felt shame sweep through me. What right did I have to pity myself that much? Of course I didn?t want to die. It was foolish to think otherwise.
Author?s Note:
I?m sorry this is so short! I wanted to have a longer chapter but I won?t be able to post more for awhile so I wanted to get this up. I promise I will do more as soon as I have time!!!!
..Anyways, this is something I really want to read more and more...Just keep writing!!! 
