Killing the Dream

[Psyche]

This was originally intended as a companion piece to <i>Daughter</i>, a Mrs Darlian POV which can be found in my archive at GWA. Once I began writing, it grew into something more, and is now just about unrelated to any of my previous fics. You do not have to have read any of my other stories to understand this one.

Title: Killing the Dream
Part: One of one
Author: Psyche (L2Psyche00@aol.com)
Archive: http://www.gwaddiction.com/
Disclaimer: No part of Gundam Wing belongs to me. Not even the gorgeous Relena. *sigh*
Rating: Um... 15? (for lime)
Warnings: mild to moderate angst, lime
Pairings: 1xR, reference to past OCxR
Notes: Relena in a pensive mood.

Many, many thanks go to Akai and Draco, both of whom did a wonderful job beta reading for me. This story would not be what it is without them.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Shi Miao

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<b>Killing the Dream</b>

I am very young, to be one of the highest ranking ministers in the ESUN government. I am competent; I can do my job and do it well, but that does not change the fact of my youth. This life makes part of me old, in a way that my young side cannot stand. And I think I will always be feeling this way, both young and old, human and not, dreaming and awake for the rest of my life. I know I will always think of myself as young.

When I was fourteen, my closest friend, which isn't saying much since I doubt she knew more than my name, told me she had decided exactly what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to be a fire fighter, and put out the flames, and save people's lives. I think she actually did get that in the end. I have a file full of people I've known, so that if I have to meet them again I will know what to say. Her life is written down in there somewhere. Just a few details about the boyfriend she dumped and how hard she worked to get the job she loves so much. I look through that file sometimes, at all the people that can be summarised in a sentence or two. It seems very simple and clear; much more real than the blurred lines and ideals that I deal with every day. People have direction, on paper.

I've never known where I want to go, what I want to do with my life. Not even now that I'm doing whatever it is. I live almost moment-to-moment in my choices, never forming an overall plan, but just going with whatever looks good to me.

Young, you see?

And yet, in other ways I am not. I have always to find the middle ground in a decision. I'm a mediator, and I search for the middle so that I can help people push past their differences. Whatever my own dreams, I have to learn not to care. Just stay in the middle and things will be okay.

I was doing this even before I realised it. Had I known, I would never have let myself become so deeply involved. The same goes for all of us, even my childhood friend, the fire fighter. She didn't know that actually putting out fires would rarely be a part of her chosen career. I never even thought. I just let events scoop me up and place me wherever the world thought best. And I can't go wrong; I have power over too many lives for that to be an option, and now that I've started it's impossible to stop. It would be like giving up on the world. So I have to continue, here, in between the space and the Earth, trying to work out what I'm standing on.

I doubt it's anything solid.

Heero tells me that's what makes me strong; that I can stand where anyone else would fall through the sky. He must think I am lighter than angels are. That makes sense: I must be light to someone so strong and heavy with life. He lifts me up easily to place me on the bed. Kisses my breasts as if they were ice cream that he loves to taste, and only worries that he will devour too quickly. And when I touch him I can make him shiver.

When we first met, I wanted more than anything else to protect him. He was so lost, yet also so strong and confident. Fifteen, just like me, with the whole world against him, and he still managed to fight without fear. I decided that I could be strong as well, but I needed him to continue or my whole dream would be lost. If Heero couldn't survive, I had no chance. So I did everything I could to make sure my dream stayed safe.

And now that I love him, he's not my dream any more, and I'm no longer his, so we have to focus on the real dreams in the world; the ones that fall apart.

My first real dream was of myself. I dreamt that I knew how to approach every situation life presented me with. My father didn't have much time for me, but that was bearable; I was mature enough to appreciate that this didn't mean he loved me less. My mother was affectionate to me, but never seemed really to understand. I could cope with that; that's the way mothers are a lot of the time. My schoolmates always wanted to make me their dream, but at least I could make them happy.

I think I must be the most maternal radical in politics. All I ever want to do is care for people, look after them.

That first dream fell apart when I couldn't stop a war and another war could. Which seemed wrong, and for a long time I blamed myself. Sometimes I still do; a part of me still believes that I should not have allowed it to happen, and that the correct answer could have made everything right. We are all gods and goddesses in our own minds. Heero in particular still blames himself every time the neighbours' child bangs his knee, and sends Paul a harsh look, perhaps hoping that the young offender will be frightened away from doing himself further damage. I laugh when Heero glowers like that, although in my soul I feel the same way. Then I kiss him, because I love that he cares so much.

When my first dream shattered, I built up a second. I dreamt of the people and the strong desire for peace they held in their hearts. But beautiful hearts did not seem to stop those same people being petty, arguing over every penny in the bank and square centimetre in space. Maybe they thought of peace in the night, just as I, but in waking hours they had much more important things on their minds. There are always others to dream for the world. I dream.

There was a documentary about me on the television last night. The Young Princess Who Changed The World. They had people who talked about my charisma, and the pure popular image of me that so many felt they could follow. And they talked about Heero, and how as the warrior with a tragic past he's so very different from me. They said that we make a fairytale couple, just like a dream and just as completely unattainable.

What Heero and I have is good, I agree. But in our own ways we're both as soiled as everything else in the world. Perhaps I am less so than he, though; we all have a tendency to romanticise our own pain. Heero has killed people in person, and I have merely signed documents and passed motions I know will shorten their lives. I find myself doing so more and more, as time goes on. But self-pity is addictive, and I am told the best way to stay pure is to abstain.

Heero didn't want to watch that programme, so he went off to research the backgrounds of people attending my next big meeting. I can't say I blame him. But the Publicity girl likes me to know what 'the common man' says, so I had to watch.

She also wants Heero to develop warmer eyes. When we're out of our house, his eyes always suggest, it would be wise to stay at arms' length. Mine do too, but apparently that's okay because I'm a pretty young woman. When he heard about this, Heero said we're being asked to prostitute ourselves to the papers for a couple more votes. But faking a smile is much different from hanging around in thigh boots, a belt and a bra, and I told him so, with a laugh. He responded he'd rather do that.

It's odd, being so similar to someone so different from you. Or maybe it's completely natural, that the person facing you should be your reflection. Everything down to the eyes, but twisted the other way around.

I'd like to believe our love is special, but I'm not sure that I can. It's the most important part to my life, but that doesn't make it above the same strains that cause so many beauteous things to falter and fade. Those were the kinds of things I built my new dream upon, when I had to replace the second: pretty trinkets, precious moments, the small things in life that I'm told make it worth going on. But closer inspection showed that they too were filled with dirt and decay, and another dream fell from the sky.

I have had special moments, though. Like the first time someone told me about my eyes. I remember that very clearly. Far too well for the memory to be accurate.

~

It was the first time I was told I was pretty, the prelude to my first sexual experience. And I don't mean he gave me another random compliment like the ones tossed around at formal gatherings. He told me how he felt, under no obligation at all.

He wasn't like the others, didn't gasp or sigh or adore. But he wasn't dangerous like Heero. He was just someone who spoke his mind. I admired that.

We never spoke much; he tried to avoid the large groups that always crowded around me. One day, we just happened to find ourselves alone together. We fell to talking, and after a while he started looking at me intently. When I noticed, he was slightly flustered.

"I... you're pretty, you know that, Relena?"

"Pretty? But I'm not; I'm just ordinary." I frowned. People didn't say things like that to my face. Not in that way he did.

"Yes, you're pretty, but it may not bring you much." He sighed. "Your eyes, you know... you're unattainable--you give off that air of someone special, you know--and your eyes say, 'keep your distance,' even if your mouth does say, 'let's be closer.' I think that's the sorrow of it, you know?"

He raised a hand tentatively, and I tried to smile for him. His fingers touched my cheek as the wind made it glow, and I led him inside for the warmth.

We didn't speak of it after, and he was gone within a month. I'm glad he was there that one time, though. Whatever it was that happened between us, I'm glad that I have this one moment in my mind that's unstained.

~

I can't have that with Heero because he's always right here before my eyes. Being able to touch him means I can feel all the flaws in his skin, and the places where old wounds didn't quite heal. And it makes me feel warmer than anything else I know, to be sure that he's solid and vital, and will hold me in return when I take him in my arms. I protect him and he protects me right back. As I said, we are the same.

Heero wanted to be my bodyguard once. After Dekim Barton's failed attempt at carrying out the original Operation Meteor, he decided that constant protection was what I needed from him.

I said, no.

I knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Apart from the fact that I didn't want to have him working for me, I didn't think he would gain much from taking on a job so intimately connected with violence and death.

He asked what I _would_ have him do, angry at being turned down, and angry I'd tried to protect him. I told him to do as he pleased, voice tired. So near to tired of him that for Heero it made no difference.

He couldn't answer, didn't know what he wanted, so he glared instead.

A few days later, he 'phoned, and we had a long talk. Not about anything big, but it made me feel sad all the same. By the end I was crying, but I told him I wasn't. He believed the lie just as he believed everything else I said. He's never expected deception from me. Even now, he doesn't, but now it's a joke, just like my squeamishness around babies and my lack of strength compared to him. Those jokes hurt a bit for us both, but we smile more often than not. Ambivalence is something we've learnt to accept as we've grown. We're learning together, and that makes it hard, but it's better than one of us being always in front or behind. Better than my being saved all the time.

So instead, Heero got a history degree, and settled down as an academic. He found it hard to deal with at first, that I earn much more money than he, so he started doing security checks for me as well. Now we're even, apart from that meal I once cooked that he says tasted better than anything he's ever made.

I enjoy cooking, although I know that I'm not very good. I just do the best I can, and try to believe that my time is well spent. I'm making something, at least.

That's my new dream: that I should do what I can. It's all I know how to do any more, the only choice available to me. So I choose it.

I dream I may achieve something small, and be able to help keep the peace, in spite of the fact that I'll lose my position quite soon. It's out of the fashion to have ideals, you see. The Colonies are challenging Earth over trade; they say that the taxes on imported milk and eggs are far too high. I'm stuck in between. That's my job.

It seems another war is likely, fought by the privileged few again, and instead of with weapons and lives, with money and goods many need to survive. And although people still think highly of me, they want me as their Princess, not the person safeguarding their funds. I'm in the middle, but the people on either side don't want to be pleased, and I come under more criticism every day. I will never be fired, my name grants me that, but I'll soon be encouraged to 'take a little break.'

There's another woman, dynamic, charismatic, just waiting to step into my shoes. I like her; she has the energy to do good things, and she likes me, and says she feels guilty about stealing my job. But we can't change the way things are. We've all sacrificed little niceties to be able to get this far in our chosen field. I've known for a while that it may not be worth it, but that hasn't stopped me continuing as before. I'm in this position, so I'll carry on doing what I can until I can't.

I saw her on the television today. Representative Dulcinea Campbell.

She was saying, "The trick is not to bring peace. The trick is to change the nature of the combat."

And the people were cheering.

That's not what I believe, but it could work. At present, I don't have the energy to say that my own views are right. Perhaps I'll let myself slip out of power for a while, and see where things lead.

I think I will always feel guilty, though, when the world doesn't fit the idea in my head, and I know that feeling will always draw me back in. I don't think I could stand to see my dream truly fail, unless I were to die along with it. I think I might feel I had killed it.

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Agape

Psyche

[Angelzhaloc9]

That was great. That's all I could say right now. That was great. I'm speechless

[Psyche]

*blushes* I'm very glad you liked it.

Agape

Psyche

[blackrose]

I know I already told you how much I like this, Psyche, but I wanted to say it again.

I agree with you about Heero and Relena actually BEING equals. I think they were a lot alike, but then different. Their strengths seemed to complement one another - each one just as strong, but in different ways. I think you added an element of real life to their story, which is too often portrayed as some fairy tale. Not that the fairy tale is bad by any means, it's what drives the desire to see them work together as a couple. But the realism lends it a credibility and maturity that we don't often see.



Love,
Rose