A Fool to Hold You (AU. R) Parts 1-4

[blackrose]

<b>Title:</b> A Fool to Hold You
<b>Author:</b> the Black Rose
<b>Pairing:</b> Heero/Relena
<b>Fandom:</b> Gundam Wing
<b>Theme:</b> #26, If Only I Could Make You Mine
<b>Disclaimer:</b> I do not own Gundam Wing. This fanfiction has no commercial value and I am not making any kind of profit or income off of this story, or the use of characters owned by Sunrise and Bandai.

Set in the 1940's. Don't ask me what my fascination is with fedoras and hardboiled detective/film noir. It was never my favorite genre. I always prefered the English "locked room" mysteries of Miss Marple or Poirot. I'm still not a big fan of Hammett (I want a REAL PLOT, darn it), but this is the story idea that bit me over the weekend. So, here it begins....


<b> A Fool to Hold You</b>
by the Black Rose



She was a bad habit. The kind that if you don't shake, becomes an addiction.

I'm familiar with the difference. It was a 'moment of clarity' I finally had when it came to drinking. One day, I woke up and it was no longer something I did just for the sake of doing something. There was this thirst that burned through my veins, accompanied by a little voice repeating in my head: "I need a drink."

It was all I could think of, and it consumed me. Until I couldn't figure out which way was up or how I could have ever lived without it.

All I wanted was a drink. Air didn't matter, food wasn't necessary. Addiction is a dangerous game ? where your will disappears, and everything you ever were becomes entangled with whatever it is you're addicted to. It becomes more than a need, it's a must. It becomes a part of who you are.

Or who you were?.

I finally gathered my wits, sucked it up and quit the vile liquid completely. For a while. Until drinking went back to being one of my bad habits. As long as it wasn't an addiction ? something I needed. Something I couldn't quit. Something I couldn't be without.

Something I would die to hold on to.

And I could still quit her if I wanted. Of course, she wouldn't even know I'd picked her up or quit ? as far as habits are concerned, that is.

***********************************

The ballroom, that evening, was crowded with people and money ? but very little class. It's what one would expect on a fancy cruise ship like this one: wooden floors, crystal glasses, champagne flowing like tonic water. She wore a gold-colored gown the same color as her hair ? which was pulled up into a mess of curls on top of her head.

Chandeliers dripped shifting light into the room. It lit her eyes and gently caressed her face. She looked thinner than the last time we had met, her high cheekbones seemed more pronounced. She wore small teardrop-shaped diamonds in both ears, and a matching pendant. The kind of glass that a guy like me would only see in my pocket if I was on my way to a pawn shop ? to fence something stolen. Her gold dress was too fancy to look good on the floor of my 'standard' cabin.

She was smiling, or rather, she wore her mouth curved up on both ends. It was her default expression, her way of appearing pleasant to those around her. But, it wasn't really a smile ? her eyes said that much. But then again, her eyes gave away almost everything about her.

Her final accessories were the suited guards ? or monkeys, I couldn't tell ? standing on either side. No doubt provided by her "thoughtful" if rather slimy fianc?, and told to follow her at all times. Which would get annoying, fast. Especially in close quarters like this over a ten day cruise.

I wondered if she'd actually be able to hit the one salivating on her right shoulder like a dog.

I stood in a darkened corner, a place I'd been occupying more and more of the last few weeks on land, and watched her?.

<i>She glanced up at me, those eyes still dancing, even though she and I had stopped swaying several minutes before. "Why did you come here, Detective?"</i>

We should never have met. At least, I don't think so. But if there's one truth to the universe, it's that lady destiny has a funny sense of humor.

One I don't always like.

It happened five months ago. I was sober, had pulled myself up outta the gutter I was in, and decided to get dressed for a change ? and do something other than drink.

I had nowhere in particular to go, nothing in mind except revenge?.

<i> "Where's your invitation?" A guy with a thick neck and no hair ? but wearing a suit ? growled at me.

"Don't need one."

"You don't get in this party without an invitation, pal." Another one of the party host's goons poked a finger in my chest.

As luck would have it, she chose that moment to walk by. Looking like an easy target with her baby face and doe eyes. She glanced my way.

"I'm with her."

Thick neck grinned; malice dripped from his teeth. "Is that right?"

She stared at me for a moment. Dark lashes framed water-color blue eyes ? the kind that were darker in some places, and faded in others. The lady had a round face that elongated into an oval only at her chin. Her lips were glossed to a girlish pink, and they seemed like a stopping point for her face. Her chin simply ended and formed a thin, delicate line.

The thought occurred to me that she couldn't possibly belong here?</i>

A waiter passed by, and I relieved him of a glass of club soda and a wedge of lime. Drinking's still a bad habit, after all?.

She moved to the bar and ordered a glass of bubbly. Those guards of hers stuck to her closer than a man's shadow at high noon. The one on her left, I could tell, was alert behind the hat he wore pulled low over his forehead. His tall, lean frame gave him a more refined look than the thugs that usually hung around protecting their precious doll. For one, his neck was separate from his shoulders.

The one on her right stood so close, he actually stepped on her foot at least once. Her lips thinned and her eyes grew wide. The clutz didn't even bother to apologize ? from what I could tell.

I took another sip of my drink. The string quartet chose to play a soft, slow melody for various couples congregating near the center of the wood floor and looking somewhat amorous?.

I'm not much of a romantic, and I sure the hell ain't sentimental. But, even if we shouldn't have met, we did. And ever since that night, there's been somethin' about her?

Somethin' I just can't shake ? no matter how hard I try.

And believe me, I've tried.

**************************************

<i> "Is that right?" The 'guard' drawled.

She stared at me for a moment, probably sizing me up. Her thin eyebrows dipped to form a small frown, and sent tiny shockwaves through the skin in her forehead.

"Yes." She spoke for the first time; her features smoothed, the frown disappeared. Replaced by the slight smile she wore before.

"I've?been expecting you." Her eyes glittered in the overhead light ? like she was amused by whatever mischief I might be up to. </i>


I shook the image from my brain and found her again in the present tense.

She stood on the outskirts of the crowd of people, facing the side of the room that held windows looking out over the ocean. Her long neck craned in the direction of the glass; her expression was wistful ? like she'd give anything to be outside rather than in this joint.

A bird like her doesn't belong in a cage?

She finally moved. Satin-gloved hands came to rest on the frame of the window, her eyes stared down in what appeared to be the direction of her fingers more than out at the mottled glow left behind by the sunset.

Laughter, loud and obnoxious erupted from the center of the room. I took my eyes off her to scan the ballroom. Some guy in a white tuxedo with black, greasy hair had got himself stunk on whiskey, and was trying to play grabass with some of these wealthy, supposedly high-class dames. Big mistake. A couple of staffers hustled over, grabbed him under both arms and began dragging the poor schmuck outside.

I shook my head and glanced back towards her corner of the expansive room.

She looked like she was arguing with one of her guards ? the left-handed one that stood to her right. I didn't like the look on his face when he spoke to her, and though I was standing too far away to hear, I could read the words on his lips.

"You're not to leave our sight."

"I'm not a prisoner." Was the lady's retort. "And if you try to keep me as one, not only will Treize hear about this, but so will?" She turned where I couldn't see the rest of what she had to say.

The man's lip curled up, and so did his fist. I pushed away from the wall and took a step, preparing to sprint across the room and lay the guy out.

The tall, thin guard stopped Lefty's punch.

"Leave." Was all he said. With the hat pulled low over his face, I almost doubted the feeling of recognition that came with my stomach turning over. But when he shoved Lefty back thirty feet without breaking a sweat, I caught a flash of Thin's face. Sure enough?We'd met before. Three months before, to be exact.

And he wasn't one of Krushrenada's boys.

<i>
I climbed out of bed wearing nothing but my underwear and t-shirt, and grabbed my gun on the way to the door. My bare feet slapped against the cold floor. I stopped, rose on tiptoe, and got the sense that?

Someone was here.

I crept to the end of the hallway, removed the safety on my .38 special and cocked the hammer. I raised it, then nosed out of the corridor.

Sure enough, he sat on my couch with a fedora in his lap. His head tilted back against the cushions, and his eyes appeared to be closed.

I took another step. One of his eyes opened, but he didn't appear to be concerned he was staring down the end of my revolver.

"The lady sends a message." His voice sounded quiet but raspy. And he was letting me move about far too much - more than he should have.

I snapped on the light. He didn't so much as blink. "I don't have time for games. Get out."

"She took a big risk sending me here. Imagine what he would do to her if he knew."</i>


Lefty scowled and took off.

"Thank you, Trowa," she said and gave him a smile. The guard replied simply with a nod, and stepped a few feet away ? giving her a little distance, and some very little freedom.

It spoke volumes of the position she was in. Had always been in. She just didn't realize it until I stepped into her life and showed her that everything she thought she had was built on a lie?.

**********************************

<i>The soft music did wonders for my nerves, which went on edge not long after I set foot inside the building.

Holding her hadn't helped, and neither had confronting her. We moved out into the hall ? a dark one located at the back of the hotel ? to continue our ever-so-polite conversation.

"I don't believe you." She twisted out of the grip I still had on her waist and stumbled back a step or two. Light trickled in from a window several yards behind my position in the hall. It illuminated the part of her face that was nearest my right shoulder. The rest of her was shadowed.

"What do I gain by lying?"

"I don't know." Her small hands pushed against my chest like she actually thought she had enough muscle to move me. "I don't know!" She bent her arms and buried her face in my shirt ? the same one she clutched in both hands. "But, you can't be telling the truth."

I grabbed her upper arms and yanked her up. She was like a rag doll, shaking in my grip. "Look at the facts, Relena."

She kept her eyes and her head down. I shook her again.

"Look at me.

Her head snapped up, and she fixed me with those eyes of hers. Tears were threatening, but they hadn't fallen. Her face was contorted like I had sucker-punched her. Or stabbed a knife in her stomach.

"You know it's the truth. You just don't want to see it."

She tore away from me and turned around. "No!" She shook her head. "I can't face it."

"You can." I pulled her back towards me, spun her around, and caged her with my arms. She struggled at first, then fell still. "And you will. You'll survive this, Relena." I spoke in a low tone next to her ear.

She didn't say a word. She just stood there, arms limp at her sides. But, she wasn't fighting me like before. So, I continued.

"Things won't be the same." I released her and stepped back. A strand of her hair had fallen out of place. I pushed it aside. "But you will be better off. Knowing the truth."

"You." She said to the floor. Her hands had formed loose fists and they shook at her sides. She looked like a little girl whose favorite toy had just been broken. And perhaps that's what I had done ? or something close to it. I'd taken her imaginary world - no, worse than that. I had single-handedly crumbled her faith, her belief in the person who was most dear to her.

"I want to believe?that you're a hateful man who's only here to make my life miserable."

Fair enough. At least she was honest. I'd take honesty any day over the polite bullshit so many of these high dollar losers liked to spew. "Is that what you really want?"

"No." She shook her head and raised her eyes to meet mine. But only for a second before she looked away. "I know that?I know that?when I look in your eyes?." She brought one hand up to her face and sagged back against the wall. "You really believe what you're telling me. And you're trying to be kind to me."

I think my lower jaw hit the floor. Did she really think this was being kind? "I have my own selfish reasons, Relena."

Her hand fell back to her side and she nodded. Silence stretched out its arms and legs and then sat down in the space between us. I didn't know what else to say. She looked like she couldn't settle on just one thing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It occurred to me, then, that she probably hadn't let too many people witness her losing her composure.

I'm not sure why I cared.

"I have to see." Her voice sounded quiet, almost shy. I glanced up from where I'd been staring at the floor and found her looking back at me.

"For myself." She moved towards me. "I have to know?"

"I'll tell you where to look, but you can't do anything stupid that'll get yourself killed. You're no use to me dead."

She smiled then. It crinkled up her nose, and drew back the muscles in her cheeks. I could see her as a teenager ? bold, mischievous. With eyes blazing, and a strong will. But the kindest smile?

I wondered, then, how she had gotten to be this doll. The caged, pampered woman in her early twenties who stood before me, now, was a sad reflection of the image of that girl. So, why did it come to mind? Why did I picture it at all?

"You have the strangest sense of humor, Detective. I suppose I'm of no use to anyone dead."

I didn't answer.

She turned away from me, her smile already gone. "And that's why I'm of no use to anyone right now. Isn't it, Detective? Because in some regards? I'm already dead."</i>


I didn't answer her, then. She didn't stay to hear me, anyway. But, I knew what she meant when she said it. It was the same way I felt every morning when I was a drunk.

Not useful to anyone.

A part of you - of me, of her ? already dead and drifting through the world just waiting for the rest to catch up.

[Morrighan]

Ooh...! And you're posting this one too!! I loved this one bunches too!

[blackrose]

Thank you! I really enjoyed writing it. Sadly, I don't think it's everyone's cup of tea even though I generally consider works like Murder by Moonlight and this one to be some of my better pieces. Ah well. What do I know?

*hugs*

[perfectpeach]

Oh this is so mysterious. i love a good detective fic. I wonder if trowa's gonna end up being a rival in this fic as well? i just love the whole boys fighting over her thing. it remons me of bridget jones's diary. Anyways, this is so cool. so yay for rose ^_______________________^

[Tobo Castit]

This was a fascinating read. I love the layers and the change between past and present... It's wonderful, but then everything I've ever read by you has been wonderful so what else could I expect?

[blackrose]

Oh this is so mysterious. i love a good detective fic. I wonder if trowa's gonna end up being a rival in this fic as well? i just love the whole boys fighting over her thing. it remons me of bridget jones's diary. Anyways, this is so cool. so yay for rose ^_______________________^

The 3+R quotient is very mild in this. It'll be much more evident in Murder by Moonlight - my other 'hardboiled' detective fic (it'll be a much longer one...).

I DO love Bridget Jones, though. ^___^ *drools over Collin Firth*

[blackrose]

This was a fascinating read. I love the layers and the change between past and present... It's wonderful, but then everything I've ever read by you has been wonderful so what else could I expect?

I'm always a little unsure about some of the ways I tell stories. I use flashbacks a TON. But, I really do think people's memories work that way. We remember things so and so said this one time, or think about conversations or events. I worry that I use them too much, but I've ALWAYS done things this way, for better or for worse, I suppose.

I'm glad you like it, though, and that it's not too difficult to follow. As for the 'everything' you've ever read... Thank you!

*HUGS*

Love,
Rose

[Eden]

I always have had a soft spot for AU, and the kind usually depends on how its written. Can't say I've ever read anything quite like this, and I must admit, I'm increadibly interested now that I've started reading. Detective stories for me usually consist of a good Nancy Drew, but I think I could settle quite easily for a Heero replacement ^^ *pictures Heero in a dusty, slightly wrinkled treanch coat and hat* hehe. I think what really has me hooked at this point tho is to find out more about Heero's 'Addiction' to Relena. I'm sorry, I just love build up, antisipation is incredibly exciting ^^

Here's to you Rose! May you always have inspiration! ^_~

~Eden

[Kaili Charmer]

I like it, Rose!!!

[lilac310]

It took me a while to get around to read this..darn that history research project!...anyway, this is very interesting and amazing, as always....you really do have a way with stories that make us want to know more...keep writing!