New World Symphony: Chapter I

[The Young Alcoholic]

Disclaimer: I don?t own Gundam Wing, nor do I hold any rights with the title and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, or any other well known established orchestras mentioned. I just love to watch and hear them all.

AN: I have found myself extremely attracted to this idea of a new story of mine and have become extremely picky to make it my best. But I also realize that the concepts and fashions of classical music and symphonies is probably not quite well known with most people. So, I will add a music dictionary list at the end of the chapters if needed. I?m a fan of all music, especially classical. I don?t expect all readers to appreciate classical music, but I do strongly suggest that you listen to recordings of the pieces that will be mentioned in the story (especially the New World Symphony by Anton?n Dvoř?k because it truly is one of the greatest symphonies ever produced). I promise you that it will benefit you a great deal. Not only will you be able to understand the story better, but it?s also great knowledge to add to your classical music library. And chances are at least one of the pieces mentioned you?ve probably heard before. Also, if you ever get a chance to hear the Chicago Symphony play I highly recommend that you see them. Enjoy!

New World Symphony
Chapter I
Rated: PG-13


He would always remember the first time he laid eyes on Relena Peacecraft. How her formal black gown wrapped around her every curve as she stood elegantly beside the bar. Her honey-blonde hair flowed smoothly down her bare back and the diamonds around her slender neck glistened. The light shined down upon her breasts; a fair touch of gold and they almost seemed to glow. She exposed her left leg out in the open through the high slit of her dress. She had a nice leg and he wondered how long and lean her other one must be. He watched as she casually opened her small handbag with delicate hands draped in black arm-length gloves, and tipped the bartender after he settled her club soda down in front of her. His memory of her embedded itself within the compounds of his mind like the heartache of a first love.

And it would never leave.

She took a sip of her drink and he watched as the liquid slid through her glossy red lips. By the way she drank, he identified her to be the type who cautiously made sure that appearance was upheld no matter where she was. He caught a sense of wealth involved with her petite frame.

She placed the half-empty drink down on the counter and thanked the bartender. Before reaching for her handbag, she quickly dusted imaginary particles off the hip of her dress. People were beginning to find their seats, signaling that the performance was about to start. And at that moment, believing that she must have felt his eyes, her gaze left her dress and immediately locked onto his. He suddenly found himself paralyzed, and could not dare to turn away from her eyes that danced like the lights on a Christmas tree. Her blue orbs sparkled peacefully, reminding him of dew that glistened on the grass just before sunrise.

Who knows how long they remained like that. People passed on by, but she stood still. She was all he saw. And he was pretty certain that it was the same for her.

Then she smiled. It was a small one, where her cheekbones barely raised and the skin pinched around her eyes in amusement, but it was a smile nonetheless. He felt the air pause in his lungs as he held his breath. An awkward warmth chilled his body and mind as she held it a little longer. But the loneliness in it did nothing and it was too much for him to handle.

* * * *

The lights began to dim low as the sound of the orchestra tuning their instruments filled the auditorium. He felt silence?s presence for a moment or two before the crowd?s applause shattered the atmosphere and the conductor proudly strutted to the center of the stage, taking his bow before shaking hands with the concert master.

The Chicago Symphony Orchestra quickly regained their posture and began with the night?s performance of Dvoř?k?s, Symphony No. 9 in E minor from the New World Symphony.

A few coughs and sniffles echoed through Orchestra Hall as the first movement quietly began. The violas hummed a melancholy tone; their vibratos pulsed the soft and steady sentiment. He watched through the corner of his eye as a late audience member found her seat next to him. Mentally noticing her roundness he wondered how she?d ever fit into the chair. Brushing off the thought, he returned his attention back to the performance. The violins fitfully ascended up a semi-scale line; the rest of the orchestra played their part as the French horn covered a different tune from the back. The timpanist quickly decrescendoed his trill as the prologue came to an end and the transition to chapter one of the New World Symphony had commenced.

Continuous series of crescendos, diminuendos, and ostinatos passed along to different instruments followed the movement?s course of passage. Just the attitude of expressions and dynamics alone captured the true essence of Dvoř?k?s intensions of composing music. Behind every great work of art, there are the thoughts of a genius. And from these thoughts, there comes a line of classics and culture that develop into masterpieces. From intense presto phrases to dolce lines of sighs, Dvoř?k always had a way of keeping even the average minded man on his toes and awake.

And without warning he suddenly pictured the frame of the blonde woman from before. He saw her womanly aspects and fair skin tone. She was looking at him again, her smile intact and her head slightly cocked to the side. It was as if she seemed to be asking him to join her in his mind. Slowly, she moved her long slender legs to the point where?

He blinked several times in surprise. How was it possible for his mind to lose consciousness and revert to such images? And how could he be thinking such a thing, especially when he was at a symphony? Scolding himself and trying to rid the pervious gesture, he grunted and then attempted desperately to lower the pulse of his heartbeat. Granted that this piece was one of his favorites, but the memory of the woman at the bar punctured itself into his focus. First encounters always make lasting impressions, but never had he become so entwined in emotions by any woman, especially by first looks alone. He would admit that she was indeed attractive, but he was young. His youth was just getting the best of him, he thought.

A frenzied forte from the symphony concluded the end of the first movement as the once frantic sounds stopped short and a now calmer tone carried on. The second movement began with proud asserted fanfare. A new melody carried about, this time a more sad and longing one. Largo was perhaps one of the most sympathetic pieces of music he had ever heard. A nostalgic feeling traveled through the air as the audience watched the orchestra synchronize their bow movements. This was the Chicago Symphony at their best. He felt a sense of pride as he watched the cellos. It was good to know that he wouldn?t be working with any idiots here, but then he remembered why he was here in the first place and his eyes narrowed at past annoyance.

The very large woman sitting beside him suddenly shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He imagined it to be fairly tight for her. He averted back to the performance and closed his eyes, allowing the music to take him into a light slumber. He tucked his chin towards his chest and crossed his arms. The melancholy melody only led him to ponder about the composer?s own mood when composing this movement.

Dvoř?k had always been a man most influential with those of Czech styles. Born a peasant, he understood the importance of traditional folk music and the meanings behind them. When he came to America in 1892, he quickly felt that wave of homesickness wash over him. As the saying goes, you can take the boy out of the country, but you can?t take the country out of the boy. And as a way to ease his pain he wrote this symphony, the New World Symphony. Of course all of his music included the traditional sounds that he had grown accustomed too, but no other work of his can come close to the true emotions and passions that must have dwelled inside of him as he wrote this; one of the greatest symphonies of all time. And it was because of this that he gained an utmost respect for Dvoř?k.

Pianissimo had carried out for a majority of the piece, with the exception of its restless outbursts, but Dvoř?k would soon regain his more upbeat stature as the symphony?s diminuendo announced the conclusion of the second movement. The maestro slowly brought his left arm down to his side, baton still up, permitting the musicians to take a brief pause to change their music. The audience remained quiet as it was polite etiquette not to clap in-between movements. He was pleased to know that there were no fools present for tonight?s performance. Once the symphony resituated themselves, the maestro raised his left hand in equal balance with his other and dove straight into the third movement.

He waited patiently in his seat and observed the people on stage. He admired how the instruments glowed and shimmered under the artificial light. The basses? fine wood glinted a glare every so often as the bassists shifted their large instruments an inch or two. Colors of gold and silver playfully bounced off the back walls from the brass section, specifically from the trombonists pulling their slides back and forth.

The third movement of the Symphony No. 9 in E minor was quite a remarkable one. Though not quite well known as the first two, the Scherzo still had a style somewhat similar to the first. If he were to describe into words, it would be like?

He was at war. The enemy was no where to be found. Using only the supplies that he had with him, he needed to find a way out and far from harm. But in this world, where is it ever safe? He dashed to another hiding spot only to find that he was back where he first began. Taking a moment or two, he recalled a time when he last felt safe. He remembered his first concert and his first solo performance. He remembered life before he left. Then suddenly there came a gunfire. He was being hunted once again. Looking for another way out, he dashed once more to another spot, once again to find himself running around in circles. Memories reentered his mind and he watched them through his eyes. The concerts, the performances, that one moment with him, and-

That woman?

His eyes shot open at the surprising image that tip-toed silently into his mind. It was beginning to annoy him that he could not keep a steady control over himself. It irritated him whenever he lost control over something, especially over something as worthless as a woman. While questioning his mentality he listened to where things currently were in the program.

A more upbeat tempo excited the airs compacted within the concert hall like the animal movements on a merry-go-round. The sounds of ?dings? and ?rings? and the phrases from the flutes replaced the once melancholy tune into a joyous one. He was displeased to learn that most of the evening had been wasted due to such useless ponderings and unwelcoming thoughts. He had missed most of the crucial portions of the symphony.

The passing of the melody eventually reached the cellos. He watched as the cellists gracefully pulled their bows to match the beat of the baton. A familiar tune from the first movement returned; this time in a different key. In just a matter of moments it reached total silence until the timpanist proclaimed the final note while accompanied by the rest of the orchestra. He knew this symphony well and anticipated the final installment of Dvoř?k?s masterpiece well on its way.

His eyes roamed around unconsciously as a tune similar to that of Jaws opened the fourth movement. The night was coming to a close. He observed people as they shrugged off the stiff feeling in their shoulders and legs. He was beginning to feel a cramp in his leg too; it hadn?t move since the beginning of the symphony. He pushed down on the floor to raise himself a little higher in his chair so he could remove his black dress pants from sticking to the bottom of his thighs. Then he shrugged his shoulders to loosen up his matching suit jacket. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his round neighbor watch him with slight annoyance. That didn?t bother him. He wasn?t one who cared what people thought of him.

But that woman?

God damn him tonight for he was hating himself, but damn her along with him. She was no concern of his. He was here for a reason and she only seemed to be distracting him on his mission. He didn?t even know her, so why was she such a hassle? Once again he tried to ignore his absent-minded state and preoccupy himself with the remainder of the performance. A little tune of what sounded like ?Hot, Cross, Buns? echoed twice among different instruments. The Chicago Symphony were one of the few who could really perform Dvoř?k to his true potential, and he was not going to miss it because of some damn woman.

Just like the rest of the movements of this symphony, there came sudden crescendos of powerful strength conjuring magic to the imagination with help from the few, but proud brass and woodwind section. Then, in an instant it would all die down into a beautiful, soft alternate reality where one could feel their heartbeat return to normal. All would be peaceful and still as light feathery tunes floated across the medium in the air and numbed all of one?s senses. And just like that, Dvoř?k would start another rally of intense agitation in just a blink of an eye. And it would continue on like this until he felt the time was right to return the audience to their own world after visiting his.

He listened as the flutes fluttered and bounced for a moment before the tuba would come crashing in. This repeated once more until the violas and cellos interrupted with their own staccato and the flutes returned to replay the melody. Then the violins would screech higher and higher until stopping to tremolo as the French horn and trumpet reclaimed the infamous tune from earlier.

Now everything was coming together. Tunes of past melodies playing over each other returned in the final scenes as the symphony finally reached the climax of the piece. Their triumphant fortissimo filled every crack and corner of the auditorium. The strings stressed their movements as the notes got higher and higher, the percussions banged, the woodwinds trilled, and the brass blared out alongside with the rest of the orchestra. Every member on stage was no doubtfully sweating as the conductor?s baton flicked heavier and heavier. The finale was just around the corner.

Without any recognition on his present state of mind, he unconsciously turned his head to the left and saw her sitting only two rows in front him. Her eyes reminded him of a shine above the ocean?s surface as the sun cast its warm rays of light upon it. And by the way her blue orbs danced in excitement, he figured that she too was a true fan of Dvoř?k. Whatever thoughts and curses he bestowed upon her earlier left instantly as he allowed his gaze to linger on her awhile longer. He enjoyed looking at her.

?Bum?- Rest - ?Bum - Bum - Bum?- Rest - ?Bum? - Rest - ?Bum?

The symphony sustained the last note for a beat longer as the maestro strongly whipped his free hand around the circumference of his head and stopped abruptly after one rotation. People all over immediately stood up and clapped frantically for the symphony?s performance. He lost sight of her just as the large woman beside him rose and blocked his view. He cursed at the woman inside his head and quickly jumped to his feet desperate to see her.

The maestro walked off stage and then back into the spotlight after shaking hands with the concert master one last time that night. The crowd clapped and cheered even louder as he walked off and reentered once again for another encore, but by the end of the fourth encore people began to head for the exits. His head bobbled up and down, left to right as he searched for her. Finally, the large woman bounced away leaving an open area of absence.

She couldn?t have gotten far.

He hastily charged towards one of the exits, only to be halted behind a horrible train wreck of people through one of the double doors. Perspiration began to form above his brow as he glared at the turtle-like men and women that were blocking his new mission. Damn his friend for not giving him a seat closer to the exist. Damn these people for not understanding the purpose of moving faster. Damn himself for even caring. Damn that woman for making him care!

It took him a good five minutes to make it out, but when he successfully made it through the doors and into the hallway, he only stopped to pin point the direction of his pursuit.

There no sign of her.

This was mad and he consciously knew it. What would he gain if he did find her? Perhaps a disgusted look. Did she even know that she was on his mind all night? Or maybe she?d even call security, asking them to remove him from her sight.

?But that smile.?

No, she didn?t strike him as the type of woman who would rudely push him aside in such a manner. She seemed more?kindhearted.

And without a second thought he took off running. He ran through the crowd of high class women with their fur coats and wealthy gentlemen and their sharp suits. He ran past the large woman he was sitting by earlier, roughly brushing against her shoulder. She huffed as she watched the back of his body disappear through the crowd where even more people were pushed aside.

Finally catching sight of the lobby he accelerated his pace, almost knocking over a gentleman who in return shouted at him. But he paid no attention. His mission right now was to find that young woman.

And there she was.

He watched from the balcony above the lobby as she handed in her ticket to the coat checker and retrieved her coat. From underneath the chandelier she seemed to glow even more brighter, like God himself admired her beauty from above. He needed to see her. He needed to at least know her name.

The crowd standing by the door was even more enormous than the ones back at the exists. Many were waiting for their rides and spare taxis to arrive. And many just stood behind the swinging doors to escape the harsh weather outside. February in Chicago was no walk-in-the-park.

He watched as she headed towards the doors. Her golden aura allowed him to identify her from the crowd. He looked left and right at the staircases and growled at the hold up. She was almost out the doors. There was no way he would be able to make it down the stairs before she?d leave the building.

There was only one option.

He placed both hands upon the railing and swung his body over without a second thought. Women screamed and men pointed as they saw him hurl himself over the railing and land flat on his feet, just as she walked through the swinging doors. He quickly followed her pursuit, ignoring the sharp pain that stabbed at the soles of his feet.

Fighting through another crowd of worthless people, he finally managed to drag himself outside. His body spun around countless times looking for the direction she took. The winter chill pierced through his suit and into his bare skin. He immediately felt his body temperature drop and the sweat once above his brow froze. Taxies honked and people shouted out on the streets. Visible steam rose out of the manholes above the ground. Chicago was busy tonight, as it was every night.

His search stopped short as he saw her get inside of a waiting taxi and take off. As if the night wasn?t crazy enough, he took off running after her once more.

He didn?t care that he almost got hit by traffic five or six times. He didn?t care that the soles of his new dress shoes were ruined. If only he knew at that moment, he would have continued chasing after her. He would have told her how her smile paralyzed his sense of thinking; how her laugh made him want to be a better person; how her touch shocked him with a deep jolt of new emotions; how he?d finally find a safe place within her arms; how waking up next to her in the morning was like heaven; how he?d realize that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But most importantly, he would have told her how much he loved her and needed her in his life.

But he stopped his pursuit after another couple of blocks. Even after the extensive work-out, he still felt winter?s cruel frost bite at his heart. His chest heaved up and down as his warm breath fogged up outside. His tie dangled from behind his shoulder. And an inhospitable feeling of failure washed through his body like a tsunami as he watched the taxi disappear into the night.

Heero Yuy never was a man who treasured memories of anything. He believed in going about life treating it as a whole new day; living in the moment and acting upon his emotions. Life itself was a cheap destination that had few rewards and always guaranteed distraught. But he would never misplace the memory of his first encounter with Relena Peacecraft.


*Music List:
Concert master- the first chair, first violinist (male).
Crescendo- to grow louder.
Decrescendo/diminuendo - to grow softer.
Forte-loud.
Pianissimo-very soft.
Fortissimo-very loud.
Ostinato- repeated melody or rhythmic fragment .
Presto- crazy fast.
Bow- polite gesture/hairs attached to wood used to play string instruments.

[takisha16]

I don't know why I am crying since I know he will later in life get to know
her better, but this really made me sad that he had to come this close to
actually meeting her!
He must've ran really fast though!
I loved how you included a concierto and classical music mixed into the plot!
I am also a fan of classical music. I love mostly Chopin, Vivaldi and mozart's romatic concierto's.
I love the sound of classical music, it just seems to express emotions like no
other genre.
I find it perfect for reading, since I actually play some while reading BI!
lovely, lovely one-shot!
ps: I definitely recomend myself Fantasia in D minor by Mozart.

[Aristale Wolf]

i luv classical...its one of my favorite styles of music...and i luv this story you capture it so well. mind you i havent heard this particular symphony, but i do...i actually have never heard of it before but now i do for sure....cant wait to read more on it....

[star fighter]

I'm liking this. Can't wait to read more.

[Morrighan]

I bow down to your masterful incorporation of music into this. I shall now have to hunt down that symphony and read this chapter as I listen to it.

Can't wait to see more!!

[HiFreak]

Wow I'm loving this. The whole fanfic is written LIKE a piece of music.
I too am a fan of classical music and I think your description of it is amazing.
I kind of feel sorry for Heero, even though I know they are bound to meet again. I love how you includen the heavy woman, the truth is that there are always people like that a a concert!