Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Amour ❯ Decision ( Chapter 7 )

 

Amour

 

Chapter 7

 

By Zapenstap

 

 

Heero slept well into midmorning. It was longer than he was used to sleeping and his muscles groaned with protest when he tried to move. The bed in Relena's home was more comfortable by far than any other bed in his memory, possibly the most comfortable bed in which he had slept through the night in his whole life. The mattress was firm, but everything around him was goose down soft. The coverlet was silver-gray with strands of white silk woven in the thread so that the pattern sparkled where sunlight from the window flitted across the bed. Someone must have come in to open the blinds and throw back the curtains while he was sleeping. It was amazing that he didn't wake up. Either the painkillers had driven him under past responsiveness or he felt… safe here.

 

As he sat up, he winced from the pain in his back. The skin was deeply seared and extremely painful, but pain was better than numbness. If it had been numb, it would have meant his nerves had been damaged, which would have meant physical therapy and reconstructive surgery with skin graphing that would take months. His surgeon told him that the damage he did receive was serious and would leave scars, but with luck it wouldn't be horribly disfiguring. With careful treatment, he should recover within a few weeks. In the meantime, it was good to start working the blood back into his body by moving around. He had to take it easy, but he didn't have to stay in bed.

 

Clothes had been left out for him on the dresser and he dressed quickly, donning the casual khaki colored slacks and white dress shirt without looking at or caring much about what had been left for him to change into. He was still standing with the hem hanging loose and the cuffs unbuttoned when a soft knock came at his door. He remained silent and a moment later the door swung open to admit Relena.

 

She came in with her hair down around her face and a rose colored scarf around her neck. It couldn't be later than five or six in the morning, but she was ready for work, decked out in a light gray skirt suit and heels and looking prepared for a press conference. He eyed that scarf appreciatively for a moment and then went back to buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves.

 

“I thought you might be awake,” she said, and he as glanced at her from the corner of her eye, he saw her blush and look away.

 

He intended to ignore their kiss from the night before, just as he intended to ignore her blush now. He didn't care to speculate on why a kiss should darken her cheeks this morning when so much of what they had done before ought to turn her as red as a cooked lobster. Yet he had seen her bear that coolly. A tickling in the back of his mind suggested why this might be, but there didn't seem to be any hurry to do anything about it and he hadn't made up his mind whether or not anything needed to be done. Instead, he finished the button on his left arm and turned to the right.

 

“Would you join me in the courtyard when you've finished getting ready?” she asked. “I like to drink a cup of tea before breakfast and I would enjoy company.”

 

“You have a courtyard?” he asked, “in the house?”

 

She flushed, perhaps with embarrassment. He had seen her become flummoxed over her wealth around him before, but he didn't understand why. Perhaps she felt that he would be jealous or uncomfortable if she flaunted her success, but if so, she needn't bother; money didn't mean very much to him. Then again, perhaps he embarrassed her; there were probably things he shouldn't comment on, such as an aspect of her house that she was used to taking in stride. If so, he was too ill bred to realize it, and just as unconcerned about appearing ill-bred.

 

“I'll see you down there,” he said softly, and she nodded to him as she walked backward out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her on her way out.

 

Heero made his way downstairs several minutes later. As far as appearances went, he did little more than run a wet comb through his hair, and not with any stylistic aim. His clothes were clean, pressed and comfortable, but there was nothing in particular to recommend him as a guest in this household. Relena's mansion was even larger-seeming on the inside than it had appeared from without. There were rooms and passages that seemed to have no use, and whole wings in the building that might not see more activity in a month than a maid to dust the furniture and ornaments. Nevertheless, everything was kept in spotless condition, and some combination of the lighting and the décor invited a sense of warmth as well as elegance even when the rooms went largely unused.

 

On the main floor, he was accosted by Candace Mae, whose stout, straight-backed figure was garbed in a gray dress the same color as the hair she wore gathered in a bun on the back of her head. She was built like a concrete pillar, her face an implacable and steadfast mask that brooked no-nonsense, and yet not unkind for all of that.

 

“A good morning to you,” she said as soon as she saw him, stopping in the hallway to fold her hands in front of her and run a discerning eye over his face and figure. When he didn't reply, her mouth tightened slightly, but rather than upbraid him on his lack of manners she gestured down the hall. “You'll find the Lady Relena around the corner from the glass doors at the end of the hallway. Be careful not to wander into the dining room on your way out. We are preparing breakfast and don't need anyone out under foot. If you would like tea or coffee, I can send someone out with it.”

 

“No,” he said, and met the woman's flat iron stare with a smoldering glare of his own. “Thank you, no. I'm fine.”

 

With a curt nod and small, satisfied smile, Candace Mae swept passed him, gliding away like a swan over water. He couldn't make sense of the woman. He detected nothing precisely antagonistic from her, but there was a certain air about her that made him question if she disliked him or if she was expecting something from him that he failed to deliver, and in more than just politeness. Being Relena's house manager and something of a servant since her childhood, he supposed her attitude toward him might reflect the manner in which he treated Relena, or perhaps his status as a guest in her house. If so, there was so much working against him that even if he had a notion to appease the woman he wouldn't have known where to start. As it was, she was… formidable.

 

The courtyard where Relena was waiting was easy to find. The windows in the hallway near the dining room looked out into what Heero had to describe as an outdoor garden built in the middle of the house. The building that was Relena's house curved around it, two doors from the north and east opening into an outdoor, rectangular space where beds of flowers, a small pool, and groups of slender trunk trees were sectioned out with walkways paved in smooth gray stone. Sunlight and shadows flitted across the ground as the wind chased tendrils of gray clouds across the sun. As Heero opened the door and stepped out onto the pathway, he caught the scent of flowers, rich earth, grass, and green trees. The air smelled of impending rain.

 

Relena sat on a white stone bench placed on the edge of the path near the middle of the garden. She sat with her back to him, facing the pool and the bird feeders, the hem of a long dress coat hanging over the edge of the bench and the hood pulled up over her head. It was cold, but not freezing, the chill startling Heero with the fresh vitality of morning. Ignoring the goose bumps that prickled the skin of his forearms, he approached the bench slowly until he was in a position to ease himself carefully down beside Relena.

 

Her head turned and she smiled at him, her eyes full of some light he could not qualify and didn't try to. Between her hands she held a steaming cup of what he supposed was tea, lightly sugared as usual, and smelling of blackberry.

 

“Thank you for joining me,” she said after a moment of silence. “How do you feel?”

 

“I'm all right,” he replied. He stared ahead of him, watching the sparrows alight on the seeds that had been scattered on the bark to attract their interest. They were small birds, smaller than one of his fists, round and quick and painted in brown and black markings to match their environment. There were probably a hundred or more in the bushes, hiding among the branches and leaves and venturing out in groups to peck at the ground where Relena must have scattered seeds.

 

“It's cold out here,” he remarked. “Do you often sit outside? It might rain.”

 

“It wakes me up,” Relena replied, and the smile slipped from her face as she looked out over the tiny pool where a dead, brown leaf alighted on the surface of the water and sent a succession of ripples racing for the edge. “I like to look at the outside world in the morning. I spend almost everyday in some office building, sometimes in rooms without windows. It's stifling, and sometimes I lose perspective among so many white-washed walls.” She grimaced, staring out in front of her as if she were in her office now and saw the walls around her and closing in more and more each day. He sensed more than heard the self-reproach in her tone, as if she felt that she were not doing enough, as if she ought to be experiencing the hardship and exposure to the elements that was the condition of those she fought for.

 

“You have an easy life,” he said.

 

The curtness in his tone did not escape her notice. She cocked her head to one side, much like one of the birds they had both been studying, watching him with an air of affronted curiosity. “Oh?”

 

He met her piercing gaze implacably and continued as if he had not heard the ruffled tone in her voice. “This isn't the `outside world.' This is a sanctuary in the safety of your own home. All your needs are provided for, and because of that you have the luxury to choose what you want to do with your life. If you wanted, you could quit your job and spend every day on a beach.”

 

His voice dripped acid, the words laden with contempt, and she stared at him as if she had never seen him before in her life. He watched as the wheels turned in her head, as she tried to use her intuition to gauge his feelings about her and her work, questioning if she had misunderstood his admiration for what she had chosen to do with her life, wondering if he understood her at all. He watched and said nothing, waiting for her to respond, wondering if she would cry in betrayal or bristle with the light ferocity of indignation. He was hoping for the latter and was not disappointed. First a wrinkle appeared on her brow, and her head snaked slowly backward as her eyebrows drooped and the corners of her mouth tightened. “God, Heero, the work I do is important. To do what you suggest I could…Well, I could, but I would die of boredom.” A note of exasperation entered her voice, her eyes darting everywhere but at his face as her hands clenched around her tea. She stared at nothing for a moment and then smoothed her face, setting her cup beside her and folding her hands contritely in her lap. When she continued, her voice was softer, but no less forceful. She could control her emotions even when she was offended and furious. It admired that in her, but he kept his own face smooth to allow her to continue in her own defense. “Worse than that, I would feel contempt for myself. I thought you knew. I had that life. I don't want it back. Yes, my privileged position allows me to make and sustain the choices that I have made, but it doesn't mean that what I do is easy.”

 

He nodded approvingly. “Then don't think that it ought to be harder,” he said. “If you with all of your resources are as burdened as you are with so many responsibilities, then don't ask for impediments that will keep you from meeting those responsibilities. The hopes of everyone in the world are riding on you. You have to take care of yourself.”

 

Amazement stole over her face as she realized that he had goaded her into giving the answer that would best support her own feelings. Amazement was followed swiftly by relief as all of her feelings about him and his relationship to her were restored where his harsh words had rent them. She sat very still on the bench, her bare knees pressed together and her shoulders bent, one hand clutched over her heart as she breathed and thought with equal violence. Heero watched this with understanding, knowing before she moved or spoke the feelings that this casual conversation had aroused. Passion was aggressive in her breast, passion for him because he had helped her without trying to, because he knew her well enough to help her. He knew the progression of her thought, and without adding anything more, he stood up, careful not to agitate his back, and made to walk away until he was caught by the feel of her hand clutching the sleeve by his left wrist.

 

“Heero,” she said, and the sound of his name was so like a plea that he turned to look down at her, half slumped over on the bench with her hair dangling over one shoulder and her eyes on his face. “Sit with me, please. I need to tell you something.”

 

He sat and she straightened, adjusting her clothes as she composed her expression, avoiding looking at him until she had gathered her thoughts. He waited patiently.

 

“Having you here,” she said slowly. “I'm not sure how long, and I thought about it last night, and I'm not even sure what would be best. It's just that you mean so much to me. Do you want me to leave you alone or…?” She trailed off, blushing, and he realized that she was rethinking her decision from the day before to stay away from him. Maybe she wanted him. Maybe it was natural if she did, but he didn't think that was the real tenant of this discussion.

 

“What do you want?” he asked her, and he knew that she understood his question to be deeper than what she wanted in a moment or for a time. He watched her in silence. She stared at the birds pecking among the bark, not at him, and her chest heaved pleasantly in the bodice of her dress as she breathed deeply and thought slowly.

 

“To be near you,” she replied. “As near as I can be. When I think about it, and if I'm honest with myself, I feel that that is what I want, despite how unwise it may turn out to be. I know that it is difficult, and that there are dangers involved, but I can't help it. I love you.” She looked at him suddenly, her bright blue eyes assaulting his face so suddenly and with such ferocity that he looked away as heat suffused his face. He felt her shift, leaning toward him, urgency and uncertainty entering her tone only after he reacted. He felt her hand alight softly below his shoulder, pressing into the material of his shirt without actually grabbing him. “I don't want to pressure you,” she said, “but I know you care about me. You have always cared about me. I know at least that much.”

 

He couldn't look at her. He could feel every twitch and pulse in his body, but he could not move a muscle.

 

“I want to be near you,” she repeated softly. “I don't expect anything anymore. I'm not asking you to stay around. I'm not even asking you to love me since you seem to think that they are related. I wouldn't dare try to cage you. I just… I want you to know how I feel. I didn't intend for these feelings to return, but they have, gradually, and I can't help it.”

 

Steeling himself, he gently removed her hand from his arm. He saw a tremor of trepidation cross her face, but he didn't release her hand. His breath came raggedly to his throat, and some part of his awareness noted a peculiar trembling in his legs. His voice sounded rough when he spoke. “Relena, you have to believe that I have good reasons for thinking that it is in both of our best interests to keep our feelings in check. If you feel the way you say you do, then we should probably maintain some distance while I stay here.”

 

“I know there is something between us,” she cried. “I feel it to my bones! I also know things have never been quite right. We have led very different lives, and you were right to leave me all those years ago. I wasn't ready to deal with the reality of what this has to be then. I wanted something impossible and I wanted it immediately with no real knowledge of how to create or maintain it. But that doesn't mean that what I feel for you isn't real or isn't worth it. Maybe it was partly fabrication once, a supposing of what might be, but whatever illusions I had grew from some quality of feeling that can't be dismissed. I know you feel the same way. If I really thought you didn't, I wouldn't hold on like this, and I wouldn't feel confident to bring it up now. It's just that the way you kissed me yesterday— You've never kissed me like that before.”

 

He didn't know how to answer, partly because what she was saying unsettled him and he couldn't dissemble fast enough. He had fabrications too, structures he used to bolster the framework of his existence and keep it where he understood what to do and could do what had to be done. Keeping Relena where he could watch her, and watch himself near her, rather than with her, was part of that structure. It went without saying that even if he did decide he loved her, it would make no difference to the technicalities of their arrangement. He couldn't allow himself to think on it! He wasn't going to stay. He had things to do, dark and dangerous things that had no place in her world and would cause her to suffer if she became an extremity of him. He saw that she understood this from her expression, yet hope still seemed to make her face glow.

 

“Heero?” she asked. “How do you feel about me?”

 

He turned to face her, twisting his body slightly until they were facing each other at an angle and he was close enough to see the individual lashes clouding around her eyes. The proximity was such that he thought nothing of reaching up to touch her cheek, caressing the softness that was in her face, the purity and innocence on which so many of his dreams hung.

 

“I don't know,” he said quietly. “I haven't decided how I should feel.”

 

She stared at him, her blue eyes glistening above his thumb, and slowly pulled back. Her mouth was parted slightly, her eyes wide, vulnerable, flickering as she absorbed his statement and tossed it fitfully around in the corners of her brain. “You can…decide?” she said quietly, almost to herself. She seemed startled by this notion, and her eyes lost their focus on him as she turned inward to consider it. “You can decide how you feel? And if you don't want to love me, or if it's not convenient, then you just …won't?”

 

Heero could think of nothing to say. Yes, he could decide. He thought he had been clear all along about why he must not love her.

 

Suddenly, Relena stood, saving him from having to respond as she rose from the bench and picked up her empty mug by the handle. “I have to go to work,” she said. “But I need to change your bandages before I go.”

 

“One of your servants can do it,” he suggested.

 

“No. I want to.”

 

He merely nodded and rose, gesturing for her to lead the way.

 

In the privacy of her guest room, at Relena's request, he sat on the edge of the bed and calmly stripped off his shirt. She knelt behind him on the mattress, her feet hanging off the edge of the bed and her skirt tucked around her legs. Her fingers were gentle, unwinding his bandages with a deft surety and tending the needs of his wounds without causing him any additional discomfort. He stared straight ahead of him while she worked, staring placidly in the mirror above the dresser where he could see himself, bare-chested, stoic and motionless, and Relena, her expression intent on her work, her arms, hands and fingers flashing above his shoulders as she wound the clean bandages around his torso. She set about replacing his bandages with such calm, single-minded determinedness that Heero found himself momentarily mesmerized by the focus in her face and the placidity of her expression. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and smiled at him over his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He caught a glimpse of himself and his dark blue eyes like stones polished to hardness, and tried to soften his expression.

 

“I'll be back tonight,” Relena told him, and he felt her hand fall on his bare shoulder. He raised the opposite arm to cover her fingers absently, and then rose from the bed so that her hand slipped off. She stood with him, smoothing her skirt and looking elsewhere than at his figure, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “Heero, if you're uncomfortable at all while I'm away, just ask Candace Mae to assist you. Make sure you don't over exert yourself. Please, for me.”

 

“Don't worry about me. You had better get to work.”

 

She nodded and removed herself from his presence a little jerkily. She paused at the door, her cheeks still suffused with pink. “I'll see you later,” she said, and slipped out.

 

Heero stared at himself in the mirror for awhile in silence, his thoughts churning with an edge of irritation. Something was not right, but he couldn't construct from the scattered pieces of the morning's events what it might be. All he knew was that he felt unsettled, almost anxious, as if something intangible was festering. It was as if an important supporting block had been pulled out from the foundation of a tower he was building and he was waiting to see whether or not it would topple. The trouble was that he was not sure what he had been building, which piece had been pulled, or what result he expected if the structure should collapse. And he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He had a niggling feeling that his not understanding was part of what kept the tower erect and that keeping that tower standing was immeasurably important. Had he offended Relena? Or had she said something to cause him this feeling of uncertainty? She had said many things. She had said she loved him, but he had already known that even if she didn't voice it. She had said she didn't have any expectations, but she had said that before as well and he couldn't trust it to be true. She had seemed surprised when he said he had not decided whether or not he should love her, but he had always been frank about that, hadn't he?

 

He knew he mustn't think about it, shouldn't dwell on it. This kind of speculation was dangerous. Concerning himself overmuch with Relena could lead to nothing but distraction, and he could not afford distractions.

 

Fortunately, his thoughts were interrupted by a solid knock on the door, and a moment later Candace Mae strode into the room with a breakfast tray in her hands and determined-looking expression on his face.

 

“Get into bed, please,” she instructed, and stood there patiently until he complied. It was useless to fight her, and Heero didn't try. He settled himself back in bed without a murmur of rebellion, and allowed Relena's house manager to lay a breakfast tray across his lap. She served him breakfast without small talk, but to his irritation, stood near the bed and watched him eat until he had consumed practically everything on his plate.

 

“Miss Relena mentioned that you might have work to do while you recuperate under our care,” she said when he had finished. “So some equipment has been ordered. When it arrives, it will be sent up to be configured according to your directions.”

 

He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Relena ordered it?”

 

Candace Mae regarded him reprovingly down her nose as she lifted the tray from the bed. “Miss Relena understands you. She anticipated your needs. You might do well to consider what a blessing it is to be cared for by people who know you as she does. She loves you a great deal, God help her.”

 

“It hasn't escaped my attention,” he replied without really looking at the woman.

 

When the breakfast tray was collected from him and Candace Mae bustled out from the room, he found himself left once again alone. He was determined not to think, so he took his pain medication instead, hoping the resulting drowsiness would blur his thoughts so he could rest.

 

It had the opposite effect. The pain in his back dulled and his thoughts began to recede, but sleep did not come. He lay on the pillow and stared in bemused fascination as his depth perception slid and his grasp on reality became oil slick. And yet, despite his swimming vision, his thoughts and feelings remained clear and progressive. They marched in front of him at a distance he could study, circling round and round like horses on a carousel or shapes changing in a kaleidoscope. In this absurd state of semi-sobriety he was not intimidated by the possibilities before him, and so he analyzed the situation honestly.

 

Relena knew him. She loved him and because she knew him, she was able to anticipate his needs. Despite what he had told Candace Mae, it had, in some respects, escaped his attention. Heero knew himself to be a sensory observer. He perceived everything that happened around him. Certainly, he had noticed that Relena anticipated his needs merely by the things she did and said and kept quiet about, but he had not taken time to consider it or wonder at the phenomenon. But now the moments they had spent together in the courtyard this morning returned to him with sharp clarity. He understood that Relena ached to identify with him, that she wanted to understand his experiences and his feelings and become a part of them if she could. He kept her at arms length to save her from that fate, and he knew that she understood that too. She had told him herself that she would not pressure him, that she would not dare try to cage him, and yet now he wondered suddenly why she took such an interest in feeding birds.

 

She loved him. Despite all his efforts, she cared for him and wanted him near her and understood him and this, this she signified as love. She loved him enough to keep him here where his constant presence must be, in some respects, a torture to her. She wanted to tend his wounds herself, wanted to speak to him or sit with him whenever time allowed, wanted his advice, his presence, his embrace, his company. To him she had confessed her feelings without any hope of an encouraging reply, because she understood him even to his reluctance to encourage her.

 

But he had encouraged her. He had told her that he had not decided to love her.

 

A feeling like fear spread from Heero's heart to the rest of his body and he jerked upright in bed, his heart thudding in his chest and his head spinning from more than the medication. He had not decided, but did that mean that he could? Or even more pressingly, did that mean he did love her and just refused to yield to it, to give action to an idea because he feared the consequences? Relena understood him, yes, but he also understood Relena. He understood her better than she understood herself, perhaps better than she understood him. He even took pleasure in proving it; he had demonstrated it this morning. He understood her and cared about her and he found her company far from unpleasant. He could not deny that he felt safe under her roof, that he looked forward to her room, her bed, her smile, her eyes, her arms, her embrace. Was it possible that within this concoction of security and simple pleasures there lay a formula for love that he had overlooked?

 

It occurred to him that Relena's confession of love did not bother him. There had been times in the past when her feelings annoyed him, mostly because they were immature and misguided, but there was no evidence to support that her feelings now were the same empty gestures of infatuation that they had been years ago. What's more, he was astonished to discover that not only was he unbothered, but he also wasn't indifferent to her feelings. If he was not bothered and not indifferent, then that could only mean that he took pleasure in her feelings, that he even desired her to feel as she did! Was he simply selfish? Or did he welcome her feelings because he unconsciously returned them?

 

His heart began to palpitate. Could he, the nameless, drifting, murderous gundam pilot who called himself Heero Yuy, possibly love Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darilan? His mouth turned dry and he fell into a cold sweat at the thought. He tried to rationalize it, but not with much success. His feelings for Relena could be those of friendship, or those of familial love, except for the fact that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman. And even denying or dismissing that, the comfort he exacted from Relena went beyond the casual. He wanted to protect her more than anything, and she had always been a secret comfort to him. She made him feel strong, necessary, worthwhile, peaceful. She gave him something to live for. She was hope itself. She brought light into a room.

 

So maybe he loved her, or had the potential to love her, whether he acted on it or not. Had he all this time, unable to realize it because he so fiercely kept her at arms length? Or was it new, flaming up from a smoldering ember that he had never fanned to life but had never quite put out? He didn't know how it happened. He only knew that he loved her.

 

Once he thought it, he could not stop. He loved her. He loved Relena. He loved her.

 

The knowledge was not the exhilarating sense of flight of romance novels. Despite the swell in his breast that made his heart and body shake, it was painful, terribly painful. He loved Relena, his whole body aching with it, and yet his circumstances, and hers, remained unchanged. The true reality of love was an action that he must not take. He could not stay here. If he acted on this, he could only love her in fits. After these blissful weeks were at an end he would have to leave, and it would be more important than ever to make sure that no connection was drawn between the gundam pilot Heero Yuy and the ESUN representative Relena Darilan. He was a hunted man, and there was no telling for how long or what would come next if this crisis ever abated. If he chose to love Relena, and if he chose to indulge that feeling by being near her, it would be their usual tryst of stormy seductions, secret outings and little or no correspondence. He could not afford jeopardize her, or himself, with any kind of habitual behavior.

 

For that reason, he wasn't sure that she should know, that he should betray by look, word or touch any of the feeling that was in his heart. And yet, the urge to do so was so powerful that he did not know how long he could avoid it. He loved her. How long could he quiet about it while living here? It wasn't to be borne. Some part of him wanted to declare it, however painful, to force interaction that would confirm if it was really true. And he knew he had to touch her to know, to kiss her and hold her and be near her. He wanted to kiss her more than ever, and knew that he shouldn't, that he absolutely mustn't, even to confirm his feelings.

 

It was too late for shouldn't. He had to fight it! He was damned either way, but he had to fight it!

 

Sleep came suddenly and swiftly, gripping him with the hand of terror and pulling him down into darkness. But he did not forget, and every moment thereafter was one of slow, agonizing torture.

 

*****

 

Over the next few days, Candace Mae observed in staunchly submerged amazement the taciturn dance of intimacy and avoidance between Relena and the young man who called himself Heero Yuy. The way they interacted was a balance of give and take, of generosity and withholding, of gentle flattery and constructive honesty. She had told the young man that the lady Relena understood him, but she saw more keenly that the reverse was also true. And it was not just understanding, but respect, admiration, and a fierce physical desire that the pair of them barely constrained under tightly knotted bonds, a longing that was perceptible to every person in the house who bothered to look beneath the surface.

 

When Candace first laid eyes on Heero, it was like looking at a barely tamed wolf or a fettered hawk. He had eyes that could pierce armor and a way of moving that bespoke a degree of physical and mental control highly unusual in such a young man. She knew he was dangerous, dangerous and wild, but it hardly mattered to her. No human being alive could frighten Candace Mae. She was old, and one of the benefits of age was that she had seen love, peace, death and war and was no longer frightened or surprised by any of it. And yet, she had to give a nod of respect to the deadly grace that Heero Yuy emitted, just as she admired the lady Relena's diplomacy, her bright steely strength sheathed in white feather softness. Nevertheless, they were both young, hot blooded people, perhaps more hot blooded that they knew, and it gave her pleasure to see young people such as them thrown together, for all she thought them a pair of hopeless fools.

 

Given the reserve of Miss Relena and the stoicism of Heero Yuy, it surprised her how ostentatiously considerate they were of each other. Exclusively for Heero's benefit, Relena had shipped to her home a variety of sensitive and expensive technological devices difficult for a civilian to come by, equipment that was delivered in unmarked boxes and later brought up to Heero's guestroom to be assembled as he directed. At Relena's request, what Heero did with this equipment was never postulated or investigated by anyone in the household, which Candace Mae supposed to be the unspoken preference of Heero Yuy, though she could not fathom why he needed such secrecy, his character and occupation being such a mystery. Furthermore, if he asked for anything—supplies, errands, messages hand-delivered, anything—she and her staff were instructed to make it happen, no questions asked. This took up a great deal of Mr. Yuy's requirements, but his other needs—particularly his medical ones—Relena attended to with equal attentiveness. And she never complained. Indeed, it seemed to please her to aid Heero however he needed it, and Candace Mae smiled in recognition of the excitement a young girl could feel when she felt useful to a man whose strength and independence she admired.

 

To return the favor, Heero routinely saw to it that Relena did not overwork herself when she brought her work home, which was almost always every night. Papers needing her once-over mysteriously vanished from her desk only to reappear with all the appropriate passages marked in Heero's hand, and after a few days of observing her, he complained in muttering tones where Candace Mae could hear that the Vice Foreign Minister needed to learn how to put down her work and rest. Although his injuries had to be painful, Candace Mae knew that Heero did not need Relena to change his bandages for him, and that he let her attend to his wounds more for her sake than his. However, after this announcement about her overworking herself, he began to appear in Relena's doorway to ask for her help in changing his bandages, almost always when she was doing paperwork in bed instead of sleeping as she should, a huge stack of papers ensuring a long night if she not put them aside. At his request, Relena would start out of a trance, blink at the clock, and come to his room in nothing but a chemise and a robe to change his dressings. In this way, Heero would induce her to talk about her work earlier in the evening, and their talks always resulted in Relena's feeling more relaxed and prepared for the next day, enough to promise to put her papers down and go to bed directly, and let Heero take care of some of the menial tasks during the many unoccupied hours he spent in need of something to do while she was at the office.

 

Candace Mae noticed that when they were not conversing, they spent a lot of time watching each other. For some inexplicable reason, the wolf in Heero seemed to relax in Relena's presence. He was cold and aloof to Candace Mae and the staff, carrying himself with reserved conceit unusual in someone with no pride of property. Candace Mae was not entirely certain he was aware of this socially awkward, affronting attitude, but whatever defensive strategies he employed around the rest of them relaxed around Relena. They took coffee together in the mornings and worked silently in the same room in the evenings. During those times, if Candace Mae happened to pass by—which she did frequently and on purpose—she would often see one of them watching the other. Their eyes never met, and the vigilance never lasted long, for they would always check their behavior when they became aware that they had been staring, and then would return ruefully to their work. Relena watched Heero with a kind of hopeful satisfaction that was somewhat heartbreaking to observe. Heero stared at Relena as if trying to absorb her with his eyes, and with Heero it slowly became discernible that there was a growing struggle taking place when he looked her. His jaw locked and his forehead furrowed, but his eyes softened more and more each day, pupils that were once like polished stones melting into radiant pools of constrained emotion, eyes that Candace Mae recognized as similar to the gaze that had been directed toward her from the face of another young man many years ago. They were the eyes of a young man falling in love against his will, and Candace Mae's lips tightened in worry, but Relena never noticed the change or saw the look. Heero's face became blank and unreadable whenever her attention flickered his way, and his eyes became once again like mirrors. Naturally, Candace Mae concealed to herself what she had seen. Heero was so intent on Relena he had not noticed her pass, and she learned long ago not to interfere in the love affairs of others.

 

She noticed too that Heero never touched Relena, not even so casually as a brush of the shoulder in the hallway. The tension between them was at times almost palpable. After two weeks, Candace Mae began to become impatient with them. Two people with such young, healthy bodies and an obvious affection and attraction for each other shouldn't waste their opportunities, even if they were certain it could not work out. Relena was busy, too busy to make use of her charms the way other women of her age and resources could, and it was a damned shame not to take what was handed to her. As for Heero, well he had more self-control than any hot-blooded, young man in love she had ever seen, which included all the wild love affairs of her youth. It was obvious that something was keeping the pair from indulging in their more primal instincts—Candace Mae was too old and experienced in the world to pretend to believe that propriety alone was a reason—but she was prone to believe, along with the rest of the staff, that whatever noble notions those two children had, they had best drop soon if they wanted to snatch a breath of happiness before it passed them by. Life was too short, and love too gloriously tumultuous to let it escape untried.

 

On the fourth day of the second week, she told Relena as much, causing the girl to turn red as a beet as Candace Mae hung up her suit and gathered the rest of the ironing from her room.

 

“But I can't,” Relena protested. “I do want to, but Heero thinks it would be better if we remained apart. He says that he hasn't decided to love me, Candace Mae. He doesn't think he can and he doesn't want to break my heart.”

 

“Oh, is that right?” She was tempted to tell Relena what she thought about the infamous Mr. Yuy's undeclared feelings—that she thought the man was a fool if he was anything, like most men in his position that she had known, but she knew it would only mean trouble coming from her, so she merely grunted as she folded one of Relena's blouses over her arm.

 

She knew full well that men approached matters of love differently than women. Women were born and bred to be practical and ever-conscious of the possibility of men and all that that implied. From the cradle women were taught by society to size up every man they met for the possibility of a mate, a provider, a husband, a father, a protector, or whatever else might be needed, or she had anyway, and then to wear their hearts on their sleeves for the taking and the breaking in the game of catching them, but men, though they may find any woman they met sexually attractive, could pick and choose among the fairer sex as it suited them, and then unfairly temper their feelings to match their situations and desires. However, even they could be surprised. Men were capable of falling in love as suddenly as any feeling human creature. Sometimes they were too stubborn to recognize it as such, but fall they could, and when they did, it was often twice as hard as women, with the result that they would go to extraordinary lengths to get what they wanted, much to the satisfaction of everyone provided the lady returned the sentiment.

 

However, all she said was “Well, don't give up on it just yet, my dear” and quietly let herself out of the room.

 

 

*****

 

 

At the end of the second week, Relena sat before her vanity in a chemise combing perfectly untangled hair.

 

She had noticed a change in Heero since they spoke in the courtyard on that first morning after he arrived, but she didn't all together understand what it meant. He seemed tense, more so with each passing day, yet he still seemed content to spend more time in her company than was strictly necessary, and he sat up late with her in the living room where she read over her papers and did his work in her presence. Sometimes he worked on the laptop she had ordered for him, and although he maintained a degree of secrecy in regard to what he was doing, he still answered her questions as far as he felt it was safe to do so. Other times he read books. He alternated between technical manuals and nonfiction literature, but once he brought in a thin book of essays and poems bound in leather and read a couple of them to her. He rarely initiated conversation with her at any time except late at night when she changed his bandages before bed, and then it was all about her work, but she felt his eyes on her sometimes, and though it might be her imagination, they seemed to burn her skin through her clothes and gave her chills at the same time.

 

Tonight she sat before her vanity in a sleeping chemise that was little more than lingerie, and she could not pretend that she didn't wear it on purpose, despite that she knew she would wear it to bed alone. The garment modestly covered her legs to the knees. The straps were mere, thin silk ribbons and the front cut provocatively low, but she always wrapped herself in a cotton robe before she went to see Heero. She knew that he would come to her door in a few hours to ask her to change his bandages, and when he did she would be more modestly attired. Still, she wore the chemise because she wanted to feel sexually attractive, even though she knew it would yield nothing. Heero's will was iron hard. She could go to him naked and begging and even if he wanted her, he would not hesitate to turn her out. Heero believed in following his instincts to do what was right, but he was not ruled by them. From their many conversations she understood his reasons for keeping her at a distance, and so she expected nothing and did not press him, but she still wanted him. In her mind they were always and forever intimate, and since this was her home she indulged her fantasy and dressed as if it might come true.

 

So it was that she was surprised when a knock came at her door, much earlier than usual. She had not even begun to think about her paperwork yet—there were stacks heaped in piles on the floor by her bed—and she hadn't the chance to throw on a robe. She scrambled to her feet and belted out a hasty “just a minute” to give herself time to dress properly, but Heero opened the door to her room without waiting and stood in her doorway bare to the waist and wrapped in bandages.

 

He looked drawn to her, weary despite all the rest she knew he was getting. He took his medication sparingly so that he could still get his work done, but she had reports from Candace Mae that he slept most of the hours that she was at work, and that when he wasn't sleeping, he still rested a great deal. His injuries were improving thankfully, slowly but surely, so she did not understand why he always looked so fatigued.

 

“Are you in pain?” she asked worriedly.

 

“I didn't take my meds today,” he said reluctantly. “There was too much work to do.”

 

“I'm coming,” she said. Although she knew he didn't strictly need her to tend to his wounds, she believed that he found her comforting, so she merely grabbed the medical bag that lay on the floor by her bed and followed him out of her room and down the corridor into his. He kept pace beside her in the darkness, his tall, powerful body imposing to her even with his bare torso wrapped in white gauze. Without slowing, he opened the door to his room for her and allowed her to duck under his arm.

 

The lamp was burning by the bed, but the room was otherwise dark. She didn't bother to turn on the lights. There was enough to see by and the darkness soothed her nerves, for this part of the day always made her a little nervous. Heero never flinched when she unwound the bandages and applied the salves to the burns on his back, but sometimes she saw the skin twitch and the burns looked twice as angry and painful in a steady light as opposed to a dim one. Tonight Heero sat cross-legged on the bed as she knelt on her bare feet behind him. The process was familiar and she did it silently as usual, hardly daring to breathe lest she reveal her consternation and give him reason to be concerned. When at last the new bandages were wrapped around his torso and secured into place, Heero twisted to face her as he usually did of late.

 

“How was work?” he asked in sober tones that were, strangely, almost uninterested.

 

“I've barely begun tonight,” she told him. “There's a lot to do, but there's always a lot to do. When one project is finished there are always others that need attention.”

 

He was silent for a moment, staring beyond her shoulder at something she couldn't see. She watched him patiently, expecting the follow-up question about her day tomorrow that he usually asked in tones that belied his concern, or perhaps a suggestion that he help her with her paperwork, an offer which she could never openly accept even though she appreciated his support. As she waited she watched Heero's chest rise and fall and listened to him breathe heavily.

 

“Relena,” he said, and she listened ominously, sensing an announcement she had not anticipated. “I have to tell you something.”

 

“What is it?” Her heart beat like a drum, and she wondered if this was the reason he had asked her to come early tonight. If so then he must be expecting opposition to whatever he was about to propose.

 

“I need to leave,” he said suddenly, and she was so startled she didn't know what to say. Heero was still staring beyond her at the wall, his throat flashing as he swallowed. “I need to leave here soon.”

 

“You can't leave,” she protested. “You are not well yet. Maybe in another week, after you've had a doctor's visit…”

 

“There's a reason I have to go.”

 

“No. If you are being hunted, this is the safest place for you,” she told him. “No one knows you are here and no one would think of looking. Why must you go?” When he didn't answer, she repeated the question. “Why must you go? Heero? Heero, look at me.”

 

He looked down at her and her breath stopped in her throat, cutting off her words abruptly. There was something ferocious in his eyes as he stared at her, something that frightened her though she didn't know what it was or why it should make her feel so deeply uneasy. He seemed to be fighting with something in his mind, wrestling with something that would not yield to his reason, and she was somehow the center of the battle. Her lips parted to ask about this mystery, but she found herself mesmerized, unable to speak, and she registered with surprise that her silence seemed to Heero the deadliest of weapons.

 

“God help me, I can't,” he said suddenly, and Relena found herself pulled into his arms and crushed by a bruising kiss.

 

Heero's embrace was so delicious that she succumbed without a whimper of protest or a single analytical thought. Her whimper was of a different, desperate sort, and when his hands snaked from around her back and eased her down on the bed underneath him by the wrists, she did not struggle or complain. Leaning over her, he kissed her until she forgot who she was and could scarcely comprehend what they were doing. His hands left her wrists to smooth her hair from her head, his strong masculine fingers cradling her neck as he kissed her deeply and urgently, his tongue prying its way past her lips to explore every cavern of her mouth.

 

“Oh!” she whispered in the lapses where she could breathe, her murmurs frantic and urgent, demanding his touch that had been so long denied her.

 

“Relena,” he said softly, almost conversationally, and there hovered on the edge of his breathy whisper something more, something that lingered at the tip of his tongue but did not fall upon her except in a shower of kisses up and down her neck and collarbone and melting into her mouth.

 

She could not bridge the gaps between the missing words. She had never known Heero like this. With the way he held her, the way he kissed her now, all thought vanished and flames leapt up in her breast and spread throughout her entire body until she was aching with fire. Heero kissed her and kissed her until her mouth was sore from his tender touches, and yet still she craved more. She wanted to draw all of him inside her and hold him there until they both exploded, and it did not occur to her that this was exactly what he intended they should do. She hardly registered his hands inching the hem of her chemise up her thighs until he had it shoved up around her waist. It was with a sudden gasp of realization that she felt the head of his organ pressing imploringly against the inside of her thighs. Thoughts eddied and swirled in her mind with no more substance than a breadth of wind as he used his momentum to part her legs with his body and did not slow up before the head of his member nudged into the moistened entry. Before she could blink or breathe, he was pushing determinedly inside her, grunting as he sank inside and shuddering over her body in a moment of respite. He used his arms to pull her close to him by her slender shoulders as his hips settled against hers and his lips captured her mouth in a deep, vital kiss. Relena head spun and she hazily opened her eyes after a few more kisses, unaware how lost she had been in sensation until she saw the expression on Heero's face.

 

His toned, muscled body was both hard and hot to the touch, and there was the ever-burning, wanting lust in his eyes that had become familiar to her, but all of that was overlapped with a caring, gentle tenderness that surprised her with its intensity. Recognition leapt in her breast. Her heart cried out “love,” an emotion she now saw as well as sensed. The room suddenly steamed with body heat and smoldering ardor at last unleashed. Heero looked into her eyes and seemed to understand her sudden elation, but he said nothing. Instead he kissed her, slowly, languidly, thoroughly, a storm of kisses that was as beautiful as it was torturous. She accepted these gratefully, but at length, even Heero demonstrated that he was unsatisfied with kisses alone. Rising slightly on his elbows, he withdrew from her hot tunnel and began to pump in and out of her with strong, forceful pulls.

 

“Oh god, yes,” she moaned in a voice strained with emotion to match his physical exertion. Her chemise rode up just under her breasts as Heero's thrusts forced her body to slide up the mattress until her head was touching the headrest. She flailed for something to hold onto, grasping at the sheets under her fingers.

 

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he whispered. “Don't touch my back.”

 

His breathing became heavy as she complied. Clutching his shoulders, she hung on determinedly, her thighs spread wide now to welcome his thrusts. Heero groaned and panted, becoming more forceful as he lost himself to the luxury of overwrought sensations. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips until the skin turned white and the grip was painful, but she only registered pleasure as he held her lower body in place with his hands so that he could satisfy her by hitting the same spot over and over in an aggressive, desire-driven plunder. She cried her affirmations and clutched at him, one hand holding tight to the back of his neck and the other the shoulder that was not scarred by deep burns, burns that she knew must be flaming as blood pumped throughout his body and sweat trickled down his skin. But neither of them cared. She was so close to an explosion she could taste it, and her eyelids fluttered as her eyes rolled back in her head and her back arched on the bed. The back of his neck was hot under her hand and every other muscle in his body tense with impending release. She heard him from a distance, his voice shaking with incoherent cries, but she could not make out any words as a powerful orgasm crashed suddenly over her. Her whole body rocked with it, and she bit her lip and whimpered as it hit, a cascade of internal earthquakes releasing pressure in a pleasurable rush and fall like the sudden swoop of a roller coaster.

 

Sometime later, Relena came to to Heero cradling her head again, his lips kissing her cheekbones and eyelids, his arms tenderly holding her against his chest. For a moment she thought she had swooned, but realized that it was only a drop in euphoria that had momentarily overwhelmed her senses. She kissed Heero back, seeking his lips with hers hungrily, and her stomach trembled as he answered her. She had never before indulged in so much affection following a tempest like the one that had just past, and she did not know if she had ever wanted to be held so much as she did now.

 

“Do you love me?” she whispered, and half sat up as she asked. “Heero, do you love me after all?”

 

He reached behind his head to untwine her arms from around his neck and laid her gently back on the bed in front of him. He stared at her a moment in silence, his eyes running up her bare legs to her flat stomach and stopping where her chemise still lay rumpled and useless over her breasts. Still without a word, he pulled the chemise up over her head and tossed it over the edge of the bed. Then he carefully pulled the blankets down around them both, climbing into bed with her until they were both covered by the sheets and nothing else. Still occasionally kissing her hair, her neck, her shoulders, and her lips, he pulled her body against his chest from behind. His strong arm trapped her around the waist and chest, and she reflected for a moment that she had never felt as safe as she did at that moment, practically harnessed against Heero in the dim light of the room.

 

“This is a fantasy,” he whispered, nibbling at her ear until she almost felt that she could be aroused again. “Do we need to discuss how things really are?”

 

“No,” she said.

 

She was content. Heero would leave eventually. Maybe in a week or two, maybe sooner, but in the meantime he had chosen to stop fighting and just enjoy what time they had together. She did not ask again if he loved her. She knew he did, was certain in her heart that something had come over Heero that had induced him to change his mind, to make a decision about her for the time being. Maybe it wouldn't last past these precious weeks, but it was real. He did love her. He was just too stubborn to say so.

 

She slept in Heero's arms that night and never moved a muscle. He didn't move either. His arm stayed around her body from the time he shut his eyes to when the first trickles of morning light streamed in between the cracks in the blinds. They both would have slept like the dead all morning if a sudden rustle hadn't jarred them both from sleep.

 

Relena awoke with a start as the blinds were pulled up at dawn, light spilling into the room in a sudden flood. She felt Heero's arms wrap protectively around her and half sat up in a panic, scanning the rest of the room in terror.

 

“My apologies,” Candace Mae said from beside the window. She looked on them with implacable calm, oblivious to their nakedness or simply not caring. “The pair of you make a pretty picture, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I let you sleep all day knowing as I do that the lady Relena has an important meeting in an hour.”

 

“Oh, hell,” Relena swore prettily, and would have leaped out of bed if Heero's arms hadn't tightened around her waist and forced her back into the crook between him and the mattress.

 

Ignoring them, Candace Mae glided serenely out of the room, pausing only to mutter the time on her way out as she softly shut the door.

 

“Heero, let me go,” Relena begged, struggling against the man whose body might have been sculpted from rock.

 

He kissed her with a smile and her protests gradually abated. His hands caressed her breasts and his fingers threaded through her hair and her stomach leaped and careened and dropped in response.

 

“Later,” she begged when she had breadth. “I'll be home later. Please.”

 

He kissed her lips until she stopped trying to talk, and in the silence that followed, he held her chin between is forefinger and his thumb until her eyelids fluttered open. He stared at her with eyes that glowed sapphire blue with warmth and passion and emotion, and she felt her whole body trembling more from his eyes than his touch. For a moment she thought he was going to say something, something precious that she wanted to hear, but he only smiled and thumbed her cheek.

 

“I'll be waiting,” he whispered.

 

 

TBC