Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Caveat Emptor ❯ Chapter II ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Nope… still don't own it

Chapter Two

His body was heavy in her arms, and Relena stumbled backward onto the hard, stone floor. She winced, the sharp grit on the floor pressing into her exposed calves and ankles with the weight of his legs on hers. Glancing frantically across the hall to her friend, Relena implored him for his assistance.

“Trowa, help him!”

She knew he was still breathing; his uneven rasp was hot against her shoulder. Her hand shook as she brushed her fingers through his tangled and dirty hair, so engrossed in the action that she started when she felt Trowa lift him away from her. He stared down at her with concern, but she paid him no heed, ignoring the crusted blood that had come away on her hands and the smeared blood that the injured slave had left on her clothes.

“You can't seriously expect me to pay for that, Relena!” Milliardo's voice was irritated, unimpressed that the slave had collapsed before the Trader had even left the room. He shot a scathing look at the old man, his disgust unveiled. “Get that thing out of my sight!”

Relena gasped, crouching over the slaves' unconscious form, using her body to shield him from the oaf that now moved to take him from her. She glanced up at Trowa's seemingly impassive face, then across to her brother.

“Please, Milliardo, you can't. He'll die.”

Milliardo frowned at her, displeased that his sister continued to argue with him. His ire increased as he watched Trowa step between the large man and Relena, his eyes flashing with malice while his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, daring the man to try and take the slave from her.

“Fine,” he snapped, turning his annoyance on the soldier, “But get it out of here… NOW! And I don't want to hear mention of it again.”

Relena gave Trowa an apologetic glance, wincing as her brother stormed past her, and out of the hall. The Trader's minion fell back at his Master's command, following as the old man beat a hasty retreat, leaving the air in the hall thick with tension.

“Please, My Lady, what would you have me do? What are your orders? It may not be wise to linger here much longer, else His Highness returns.”

Glancing at the Captain's gentle expression, Relena nodded quickly. “Oh course, we cannot stay here…” She thought frantically, watching the uneven rise and fall of the unconscious man's chest with some distress. Mentally shaking herself, she struggled to meet Trowa's gaze with a confidence she did not feel.

“Let me take him, My Lady. I know of a nurse that can take care of him. He will be in good hands, I promise. He simply needs his wounds tended, and rest. You would honour me to let me help you.”

Relena stared, grateful for the kindness of her friend, yet surprised that a soldier of his rank would lower himself to such a task of seeing to the care of a slave. She smiled softly, nodding her ascent to his request and watching quietly as Trowa gestured for the man to be lifted carefully and borne from the room. Turning to leave, he paused a moment, bowing to his Lady, waiting to be dismissed.

“Perhaps it would be better if you wait `til the evening to see how he is progressing, Lady Relena. I shall send word of where he is, and if there is any great change in his condition.”

Relena nodded again, seemingly unable to vocalise the many questions and thoughts that raced through her mind. Instead, she sat immobile on the cold marble floor, long after Trowa had left the hall, the coarse texture of the slave's hair still vivid in her memory. Her skin tingled in recollection, and she wondered briefly what it could mean.

******

Relena waited impatiently for night to fall, sure that the sun took far longer than normal to make its final pass across the sky. The sunset had glowed a vivid red, almost bloody in its hue, before dipping below the hills to the West. Relena hoped that it was not to be a message from the Gods. He would be alive. Trowa had promised her.

Once darkness had settled, a young slave, assigned to serving her, draped a heavy cloak over Relena's shoulders. She stepped back to watch while her Lady pulled up the hood and tucked her blond hair out of sight. Relena smiled at her, and the maiden smiled back. The smile was small, uncertain, but there was an honesty in the dark blue eyes that was endearing. The dark-haired girl had not been at the Palace for long, and the soft burr in her voice the few times she had spoken betrayed her Celtic origins. There was a sorrow in her countenance that intrigued Relena, and she hoped to get to know her better. Nodding briskly, she resolved to be friendlier with the other woman. But for now, her thoughts were occupied with more pressing matters.

She moved quickly through the lamp lit corridors, relieved that she met no one in her travels. Her heart beat an irregular tempo in her chest, and she was unsure why the fate of the stranger was so important to her. His deep eyes had burned themselves into her memory, and his dark promise captivated her. Some deeper instinct cautioned her that there was more to this man than merely chains and servitude. His very countenance reeked of a world so different from her own life of privilege.

Soon, Relena's footsteps had carried her to the lower caverns of the palace, and following Trowa's directions, she found herself at the doorway of a barred cell. The heavy metal gate stood open, and Relena stepped cautiously into the small, Spartan room. She stopped quickly in her tracks at the sight of a woman, perhaps only a few years older than herself, stooped over the slaves' prone form. Her dark red hair caught the candle light, adding a splash of colour to the otherwise bland and nondescript room.

Her forehead was etched with a frown, and she tutted softly to herself while she cleaned assorted lacerations on the man's right arm. She moved suddenly, in reflex, as he struck out blindly with his left arm, which was jerked back with equal force as it reached the end of its slack. The heavy chain, bound firmly to his wrist, rattled back against the wall loudly.

“Really!” the woman muttered, “That's hardly the way to show gratitude. I have a good mind to…”

Her voice trailed off, as she became aware that she was being watched. Glancing towards the door, her eyes widened momentarily before she regained composure. Stumbling to her feet, she bowed formally.

“My Lady! Forgive me, I was preoccupied and did not hear you.”

Relena waved her apology away graciously, stepping closer to observe the patient.

“How is he? Is he awake?”

Trowa's even voice rose from the doorway, appearing suddenly as if he had materialized from thin air. “No, My Lady. The fever has him quite firmly in its' grasp.”

Relena frowned in confusion, “But only a moment ago, I saw him move…”

“He fights demons in his dreams, My Lady,” the red-haired woman interrupted, flushing suddenly as she realised her boldness. Trowa smiled faintly at her, reassuring her, before turning to Relena.

“This is my sister, Catherine. She is the nurse that I mentioned to you earlier, My Lady.”

Relena smiled gratefully at the pretty woman, her attention quickly returning to their patient. “The… nightmares… That is why you have bound him to the wall?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Trowa replied. “He is a danger to himself and all around him in his present state.”

As though in response to the soldier, the man growled low in his throat, his words unclear yet still menacing. Catherine moved towards him again, pressing a damp cloth against his fevered brow. His skin glistened with sweat, and Relena was sure that it must burn to the touch. She watched in silence as Trowa lifted the other man into a sitting position, holding him still while Catherine wrapped fresh linen bandages around his chest and covering the freshly cleaned and treated lacerations. She could not help but wince at the sight of them, still painful looking despite the nurse's remedies. It saddened her to think that another human could have inflicted such wounds.

“Is there something I can do to help,” she asked softly, wishing to do more than stand by idle. Catherine glanced at her, before shooting Trowa a questioning look. He simply nodded in reply, and the woman turned to hand Relena the damp cloth.

“Bathing his skin with the cool water will help to bring him comfort, my Lady.” Catherine said softly. Relena smiled gratefully, crouching down to do as instructed. The nurse stepped back, watching her for a few moments, and Relena could only guess at what the other woman could be thinking.

******

As the night wore on, his breathing seemed to become more even, and the evils of his dreams abate. Relena continued to tend him, refusing Trowa's suggestion that she should return to her chambers and rest. In the waning hours of the evening, Catherine was called away to assist with the birthing of a child, leaving Trowa and Relena alone to watch their patient.

Deep in thought, Relena started at the sound of Trowa's unexpected question.

“Why are you doing this, Lady Relena?” He paused a moment, taking in her puzzled expression. “Your intentions are most admirable, but he is only a slave. Why do you risk the wrath of your brother, and exhaust yourself now, for a mere slave?”

The Captain's question bore no censure or animosity, his tone matter-of-fact, but Relena could not help but stare darkly back at him.

“Merely a slave?” she snapped, “He is a human being! How can you speak in such an offhand manner of your fellow man?”

Flushed with anger, Relena turned away from him, unthinkingly reaching across to stroke the sleeping man's brow. She struggled to control her temper, realising with a sinking heart that the soldier's words did not reflect his own beliefs but rather those he believed held by the aristocracy. And he was not incorrect. The privileged society of Rome thought little of the plight of the poor. But she refused to blind herself in the same manner as her friends and associates.

“I would have bought every one of them if I thought I could diminish their troubles. But I am not a fool, Trowa, nor am I naïve. I could not help them all, but I could at least help one. And trying my Brother's patience is a small price to pay. He will recover from the slight, I assure you.”

Trowa nodded slowly, his expression betraying doubt and scepticism. “But why this one, My Lady?”

Relena motioned towards the top of the man's arm, pointing out the lacerated skin, “These scars on his arm… you can still make out the lines of a tattoo. Numbers, Captain. Similar to the ones you should have on your own arm. He wears the mark of the Roman army, and someone has tried to remove or at least deface it. Surely you must see that he is one of your own!”

Trowa frowned, refusing to glance towards the wounds that Relena gestured towards. “It is most likely that he tried to remove the numbers himself, My Lady,” He replied grimly, “It's more likely he's a deserter, and he has tried to disguise the identity of his Legion. You have likely rewarded his cowardice with misdirected kindness.”

Relena shook her head fervently, frustrated that the man refused to acknowledge that she was correct in her assumptions. Sighing, she forced herself to remain calm and appear unaffected. “Trowa, it would be easy and perhaps not unjustified, to assume that I have grown up sheltered from the harshness of the World… that I am unaware of what goes on beyond the Palace walls. But I hope you would grace me with a little more credit than that. Rome is not the shining beacon that we wish it to be. She has her flaws and her imperfections. Caesar cannot cure her ills on his own, and neither can his army. We cannot fight forever. What will become of us when the warring is over? Where will it leave us? Perhaps there is more place than you know for my misdirected kindness.”

Trowa frowned at her, surprised by the vehemence of her words. Glancing at the still form of the man who continued to sleep deeply, he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what it was that was about the intriguing sister of Caesar that troubled his conscience.

******

Trowa glanced towards the small barred window, watching the thin rays of morning light that crept into the tiny cell. The Lady Relena dozed lightly, her head resting on her folded arms, propped on the edge of the narrow cot. He looked behind him, as the soft click of footsteps alerted him to his sister's return. Her face was drawn and weary, but he knew her well enough that she would not rest until her patient had regained consciousness.

Taking in the sleeping Relena, Catherine inquired softly if there had been any change. Trowa shook his head.

“He has been resting peacefully, but has not awakened. Did all go well with the birthing?”

Catherine nodded happily, leaning over the slave and poking critically at the puckered wounds on his arm. “You know him, don't you Trowa?”

Her brother declined to reply, avoiding her inquiring eyes as he moved towards the door. “I have to go for a little while, Catherine. There is someone I must see, but I won't be long.”

And without a backwards glance, he was gone.

******

The Senator stood on the balcony, watching the crowds of people as they passed by in the streets below. His eyes did not appear to be focused, but Trowa knew that nothing went unnoticed to the politician. A hot gust of wind ruffled his fair bangs, lifting them away from his smooth forehead and revealing the frown that marred the boyish features. The Captain stood watching him in the shadows, waiting to be acknowledged.

“I hear that Caesar's sister is causing a stir again, Captain.”

Trowa gave a small smile, despite himself. He straightened to salute the Senator formally, as he turned away from the railing and moved back into the room. Senator Winner waved a hand dismissively at him, and indicated to him to take a seat.

“The Lady Relena took it upon herself to purchase a slave from the markets, much to her brothers' distaste. The man is somewhat worse for wear… but we are sure he will gradually respond to our care…”

Quatre raised an eyebrow at him, interrupting the soldier mid sentence. “Our care? Since when does a Captain of Caesar's army trouble himself with the affairs of a slave? Surely your weakness for the Lady has not clouded your judgement?”

Trowa flushed, and he threw a dark scowl in Quatre's direction. “You are mistaken in your assumptions, Senator. My motivation is of an entirely different nature.”

Quatre smiled softly at him, enjoying his associates' discomfort. “Then please, my friend, indulge me.”

The Captain leant forward, his elbows resting against his knees, and he lowered his voice despite the absence of anyone else in the room.

“It's him, Quatre. We've found him.”

******

A.N. Many thanks for the many kind and enthusiastic reviews and emails that I've received so far. I'm very happy to hear that people are enjoying reading as much as I am writing. ^__^ A few notes, in response to some questions…

The title of the story… Caveat Emptor… is of course Latin. It's actually a phrase I learned in legal studies when I was in college, and which has for some reason always stuck in my mind. It basically translates to, “Let the Buyer Beware.” Only time will tell whether Relena should have paid some attention to that little piece of advice ~_^

Ancient Rome has fascinated me for many years… and while there will be `links' to Roman history in the storyline, I have not chosen a set time in history that the story takes place, nor will any references to any recorded chronicle determine how this story will be concluded. I simply hope to capture the feeling and mood of the age rather than any particular event. But then… you never know… LoL.

Although Gladiator is one of my favourite movies, CE isn't based on the film. *image of Heero in battle armour pops into head* O_O…. Sorry… what was I saying….?

So until next time…. Thanks for Reading!!