Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Love In The First Degree ❯ Chapter 1

Love in the First Degree

By: SGS

It was an indecent hour of night, at least as far as Relena Peacecraft was concerned. To early for sleep, and to late to save her mortal soul. She sat in the Rose Tattoo, music pounding, lights flashing, people moving, dancing, and talking. Gay laughter and the sounds of idol chitchat filled the air. She sat, nursing the night's third glass of red wine.

Draining one's sorrow in alcohol was a very good thing, she decided for the third time that week. Her friends at the Boston police department had promised her soul was safe. But she knew. It had been three months since she had seen Thomas murdered. Being a private investigator was not a desk job.

She pretended to be deeply interested in her wine, while really observing the other patrons around her. She'd seen them all before, some so many times they had their own little pet names. Wild Thing, the redheaded girl who didn't look a day over eighteen, left with a different guy each night. Paperback writer, the skinny, balding man who always sat in the same corner, drank quick shots of gin while working on some unknown project. And the new one. The outlaw.

He sat further along at the bar, sipping his beer in an almost board manner. Everything about him seemed out of place. His slightly long dark brown hair, cunning blue eyes, and an overall appearance of one who's seen to much of life. He looked like a real western cowboy.

Relena drowned the last of her wine, and glanced at her watch. Eleven- thirty, to early to sleep and to late to walk the streets. She stood and after paying for her drinks she exited the club, never even noticing she was being followed. A shadowy figure crept along always staying at least ten paces behind the young woman. Relena knew it was a bad idea, she knew it was a stupid idea, but still she wondered aimlessly along the back streets of downtown Boston.

Soon she found herself in a place that seemed vaguely familiar. She looked around for a moment trying to decide just where she was. Then it hit her. This was the place, the place where three months ago to the night she had seen Thomas Lowman murdered. Suddenly she heard a movement in the shadows behind her, she began to turn around, but it was to late.

“Got ya, bitch.” A rough voice said as strong hands wrapped around her neck cutting off her air supply. She struggled with her attacker, trying desperately to get free, but to no avail. After just a few moments her hearing faded and her vision became clouded as her limbs turned to lead. Then, just moments before she blacked out completely the body pressed against her back was ripped away.

She collapsed in a heap and watched weakly as her rescuer fought off the offending man. Finally the attacker, realizing he could not win, tore himself away from her hero and made a run for it. Rather than go after the assailant the man knelt by her side and began to examine her neck. It was only then she realized who he was, the outlaw.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He said, his voice calm and soothing. “I just want to see if you're alright.” He moved his hands over her tender neck, then over her arms and legs, looking for injuries. Relena shuttered under his touch.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as her voice returned. She tried to move away form him but her lightheadedness made it impossible.

“I was following you.” He said as if that were the only expiation she needed.

“Why?” She asked, demanding a better reason.

“I saw the creep fall into step behind you as you left, and thought you might need help.”

“Can you help me get home?” She asked, beginning to recover from the attack. He nodded. Strong arms lifted her to her feet and a broad solider was there for her to lean on. She directed him to her, small, neatly furnished apartment three blocks away. She let them into the small apartment complex and the fist thing he noticed was the lack of personal belongings.

The tiny apartment saw sparsely furnished, the living room consisted of a couch, a chair, and not much else. The only thing that really showed any charter was the bookshelves lining one wall. They were full and over flowing with everything from Poe to Dean Kootz. She limped over to the chair and sat down. Her neck was still throbbing, but besides that she felt fine.

“As much as I appreciate you saving me back there I'd still like to know why you were following me.” She said looking at her defender. “And your name would be a good place to start.” She added as an after though. He singed and sat down on the couch opposite her.

“My name is Heero Porter.” He began. “And I was hoping you could help me.” She gave him a confused look as her continued. “Three weeks ago I work up in a Chicago hotel room. Before that I can't remember a damn thing.” Her eyes went wide.

“You mean you don't remember anything? Then how do you know your name?” She asked suspiciously.

“Heero came to mind and Porter form a phone book in the hotel.” He sighed.

“Okay, so you want me to help you find your identity?” She said filling in the gaps.

“That, and then some...” He said.

“Then stop avoiding it and tell me what you want.” She said placing a hand on her now pounding head.

“I told you I woke up in a Chicago hotel room. I woke up with a knot on my head and two suitcases. One full of new clothes I have no memory buying. And the other...” He paused and sighed before continuing. “The other full of money. Damn near a million dollars.”