Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Notez: Behold the long-awaited sequel to Worthless. Sort of. I mean, I was long awaiting it, and I was the one writing it. This is actually, like, the seventh or so story I wrote to follow up on Worthless. It's driving me nuts. I'd start a fic, get nowhere, decide I hated it, and have to start all over again. Gack.

I hadn't actually been planning to give Relena a nervous breakdown anytime soon. The point of her angst was supposed to be that she was every bit as good at being altruistic as she thought she should be, hence being trapped. Kind of a parallel to those fics where Heeo is totally fixated on fighting the war, 'cause ya know, he's the perfect soldier (I hate that phrase almost as much as I hate 'Jester's Mask.') But the first six tries were boring, because Relena never did anything but work and have internal roiling angst, which she did already in Worthless. At some point, it occured to me that if she didn't have a nervous breakdown, i.e. the perfect excuse to force her to step down from office and go have arguments with Dorothy fraught with sexual tension (Yeah! ::yuri fans, of which it is doubtful that Lockheed has any, all cheer::), I didn't have much of a story. Voila, instant plot device: add water and stir.

In case it was unclear, I have decided to make Dorothy a Preventer, because no one says I can't. Hah! Canonical accuracy can take a flying leap. This is all past EW anyway. Maybe she got bored, or something, and she certainly seems qualified to me.

The Yeats poems are, in order of appearence: To A Young Girl, The Second Coming (brr), Sailing to Byzantium, A Prayer for My Daughter and No Second Troy.

To those who read Life, Minnaloushe and Everything, which I posted for Mikkeneko's birthday, this is the scene I mentioned. It is my belief that Relena named Duo and Heero's cat. However, that story is actually set at least a few years after this one starts, so they wouldn't have Minnaloushe yet.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Disclaimer: G-boys aren't mine. G-girls aren't mine. The rule of thumb is, if it's prefixed by G, they aren't mine.
Pairings: D+R, eventually. Implied 1+2.
Warning: Angst. More Yeats. Swearing--there's a four-letter word somewhere in here. Oddly enough, I've found that my stories about Relena have little profanity. She's just too well-bred to swear!

I like C&C. But I don't expect much, because I have bad C&C karma (I lurk. Shame on me. Don't be like me--write to authors! Break the cycle! Start now! With this story!).

By the way, for the purpose of the fic, which is set a few years after Endless Waltz, assume that Relena went from being a Vice Minister-of-Foriegn-Whatsit to a Minister.




Chapter 2: The White Bird




"Your sincerity frightens me."

"Pardon?"

"I said, your sincerity frightens me."

Relena paused and laid down her gardening shears. "How do you mean, Dorothy?"

Dorothy gestured at the rose bush Relena had been pruning. "You take everything you do so seriously. As if perfection matters to a rose bush."

Relena considered the rose. True, it probably didn't matter much to the bush if her cuts were clean and even, and they would hardly show to people walking in the garden. Still... "It matters to me."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "It just does."

Dorothy placed her hands on her hips and rocked back on her heels. "I think you're egotistical, Miss Relena."

Now that was new, Relena thought sourly. Dorothy usually limited herself to innuendo and sarcasm; it was unusual for her to be so openly insulting. Maybe she was getting bored, and wanted some variation. "Is that so?"

"Yes. You act as if your persistant sincerity is welcome wherever you bestow it--as if it is somehow a necessity. Quite the egotist, to think so highly of yourself and your own attentions."

Relena considered simply picking up the shears and continuing in her botanical ministrations, but that would be rude. Just because Dorothy was a bitch was no reason for Relena to act the same way herself. She craned her head to see Dorothy standing over her, dressed in an immaculately pressed Preventer's uniform and with her long blond hair pulled into a braid. She was smiling. "Perhaps, you're right, Dorothy," Relena said calmly. "It's hard to say. After all, I was instrumental not only in ending the war, but in negotiating peace treaties with all five colony governments and laying out the groundwork for legislature that should help reduce the kinds of poverty that lead to desperate criminal action in the first place. I've also been a shining emblem of peace and a symbol of hope to millions of people in the Earthsphere." She shrugged. "It seems to me that's egotism well-directed." Relena turned back to the bush and reached towards another branch.

"Of course, Miss Relena," she heard Dorothy say, voice perfectly neutral.

Score one for the Peacecraft. Relena smiled slightly.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Relena knelt at the corner where two open windows met, leaning halfway out into the window. "Look, Dorothy, ducklings!"

Dorothy strode over to the window, peered out, and grunted. "Lovely. I suppose now you'll ask me to fetch you some bread so you can feed them."

Relena smiled sunnily. "What a nice idea, Dorothy. I'd appreciate it."

Dorothy muttered something unintelligible and stomped gracefully off to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a box of crackers. "They're stale, and your cook was going to throw them away, so it won't be a waste," she said, shoving them into Relena's waiting hands.

Relena beamed. "You're so thoughtful, Dorothy." She crumbled a handful of crackers and began tossing them out the window to the ducks, who responded with enthusistic quacks.

"How you manage to endow duck-feeding with your typical sincerity is beyond me," Dorothy said crossly.

Relena broke a cracker in two and tossed half of it onto the wet grass where a mama duck gobbled it up. "Any good deed," she said, and ate the other half. "The ducks certainly appreciate it."

"If you try to tell me any inspiring anecdotes about little children and starfish, I'll be sick."

"Hah?" Relena said.

"Never mind."

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Relena solemnly pressed several crackers into Dorothy's hand. Dorothy stared at it as though she'd suddenly grown an extra finger. "Yes?" she said.

"Go on," Relena flapped her hands encouragingly. "Feed some ducks."

"Are you insane?" Dorothy wished she hadn't said it as soon as the words left her mouth. Relena's face tightened. Dorothy hastily threw a cracker out the window.

"You'd better break them up into pieces, Dorothy." Relena leaned out the window. She clucked disaprovingly. "You seem to have stunned one of the ducklings."

Dorothy obligingly crumbled the rest of the crackers and dropped them directly underneath the window. All the ducklings flocked around them, squawking like mad. Relena cooed back at them.

"I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!" Dorothy murmured.

Beside her, Relena stiffened. "Oh, fuck you," she snapped.

Dorothy's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Are you feeling all right, Relena?" she said, with a touch of trepidition.

"I'm fine, Dorothy. Is something wrong?" Relena said, as if she'd said nothing untoward.

Dorothy shook her head. "Of course not, Miss Relena. Never mind. Perhaps...isn't it time for a nap?"

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Relena curled up in the overstuffed armchair and stared mournfully at the table before her. "I don't think I have the right instincts for this game," she sighed.

"So?" Quatre raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Are you going to buy or sell anything this turn?"

"Buy."

"Don't prompt her, Quatre," Heero said, disgruntled. "Dammit, I wanted Pennsylvania Avenue."

Relena handed her money to Quatre, who gave her the deed in return. Dorothy said, "She would have bought it anyway, wouldn't you have, Miss Relena?"

Old habits, Relena reflected, died very hard indeed. Habit is an old horse. "I like green," she said, and shrugged.

Heero glared.

Dorothy rolled the dice. "Quatre, dear, could you move my marker, please?"

Quatre obligingly moved it to the proper spot. "You owe me rent, Dorothy," he said politely.

Dorothy, who had landed on that spot three times in as many circuits around the board, counted out the rent. Quatre didn't even bother to hold his hand out this turn, merely waited for her to throw it at him in a shower of colorful paper.

Relena sometimes wondered if Dorothy was still holding a grudge that Quatre had defeated her in their tactical battles during the war. She was certain he still held a grudge about being stabbed. It seemed almost worth bowing out of the game early just to watch them struggle like crazed wolverines for the monopoly. Heero was going to go bankrupt fairly soon anyway; she'd learned long ago that he was terrible at board games. She was fairly good at negotiating, herself, but somehow she lacked the necessary ruthlessness to cripple her opponents--she was always giving the poorest person at the table loans. Duo thought it was funny, but it had driven Hilde to distraction, because the game never went anywhere.

Quatre and Dorothy tended to tear through their opponents fairly quickly, though, and spend three or four hours verbally ripping shreds off each other. But their games rarely ended, because as soon as it was obvious who would win, the other would stomp off and sulk.

Relena was suddenly bored. She'd seen this game too many times before for it to hold her interest today, when Heero's presence preyed at her attention. They'd talk, sooner or later, and she was tired of waiting. "Forfeit," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow, Quatre."

He nodded. As she left the library, she heard Heero's voice softly repeating her words.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Because the library was occupied by the remnants of the Monopoly game, they went instead to her study. Relena sat on the couch, Heero straddled the desk chair, and both thought how strange it felt not to have a table between them. "I haven't been in this room in months," she said, breaking the silence that was never awkward between them anymore. "Dorothy forbade me. On Sally's instructions."

"And mine," Heero said. "Duo told me how many times he found you asleep in here, on his visits. I wondered why he knew that, when I had no idea."

"He was around longer," she said. "He was a houseguest several times. Your visits tended to be short."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." She decided she didn't want to talk about that. "How are you and Duo?"

A smile stole across Heero's face. "Very well. We're living together, now."

"Oh? How does Hilde feel about that, then?" Relena inquired, hoping to see him blush.

"We moved to Earth several months ago, Relena." Heero said, surprised she didn't know. "Duo sold his half of the business to Hilde. She has a new partner in the business. And--roommate."

"I see," Relena said. "Well, then. Good for her, I suppose. Is she happy?"

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

"I think so." He said, anxiously, "So, how do you feel?"

She knew he didn't mean about Hilde. Relena stared at her hands. "Empty. And angry. And sad. My term ends in three days. Matas already called me and told me he'd been confirmed for the next...it's over, Heero. I'm done. My career's over."

"And yet the world hasn't ended," Heero said softly. "Does that make it any easier?"

"The world hasn't...what?"

Heero unslung his legs from the chair and sat beside her on the couch, covering one pale hand with his own. "You might not remember, but the day after you had your breakdown, we talked. You kept saying that we couldn't take you away from the office because they needed you too badly, and if anything went wrong, you had to be able to fix it. I told you everything could run fine without you, and you said, no, the world would end. You were hysterical."

Relena said blankly, "I don't...I don't remember that."

"Sally said you might not. So, does that help?" He peered at her anxiously.

"Wh-what...you and she took away from me..." Relena's hand curled into a fist in his. "My sense of purpose. Dorothy calls it egotism.

She whispered, "But it wasn't. It was fear..."

She drew her hand across her eyes. "I don't know what I'm meant to do, any more. That's what you took away from me; the courage of my convictions, Heero. I had a sense of responsibility. You were the one who inspired me."

"Yes, I know. You told me."

"Oh."

"Relena...did it ever occur to you that maybe you'd already done the work you needed to do?"

"What?"

"You did help to change the world, just like I did. But that doesn't mean you have to keep at it forever."

"No..." she shook her head. "Peace isn't like war. Peace is ongoing. It has to go on forever. The work isn't done. War ends, and the soldiers go free, but peace is a lifetime committment."

"Relena," he said firmly. "You wanted out."

"Yes, part of me did. And the rest of me knew better."

"You said you wished I would kill you. Do you remember that? That's why I agreed with Sally, more than anything else. If it hadn't been for that, we would have let you go back. But you weren't happy, you were just good at smiling. That breakdown was inevitable. You felt responsible because no one could be as strong as you, and no one could do what you did. Well, maybe no one was as strong as you, and you still weren't strong enough to sacrifice every little piece of yourself, your time, and your energy and your dreams. No one is. No one has to be. It's off your shoulders. Don't try to pick it up again."

Relena gave a shaky little laugh, and said, "Yes, I shouldn't be as stupid as Atlas, then, to take the world back." She patted Heero's hand as if she were the one offering comfort, and then burst into tears. "Oh Heero," she cried, but got no further. She pressed her face against his shoulder.

Heero cradled her as she sobbed, rubbing her back and murmuring inconsequential things. It seemed appropriate.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.

A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and the rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!

I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;
Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!


"The White Birds," W.B. Yeats.




tbc.


Notez: Yes, I am aware that a nervous breakdown is not the end of the world, nor is it the same as being institutionalized for paranoid schizophrenia. I am here accrediting it with its significance for three reasons: A) because Relena's nervous breakdown destroys her faith in her own ability to accomplish useful things as a leader, B) because as Heero points out, and I tried to imply in Worthless (the fic to which this is a sequel), Relena was so unhappy she was becoming passively suicidal, and C) because when I'm behind the steering wheel of a car or at a keyboard, I'm God, and I wanted a nice set of dramatic consequences, such as having her political career derailed and her life's plans turned upside down. I've never had a nervous breakdown myself, and I hope never to have one. I gather it's extremely unpleasant. My sympathies go to anyone unfortunate enough to have had one (or more).

"The White Birds" is a nice but generally unremarkable poem that in my head associated itself with Gundam Wing the first time I read it. Meteors, roses, white birds flying about, etcetera. Relena got annoyed at Dorothy for quoting it because she's trying not to submit to escapism. Then her courtesy gene kicked in. ^^ Poor Relena.

Having taken away Relena's main motivation for living, I have no idea yet whether I'll let her return to doing public good. Maybe in a part-time capacity. Unlike certain unnamed authors I might or might not beta for, I don't get off on dragging my characters over fields of broken glass for the angst factor. Well, maybe just a little. But I'm a sucker for happy endings, by which I do not mean taking a page from Hitchcock.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Disclaimer: G-boys aren't mine. G-girls aren't mine. The rule of thumb is, if it's prefixed by G, they aren't mine.
Pairings: D+R.
Warning: Angst. Unspecific descriptions of violence. Reference to something unforgivable done to ginger snaps (not for the weak at heart).

I like C&C. But I don't expect much, because I have bad C&C karma (I lurk. Shame on me. Don't be like me--write to authors! Break the cycle! Start now! With this story!).

By the way, for the purpose of the fic, which is set a few years after Endless Waltz, assume that Relena went from being a Vice Minister-of-Foriegn-Whatsit to a Minister.





Chapter 3: Her Recitation




She woke from a nightmare, gasping for breath. She laid her hand over her heart to feel it racing, and remembered feeling her father's heart stutter and stop under her hand. That was in the dream. Daddy's heart stopped under her hand. "It was a dream," she whispered. "A dream." But it happened.

Une threw the bomb snatched from her hand and the building her father was in exploded, killing everyone inside

It did happen.

She sat by him and couldn't stop the blood that soaked into her good skirt, and she couldn't keep his heart beating, and it stopped under her hand. And the last thing he said to her was that he wasn't really her father, never had been, and it was then, only then, that the world began to fracture.

"Father!"

She felt along her neck for her pulse, and it came, strong and fast with leftover terror. "A dream. Damnation." She lay back down and the fear began to recede with the sense of the nightmare.

It was probably just her subconcious nagging her for neglecting her work in favor of playing with her friends. Remember, her mind whispered at her. Remember. This is what comes of war. Your duty is to keep this from ever happening again, to keep it from ever being necessary. This is the duty your father left you when he died.

"This is necessary," she repeated to herself over and over again as she drifted back into sleep. This is duty.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

No. That was a memory. A dream about a dream. She lay awake and could not sleep. She kept having memories.




The pillbox was round and silver and were she to make a fist, would just barely fit within it. She let it sit in the palm of her hand as she stood by her window, letting the warm sunlight reflect off the metal onto her skin. Her watch beeped discreetly. Ah. Just a minute.

The top of the pillbox was decorated with an inlay of a stylized rose against a black background; the flower was red, the leaves blue-green, and the stems and outline were silver. She shifted the box onto her fingers and traced its edge with her thumb until she found the tiny button, then pressed. It snapped open, and she used her fingernails to fish out two white pills, noting as she did how the concave inside of the lid reflected her face, distorted, twisted and upside-down. She snapped the tiny case shut, laid it on the desk, and placed the asprin on the back of her tongue to dry-swallow.

It was a gorgeous day, and for a moment, she couldn't drag her eyes away from the bright glass of her office windows. She scrabbled blindly at the surface of the desk beside her until her fingers found the pillbox. There are windows in the hall, she thought, reluctant to move. And you could look at them any time you wanted, if it wouldn't offend the esteemed representatives to stare out the window instead of gazing politely at them. Her fingers clenched around the smooth shape of the pillbox before she slipped it into a pocket set in the inner lining of her tailored jacket. Minister Peacecraft shrugged to settle the fabric on her shoulders, swept her hands along the non-existent wrinkles of her blouse, and left the room.




That was a lifetime ago. Or six months. The passage of time didn't matter, only what changed in it. Not a minister anymore. It wasn't her office, and they weren't her windows, and she didn't need to stand by them, swallowing prayers.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Like a dream, like a holy dream, conclusions came upon her; resolutions struck their way. She stood by the golden window; time passed, time fell. Gradually the darkness crept around her. This was a decision.

And Heero was behind her. She was unsurprised, for she knew, as she knew blood beneath her skin, of his silence and his skill, and that was Heero.

"Why do you stand in front of windows?"

"You know why," she said.

She saw his reflection nod in the window. "I will kill you."

Relena smiled.

She watched the bullet flow towards her, river-like; it tore through her chest and pierced her heart, making death inevitable. But it had come from the wrong direction and it exited her back with no force lost, and continued on towards Heero. It was the reflection that had fired the gun, not the man--

"Didn't you think it would be different?"

Relena woke up, and she was already crying.


"I can't do this any more," she sobbed, and Heero put his arm around her, and shot her in the head--

"I can't do this any more," she sobbed, and Heero spat on her prostrate form, saying "I should have known you were weak--"

"I can't--" she gasped. "But I must."

She went to sit in the library, perched on the window seat and stared from dark room to a dark night. "I will." And the room was silent.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

It had only been a memory of a dream, that, but what a nightmare. She couldn't stand it anymore. She rose from her bed, slipping a robe around her nightgown for warmth, and padded off to find Dorothy.

Dorothy slept in a small room offset Relena's bedroom; the builder of the ancient house had intended it for a maid, but it was perfect for a bodyguard-cum-companion. God, she looked so harmless when she was asleep. She shook the pale blond gently. "Wake up, Dorothy," she whispered. "I need you to keep me company."

"Just a moment, Miss Relena," the prostrate figure muttered, sitting up and letting the sheets slope down. Relena suddenly recalled that Dorothy slept naked, and was grateful for the darkness that concealed her blush. Dorothy slid out of bed and into a robe she must have laid out on a chair before going to bed. "What is it?"

"I can't sleep."

"You woke me up because you had insomnia?"

"Dorothy," Relena said with the slightest hint of panic. "Please."

"Do you want me to read you a story?"

"Dorothy!" Relena paused. "Just talk to me, please. Please."

Dorothy laid a gentle hand on Relena wrist and squeezed. "It's all right, Miss Relena. Would you like some warm milk?"

"You know I hate warm milk."

"Fancy that," Dorothy said. "Crackers?"

"Not at night."

"Tell me what Heero like on his ginger cookies."

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

"Wasabi, as you know."

"It's the vilest thing I've ever heard of. I believe Duo told you he used to like them until he saw Heero 'smearing horseradish paste on innocent ginger snaps'?"

"And folding his doily into an origami crane."

"Yuy is a strange fellow."

"One of a kind."

"Do you like sashimi?"

"You know I don't."

"What about tempura?"

"In moderation."

"White wine or red?"

"Red for a meal with red meat. Otherwise, white."

"Can you name a year?"

"Of course not."

Dorothy could feel Relena's tension draining away under her hand. Better. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Lilacs, for the smell, then roses, and lilies for the shape."

"Where do lilacs grow?"

Relena chuckled into the darkness. "Wherever someone emptied a chamber pot."

"How do you feel about mirrors?"

"Nice for decoration and metaphysically irritating."

"Have you ever broken any bones?"

"My right wrist, when I was very little, and my right leg when I was ten years old."

"How did that happen?"

"I don't know what happened with my wrist, but for the leg, I was climbing around the rocky part of the beach and I slipped. Pargan was with me, and he carried me home. I cried my eyes out from the pain."

"Why is your limo pink?"

"I like pink. It's pretty."

"I prefer black."

"You're entitled, although I think you look nicer in blue. Maybe even red."

Dorothy laced her fingers through Relena's. "How many sugars do I take in my tea?"

"Two."

"How many does Quatre?"

"None."

"And Duo Maxwell?"

"Three."

"What about Trowa Barton?"

"I don't know, I've never had him over for tea. But his sister Catherine takes two sugars."

"Heero Yuy?"

"He only drinks green tea, and he drinks it straight. So does Wufei."

"What's the nicest birthday present you've ever gotten?"

Relena hesitated, and her fingers tightened in Dorothy's. "...A pillbox."

"Really?"

"It was very pretty. I used it...for a while, but I lost it..."

"Who was it from?"

"Duo brought it. From Hilde."

"I see." Dorothy considered this. She'd gone off on a wrong track, it seemed; thoughts of Hilde still upset Relena somewhat. "Second nicest, then."

"Ah," Relena sounded as though she had smiled. "A teddy bear, from Heero. Not quite my style, but it's the thought that counts, I suppose."

"Do you like Jackson Pollock?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. What about Pre-Raphaelites?"

"I like Millais. And Rosetti. Especially the paintings with Lizzie Siddal, she was so beautiful..."

"Beata Beatrix."

"Yes."

"Do you remember how to decline nouns in Latin?"

"Better than I remember how to conjugate verbs."

"How do you feel?"

"Better." Relena disentangled her hand from Dorothy's and stood up. "Thank you, Dorothy."

"You're welcome, Miss Relena."

Relena paused at the door. "Do I have to ask you again not to call me that?"

Dorothy smiled, invisibly. "Of course not, Relena. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dorothy."

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

tbc.


Notez: ^^;; I have absolutely no idea how long this story is going to be. That's why I call this the Brain-Sucking Arc (also because it took me fourteen thousand words in stories I threw away before I hit my stride with this one. I'm not exaggerating. Oh, my aching wrists). It seems to me that Relena and Dorothy's relationship is improving to the point where Dorothy refrains from needling her just for kicks. I'm also trying to get Relena actively moving forward past her breakdown, complicated only slightly by the fact that I don't have a clue what I'm doing.

Yes, Mikkeneko, I feel your pain.

On the plus side, I think I'm starting to figure out what makes Dorothy tick! ^^ Is it a bad thing when you don't know why your characters are doing things? I don't understand them...I just have to listen to their internal monologues in my head...usually when I'm in a lecture, learning about Postmodernism or something.


I have been known to nip
And to rip into shreds
Old stories for their good bits
And leave the rest for dead.

Why waste the good bits of the bad versions? I regularly cannibalize my old (bad) stories. I'm a great fan of recycling. Eh heh...those dreams she was having came from two early drafts and were set in context of events which never happened here...::sweatdrop::

Yes, I'm aware I was mucking up details in Relena's flashback. The way they did it in the anime was stupid. This is better.

Re: I call this one "HAY LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON MY HARD DRIVE!"

[cerusee.livejournal.com]

Disclaimer: G-boys aren't mine. G-girls aren't mine. The rule of thumb is, if it's prefixed by G, they aren't mine.
Pairings: D+R.
Warning: A milder shade of angst, also some creme brulee (that stuff goes straight to your hips).

I like C&C. But I don't expect much, because I have bad C&C karma (I lurk. Shame on me. Don't be like me--write to authors! Break the cycle! Start now! With this story!).

By the way, for the purpose of the fic, which is set a few years after Endless Waltz, assume that Relena went from being a Vice Minister-of-Foriegn-Whatsit to a Minister.




Chapter 4: Speaking of Things




"Whenever I remember meeting Heero, I remember thinking that my father was going to die."

"But wasn't that before anybody knew what was going on...?"

"Yes. I actually had no idea at the time. It's just that in my head, those things--Heero appearing, Father's murder, the outbreak of war--they all get confused. I think...Heero was like an omen to me. I knew that someday I would take over where my father left off, that I was destined to follow in his footsteps."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No. My parents--my foster parents--never suggested I go into politics. Perhaps they were worried about what could happen if anyone realized I was Sank royalty. But I knew, as far back as I can remember, that I was going to be a leader. It simply never occurred to me that in order for me to take Father's place, something would have to happen to him first. So when Heero turned up...I knew things would change. But Father's death was still a shock to me.

"Even knowing that, I still remember it wrong. It seems to natural to connect the two, and I feel guilty for not predicting that he would be a casuality of war. I should have known. We were a high profile family, we were pacifists in the face of a growing call for war, and he traveled into dangerous places. I should have known. How could I not have known what would happen?"

"Do you feel guilty?"

"...Sometimes. In my heart of hearts. I loved my father dearly, and I wish he could have lived forever...

"And it's a little bit worse, now, because I feel a failure. I took over my father's position, but I couldn't handle it. I had a nervous breakdown. I wasn't as strong as him."

"Perhaps you should consider the differences between his situation and your own."

"What do you mean?"

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"First of all, the structure of the government is different, now. Your father had fewer responsibilities; he was a Vice Minister, with fewer responsibilities than a regular Minister. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs involved less diplomacy under the Alliance government, because the colonies were subject states. Your father was also older, more experienced, and had a family. You were very young when you accepted your position, with no support structure. You were also helping to redesign a a global government. The sheer amount of work, not to mention the associated stress was far more than what your father dealt with."

"I suppose that's true."

"In our previous sessions, we've discussed your hero worship of your father. You must keep in mind, at times like this, that your perception of his abilities was very colored by your love and devotion."

"...I was always so proud when he took me along on his trips...it made me feel so grown-up. So trusted. I know it was my companionship he wanted more than anything else, but I loved it."

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"So how was it today?" Dorothy inquired as Relena clicked the door shut behind her.

"It was fine. We talked about my father. She says next time, we should talk about Hilde."

"Ah. Well, I imagine you're quite looking forward to that."

"Shut up."

"Relena?"

"What?"

"Don't do that," Dorothy said. "It makes me nervous when you're rude. It's so uncharacteristic."

"I thought you said I was overcivilized?"

"You are. It still makes me nervous."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to talk to her about Hilde. It's making me upset."

"I can tell. Do you want to go home?"

"Do I have to?" Relena sighed.

"We could go out to lunch. Sally told me she thinks you need to get out more."

Relena clicked her tongue. "She was the one who ordered me to stay in bed in the first place."

"She was trying to keep you away from your office. And that was ages ago. Maxwell reccomended some good restaurants around here."

"That sounds nice. Will they let you in dressed in a Preventers' uniform?"

Dorothy laid her hand on her holster and smiled, just a little bit viciously. "Of course they will."

Relena rolled her eyes and slid on her coat.

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She ate three cherry tomatoes and a sliver of carrot and spent the next ten minutes pushing around lettuce with her salad fork. Eventually, Dorothy noticed. "Don't you care for salad, Relena?"

"No, not really."

"Then why didn't you ask the waiter not to bring you one?" asked Dorothy, remembering of how much Relena hated to waste food.

"I always forget," she sighed. "I don't often eat out..."

"Didn't you go to a lot of dinners, then?"

"Well, yes, but everything was always arranged at those. I can barely remember how to order food in restaurants, much less remember to ask them to hold the salad." She moodily speared a carrot and nibbled at the end. "You know, I feel quite ineffectual these days."

Dorothy put four croutons on her fork, banished the unpleasant associations the number conjured up for her, and told her, "Next time, I'll take you to an Italian restaurant and I'll order you antipesto. I've always had serious doubts about any food that depends on iceberg lettuce for its substance."

When their food came, Dorothy again did a quick chemical analysis to make sure it wasn't drugged or poisoned. Relena flushed slightly. This was not helping her feel any more competant. "Must you?"

"Regardless of how you feel about your health, Miss Relena, I am your bodyguard, and I'm under orders."

"I still don't know why."

"Why I have orders to test your food, or why I'm your bodyguard?"

"Both," Relena said, who was starting to feel unreasonably cross about her entire day, therapy and all. "I'm not a Minister anymore; I'm no longer of any importance to the world. No one has any motivation to harm me. And I don't know how on Earth the Preventers can justify to the Budget Committee assigning an agent full-time to guard a civilian in my position."

"Well," Dorothy said, scanning the results of her datapad and snapping it shut, apparently satisfied that Relena's food was free of contaminants, "Lady Une is not so sanguine about your safety as yourself, Miss Relena. She believes that even though you have dropped out of the public eye, you are still well-known enough to be the target of terrorists and lunatics." She handed Relena back her sandwich, which Relena set aside in favor of staring at the table and twisting her napkin in her hands. "And as for the Budget Committee, I believe the motion passed unaminously to assign you a full-time bodyguard in lieu of the pension you waived when you began your term." She took a bite of her own sandwich. "Are you going to eat, or shall we have your food wrapped to go, Miss Relena?"

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Surprised, Relena picked up her sandwich and nibbled at it, then put it down. "Dorothy, the Budget Committee is, to put it kindly, a bunch of squawking chickens who wouldn't vote unanimously on which door to use if their room was on fire. And I know for a fact that the chairperson used to refer to me in meetings as 'the royal brat.'"

"How odd."

"Nobody sent bomb threats or anything like that, did they?" Relena demanded.

Dorothy half-choked on her food. "Perhaps someday, Miss Relena, you'll learn to take a compliment for what it's worth. Why don't you eat your sandwich?"

"Dorothy?"

"Yes, Miss Relena?"

"Please stop calling me that."

"As you wish, Relena."

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They lingered over a dessert that Dorothy refused on the grounds that too much food in one sitting put her to sleep. Whether that was a ploy to make Relena eat more creme brulee and put extra weight on her slender frame, only Dorothy would ever know. Dorothy had discovered, though never had mentioned, that Relena came out of her therapy sessions considerably more prone to answering personal questions than on a usual day. A mildly conspiratorial air and a pot of vanilla-flavored coffee did the rest.

"But why were you so determined to go into politics, Relena?" Dorothy persisted. "Yes, I know you've said you always were, but there has to be more than that. All children have dreams about their future, but no one follows a such a whim blindly--at some point, we all reconsider our choices, if only to confirm our resolutions. Didn't that ever happen with you?"

Relena was slow in her answer, sipping coffee like wine and twirling her spoon. "Yes," she said finally. "At the end of the war. I wondered, then, if I had done my part, and fulfilled my destiny. I'd done almost more than I ever thought I could, and I was exhausted. Then they came and offered me the Vice-Ministership. I refused, at first. They were very persistant, though, and kept offering." She paused to take a bite of her custard. "I didn't know what to do. So I went and talked to the only people I thought could understand..."

Dorothy's eyes lit up. "You talked to the Gundam pilots, didn't you?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And what did they tell you?"

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"Heero told me to follow my feelings. Quatre told me to do whatever would make me happiest. Wufei said that he thought I had the strength to do it, if I wanted. Trowa said I should consider my reasons very carefully, and that guilt is a poor motivation for action."

"And Maxwell?"

"Duo told me the reason he became a Gundam pilot." Relena carefully poured herself another cup of coffee.

"You're keeping me in terrible suspense, Relena."

"He said he fought because the war had been necessary, and he fought so no one else would have to do it."

Dorothy sat back, satisfied. "So you took the position so no one else would have to do it."

"Yes. And because it felt right, and I couldn't be happy knowing that there was suffering in the world that I was doing nothing to cure. Duo told me about his childhood--he was poor. He was a war orphan who survived plague, starvation and massacre and outlived everyone he knew through sheer luck.

"It was necessary for me to take the position, because the people in the government were all the same people who'd led when the Alliance still existed. And the war changed them, yes, and convinced them of the need for peace and the need to deal with the colonies not as subjects, but as equals. But it was their failures of vision and compassion that led to the monstrous conditions under which the colonies revolted. They needed someone to bring those things back into the government, and someone to remind them that government is not about ruling, but about serving the interests of the governed."

Dorothy laughed. "You're an orator at heart, Relena. I don't know if you were made for politics, but you were made to lead."

Relena frowned around a mouthful of creme brulee. "Mmm."

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tbc.


Notez: I think I finally have a handle on Dorothy! Yay! It turned out to have a lot less to to with her lecherous qualities than I anticipated...which is not to say none... ^_^;; Down, you yuri fans, I don't do lemons (only vague innuendo). Although, when I finally get to that point (and I think I will, as I've decided this story isn't done until they're plausibly doing hentai things in the bathtub), if someone wants to write me one, I'm game.

You might be wondering why it took a five page chapter of Relena discussing her motivations for me to figure out what Dorothy wanted. I sure am.

It was not an accident on my part that Dorothy called her Miss Relena even though Relena asked her not to in Chapter 3. You know, Miss just doesn't convey the same thing as the honorific -sama...but I swore an oath on Herbert Passin never to have non-Japanese characters randomly using Japanese phrases unless they are in fact supposed to be speaking Japanese. Which they are not. Linguistic borrowing is a privilege, not a right...well, actually, it's neither, it's just a fact of life, and I do approve heartily of multiculturalism. I just prefer to see it done with style and grace, and not in a context vacuum.

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Chapter 5:



From Relena's Journal:


Dorothy told me today that it seems odd that a girl who has yet to reach her twenty-second birthday should be thinking so much of endings as I do, these days. Had anyone else said it, I would assume they were ignorant or stupid, but Dorothy is neither. She is sarcastic, and dedicated to irritating me, and eveything she says is meaningful.

It still seems unfair to me. The end of a dream is hard, especially if you weren't prepared for it.

Doctor Yan says she thinks I was more prepared than I believe. She says the dreams I had of dying, which I have not told anyone else about, not even Heero, could have been an indication that I subconciously anticipated my breakdown and the consequences it would have. Maybe she's right.

Psychoanalysis aside, it still hurts. [1]

Yan pushes, gently, and says I need to reevaluate my life, which I reply is what I've been doing ever since Matas was confirmed as Minister. I know I'm not going to get it back. I suppose she's never had to change her whole life's plans, though, and has no idea how it would feel.

I mentioned that to Dorothy, and she said something about college, and something about having an idea, and then she said what she said about endings. She said maybe I should think about the flipside.

I presume she means that I should think of the beginning, instead. If I can't do what I always thought I'd do, I have the freedom to do something else instead.

And I'll admit, yes, it is possible to be confined by a dream. It's just that--

It's just--just that changes are always hard, harder if you can't choose them. You get used to them in the end. Every so often, I get a little pang for Ilsa; she was a nice woman, and a good bodyguard, and she didn't talk nearly so much as Dorothy. But Dorothy's been here for what feels like forever, and she'll be here either until Une decides to transfer her or until I get so sick and tired of her that I request a change of guard.

I admit, there's a part of me that wants to stick it out and see what happens, because I've found I can irritate Dorothy almost as much as she irritates me. It's almost fun.

And she did read me poetry. I didn't ask her to do that. Maybe it's just one of those things upper-class girls are taught to do. I've never asked. But the day Sally dropped by and told me she had confirmed the indefinite leave, when I locked myself into the bathroom to cry, Dorothy sat outside the door and read poetry until I agreed to come back into the living room. And she read until she was half-hoarse, and then she started reading THAT poem, and we had a fight. She always does that. Whenever I start feeling comfortable around her, she sticks a pin in.

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The next day, of course, she'd removed every lock in the house, and said it was because if she let me hurt myself in the bathroom, Sally would vivisect her.

She can even be compassionate. I kept having flashbacks, one night, and they had me so keyed up I couldn't sleep, and I started to hyperventilate. When I woke her up, she started to ask me the most nonsensical questions she could think of to take my mind off things.

I suppose Ilsa wouldn't have known what to do. She was just a bodyguard.

I suppose Sally probably knew Dorothy could talk me out of a panic attack. I know she and Une had psychological analyses done of all their agents; I remember the letter Duo sent me about listening to Wufei complain about that. Sally and Une are thorough, and surely went over every profile with a fine hair. Maybe that's why Sally switched my guards. I think I'll ask her when I see her next.

I should ask if I could see Dorothy's profile. Hmm. It's probably restricted. And Dorothy would throw a fit...but then, she gets to read Yan's reports to Sally (I don't!). Heero or Duo might be willing to hack into the records if I asked.

Heh. Is this freedom? I wouldn't have even thought of doing something like this when I was still Minister. I kept my nose clean. It doesn't really matter anymore, though. I'm not a Minister, or a leader, just a twenty-one year old girl with too much money and a strange history who thinks unduly of endings.

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One of us is starting to come around to the other's way of thinking. Or maybe we're meeting in the middle. Yesterday, Dorothy told me "No agressive moves." I think, in other words, don't start a war; never be the one who takes the first violent action.

How odd. She used to believe in fighting almost for its own sake. She finds something passionate and beautiful, I think, in people strong enough to fight for things. Now, I think she's changing what she thinks is worth fighting for.

Pacifism says no violent moves at all, not even in reaction. I used to believe that. When all the horror and blood of war is literally laid out by your feet, it's hard to believe that it could ever be justified. I remember, when I first discovered the legacy of my murdered family, how desperate I was to cling to something that condemned war instead of glorifying it. Soldiers live through war, yes, but they're the ones with the power. They have the guns, and they choose who to kill. Soldier and generals are meant to be violent.

And the Peacecrafts believed with all their hearts that nothing good could come from murder, that the taint can't ever be washed away. We have to learn to live peacefully, or we can't live at all. I wonder, sometimes, if that was what Millard thought, when he was ready to destroy this beautiful Earth. Of course, it's also possible that his mind just snapped. My brother was a soldier.

I am reminded constantly of the difficulties of maintaining peace, unpleasantly so. And I reminded myself, when I was a leader, that above all else, my duty as a leader was to the people: to prevent the necessity of war. Not just the action, but the necessity for it. I was good at it, too, until my mind snapped.

Maybe if I'd kept at it long enough, I'd have wanted to destroy the Earth, too. That's a disturbing sort of thought.




Visually speaking, I think an epiphany is like the air molecules that don’t escape when you clap your hands together, the ones that get squashed between your hands. It's two forces coming together with such strength and speed that something is caught in the middle, like truth.