A Final Solution
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, and never will until
I get very, very rich and buy out all the rights, then I won't
have to write these disclaimers anymore! HAH!-- crazy? Me? No!
Get that coat away from me!
AN: Angsty? Oh yeah. At least I hope so. ^_^;; Have fun
She sat at her vanity, staring dazed into the clear mirror. The face that stared back was blank.
She was surprised at the heaviness of her heart. After all this, it was finally over. Over. She could rest. So why wasn't she even a bit relieved? She felt even more depressed, somehow, almost as if she should be crying.
Relena remembered her last conference all too well . . .
" . . . So, in conclusion, I would like to announce .
The press had waited, everyone of them leaning forward slightly, as if to prick the words from the very air before they were ever spoken. They had been told ahead of time about a 'huge announcement' that would take place.
" . . . That I am resigning in my position as the
leader of the Sank Kingdom."
The collective gasp that followed should have rendered her
deaf. Right after the sudden shocked silence, pandemonium
erupted. Above everyone's shocked whispers--and flat out yelled
questions from the press--Relena simply went on.
"I would like you all to know that I have thought long and hard on this. Arrangements have been made for a replacement. Please, no questions. That is all . . . that is all I can give you, right now."
If anything, they had just grown louder. Guards came from the
sides of the stage to guide her off, not a few giving her baffled
looks. She knew everyone of them by name, as if it mattered.
David, closest to her, seemed about ready to say something as
they made their way quickly to her limo. He didn't get a chance
to say anything, though, as the press swarmed in like bees to
honey, demanding answers to questions she had no intention of
listening to. She felt numb as she had ducked inside the long
black car, and had remained silent the whole way home . . .
The face in the mirror seemed to mock her in it's serenity. The events of earlier in the day had had their effects, too. Inside, she still wanted it to end. It wouldn't, though. There was only one true way to end all the emotions . . . all these horrible feelings within her own chest, a whirlpool of anger, stress, sadness . . . too many to name. They expected her at another press conference tomorrow. How surprised they would be when she never showed up . . .
Her hand lightly traced the marble of her vanity, moving
towards the mirror. A compartment, only seen if one knew where to
look, clicked open at the touch of her fingers. She grabbed a
small box and withdrew it from it's hiding place.
Noin had been upset. No, wait, that was an understatement . . . she had been well-nigh furious at having not been told beforehand. Everyone was upset, even the few she had told . . . but she couldn't care. Her decision was made and her path had been taken. No one would turn her from it, now. No one cared enough to.
The box was simple . . . purchased awhile ago, though she had had no idea what she would be using it for in the future.
She opened it, and drew out a letter-opener. At least, it looked like a letter-opener . . . the little, dagger-like kind. A small black handle, golden colored blade.
The blade was sharp, though. Sharper then expected. Sharp enough to cut.
A small, half-hearted giggle that had no mirth escaped closed lips. Yes, simple. Simple in all it's glory . . .
The blade was withdrawn. She stared at it, twirling it between her fingers as if fascinated.
The door to her room was closed, and everyone had been given strict orders to not let her be disturbed. This memory brought on a heavy smile as well. Perhaps they had all thought that she wanted to be alone because of the stress of the day . . . Hah! If only they knew! The stress of the years, of taking on a job she knew she could no longer handle, of having her childish heart broken too many times . . .
The mocking grin faded and disappeared. Far be it for her to finish this night without thoughts of . . . him.
Heero Yuy. Did he feel nothing, the selfish bastard? He knew . . . he knew, damn it, he had to!-- about her feelings. And he treated her as something either far beneath him, or a bug of some kind--shocking him at all the wrong moments, something he wanted to tiptoe away from.
She supposed that it was his wall of strength that drew her to
him, at first. But that wasn't all of it . . . perhaps it was
what he symbolized, as well. A challenge, a puzzle to her, and
she didn't even have all the pieces . . . He was danger. He was
the mysterious. He was everything she had only glimpsed in books
before, intoxicating and repulsing at the same time. But what
interest did he have in her? Nothing. He had saved her for the
sole reason that she would, in turn, save the world from further
war. That was what he had cared about-- stopping the war.
Another giggle, this time somewhat of a sob. How ironic some things were. He, Heero Yuy, a soldier of War who had more maturity at age 15 then she, herself, probably had now. And she, Relena Peacecraft--or Dorlain-- A princess of peace, innocent and ignorant of the world and it's ways. Well, formerly ignorant. She was all to knowing, now . . .
There were strange similarities, too. One, she thought off often. They both fought for peace. In different ways, maybe, but still, the principle was the same. Another, less noticeable but still there-- Heero Yuy had no true name. The one he had been born with seemed to have been forgotten, and the one he used now, only an alias. And her . . . she supposed that she didn't have a true name, either. Dorlain was something she had been given . . . and Peacecraft, a name thrown onto her, shockingly heavy in it's responsibilities. Neither was truly her. She wondered who she was, sometimes . . .
And they had both matured much faster then they should have.
She had grown to face the rising tasks and demands of her
Peacecraft life, and he to face the simple, life ripping aspect
The blade fell, landing without a sound on the light tan carpet. The moon shimmered through the curtains innocently, the stars blinking throughout the patch of sky seen through her window.
She frowned, staring at the sharped-metal and wondering why she had dropped it. The window earned and absent glance--she'd have to close it soon, or risk the room becoming too cold to warm--and she reached down for the small, simple weapon again.
. . . Why had she worried about the window? It wasn't as if she would mind, mere moments from then . . .
She had given him shelter, comfort. Stayed by him, dared to
speak to him in rare moments of privacy, perhaps wanted the soak
up some of the strength and determination he seemed to vibrate
in. And he had ignored her . . . scared, perhaps? No. No, not
him. He was never scared . . . not even facing death, unlike her.
Yes, that was it. She was scared, despite her own decision. It
was almost laughable . . . what had been his words? When he had
come to rescue her, shocking her, forcing her to dare to hope
that he had felt something . . . What had been his words?
"Don't make me repeat myself. I'm nothing compared to
you . . ."
Nothing could have prepared her for that. She had just sat in dumbfounded silence, watching as he continued with his work.
She pressed the blade against her other thumb. A small tear
trickled down one cheek, but she actually felt quite numb inside,
now. She had to test it . . . is was almost silly, but she had
to. Her had shook. Could she do it? What if she forced herself
to, and it wasn't sharp enough? What then?
She remembered running to him, the one time he himself had fallen. The gun dropping, him slamming to his knees . . . she hadn't even hesitated. On moment she had been by Lady Une, the next, holding him, embracing him. It had been almost instinct.
" . . . Heero . . . my Heero . . ."
Another tear. She was trembling, now. Did she really have the courage? At least she knew that even the perfect soldier could fall. As if that was any consolation. No, it was his strength falling that inevitably lead to her own fall . . .
Wait. No, that wasn't right either. The key . . . the main thing . . . the main thing was that he had left. After he had promised to stay. Left, and disappeared.
And now here she was. Trembling, wanting the blade to go down, but hesitant, even now . . .! What else had she to live for? What else?
A brief flash of pain made her gasp and her grip weaken. The
weapon fell to the carpet again, this time, the tip smeared with
her own blood. She studied the minuscule cut on her thumb with
wide eyes, before searching in habit for the nearest band-aid.
She stopped herself, chiding lightly in her own mind. Once again,
she reached for the knife. Once again, she pressed it against
skin. Wrist, this time. She waited for her hands to still,
wanting no chance of a mistake. She would have to be quick,
switching the blade to the other hand once the first part was
done, and completing it all . . . She would, this time.
Truly, no one cared. Everyone was somewhere else. She had no
one. The one person she had though might understand her, might
care, even a smudge, was gone. He would never come back.
She drew in a breath, firming her grip and got ready to draw
it across her smooth, pale skin.
Goodbye, Heero. I hope that the peace holds . . .
The knife moved, and her eyes fell shut, waiting and wanting the oncoming darkness, the pool of unfeeling that would drown her own sorrow and tears, swallow her up and never have to make her feel her own heart again. Never.
Goodbye . . .
AN: Wow, angsty and dark. This is the first time I've ever
tried to write on of these things . . . *Shrugs* I dunno, I felt
like writing it and I really hope that it turned out ok. I would
_love_ a review, even if it was just to point out every little
Also . . . if anyone likes this, which I doubt,--but hey! Can't blame me for hoping!-- I might continue this. Dunno . . . just a thought. If I get any comments asking for a continuation, I will, how about that? Anywho . . . it's 12:30 and I _have_ to get to bed, so . . . night, all!