2-21-2000

*Beams* Ok! Since it seems a bit of NY won't send anyone into convulsions, here it is! This story is a bit heavier on the...er..sap?..then is my wont. Also, it's rather experimental in the way it was written. It came about as a little workshop project I did on another ML. So do please tell me what you think about it. ^_^

Warnings: Death fic

 

Beginnings
By Jaelyn with lots of help from Kathy and Madam-hydra
01-13-00
Ya'll already know I don't own anything and this is only for fun

 

 

It was a funny thing. He had never kissed anyone before. He had never understood why people did this, this touching of lips to lips. Yet, she had leaned forward and done this, kissed him on the mouth, soft and lingering. His eyes had closed and it had felt wonderful; had produced a feeling that zinged straight through him. He watched her sit back, smiling at him, her aqua eyes alight. The faintest of blushes colored her cheeks.

"I...I didn't mean to be so forward, Heero. It's only...I have wanted to do that for such a long time..."

"No." Heero took her hand, holding it with surprising firmness, "No. Follow your feelings...always..."

He leaned forward for another kiss.

Always...

********************

He watches from a balcony niche as she takes the podium before over 2500 people; delegates from the colonies and the world over. They gathered together today to discuss a new definition of peace, to set the course of humanity for the next century. She is the center of their attention; all eyes are on this remarkable young woman who has taken the fate of the world in her young hands. She gives them her brightest smile and the crowd erupts into approving, welcoming applause. Heero's own lips quirk in a smile. He never imagined he could feel pride in another person....

A glint from the 4th balcony catches his eye. A shaft of sunlight reflecting off the crystal windows...?

Relena? She looks startled; her mouth opened in a little, soundless "O". Usually so graceful, she seems to stumble, clutching at the podium for support. Her face is white-pale; she is slowly sinking to her knees, a red rose blossoming at her throat.

First one scream, then two thousand, and the world moved at half speed.

Relena..?

Relena..!

He had failed. He failed her!

He had to get to her. He had to save her. She couldn't die. Not HER. Not now. Not when everything was just...beginning. The crowd was no obstacle; he pushed through them as if they lacked all substance, were mere phantoms.

He reaches the podium, shrugging off the restraining hands of the myriad soldiers that swarmed the stage, seeking to impose order where chaos held sway. Trembling, he kneels at her side and gathers her to his chest, rocking slightly, holding her as she had once held him.

Whispering, he calls her: "Relena...Relena...!"

Aqua eyes open slightly, struggle to focus. "He...Heero...I...Lov..."

Her spirit winged free.

**********************************

Heero Yuy stared, blue eyes a little mad, at the fresh earth of the new grave. In his hand, he still held his white rose. Other mourners had cast theirs into the grave, their last tribute to their princess. But to him, it seemed a shame to throw something so lovely onto the black-lacquered casket, where it would be covered with the rich, black earth, it's beauty forever lost to the world. So he holds it tight, entranced by its luminosity, the velvety richness of it's white petals.

A ruby droplet welling from his finger catches his eye. The thorns, they had pierced his flesh, drawing blood; a drop had stained a pristine petal. Another gathers, rolling over his skin, dripping to the earth, disappearing into its darkness.

Slowly, his palm unfurls and the rose falls from his hand, joining the others to strewn the lacquered casket.

"...Goodbye, Relena."

*************************************

From a balcony niche, four young faces keep close watch on the crowd of 2500 people, delegates from both the colonies and Earth, here to chart the course of humanity into the next millenium. Expectancy and tension fill the room; the people speak among themselves in anxious whispers. Armed soldiers, sharp eyes obscured by dark glasses, survey the gathered throng.

A young man walks onto the stage, and the people fall silent. He is the center of attention, this boy of 19, this remarkable young veteran who dares to take the fate of the world in his young hands. Heero Yuy.

"Good evening." He begins, his voice calm and strong, "Tonight we are here to talk about...peace..."

The crowd erupts into cheers.

Four young men glance at each other, smiling. Relena would be proud.

-Owari!-