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GW / HeeroxRelena / Dear Diary: Relena's Story (remix) - Chapter 01

Title: Dear Diary: Relena’s Story (remixed)
Author: mirroredsakura
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairing: Heero x Relena

Summary: On Feb 14th AC 198 Duo and Hilde appear on Heero's doorstep and hand him Relena Peacecraft Darlian's diary, and leave him to plot out what he'll do with its invaluable contents.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing in any way shape or form. Not many people who own rights to things will post on fanfiction sites.

Notes: This fic was started several years ago, initially meant to be one-shot and left at that. But as I have a severe case of ‘plotbunny susceptivity’ and can’t write short for the life of me, here you are. It has already been rewritten once, but as I am incapable of letting dead horses lie, I simply have to go back and go through it again. Hopefully this way will make it a bit more palatable for reader consumption.

Also: It has come to my attention in past versions of this fic that I have related the Sally/Wufei journal entry to Nightheart’s The Phoenix and the Dragon. I’ve since gone back to read it and remember that I had indeed read it before. Nightheart has since been mailed, and I’ve since received her permission to reference her story. Truthfully speaking, this was originally meant to be the first part of an entire series, where I would have written my own. But several years have passed and I haven’t even released the parts I’ve written of the second book anywhere. At any rate, this fic is perfectly capable of standing on its own until I decide for sure whether or not I wish to continue Dorothy’s saga. ^^;

And again: I know it is not quite reasonable to expect great changes within a year of peace—but first of all, there had been a time of albeit false peace that he allowed himself to indulge in. I would hope time like that would force him to consider what he’d want to do with his life and how he’d want to be. That and the fact that I had nearly enough trouble dreaming up a year’s worth of diary entries. I refuse to do it for more. And since most crucial events happen during that year of change, I didn’t want to skip ahead to even more fabrications.


"Happy birthday, Heero."

He stared down at the petite form of Hilde Shiebecker standing in the quiet hallway outside the door of his apartment with a slight frown on his lips—his version of expressing confusion. The little pixie of a woman was holding out a rather worn-out leather-bound book—a simple thing slightly gilded at the edges with a white rose adorning the cover—to his face. He could see Duo leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway, and he briefly wondered what kind of stupid joke the notorious young prankster couple was up to. But the look on Hilde’s face was completely earnest, there wasn’t even a hint of suppressed amusement in her eyes as he eyed the book gingerly, waiting for a rubber snake to pop out or… or… it was beyond him to think at the level of his longtime friend.

“It’s not my birthday…” he said finally, sounding a little uncertain as he eyed the two of them.

Duo was pleasantly surprised to note it. Peace had softened the razor-hard lines of Heero Yuy’s persona; eighteen years looked better on him than the original fifteen when he’d first met him, and if he wasn’t overwhelmingly happy over his new lot in life, he seemed quietly… content. He smiled. He quite preferred this new Heero to the silent stoicism he remembered. And if anything else, he might be a bit more willing to go along with their plans. Although he sincerely hoped that the year of peace since the events of Mariemaia’s attempted revolution hadn’t dulled his friend’s lightning reading processes.

Still, he let his amusement show in a drawl, “Oh damn, that’s an answer for the books, Hilde babe. The cutting glare, the wit! I am well and truly mollified!”

Hilde, with what looked like the ease of long practice, ignored her braided baka of a boyfriend and continued to brandish the book in Heero’s face. “Take.” she told him firmly with the voice of authority, and the ex-gundam pilot who had blown up several million mobile suits over the course of his career took it almost as meekly as her boyfriend might when he was faced with her wrath and her ability to deny him sex.

She cut right to the point. “Now exactly how fast a reader are you, Heero Yuy?”

He eyed her strangely. “Why?”

“Just answer the question. Please.” She tacked on the ending as if it were an afterthought.


She smiled in gleeful satisfaction, the hints of the saber-toothed tiger disappearing back under the veneer of the cheeky pixie. “Good! I thought so. Duo honey, why don’t you explain?”

Duo peeled himself off the wall and came forward, looking perfectly casual with his hands slipped into the front pockets of his black jeans. “Today’s Valentine’s Day, you know.”

Heero eyed him carefully, a vague suspicion that Duo might try to force him to go to a strip joint of some level of vulgarity in order to keep him from whiling the day away in solitude. But no, he wouldn’t bring his girlfriend along if that were the case, would he?

Knowing the two of them, he couldn’t exactly be sure.

“Well originally we were thinking how a certain young lady of our mutual acquaintance would benefit from finding you beribboned and gift-wrapped on her doorstep.”

Heero didn’t deign that with a response, although he did raise a warning eyebrow. Duo rushed to continue although the look on his face clearly showed that he hadn’t yet thought up exactly what he would be saying.

“Are you going to invite us in?” asked Hilde the moment she saw her boyfriend open his mouth. “I’m sure you don’t want your neighbors to overhear our conversation—and we all know what a loud-mouth this loser can be,” she added affectionately, jerking a thumb at her mate.
He paused before nodded once and stepped aside, allowing them through the doorway. Duo sauntered in, taking in the surroundings with a curious eye. Blue-walled, white-framed windows, a small kitchenette in one corner and several other closed doors, presumably to a bed and bathroom. It was simple and slightly austere as only Heero could manage it, and yet the set of leather couches nestled next to the large-screen vid-screen indicated that the retired boy soldier had not been hurting for funds in the past year or so.

Heero waited just long enough for them to settle down on the couches, even going so far as to fill the kettle and set it on the stove in order to make tea, before he sat himself down on the couch opposite the two on the loveseat. “Now explain this to me, please.” he finally said bluntly, holding up the small book.

Hilde decided to do the explaining as she cast a nervous look at her boyfriend, not especially keen on Heero losing his temper and tying the boy’s tongue around his head. “Well… since we decided Duo’s original idea wouldn’t be the… brightest thing to do…” she cast a warning glance at Duo as she said so, effectively keeping him from on blurting out whatever defensive remark he might make. “And so, we thought up Plan B. And that would be that wonderfully inconspicuous little book in your hand.” She beamed proudly.

He looked down at it without a change in expression. “What is it?”

Duo raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Always right to the point, aren’t you?”

“I merely want to make sure of its contents before I find myself covered in confetti or fake blood or… God knows what else.”

There was a pause before Hilde muttered sideways to her boyfriend, “He knows you too damn well sometimes…” before she shook her head. “It’s not a joke, we’re not here to play a simple prank on you. Frankly, there are easier ways to go about it without traveling all the way to L1. That book right there is Relena Peacecraft Darlian’s private diary.”

If Heero had been the type to gape, then would most certainly have been the time. “How the hell did you manage to take this from right underneath her nose?” he asked in what almost approached awe.

Duo blinked. “Does that mean you’ve tried it?”

Heero shrugged. “No. But I’ve had to commandeer her schedule planner when I worked for that section of Preventers, and I found that difficult enough. I figured if she cared so much about her schedule, she’d have taken even more appropriate measures to ensure that it’s left unread… if she even kept a diary in the first place.”

The other boy rolled his eyes, “C’mon Heero—the girl’s as old-fashioned as they come. Before she met you her life was all high-society horses and girlfriends and parties and dancing. Of course she would have a diary.”

“I’m still going to ask you how you managed to come by this.”

Hilde grinned. “I’m a girl!” She beamed as if this was one of the greatest accomplishments known to man.

Heero frowned, “And I’m a guy. Do try and explain better than that, please.” He got up then and walked into the kitchenette section where the kettle had begun to sing and silently began making a pot of tea.

The girl frowned, her little moment of glory lost on the L1 native. “It should, if you’re as deductive as everyone says you are.”
“I was a soldier, not Sherlock Holmes.”

“…From your reputation, I think you’re just being modest. Anyway, since I’m a girl, it’s easy to find my way into her room during one of our infamous girl chats. It was rather easy… admittedly, she’s still a little on the trusting side, but she didn’t hide it at all. I was hoping for at least a mousetrap to get around, but she just leaves it there in the top drawer of her desk. So I swiped it. Figured you might be able to do something with it.”

“Why would I?”

“Well… because…” Hilde fell silent.

Duo took up the flow of words in her stead, looking rather serious, even as he accepted the silently proffered cup of tea with thanks, “C’mon Heero—think of the things we’ve been through together. You like her, even if you don’t love her, so for just this once, we thought we might try to convince you to try and do something nice for her.”

“What can I do? You two are the ones who throw the big parties, not me.”

Hilde wrinkled her nose. “A party for Relena on Valentine’s Day? When she’s all by herself? Yuy, I love the little darling, and showcasing that beyond a doubt is not something I’m willing to do for the poor girl’s heart. She’d be internally miserable.”

Heero couldn’t disagree with that. He’d seen it often enough, how she could be hurting under the most brilliant smile.

Duo stood up, setting his empty cup on the saucer with a small clatter, “Just read the book, won’t you Heero? Whatever you decide to do next is your own business. We just wanted to give you, and ultimately her, a chance, y’know?”

“Relena Darlian is still on Earth,” he said finally, “Even if I wanted to, it’d be impossible to see her today.”

Hilde grinned mischievously. “Not a chance—she’s got an important meeting tomorrow right here on L1 and she was encouraged to go a day early…”

“I wouldn’t be wrong if I suspected you might’ve had something to do with this?”

“Forcefully,” she replied, sounding quite cheerful about it.

The two of them left at an unhurried pace. Hilde, at the door, gave Heero a huge smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Heero!” Then she and Duo both leaned over and planted a kiss on a corner of his mouth before promptly running off down the hall, laughing merrily.

And Heero found he hadn’t made the slightest effort to avoid them. He frowned. He had never been starved for human companionship.

…That was really the only reason he could think of to explain away the rather horrifying experience of being kissed by Duo Maxwell. He was not going to be recruited into any kind of threesome with that idiot and his girlfriend. He closed the door firmly, locking it as he always did, ascertained that it was locked properly, before looking down at the book again.

It was her private property. He should respect her privacy.

And yet the thought of the young Vice Foreign Minister’s face was his undoing. She had done so much for him over the years, most of which he had never fully acknowledged. Perhaps… perhaps for once Duo and his crazed chipmunk of a girlfriend were right…

He’d been in and out of Relena’s life for so long… he could’ve missed so much, so many important things while he was trying to build up a life around his anonymity. This diary might be the only thing that would keep him from making a worse mistake than the assassination of a shuttle full of pacifist leaders. It was decided. He settled down into a comfortable position on the couch, stretching out his legs across it, and began to read.

In the relative safety of the lobby, Duo and Hide stood crowded over the transmitter for the small button cam they’d surreptitiously placed on Duo’s teacup which he’d then placed on the kitchenette counter, which provided them with a decent view of the living room area. The moment he sat down and opened the book, Hilde let out a little squeal of excitement and the two of them began doing a victory dance in front of a startled security guard.

February 21, AC 197

Dear Diary,

And once again, I had to speak to the world leaders. When will this ever stop? It’s like a revolving lantern, one of those old relics that spin and spin and the pictures inside go round and round again. Always the same scene, always the same faces looking at me as if my world is law. I feel as Julius Caesar might have once felt—the weight of the world is heavy on one’s shoulders. And then there’s the added respect and responsibility of the Colonies. What next? Invading alien killer bees? But I mustn’t jinx myself.

He left today, Diary. Yes, you know the one. My oh-so-deadly shadow. It’s my guess he slipped out of the hospital as soon as he gained consciousness. I’m not surprised, truthfully—he’d have objected to the hospital had he been conscious. Silly boy, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion. But then, who am I to talk? And I suppose it is less suicidal than direct self-destruction of a space-suit, but there you are.

He raised an eyebrow. Silly? He had been called many things over the course of his life, and silly had never been one of them.

It took all my willpower to keep from looking at him today. Oh, I knew he was there. Hiding in the wings, high up in the balconies that were once reserved for those of us now dead and buried. I don’t know why, exactly. I just had this feeling, this sudden burst of mental clarity—if I’d looked at him, I wouldn’t be able to lie. He’d know I wanted him to stay. And I don’t know how I knew, but I knew he would. And I don’t want to chain him, Diary. He has a life to live—perhaps the life I’ll never be allowed to live. This connection, this feeling of knowing, this sudden burst of empathy, I have with him isn’t just some girly teenaged fantasy that I can giggle about with Dorothy over fashion magazines and each other’s toenails.

Maybe he’ll come back someday. I believe that. If not now, if not to me, I’ll still see him someday. But I won’t go Heero-hunting any longer. Now it’s his turn to come to me.

Relena Darlian

‘Relena Darlian’
, he thought. So she really has given up the title of the last remaining Peacecraft princess… and all the idealized visions for the world with it. Then he reread the last line and felt his cheeks flush just the slightest. She was so… so certain. She’d known since the day he left that he would never be able step far enough away from her to stop thinking about her.

He’d originally tried to ease this silence inside him by taking an undercover position in Preventers that tracked and recorded her whereabouts, but never needed to come in contact with her. He’d left once he realized this was little different from his earlier occupation, and decided to switch out. He’d moved to L1, and decided to pursue a University degree of some sort, all for the sake of change. And yet… she was never too far away. A woman would walk past wearing her perfume; a little girl would run past with that wheat-blonde hair and her old braids; he would catch glimpses of her on the television when he bothered to turn it on…

All along, she’d known. And somehow… despite all his convictions, deep down, he’d always known too. He frowned, looking back down at the diary in his hands, unwilling to contemplate his sudden revelation.

February 26, AC 197

Dear Diary,

Trowa came to visit today—his sister came too. This is the same Cathrine Bloom I’ve heard so much about. I found out she and the rest of the circus troupe were on the same colony that Dekim Barton had threatened to drop onto Earth. It was because of them that I was able to be filled in on some of the specifics of the original Operation Meteor and the real Trowa Barton. I don’t exactly know why they’d decide to come forward with this kind of information for me, especially when it would’ve been so simple to give through a third-party. After all, we’ve never been close—I’d hardly even known Trowa, except for a halted mobile suit battle or two.

I think it was Cathrine’s idea, really. She was so excited to be meeting “all her Trowa’s friends,” and he just stood there in tolerable silence looking as… as content? as I could ever imagine him.

Cathrine is a lovely woman—and I don’t merely mean physically. She’s a little overprotective of Trowa—one of the maids seemed to be trying to flirt with her brother and she seemed to go deadly quiet. Poor Merry actually managed to scuttle out of the room with a butter knife lodged in her cap—Cathrine seems to have “accidentally” let go of it in such a peculiar fashion that its blunted tip managed to penetrate a full inch or two through starched linen. An impressive feat, I must say.

Another thing I’ve learned about the Silent One (name trademarked to Duo Maxwell) is that he has a girlfriend.

Heero blinked, staring down at the words on the page. Trowa… had a girlfriend? Not even two months after the Christmas incident, and he’s already gotten a girlfriend? He went back to reading the small, neat words on the page, determined to uncover the mystery of the Heavyarms ex-pilot.

I haven’t met her, she didn’t come with the two of them, but Cathrine nagged Trowa enough for him to show me a picture of her. She’s pretty… platinum blonde hair that could rival Quatre’s or even Dorothy’s, big blue eyes… Her name’s Midii Une, he finally revealed. She was smiling in the picture, but… I don’t know. Maybe it’s her eyes… she just looks so… sad. Trowa said something about meeting her when he was ten… They apparently lost contact for the next six years and then… I don’t know. He didn’t tell me how he found her, or how she found him.

Romeo is back and he’s lying sprawled on my bed and luxuriating in my pillows as if he owns it. Lovah just tumbled off one of them and she’s currently nothing more than a sleepily mewling golden lump. Time for me to go, it seems.

Relena Darlian

The mention of Romeo conjured up images of the giant sheepdog with the wildly inaccurate (or so he thought) name. He’d always considered the shaggy beast to be more of a Pagan than a Romeo. But he knew quite well how much a romantic Relena was. And it would have been a little insulting—whether to the dog or the butler, he wasn’t entirely sure.

March 8, AC 197

Dear Diary,

Vacation! Oh you don’t know how it’s like to have the whole world live and breathe that word! I don’t know who it was that pulled enough strings to allow me two weeks (two weeks!!) of vacation, but whoever they are have my undying love and affection. Then again, when it comes to it, the only people who would are probably the ones who have my undying love and affection anyway!

But I must not get sidetracked. Quatre Winner has asked me to accompany him to Arabia. Dorothy is coming too, though I have a definite suspicion as to why. Our world works in strange ways—I cannot leave for two weeks with Quatre Winner, the world’s most noted gentleman, on my own. I need at least one other as an escort, never mind that she’s the same age as I am, and was a war-hungry wildcat in her time. Perhaps it’s the title. The Duchess Catalonia perhaps might carry a lot more weight than The Multibillionaire Winner. One never knows.

In any case, I also do believe the Ice Queen’s grown fond of our resident Arabian. I’m not entirely sure why—I’d always though he was just a tad too angelic for her tastes. But when she sinks her claws into something (or someone) she means business. I’m not touching this one with a ten-foot pole.

Nonetheless, it was a chance for a small adventure! Of course I accepted. And so, despite all the cursedly beautiful golden sand that somehow seems to get in everything, the place is gorgeous. We landed in what I think was a small city in the middle of a desert. Quatre and his crew seemed so at home in the place—everyone knew them, down to the brightly-colored dancing girls in the continuous festivals. Even in the hot sun, we had such fun—I managed to tan, despite the precautions I’d taken. How both Dorothy and Quatre can manage in this heat and this sunlight and still stay so… so pale, is beyond me to comprehend.

It was a lovely two weeks. They only new me as Quatre’s guest, not as the Vice Foreign Minister Darlian, not the Peacecraft princess, nor even the Queen of the World. That’s one of the best things I like about Arabia. I could revel in my anonymity.

Relena Darlian

From the way it sounded, it would probably have been Zechs and Noin who had arranged the entire thing, although he had a minor suspicion Dorothy had played no small part in it too. He frowned at her words and the tone conveyed in them. Did Relena really hate her position so much? He’d wondered often at her for keeping the position when she so obviously longed to be free—and he’d originally come to the conclusion that she liked the spotlight. Later on, he’d realized that she stayed more out of responsibility. She had the power to make people listen to her—and so she took advantage of that, trying to convince them to make the world a better place.

Now he wondered if she was even going to be able to drop the duties of Vice Foreign Minister, especially as one of the new representatives of the ESUN.

March 29, AC 197

Dear Diary,

Sylvia Noventa has run away.

Heero’s eyes widened as he stared down at the words on the page, Sylvia Noventa? Run? He’d never read of it before… he’d barely even seen of any lack of coverage for the girl in fact, at that time there had been more than enough articles on her resignation and subsequent settling-down in a remote area of Eurasia.

Her grandmother was frantic, and strangely, the first person she went to was me, a teenaged politician she once knew way back when. She informed me well on the happenings of the girl, and I had to expend all my energies trying to calm her frazzled nerves. The strangest thing that happened however, was just this very night, Sylvia Noventa herself had appeared on my doorstep. She told me about how several friends had arranged for a normal life for her in Moscow, and that she was tired of the political niceties and nonsense that all politicians know.

You know, I’ve long wondered how two girls, who have no relation to each other, can look so remarkably similar. The press has noticed this well enough, producing enough "which one is which?" articles for me to be able to wallpaper my dining room with them. She pleaded for me to use this to her advantage… she’d only had twenty minutes left before she had to go to the airport incognito. She begged me to play her part, to be Sylvia Noventa, for the next few weeks, at least to handle the issues of the press and the rest of the political world in her place. I tried to argue with her, telling her she could be strong, she could do this on her own, and that planes come and go on a regular schedule—that she could do all she asked of me on her own.

Still, I ended up agreeing, after she promised to vid-phone her grandmother, assuring she was all right, and telling her of her—our plans. I do admit that when she left, I was jealous. All her problems about being a politician were gone, lifted off her shoulders… and thrown onto mine I suppose. Combined with the next few weeks of work I’ll have to do for her, and also the work I need to do for myself… I foresee many long nights of coffee-induced working frenzy.

Relena Darlian

Heero sighed, finally realizing why Sylvia Noventa had so suddenly and spectacularly given up the political life. It had been Relena all those long weeks when the public and the press had been baffled by her sudden proclamations. Sylvia, in her own aspect, was as well known as Relena herself, and she’d been able to disappear just like that…

April 15, AC 197

Dear Diary,

There is no privacy in my life. None. All those people who think being rich and powerful (ha!) is enough to deserve being hounded by paparazzi should be burnt at the stake. Someone found out about something I wrote in a previous entry—you know, about Romeo? And took it the wrong way. Obviously the wrong way. They squealed, and would you know it, right there on the front cover is the headline in huge black type “17-year old Vice Foreign Minister’s New Lover”. Notice that they simply
had to mention my age. And if you would like to know, right there is an enormous, high-quality image of myself, kissing the infamous Heero Yuy.

Heero’s jerked, as he stared at the incriminating words. When? he thought desperately, feeling the telltale signs of a blush spreading towards his cheeks. The only time I’ve ever kissed her was… when… His eyes widened as he turned the page hurriedly, knowing with growing dread what he would find. And he found it, pasted to the page was the article, the large full-color picture of the two of them sharing their first (and only) kiss. Who the hell took that? he thought with growing fury. How dare they? And why hasn’t anyone told me that this article had even been printed?!

He felt his face grow hot as stared down at the two of them there. As kisses went (and he’d had some time to acquaint himself with the procedure), it hadn’t been much. They had both been young, and she’d been terrified for him, and he’d been desperate to keep her away and to keep her safe. It had been… damn it, it had been special. No one had any right to intrude.

He looked onto the next page where the same entry continued, written in Relena’s neat printed writing—but this time, the press of her pen was harder on the paper and penned in a harsh slant that belied her anger.

First, as I recall, Romeo and Lovah have been seen often enough in my company so there really should be no need to mistake Romeo for Heero Yuy. Come to that, there really should be no need to mistake Heero Yuy for anyone but Heero Yuy.

The mistake was cleared up almost the instant the article came out, but the damage has been done, I suppose. It was a sleazy tabloid, which was well-known for the spreading of sordid and incorrect rumors, but I’ve never had cause to appear in such a thing before. And damn it, that moment had been special. I’ll treasure the picture because it brings back such a wonderful memory, but to print it around the world? How dare they!

how? How, I still don’t know. But I mean to find out somehow, even if it means dispatching a Preventer-licensed interrogator after that damned reporter.

On the topic of Heero, I leard Duo literally went to L1 and cleared the place of the trashy magazine and cheerfully dumped them all in a disposal block filled with other miscellaneous junk and sent it flying into the sun. Simple, yet effective, I doubt Heero himself even knew of it. I think Duo suspected that if he ever did see it… well… we all know how much Heero values his privacy. This is not something he should know about, especially when it has all but blown over.

Relena Darlian

Duo had been able to keep such a huge secret from him. Duo. Heero shook his head, wondering if he should be praising the ex-pilot or berating himself. Was this peace genuinely dulling his razor-sharp edge? Puzzled with all these happenings outside his knowledge, he continued reading. He’d never considered himself nearly a hermit until now.

April 21, AC 197

Dear Diary,

I’m not so sure I’m in any state to be writing this right now… but damn it, I can’t think of anyway to get it out of my head, and I can’t just keep it inside me. I’m sixteen, Diary. A little too young for marriage, especially in this day and age—and yet I found myself proposed to by one the admittedly richest, but downright idiotic men I have ever met. He’s handsome, I daresay, but as pigheaded and egotistical as anything. He’s also 46 years old. I tried to decline as politely as I could, but he continued to nod and smile infuriatingly, as if I were a child that didn’t know any better, and therefore didn’t have the privilege to decide. He fully intended to go to my mother, confident that she’d agree to the match.

I’m not entirely sure that she wouldn’t. She has not approved of my political career since the beginning. She would possibly be swayed by the thought of putting me in the hands of a very rich man with a very good name. Well. I told him simply and pointedly that he was old enough to be my father, and I wondered if he enjoyed robbing the cradle. He turned red in the face and began sputtering something—I wasn’t entirely sure what, because Pagan came in then as calmly as anything, and led him out of the room as I started to laugh.

I didn’t laugh very long, Diary, oh I certainly didn’t!! He reappeared at my house again earlier tonight, in my bedroom, and I had no idea how he’d gotten there! And he tried to take me then, Diary. He threw me on the bed—my own bed!—and tore my blouse open.

Heero stared, shocked, at the page. Relena? In such danger, and... I never...? He suddenly remembered one night, sometime in April when he’d been sitting at his desk, scanning through files for something when he’d felt a racking fear hit him like a punch in the lungs. He’d literally fallen out of his chair as he scrabbled uselessly at the polished wood of his floor, in the face of this utterly debilitating fear, choking back a yell as he felt his throat constrict. He remembered staggering to his feet, searching frantically for the source of that fear—something he hadn’t felt in years. Could it have been…? He gritted his teeth, wondering why this hadn’t hit the papers, hadn’t been told to him. Duo would certainly had informed him, had he knew. This was something not even the hotheaded American could keep from doing something against.

I was scared—so scared—and I was kicking him and trying to get him off me, and scratching at his face with my nails. But it didn’t do anything, he was so heavy and he was on top of me, and I could barely move and and and—but I need to calm down. Lovah and Romeo saved me. That’s right, my dogs. Lovah was in my room when I started screaming, she began yipping (she’s too young to howl yet) and raced towards the door. I didn’t know why none of the servants were around to hear me—there are so many wandering the mansion I thought someone would be there for me. But there was no one—he’d even left the door open. He had his hands up my skirt and was yanking at my panties when Romeo came dashing in. He was snarling so much I barely recognized him. Romeo looks all sheepdog you know, but he’s got a good quarter or more wolf in him—slightly unstable when enraged. He launched himself straight at Whitefie—oops.

He squinted at the word that had been half-written before hurriedly crossed out. He pieced it together instantly. Whitefield. From her description, it could only be Stanton Whitefield, owner of the Winner’s main rival corporation.

He had his jaws clamped into his shoulder and pinned against the bed. I ran out screaming, looking for someone to help. No one seemed to hear me—until I saw faces streaming up the grand staircase that I had never seen before. Lovah was squealing and running away from them and I dashed back into the bedroom. They ran in after me, and looked thunderstruck at the sight in front of them. I don’t think this is anything like what they’d expected when they’d been dispatched here. My clothes were in tatters, the bastard was dripping with blood, and Romeo was snarling low in his throat, watching them.

They turned and they ran. They weren’t soldiers—I don’t even know what they were. Security guards? His bodyguard? They left, and I rang the police. The servants had all be tied up and gagged, dragged into one of the pantries.

The press haven’t been called. The man is too influential. I can’t do anything about it, Diary. It’s been a night of hell and I can’t do anything about it. Because I need to avoid a public scandal. Damn it! A public election is coming up, and I can’t say anything because there is the smallest possibility that I might not be believed. I hate this. I hate them all. We have to bring the entire thing to a standstill. He doesn’t come anywhere near me again, I don’t say a word of this to the public.

It’s late Diary. Too late for a girl who has a meeting first thing in the morning. I’m staying at Dorothy’s. I’m a mess. She was willing to let me stay, especially when I explained things to her. She’ll keep it a secret. She enjoys knowing things others don’t.

I don’t know if I can sleep tonight, Diary.

Relena Darlian</i>

He was furious that just because this man was rich and a sometimes politician, he could get away with attempted rape. It was insane. And Relena had had to go along with it… he clenched his fists, furious with himself. He should’ve been there. Someone should’ve been there. She hadn’t told anyone else, it seemed. Even Wufei or Trowa would never keep something like this from him. They would never have allowed something like this to happen.

June 29, AC 197

Dear Diary,

A near-miracle has taken place. Chang Wufei, a boy I have never met until today has deigned to visit. With Sally Po, of course. She’s the same field doctor I met at the hospital several years ago, at the beginning of everything. It was as if to introduce himself—Wufei had been switched into a different section of Preventers—my personal guard, in fact. Baffling, having an ex-gundam pilot as captain of your personal guard, but then, what about my life is normal? I suspect someone must have found out about… about what happened in February and appointed him. I suspect Lady Une.

Sally was wonderfully nice of course, and asked me about Heero. I guess she didn’t know that he’d run off somewhere, and she’s always had an interest in him. I don’t know what kind of interest, whether it be professional curiosity or personal, but I’ve never asked. Either way, I haven’t seen him, and I told her so. She didn’t seem to know quite how to answer that.

Wufei seems to have been a surprisingly good partner to Sally in Preventers when he took Noin’s place. And would you know it, the two of them have actually run off and gotten themselves married to each other. Legally, at any rate. I’m not entirely sure how the home life is going with the two of them, or whether or not there actually is a home life.

Heero raised an eyebrow. He’d heard from Wufei that he’d had several family problems that had needed to be smoothed over, and they’d included Sally in several of them. But he’d never known that those problems had ended up with the two of them married! The boy had been sixteen then—and Sally… she’d been, what, twenty?

But at least now he could be assured no one like Whitefield could possibly find steal his way into Relena’s home again. Wufei was nothing if not efficient, from what he knew of the boy.

It seems the two of them went back to China on some mission or other, which led to Sally facing her family—a very old clan with a name kept secret from outsiders. From the looks of it, the ex-commander was the black sheep of the family, and ran off to go fight in a war that the clan had no business in. She’d refused to marry before, I heard tell. There was an argument with her very old-fashioned father on the topic. And the truth came out that she was still in the military, working with a male partner in a division of Preventers.

To say the least, he was outraged. Seems Sally had shamed him and her entire line of ancestors with her actions. A meeting was held, and a debate let loose. In the end, Wufei ended up being the only male to stand up for her. Sally was almost dreamy-eyed when she told the story—something that never happens, from what I know of the woman. “She’s not going to marry, she’s coming back to Preventers with

It was enough for her father, it seemed. So much so that he gave Wufei his daughter to take to wife. A contract was drawn up fast enough that perhaps it had been planned to end like this since the beginning. I dont know what’s happening between them now. When I asked, Sally just shrugged saying they were married only in name—but as for living together, they would wait. Well, they certainly have the time now that the wars are behind us. There is so much to be grateful for.

Relena Peacecraft

Heero was beginning to feel a tad insulted at not being able to learn all the news until half a year had passed, and then, by reading someone else’s diary! He’d certainly found it interesting that Sally and Wufei had accepted a marriage contract to each other… he’d never have thought Wufei liked the mothering attention she bestowed on him. But then… who was to know how they behaved with each other nowadays?

July 18, AC 197

Dear Diary,

We went to the carnival today, Diary. Dorothy, Cathrine, Trowa, Quatre, and I. Quite a large party, as ex-pilots and politicians with busy schedules go. Dorothy was reluctant to come with us—we’d had to practically drag her along. She needs a little fun in her life as much as the rest of us, and I needed a chance to get away myself. We’ve since found out that Dorothy is deathly afraid of roller coasters. I love them. And so do Trowa and Quatre. So between the two of us (as can be expected, Trowa was absolutely no help), Quatre and I coaxed her onto the ride.

Cathrine declined our offer, said she’d rather have a try with the target throwing. I guess her life is already plenty exciting she doesn’t mind working even off the job. I think she knew full well that she’d get the big purple teddy bear I’d been casually drooling over while we passed—she slapped down her money and waved us off as she was presented with the five darts.

Dorothy looked even paler than usual (an impressive feat) when we were seated and belted into the ride. But when Trowa leaned forward and bluntly asked if she was going through up, she turned her frostiest glare on him and probably would’ve said something suitably scathing if we hadn’t started moving. She literally fling herself in the direction of Quartre’s chest, latching on as if for dear life and shrieking “get me off get me off get me off!!!”

Whether it was because Quatre is a gentleman, or he actually does have an affectionate spot for the Ice Queen, he bore her strangle-hold on his lungs manfully, even going so far as to wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Upon the end of the ride, and once I had pushed away the mass of Dorothy’s platinum-blonde hair that had blown into my face, Quatre was still the gallant nobleman, reaching out to help her out of the ride.

I think the only reason she took his hand was because her legs were too shaky to get out herself—otherwise I’m sure she would have simply ignored him. They led the way to where Cathrine was waiting for us, the big purple teddy bear in her arms. Yes, that purple teddy bear now belongs to me. She just wanted to show off, and knowing everyone else---well, in any case. Mine. And I like it.

(Next, a small drawing of a chibi Relena, holding a purple teddy bear twice her size and smiling blissfully, which took up the next quarter of a page.)

Relena Darlian

He couldn’t help but smile a the drawing, suddenly wishing he might have been there too, never mind that he generally disliked surrounding crowds of people. And from the way she put it, even Trowa had seemed to have had fun. And if Trowa could—he was damned sure he was capable of it as well!

July 28, AC 197

Dear Diary,

You will never believe this—I’ve been asked to play a starring role in a movie! As if I’m a movie star! It feels so glamorous, and I know it’s silly since I already know what crowds are like—and I haven’t accepted yet. Should I? It’s childish, and quite a bit funny, but I’ve got this image in my head of when I was a little girl with a half-molted feather boa draped over my shoulders, star-shaped sequined sunglasses, my mother’s old shoes, and the sparkly red gown several sizes to big and tromping up and down the grand foyer because that was the only place with something resembling a red carpet. Now I’ve got this chance to do it for real and… should I do it? I know, I know, I don’t have any acting experience whatsoever.

I talked to the director—he said he’d watched on television so often over the years, he said he was sure I’d do perfectly fine in the part. I think I want to do this, Diary. I don’t have enough time as it is, adding filming days and rehearsal times to my day planner will probably swamp me but…

Oh well. I shall sleep on it.

Relena Darlian

A movie? Heero smiled, looking towards the door of his room, where one of the only things hanging on his pristine walls was a giant movie poster advertising Caress of Twilight, the one and only gothic vampire movie Relena had starred in. He’d appeared often at the filming set when they’d been filming. Seeing her onscreen in the seductive costumes her character wore was one thing, seeing her in real-life acting the part before his very eyes was another. He’d been there at the screening only a few weeks again, and even to his critical eye, it had been amazing. That was Relena for you.

July 30, AC 197

Dear Diary,

I’ve accepted. The movie’s called
Caress of Twilight, a gothic romance. Vampires, black silk and lace—oh I love it. I start filming tomorrow. All the political things, the little things that keep coming up—the steady stream has dried up to a dribble, enough so that I can manage. I don’t know how, but I’m beginning to suspect that Noin and my brother are the cause of it. Everyone takes so much effort simply for my sake—sometimes I feel so guilty to accept it. And yet—never look a gift horse in its mouth. I shall take what I get, I think.
And would you know it, our elusive Heero Yuy appeared in the middle of it all, standing there as if it were nothing for him to be there. I must say, I think the smile on his face when I saw him suits him more than his often-seen frown. Afterwards, he just disappeared again… well, it doesn’t matter that much to me. If he comes, he comes, if he stays away, that’s his decision.

Relena Darlian

Heero bit his lip, Relena had become more than selfless since the first time he’d actually talked to her. Always, she thought of others before herself. She wanted him nearby; he’d always known that, but he wasn’t ready yet to go back before he’d finished finding out what else there was in the world that he could do. And she knew that too. Even to her diary, she kept confiding that she wanted him to make his own decision, that she didn’t want to force him to do anything. He respected that. She wasn’t… pushy.

August 16, AC 197

Dear Diary,

We have since begun filming, and the work has been hard—although nothing I can’t handle. I’m quite sure now that it really is Noin and Brother behind all the disappearances of my work and I’m glad for it. The movie’s coming along fine… Duo’s around a lot with Hilde. I think it’s more because Duo loves Emily’s cooking—the old woman dotes on him as if he were her son (Richard died in the war, I’m told) and Hilde doesn’t seem to mind.

I like Hilde. She’s a wonderful gossip. And I know myself entirely too well to try to pretend that I’m not one myself.

Relena Darlian

Another smile… that one little sentence brought out a new side to the cool and refined Vice Foreign Minister, a teenaged girl, who still liked to gossip with her friends. His lip quirked upwards again as he remembered his earlier disgust at that type of female… before he realized that he hadn’t minded when he and Relena had had one of their "talks" where she prattled on and he drowned in the dulcet tones of her voices.

He leaned over, craning his neck to check the clock siting on the mantle—close to one in the afternoon. He still had time—perhaps Duo had known full well beforehand that reading the girl’s personal thoughts and dreams would make want to see her again. Because all of a sudden, he recalled the strangely beautiful smile that she’d flash his way whenever she noticed him standing on a balcony watching her speak, or that look of hers that made you think and do impossible things. Trieze had known what he was doing when he’d appointed her Queen of the World. She was someone people would die to follow.

The thing was, he wanted to see her again. But… it was Valentine’s Day. His time in school again had taught him, if nothing else he didn’t already know, that if he went now, it would be an all-out pronouncement of the fact that he respected her, liked her… perhaps even loved her. And for him to even consider it, it was almost as if the decision had already been made.

He sighed—his thoughts were a complete roller coaster when it came to that girl. It wasn’t always such a pleasant experience to try and sort them out again.

August 22, AC 197

Dear Diary,

The most unusual thing happened today on the set—well, truthfully it began normally enough. We were getting ready to start filming one of the seduction scenes. One of
my seduction scenes—and a small crowd had gathered. I believe someone must have been able to pull some strings, because the general public is not allowed on set. And yet—there they were. Duo was there with a video camera—after swearing on several pieces of paper that he was not hear to steal anything—in order to tape any and all my mistakes (or so he said), Hilde was there to keep him in line (I even suspected that she brought a leash and collar in order to do just that), and Heero… Heero was there too.

Heero felt that now-familiar heat in his face as he recalled that day. It wasn’t the first time he’d slipped in to look in on her. She was always aware when he passed in and out of her life—and still waited for the day where he would stop and stay. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to do that just yet. But he definitely did not want to stay away any longer, either. But that day—that had almost sent him running. To be honest, he hadn’t been entirely certain in which direction he’d wanted to run, either.

Well, David (the actor I’m supposed to be seducing—beautiful man, I tell you) threw a temper tantrum. I’m sure you know him, Diary. Everyone does. He’s been on the Top Ten Hottest for as long as I’ve cared to look, but when you meet him, you wonder if he ever mentally passed puberty. He is one of the most self-centered bastards alive. Today in particular, he was on a roll—nothing worked for him... the light, me, the costumes, me, the set, me, the directing, me, the unflattering camera views, and me. The reason, I believe, is because when he screwed up his lines (I believe he was out drinking last night instead of memorizing them) there was no one else to blame but his costar. Me.

His antics even got poor Steve (the director) more than a little angry at him, and for the first time since I’ve known him, threw professionalism to the winds, gets up and grabs poor Heero from the corner (Duo caught this on tape, so I know this for sure) and brings him forward. I’m sure the boy didn’t know it then, but he’d just found himself cast right into the movie itself.

Steve was muttering about teaching “the little brat” a lesson, and Heero looked like he was trying to think of the quickest way out, without breaking too many limbs in the process. In retrospect, I’m almost surprised he had enough self-restraint to keep from dismembering Duo when he started whistling and catcalling (although it did earn him a rather hard smack upside the head with Hilde’s handbag). I was frankly even more surprised when Steve looked askance at him—and he nodded!

Well… it was amazing. The scene came out perfectly—it was everything I’d imagined it would be when I read the script. I was splendid, of course. I need not keep from admitting it. I’ve had years of training to be a coquette, to work up to my grand debut before being launched into high society. It wasn’t difficult to tweak it into a full-out seduction. But Heero—oh he was amazing. A glance or two at the script and he was ready.

And the feel of him! Oh Diary, I can’t even begin to tell you! There were yards and yards of silk and lace and jewelry but mmmm…

Heero couldn’t help but blush.

It stays, Diary. I’ll be happy to tell you that the scene stays. Steve says he won’t be able to keep it out. He’s writing it in. And it’s marvelous. A slightly less marvelous, but still decent side-effect was David absolutely seething with rage as he watched his own dismal failure at acting out a scene a “two-bit, no-account little boy” could. Excuse me while I cackle with glee here.

The most amusing part of the proceedings was that Heero actually looked surprised when he found me blushing and breathing hard after the scene. A pointed look later, I could have sworn he turned red himself, muttering a soft “oh”. Yes. “Oh” Heero. I’m not completely immune to the presence of a good-looking male that I’ve happened to have been in love with for several years. Silly boy.

Relena Darlian

There it was again! Silly! He was not silly! The idea that she wanted him, still wanted him, had shocked him. It was different from when they were fifteen—still children. So different. And he hadn’t been expecting anything of the sort at all.

September 30, AC 197

Dear Diary,

I simply need to devote an entire entry on the subject of Roy. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned him anywhere in this entire book yet, have I? Well. Now he’s going to be mentioned, albeit briefly because I do not have the time to write for long.

A frown creased his lips as he read read the writing, set down in Relena’s own graceful penstrokes. Roy? Roy who?

His name’s Roy Hamilton—the epitome of Eurasian WASP breeding… tall, blond, blue-eyed… beautiful. And I would know, Diary. I have seemingly surrounded myself with some of the most beautiful men out there. The tabloids say so. It must be true, clearly.

In any case. Most men of our generation seem to have become inflicted with a passion towards their hair gel. Perhaps it’s to rebel against the military styles they’ve had to keep them in for so long, but nowadays it’s spiked up in ways I hadn’t thought possible, if it’s not slicked back against their heads. It’s not something I generally notice, but his hair caught my eye—it was so natural. With me, nothing seems entirely me. I wore the braids and people drew parallels with little children. I wore it down and I was told I looked like I’d slapped a mop or a wig on my head. And the ponytail? No, I won’t even start on that.

Back to Roy. I was introduced to him through one of my fellow actors on the set—met him over lunch. We talked. He’s a sweet guy, utterly innocent—something you don’t see often in a movie star.

His frown deepened as an uncharacteristic wash of jealousy swept over him. He had no claim on the girl—God knows he’d given up any he’d ever had by leaving so many times—but that didn’t mean he didn’t suddenly wish himself at that table and could simply slip an arm around her waist to prove she was his. She wasn’t his. He was being irrational. He didn’t like that.

He’s also homosexual.

He blinked, and then felt a wave of embarrassment sweep over him. It made him glad there was no one to see him.

(Huddled over the video-feed transmitter, Duo and Hilde watched gleefully, pointing out the exact shade of Heero’s cheeks.)

Not that that matters overmuch with me. See, I really like him, he really likes me, and done and done I’ve made a friend. Actually, I’ve met his boyfriend too. He’s pretty too. I don’t know much more about him besides that, because he’s even more shy than Roy himself. Quite a pair, the two of them. I wonder how on earth they manage to instigate sex. Because they are most definitely having sex.

Anyway, after clearly surprising you with my interaction with other actors, color me sleepy and goodnight.

Relena Darlian

He felt his jaw drop in utmost astonishment at her candid assumptions about her friends’ sex lives. What was… she was… He shook his head, his mind still swimming in confusion. The little minx! And the way she’d just waved off his sexuality like that—she was so open to everything, obstinate and hardheaded as she was.

This book did nothing in helping him try to understand the inner workings of the Relena-mind. He was quite certain she would always remain one inconclusive mystery. And he was not used to give up on anything. That was too close to failure for his liking.

October 9, AC 197

Dear Diary,

I’m in ‘hiding’, Diary. Steve actually cancelled an entire day of shooting, citing reasons such as ‘water maimage’. I… do not pretend to understand either. In any case, I’d finished my office work long since in preparation for this shoot, so I had a full, glorious day of absolutely nothing to do! As if in answer to my unspoken prayers, along come Hilde and Dorothy, with Duo loaded down like a pack mule with assorted beach bags and full beach gear. And here they were, inviting Romeo and me to the beach! Well, who am I to refuse? Especially when it is only once in a blue moon that Dorothy actually deems me worthy of partnering with her in a high-stakes game of beach volleyball.

And we won too, though both Hilde and Duo continue to point out the mere technicality of the net falling down right before we took that last shot. It obviously cleared it, and their flailing hands, though they’re not inclined to agree. The game inevitably ended in a mad rush out into the lake and a vicious game of water Frisbee—a game which Romeo quite clearly wanted to win.

Of course, as always happens with us, we got into a bit of trouble. Or I should say Duo, being the man that he is, got us into a bit of trouble. There was a near-fistfight with some boys who’d be ogling Hilde in her string bikini (worn for Duo’s benefit, I have been told in confidence). And while defending his girl manfully from perusing eyes, he almost got us all kicked off the beach grounds for instigating unnecessary violence in the process.

Well of course, someone managed to recognize him. It’s not that difficult, considering his yard-long braid and the fact that his picture has been broadcasted across the globe and onto spacewide television. So we were treated to a foghorn-volume “HOLY SHIT HE’S A GUNDAM PILOT!”

The guy Duo had been punching out turned white, then a sick greenish color. Then they recognized the Vice Foreign Minister and Duchess Catalonia… and it was pretty much all up with us. I think we cut and ran just before the camera crews came running, bent on some juicy gossip with my name tied right into it. I swear if I had had a machine gun in my hands at that moment…

And so, that is how my day was slightly spoilt. Almost. My sense of humor can’t ignore the fact that a random chase scene in various stages of undress and carrying a load of mishmash beach equipment is nothing short of hilarious.

Relena Darlian

The vid-phone rang just as he finished the entry, and he reluctantly tore his eyes away from the book, setting it down with a slight outtake of breath and got up, moving towards the control panel and switching on the visuals. The larger-than-life image of Trowa Barton flared into life on the screen, his customary seriousness intact. “Heero.” He nodded at him, acknowledging his presence but without anything else towards that end.

“Trowa.” Heero responded in like.

"Duo called me earlier—said you wanted access to Relena Peacecraft’s location and entire weekly schedule. I wanted to ask if that’s true. Is it?" It came sounding more as a statement rather than a question, because of absolutely no hint at all of an inflection in his voice. Heero was used to this by now.

He was silent for a moment, a small, thoughtful silence. Why not? He could ask… and if he chose to change his mind… well then. “Yes.”

Trowa’s eyes were the only things that managed to show his surprise. "And I thought it was just another one of Duo’s bad jokes. Very well. I’ll send it to you immediately, because reading out everything over this is pointless." With that, he signed off.

Heero nodded slightly and ineffectively at the static-filled screen before he flicked off the visual and went back to his sofa, laptop propped up on the seat next to his, this time. He didn’t have long to wait, as he opened the email, and the long length of black type appeared.

Exactly as he’d suspected. It was just another busy day for the Pacifism Goddess.

To continue on to the next chapter, go here.


Did Heero make a mistake about asking Trowa? We all know how Duo will take this when he finds out that his joke turned out to be true! And if Heero does meet up with Relena again, will there be a certain braided American holding onto a camcorder and taping the entire thing for pure entertainment? You’ll soon find out in the next installment of Dear Diary.

…Or possibly the one after that. I’m not sure anymore. ^^;

One extra thing I have to say: my foray back into the new and shitty improved has made me appreciate LJ more than ever.
Tags: gw, heeroxrelena

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