Mission Accepted:
Bittersweet
Relative disclaimers apply.
7 a.m., Guest Area, Outpatient Wing, Peacecraft General Hospital
Two figures wearing dark blue dressing gowns over pale blue pyjamas graced one of the Area's couches.
Relena was sleeping, using Quatre's left thigh as a pillow; he was reading a daily newspaper and, occasionally, shaking his head slowly.
Both of them had been seen, treated, and kept overnight for observation. Quatre's right arm was sore, his face and head were touched by scars and there was a healing cut under a "elastaplaster" on his forehead, but he was all right, for the most part.
As for Relena, the shock and exhaustion that the "situation" had inspired had finally caught up to her as the doctor had begun to examine her — and just as the regional chief of police had entered the room she and Quatre had been assigned to.
Relena was mumbling something about changing the bedsheets over and over and over again. She hadn't exactly been in the mood for conversation.
"Why, you're Relena Peacecraft," the man had unnecessarily pointed out.
Quatre nodded.
"Yes, and she has no comment."
The doctor restrained a chuckle and injected Relena with something that made her sleepy.
The man scowled.
"You're Quatre Winner. It was your family that Hawton worked for, wasn't it?"
"Yes, and I have no comment either."
"That's right, you overly nosey...nosey person!" Relena exclaimed, then fell asleep.
After a few seconds of eyelocking with Quatre, the chief decided not to press the issue. Whether or not the young man knew it, upon his word mountains could be moved.
"I'll be back," he grumped, and left.
He hadn't been back yet. Not that Quatre minded.
"FRAUD EXPOSED: BOOTH'S BROUGHT DOWN TO ITS FOUNDATIONS," the newspaper's headline announced.
The accompanying photograph showed EMA's rushing the still-unconscious Briggs into the Hospital's Emergency Wing. Since no member of the media had been present at the warehouse, this and similiar photographs were certain to be seen over and over again until the furor wore itself out.
The article, one of many about the organization, was long on speculation and short of facts.
Of course. They don't know what really happened, so they're grabbing at any stick that comes their way. That's sad. At least there's nothing about us, or Miss Relena either, which is good. The police kept us out of it. But people're coming out of the woodwork claiming the credit for bringing Briggs down, which is bad. They're all over this newspaper, and probably the broadcasts as well.
The other articles weren't any better, so, after a brief glance at all of them, and scowling at the news that Grant Booth was going to release a statement later in the day, Quatre settled on reading the unusually lengthy editorial.
He glanced over and down at Relena, who didn't notice.
What's to be done? Heero said it. You're no longer involved. I'd guess that he's out there somewhere, making sure that it stays that way. He is truly something else.
He couldn't resist a small smile.
We've worked hard to put things back in their place. You owe us one.
It wouldn't be easy for her to repay that debt. Once again, the "boys" had gone their separate ways. But Quatre thought that he knew two words that were almost certain to bring them all together again, should this be needed.
"Hello, sweetheart," he whispered. "Get as much rest as you can. You're going to need as much strength as you can get. Hmmm?"
Two men approached the couch, the doctor that had examined Quatre and Relena and her personal chauffeur.
The chauffeur bowed.
"But, Master Quatre, she is still sleeping."
The doctor exhaled.
"The agreement was, I pick Master Winner up for one last examination and you take the young lady back home at this time on this morning."
He waved a hand towards himself.
"Come alone, Quatre."
Quatre hunched his shoulders, exhaled, put the newspaper aside, gently removed himself from the couch and nodded.
"Miss Relena, please forgive me. I have to leave you now. But you'll be all right. Remember, yell if you need us."
And remember that you are loved.
One week later
The media couldn't get the word out quickly enough.
Relena Darlian was back home! But instead of returning to her duties as Vice Foreign Minister, she was focusing her attention on creating and representing HEION, an organization devoted to negotiating for and maintaining peace on Earth and in space — akin to the United Nations, but on a smaller and more concentrated scale.
HEION's main headquarters was the "old" Romefeller building, which was being completely renovated and expanded to include not only the new organization itself, but also the security force, the Earth-space patrol force and the wing that would be Relena's new - and hopefully permanent - home.
At the moment, Relena was in an undisclosed location overseeing the construction of HEION's "Space Bases" with a team of people who refused to be identified. But it was rumored that at least two of these people were Relena's age or close, preferred to work alone or with each other, and were very protective of her.
Heero wasn't on that team, or anywhere near Relena. He leaned against an official Peacecraft General Hospital Outpatient van that was parked near the main Outpatient Wing entrance/exit wearing the appropriate official clothing and reading a daily newspaper, the earring that he'd "borrowed" from Relena twinkling in the morning sun.
He was waiting for Briggs Hawton - Alik Vasser - or whoever the hell he was, Heero hadn't been able to find that out yet - who was going to be released and brought out to this van via wheelchair within a matter of moments.
He turned the page and rolled his eyes at the oft-reproduced statement that Grant Booth had released a week ago.
"We don't have all of the information regarding the internal corruption at our prestigious organization as of yet. But rest assured that we will find the person or people responsible for bringing shame to not only Booth's, but to all of us as well. We shall not allow the current state of affairs to ruin our peace of mind or our resolve."
Heero exhaled.
"Yeah. Right. You guys're just mad because you got busted. Who do you think you're fooling?"
At least Relena was actually doing something about "the current state of affairs".
A slow, almost dreamy smile spread over Heero's face and his eyes twinkled as he remembered going over HEION's blueprints a few days ago while under the guise of being on one of the construction teams.
He was so proud of her. And try as he might, he couldn't wait to see the completed building. He planned to visit the opening ceremony - there would certainly be one - and maybe he would take pictures.
Relena really was as strong as she was beautiful.
"That's my girl," Heero whispered without a trace of shame or embarrassment.
Movement in the corner of his eye brought his attention back to the entrance/exit.
He shook his head slowly at the sight of Briggs Hawton yelling at the two young male EMAs that were pushing his wheelchair towards the entrance/exit.
Idiot, Heero thought, folding the newspaper, rolling it up and then tossing it in the nearest refuse container.
"I am not an invalid!" Briggs shouted. "I can walk!"
"But the doctor told you not to walk for at least two weeks," one of the EMAs calmly replied.
Briggs scowled.
"HAH! I'll show that fool who can walk—"
He saw Heero and their gazes locked as the EMAs pushed the wheelchair outside.
I've seen that punk's face somewhere.
"I know you, don't I, young man?" Briggs asked suspiciously.
Heero ignored the distrustful stares from the EMAs.
"Maybe."
Briggs broke the stare.
I know that voice.
He strained to look at the EMAs, who were edging away from the other two males. They had sensed that something unpleasant was imminent and they wanted no part of it.
"Have someone else bring me home. I don't trust this one."
Heero raised an eyebrow and waited.
These two young guys aren't as dumb as they look. But not by much.
Briggs swallowed. His instincts were practically screaming, "Danger! Danger!"
Finally, one of the EMAs spoke.
"Uhm...all of us are fully trained and capable, Mr. Hawton."
"That's what I'm afraid of!" Briggs yelled.
The EMA hmm's and heh'd and tapped his companion on the shoulder.
"Sir...we'll leave you to this guy...I'm sure that he'll take good care of you. Thanks for...ahem...we're glad that you chose Peacecraft General as your hospital."
"It wasn't me that chose it!" Briggs yelled, but the EMAs were walking back towards the hospital and, Briggs suspected, to feign ignorance for at least the next few days.
I'm doomed. I'm stuck in this wheelchair and there's nothing I can do to save myself. Dammit!
Heero chuckled and walked over to the wheelchair.
Briggs held his breath.
I know that I know this punk! Those eyes...who could forget those eyes? They're so cold. Huh. If expressions could kill I'd be dust.
"Not to worry, sir..."
Heero pushed the wheelchair towards the van.
"I'll take good care of you."
Briggs let his breath out in a whoosh.
Heero Yuy! I knew it!
"I do know you!" he exclaimed. "You little punk! Why don't you just go ahead and kill me now, and save yourself the trouble of doing it later?"
"Now, now." Heero stopped pushing to dig in a pocket for the van's keys. "Don't make me have to make you behave yourself."
He spoke in a falsely solicitious tone that made Briggs want to strangle him.
Maybe I will. Later. After I've beaten him to a pulp. He's not going to get away with whatever he's planning. He's going to have to let me out of this chair sometime.
He closed his eyes and made peace with the Almighty.
When he opened them he found himself shying away from a bright rectangle of sunlight.
"Where am I?"
"You're awake," Heero said in the aggravating falsely solicitious tone from somewhere close to the rectangle.
Briggs scowled.
"Where am I?!"
"Don't get upset. You're still in your wheelchair, and could easily fall to the ground. Speaking of which, if you behave yourself, I'll take you for a walk so that you can see the scenery."
Briggs jerked, then looked around as best as he could.
Where are we?
Squinting against the light, he could just barely see a mixture of sand, weeds, dirt and painted asphalt. And he could just barely hear automobiles in the distance.
He gasped and looked up.
Yes, he could just barely see...a sign indicating where the nearest exit was.
He verbally blasted Heero. His foul language knew no bounds.
Heero merely chuckled again.
Briggs stopped yelling and screaming to take a deep breath.
"YOU PUNK...I ought to—"
Heero moved into the rectangle and aimed the blade of a penknife at Briggs' nose in two seconds flat.
This was the penknife that he had used to cut the apple that he'd bought for Relena.
"You have a choice to make. Either you call off your dogs forever, or I'll do it for you."
Briggs sneered.
"It's that girl, isn't it? You make me sick. I thought that you were, at least, a tough punk—"
Heero aimed the blade at Briggs' eyes.
"That answer is unacceptable."
Briggs forced out a laugh.
"I told you, go ahead and kill me! You'd be removing the obstacle between my position and the people in line for my job."
Heero smirked and, to Briggs' mixed relief and surprise, moved back and out of the rectangle.
"It'd be more problematic for you to stay alive."
Briggs shuddered. The fear that he thought didn't exist was sliding over his heart.
"What do you mean by that?"
Metal clinked. Briggs squinted against the rectangle and watched the van's keys fall to the ground a few feet away.
"You have a decision to make," Heero said, his voice indicating that he was walking away. "I suggest that you keep your current mobility in mind when you make it."
Briggs' eyes went as wide as they could without falling out of his head.
"COME BACK HERE! PUNK! You think you're SO SMART! I'll GET YOU..."
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