A Matter of Heart: Heirs to the Legacy 2 (The Second Set)
A Gundam Wing Fanfiction By: Andrea Readwolf
Email: andrea_readwolf @hotmail.com
Rating: YA/Mature
Families: First Generation
YMC Fam (Yuy-Maxwell-Chang Family: Trinity, Mara Jade,
and Dylan);
Winner Fam (Quatre + Trowa, Triton&Tristan, and little sis
Calista)
Peacecraft Family (Zechs Marquise/Milliard + Lucrezia/Noin
Peacecraft, Kit/Katarynna, Adrian, and Nicolette/Nicole)
Mazzolla Family (Mariemeia + Jake Mazzolla {OC}, Julian)
Catalonia-Dorian Family (Dorothy Catalonia + Relena Dorian,
Regina)
Une-Po Family (Lady Une + Sally Po, Marie Une*, Michael Braddocks,
Mark Braddocks, Matthew Braddocks)
Families: Second Generation
The Royal Peacecraft Family: King Adrian, Queen Trinity, twins Yuy (10-f)
and Maxwell (10-m)
The Winner Family (#1): Tristan + Mara Jade = Meiran (14-f), Dakota (12-f),
Jasmine (11-f), Galen (8-m), Bryce (5-m), Adrianna (4-f), Fletcher (2-m),
Hakeem (8 1/2 PN-m) *(a lot ^__^'')
The Winner Family (#2): Triton + Katarynna (Kit/Kat ^__^v) = Gabriel (6-m)
Pairings: Dylan Maxwell + Nicole Peacecraft (hoped for by Nikki); Julian
Mazzolla + Calista Winner (hoped for by Julian) [AN: has anyone else
noticed that really on Trinity and Adrian *wanted* each other from the
first? None of this 'hoped for' business...]
Archive: Yes-- www.gwaddiction.com
Warnings: The following story contains scenes that are humorous,
sappy,fluff, with rampant Incoherence, random PoV switching, and
Sexual innuendoes abound.
Original Characters are presented; all characters are IC according to
the author's interpretation of them. Mainly heterosexual
situations, with hints of YAOI and YURI (from the "older" crowd... and
*some* references to Dylan's past).
Spoilers: None to the original Gundam Wing Series at first; However, once
Julian has been commissioned by Calista for a special project, expect a lot
of rehashing of the series. It would be a plus to have read the previous
Matter of Heart Series Arc stories: "Dance of the Heart" Arc and "Oh Baby,
Baby" Arc. "Heirs to the Legacy" is built off of the stories forming
"Traditions".
Feedback: C&C is always welcomed and adored.
Acknowledgements: It's been three years... Three long bloody years. Hn.
And this damn story *still* isn't finished! Acknowledgements go out to all
the people who have helped me throughout this incredibly long Series--it
ain't over yet! Special Thanks go out to Zan, who must be my longest-kept
beta-reader to date! (And also a very good friend.... "How many more days
till A-kon?" "AW-what?" "What to you mean it's pronounced 'yeowie'? It's
spelt like 'ya-o-ee'." "Okay, now, seriously here; how squicked out do you
think people will be if I happen to mention the sexual relationship between
the twins? I mean, Triton and Tristan are very affectionate and all,
but...." ^___^)
Notes: This is the story of the children, the nine children of the 6
gundam pilots (Heero--Zechs) plus the grandchild of Treize
Khushrenada. This story will not focus primarily on the characters
from the series, but rather, the generation after them. This story is
not for all die-hard fans, but runs along the lines of a more
original piece.
Additional Note: 1, 2, 3, 4, & 5 often times refer to each other as
"husband" [and thus the grandchildren might at one point refer to all five
men (six in Zech's case) as "grandfather"]; please refer back to "Promise of
the Rings" Part 13 if this causes confusion.
Additional Note 2: The chibis often times refer to their parents'
friends and partners as "Uncle" or "Aunt"--in this case, the
term is used simply as one of respect since, with the exception
of Kit & Adrian's relation to Relena, all of Quatre's sisters, and
Trowa's Catherine, none of the parents really have siblings.
Additional Note 3: As hinted at in Heirs to the Legacy #1, Zechs and Noin
have separated. Zechs has somehow been coerced into living with our boys at
Emerald Gardens (we've had the 5-somes; anyone up to a 6-some?)
***These stories and the ideas contained within are copyright of the author. No reprinting or posting without permission of said author. ***
~Miami, Florida, USA-- 1st of February AC 242 ~
// She was lean and mean, dressed to kill in some designer business suit bought straight from the runway. The royal blue skirt looked pasted on, highlighting shapely hips and thighs--ending way before the hem ever brushed the knee. The creamy stretch of skin from thigh to ankle didn´t need the caress of tan stockings. The short jacket covered the smooth back and encased two shapely arms. Her sun-streaked blonde hair was pulled back into a French twist, runaway strands escaping and framing her model-perfect painted face; a betrayingly-simple clip holding the long, silky spun gold there. The sun sparkling off the glittering window-tops of the high-rise cityscape, framed her in a halo of radiance as she stood near the large glass wall, looking out. And then she turned--//
Calista Raberba Winner took one look at her guest before allowing a smile to steal away her frown. She held up one finger--'I'll be with you in just one minute!'--before shifting the phone at her ear.
//She was the kind that meant trouble. The kind mothers always warned their sons about--//
"I understand that Jesus, but I *need* those reports, not excuses," Calista was saying over the phone. "No, no. If you can't get them to me by Monday morning--at the latest!--then you will have to find a new sponsor. I'm sorry."
She paused, waiting for the reply. "Okay, then. I look forward to reading them Monday."
//She was the kind that meant trouble, and she had come to me for help.//
'Only,' Julian Mazzolla thought, 'She didn't come to me for help. She didn't come to me for anything. Once again you went to her, buddy-boy.'
The blonde young woman dropped the phone into a cradle and sighed, falling into the large plush chair behind the desk. She rolled her eyes and looked over to Julian. A smile overtook the frown once again and, just as quickly, she went over to him and wrapped him up in a warm, familiar, hug.
"How ya doin', stranger?" she asked, holding on tight before pulling away to look at him.
And she didn't *mean* trouble--she *was* it. As head of the most powerful company in the colonies and Earth, she was literally the most powerful woman in the Earth Sphere. And beautiful. Stunning. More breathtaking than even his memories of her were.
And he was just a writer.
Julian smiled. "I'm doing good--can't complain." He poked her in the ribs. "And who are ya calling 'stranger', stranger? I'm not the one who hasn't been home lately!"
She laughed and turned away from him. "Point," she replied, turning back to her desk. "But I've heard you've been quite busy yourself," she said, turning and leaning back against the sleek, black desk, folding her arms. "Traveling from city to city, and the colonies, too! Trying to copy Dylan?"
Julian laughed and rubbed his neck. "No, nothing so great as trying to 'find myself in the world'," he answered. "Book-signings drag me all over the place--not to mention gives you one heck of a hand cramp!"
He laughed. She laughed.
"So... how *is* Dylan?" he asked. "I take it you've heard from him recently..."
Calista smiled, nodding as she slipped around the desk and into her chair. "Yes. Just last week, actually. He was in... Spain or France."
"So close to home and he hasn't been back yet?" Julian frowned.
"Oh, he's been back," Calista laughed. "More then me, that's for sure. He sneaks back and leaves goodies for the kids. They, of course, love him for it--even if they don't know what he looks like anymore."
"It's not right."
"I think he does it more to tease our fathers," she confided. "Duo still hasn't caught him, and I'm sure Heero and Daddy have set up some type of surveillance system--and he keeps avoiding it." She leaned forward. "If you ask me, I think they're rather proud of him. After all, they have the best surveillance system in the Sphere. Chip off the old block, wouldn't you say?"
"No."
Callie leaned back and smiled, letting the matter drop. "So, I guess you're pretty tired of signing books, huh?"
"You have *no* idea!" Julian groaned.
"So... I guess you wouldn't be up to signing a copy for me, huh?" she asked teasingly, grinning as she pulled a copy of his latest best-seller from her desk.
"You bought my book?" he asked, surprised.
She laughed. "You... I must admit--I'm a closeted fan of JT Mazlo." She ran her fingers over the hard cover. "Actually, I own a copy of all your books," she admitted.
He was secretly ecstatic, openly pleased. "You should have told me! I would have sent you an original of each one!" He took the book from her.
She laughed again. "I think I can afford to buy one of your books, Jules. Hell! I'm getting ready to build a new colony! The price of one hardcover novel isn't going to set me for broke!"
He smiled and nodded. "I heard about that. So... You're definitely going through with it?"
"I'm waiting for some final paper work, but it's a pretty much set deal. Yes. But enough about business," she said, standing, taking the book back and leaving it on the desk. "Let's go get something to eat, eh? I'm starved! You like Cuban, right?"
"Don't know. Don't think I've had any--"
"What?! Well, we'll definitely have to change *that*! Can't let you leave Miami without having tried some real Cuban cooking! Forget about the cigars, Jules. It's *all* about the food!"
And with that--and a laugh--Calista pulled him out of the office. He snatched up the book before they left.
It was France. Dylan was in France, not Spain, but considering he'd just stopped by Spain on his way to France and had actually called Callie at the airport in commute--added to the fact he didn't know she'd conveniently forgotten where he was--he wasn't going to hold it against her. As it was, he was walking down one of the main boulevards, completely oblivious to the fact Julian was experiencing his first taste of plantains, beans and rice, and Cuban-styled chicken, when he saw it.
At first he wasn't sure, so he crossed the street to get a better look. But it was, and he grinned madly as he noted the address at the bottom of the poster-flyer and mapped out the destination in his mind. It only took him a handful of minutes to find the little hole in the wall theater that the troupe was using for practice. Silently, he let himself in and settled into a cushiony seat in the very back row, watching intently.
All the way upstage, actors were rehearsing. Shortly after Dylan had entered the theater, one of the actresses on stage stopped mid-sentence, throwing her hands up and turning to shout, "This is not *right*, I'm telling you! We need to change this, Richard!"
"Nicole, darling, we've been through this. We're not changing it," boomed a bored voice from over Dylan's head--from the tech box. "We're going to do this exactly as the script says. How many times do we have to go through this?"
"Until you admit that I'm right and change the script," shouted the blonde young woman, waving a fistfull of papers--probably the script in mention--in the air.
"We're *not* changing the script, Nicole, and that's final," the voice boomed back.
Dylan grinned.
"Now, let's take it from the beginning of this scene again!"
Dylan continued to watch for the remaining hour of rehearsal, and when the booming voice from the tech box called it a wrap, Dylan got up to leave when someone shouted.
"There's someone in the back!"
"Catch him!"
"It might be him!"
"Come here, you son of a bitch!"
He'd stopped the minute he was spotted and turned back to face the stage--only to see two lumbering men hurtling towards him and a stronghold of people surrounding the young actress who had spoken out of turn earlier, forming a human shield about her. Before he could say anything in his defense, he had to side step two punches and block a third.
"Will you stop it!" the sheltered actress shouted, breaking free from her would-be protectors and racing to the back of the theater.
"Who are you?" she demanded before she was even halfway there.
He stood up, fully, his guard still cautious in case one of the two stooges decided to try something. A sheepish smile graced his lips.
"I saw your face plastered all over the walls of Paris," he said, filling in her surprised silence. "So I thought I'd stop by and see if you're as good as they all say you are."
She was frozen, shock slacking her features, and then her eyes widened with recognition and a genuine excited smile bloomed on her face. "Dyl..." she breathed, reaching out to touch him and then aborting the movement before she actually did. "Dylan...?"
His smile was sheepish and he replied, "Hello, Nikki P."
Nicolette Peacecraft laughed and then launched herself at her visitor like she was a nine-year-old child again, not a grown and mature twenty-three year old. Dylan easily caught her and even joined in on her bout of joyful laughter in the reunion of good friends.
"Miss Craft?" a voice interrupted them, and finally Nicole remembered they had an audience.
Grinning, she pulled just far enough away from him so she could look at the others while still touching his arm--that little bit of contact was very important to her for some reason. She cleared her throat and then answered the questions in their eyes, "This is Dylan Maxwell," she said calmly, her soft voice carrying even to the person in the very back of the crowd. "He is a very dear friend of my family's. We used to spend a great deal of time together when we were younger." She smiled up at Dylan, radiating.
"Hello," Dylan replied, toning his own grin down quite a bit. "A pleasure to meet you."
"How wonderful you're in France!" Nicole said, though, cutting off anyone's chance for reply--not that there was one. Everybody was too busy staring at the stranger to whom their beloved actress seemed so taken with. "Have you eaten yet? I was just thinking of grabbing a bite to eat and I would love the company?"
Dylan nodded, still smiling at her. "That would be fine," he replied, even though he'd just finished off a submarine-type of sandwich. When would he ever turn down food?
~Back in Miami~
It was the sweetest torture he'd ever known.
Lunch was good, and after lunch was even better. Calista escorted him all over Miami, showcasing the culturally rich city, and then she'd taken him to dinner at a little Chinese restaurant where the food was salty and tangy and absolutely delicious. Then they had headed to her condo.
Julian had a room at one of the local hotels, but the daughter of Quatre Winner would not stand for it. "Poppycock!" she had exclaimed haughtily, making him smile and laugh. "You can stay in the guest bedroom and that way we can stay up late catching up and gossiping like a bunch of old women!"
As if they hadn't just spent the entire afternoon doing just that.
Everything had been going well, really well all things considered, thought Julian. That was, of course, until they got to Calista's condo and discovered the naked man lounging on her sofa, reading a magazine.
Correction, Julian said to himself. Almost naked if you took into account the black leather studded chocker and cock strap.
Calista, he also noted, did not seem overly surprised that there was a naked man in her home. In fact, the sigh she let out sounded more annoyed than surprised, and the first words out of her mouth confirmed that assessment.
"David, what do you think you are doing?"
At sixty-one he still looked damn good. Blame it on genetic manipulation. He could even turn the young girls' heads when they passed. The silver-threaded-chestnut hair still hung in a thick braid down his back; his violet eyes still sparkled with mirth and joy; even the few wrinkles that had dared to take up residence on his face were ones left by smile upon smile.
Tonight, however, there was no twinkle in his eye, no smile on his face, and even his long braid seemed to hang limp. But he was still beautiful.
Or maybe Heero was just biased.
The Japanese man smiled as he wrapped an arm around his husband's waist and asked, "How is he doing?"
Duo sighed and leaned his head against Heero's shoulder. "A little better, but he's tough. He'll pull through."
"Hai," he replied, watching his daughter and her husband singing their youngest baby to sleep in the hospital bed.
"Dr. Spoto said he'll be able to come home tomorrow," Duo continued softly, "As long as no complications occur between now and then."
It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. With as much genetic engineering as had been done on him, on his husbands, hell! Even on their children.... it wasn't right that this tiny little boy had to be born with a weak body. Mara Jade blamed herself, and that wasn't right. No one was at fault, but it was so easy to try and blame someone. But not Mara Jade. For the last two years she and Tristan had done everything and beyond for their youngest. The doctors all seemed to think it was a miracle that the boy had lived this long.
Heero didn't think it was a miracle. Not unless you considered pure determination and stubbornness as miracle-material. Stars knew Mara Jade and Tristan alone had enough of both, but Heero suspected little Hisoka had his fair share. In fact, he believed just Hisoka's survival this long was proof of his grandson's determination to live.
"Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes/ and save these questions for another day."
Mara Jade leaned over the hospital bed, pushing away dark sweaty bangs from her baby's pale-faced forehead.
"I think I know what you've been asking me/ I think you know what I've been trying to say."
Tristan sat on the bed behind his wife, holding his son's leg, his thumb gently rubbing over the soft skin.
"I promised I would never leave you/ and you should always know/ where ever you may go/ no matter where you are/ I never will be far away."
Mara Jade lifted the small fist to her lips, softly kissing Hisoka's tiny fingers as Tristan took up the thread of the lullaby, his voice as husky as hers had been.
"Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to sleep/ and still so many things I want to say/ remember all the songs you sang for me/ when we went sailing on an emerald bay," he sang, smiling sadly. "And like a boat out on the ocean/ I'm rocking you to sleep/ the water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart/ you'll always be a part of me."
And then their voices blended together in a sweet, lulling melody that seemed to engulf the small sickly child in a warm, hazy glow.
"Mmm mm mmm mmm...
"Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful you life will be/ someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby/ then in your heart there will be a part of me...
"Some day we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on/ they never die, that's how you and I will be..." (1)
A few minutes after the last notes trilled off, Mara Jade and Tristan emerged from the darkened room. No one tried to look at the tears they knew were in the others' eyes as they walked listlessly away from the lonely room where their little boy lay sleeping. (2)
End Part 1
(1) "Lullaby" by Billy Joel
(2) Hisoka Winner is a very sick little boy. He has a full-time nursing
staff at home, however, in some extreme cases, he has to stay at the
hospital for periods of time. More often than not, though, the family tries
to keep him home.
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com