10-Jun-2001
Title: I Believe In Peace, Bitch
Author: Kimmie (JaenKaeGW@hotmail.com)
Archive: GW Addiction.
Category: songfic, POV
Pairings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I mean no harm, I have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Thoughts of violence.
Spoilers: For Relena's past.
Notes: I've always wanted to write a fic to Tori Amos' "The Waitress" off of her "Under the Pink" album. The idea hit around 1am, and I dashed it off on the back of a printed off story in blue Sharpie with a quick picture of Dorothy on page 4, and I added the lyrics in as I typed it up. This one's dedicated to April because she told me I wasn't allowed to defile Tori with "Gundam porn" anymore, and because she introduced me to Tori, both musically and physically (even if it was just a meet&greet). Relena POV. Enjoy!
//...// = lyrics
"Dorothy?" She turns to me, sickeningly sweet grin perfectly in place, ready to kill me, serve me... I'm not sure which.
"Yes, Relena? Whatever may I do for you?"
I want to lash out at her... make her lose that perfect composure so she'll finally tell me what she's up to. I can't stand the way she does everything she can to get me to give in to all of the war. I believe in absolute pacifism, not manipulation by politics, not coffee-talk terrorism, not mobile suit battles which kill innocent people... the ones on the ground, and the ones in the suits.
~So I want to kill this waitress~
~She's worked her a year longer than I~
~If I did it fast you know that's an act of kindness~
It's entirely disheartening to watch the news reports. The sensationalism is mostly gone from the media. They don't need it. They have live footage of children being killed, towns being burned to their foundations, people crying because everything they've ever known is gone.
I can't imagine Dorothy crying like that. Her eyes look too haunted to cry. I realize that she's still waiting for me to speak, but I had no words to say in the first place, so it surprises me when words form their way around my lips, from me into the open. "Why do you want me to give in to the war?"
She stands almost still for a moment, her perfect grin wavering only slightly. Then, she speaks to me in practiced words she's said before. "Because war is beautiful."
~But, I believe in peace~
~I believe in peace, Bitch~
~I believe in peace~
~Oh, I believe in peace~
~I believe in peace, Bitch~
~I believe in peace~
I want to slap her, muss her perfect hair, wipe that smug grin from her face and make her cry like the little girls on the news. I stand up and walk away from her, casually looking out the window. "What kind of family do you have, Dorothy? Are they good people?"
I can hear her lose a coat of composure even though I've got my back to her. "I... I have a grandfather. And a cousin. They're in politics."
I suppose that explains a lot. "Oh? What are their names. I might know them."
She gulps down air. "I'd really rather not say, Relena. Was that all you wanted? I really must attend to some business..." She trails off as I turn to face her.
Her bottom lip is trembling and its all I can do not to shout at her and make her lose it. "Dorothy, you didn't really answer my question. Why do you want me to go to war? I don't see you doing ballet, and *that's* beautiful. Explain to me why I should abandon peace, something which will prevent us all from having to be hurt by things which aren't petty, in favor of something which I feel will kill us all?"
~I want to kill this waitress~
~I can't believe this violence in mind~
~And is her power all in her club sandwich~
Her grin is gone. She looks like a spy under a spotlight. Her normally pale complexion is even more drained of color than usual. It's disturbing, but I smile at her, leaning against my desk in wait of her answer. When none comes, I turn my back on her again and pour myself a cup of tea, the porcelain cool and rough against my hand until it warms with the liquid it contains, deliberately laced with honey and lemon. "Would you like a cup of tea, Dorothy?" She shakes her head at me. I sit and motion to the chair opposite me. "Have a seat."
It was a long moment before she actually sat down. "Relena... I have my reasons."
I sip delicately at my tea, noting the refreshing flow of the blend as it traversed down my speech-weary throat. "I have my reasons, too, Dorothy. Let's compare, shall we?" Her answer was a gaze that wouldn't look out of place on a just-kicked puppy. She looked almost humble, and I enjoyed it. "Even when I was Relena Darlian, I disapproved of fighting. In school, I was always the girl to encourage sharing, dole out her lunch to those children whom had forgotten their own. If ever there was a fight, I was there with the intent to stop it. I came home with more black eyes than I care to remember because I jumped in front of a punch or a thrown rock. And, you?"
She crosses her legs, glancing over at the air vent on the floor as though it might be a means of escape. "I... I stayed to myself, mostly. If anyone bothered me, I'd hit them, and they'd leave me alone afterward." Her gaze had drifted toward the window, eyelashes fluttering like the filmy curtains in the light breeze.
I kept on. "As I grew up, my father was a diplomat. I travelled with him to warring nations and saw what went on, the people it affected."
She opens her mouth to respond, but stops and shakes her head instead, motioning for me to continue.
I take another sip of the tea, still warm, and do just so. "My father, well, both of them, were killed by war. I was there to see both of them die, though I don't remember my real father's death as well. They haunt me when I sleep. I feel responsible, somehow, for every person who dies because I can't stop it. My real father was King Peacecraft. Peacecraft... a carrier of peace. Peace was in his blood and it was spread all over the floor. Well, peace is in my blood, too. I'm the last chance for it as far as I know, so I *have* to keep trying and I don't believe that war can create peace. People won't get tired of fighting. I just want them to fight *for* peace instead of *against* each other."
~Oh, I believe in peace~
~I believe in peace, Bitch~
~I believe in peace~
~Oh, I believe in peace~
~I believe in peace, Bitch~
~I believe in peace~
She stands just then and clutches her side, other hand half-clenched in a fist. Her long hair and skirt are blowing slightly in the wind that's picked up since I began. Her eyes cast downward again and she looks hurt. She almost sparkles with her pain, as though everything she's ever known has come to war with what I've said. She finally brings her gaze up to meet mine and pastes on a pale imitation of her normal grin. "You always were an excellent speaker, Relena. Even though I come from a family of politicians who could convince rocks to lay eggs, I could never hope to equal you. Good day, Relena. I believe I have some thinking to do."
As she walks out the door, I catch sight of a single tear dripping silently from the corner of her eye, catching cooly on her ear as she turns her head too quickly.
~I want to kill this killing wish~
~They're too many stars and not enough sky~
~Boys all think she's living kindness~
~Ask a fellow waitress~
~Ask a fellow waitress~~
As soon as the door closes, I down the final sip of my tea, cooler than I normally like, and speak a final string of words out loud. "I believe in peace." I add the final word silently. Bitch.
Owari. -_-
Jenny&Kimmie
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