11-Oct-2000
Pairing: 1+2+R
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys or the girl, of course.
Warnings: Angst; ends of things (oh, okay--people have died!)
Notes: This deals with events that happen after the end of
"Complicated," so it belongs at the end of that arc. This is my version of one of fanfiction's uber-premises (you'll see what I mean when you get to the end), and is therefore indebted to those that have used this tactic before. And it's a tribute of sorts to Q-sama's beautifully detailed ideas about what the GW-kids might be like when they grow up!
It's dedicated to my mother, who loves each of her children best of all--and to my grandmother, who is waiting.
//denotes thoughts
[flashbacks] from main text
It was a cool afternoon, but bright sunlight slid over the changing leaves outside her drawing-room window. Not chilly enough for a fire, just yet, but the air spoke of approaching frost. The flaming chrysanthemums lining the path below would feel its bite soon enough, she knew--almost time to drag the protective covers from the garden shed, to bring the fragile potted things indoors. Always these preparations against the cold, year after year.
From where she sat, she could see one or another of the children playing at the far end of the yard--Verity, she guessed, judging by the curls--and waited to see who else would run to join her. Those young ones, cousins and siblings alike, never played alone when they could help it. And these gatherings were not so frequent that they ever had time to tire of one another's company.
"Mama?" Verity's mother leaned into the room, deliberately cheerful. They were always so careful with her, these days.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Relena answered her daughter's unspoken worry with a smile. "I'm fine, Milia."
"We're almost ready for dinner--Gabriel won't let anyone else near the kitchen, as usual, but we've managed."
"As usual." She couldn't help smiling; her oldest son had definite ideas about how things should be done, and his sisters had long since given up trying to remonstrate with him. Always, her golden Gabriel had to have everything just so--even when he was a baby.
[flashback]
Another fall day, the same slant of light--gold on the red, the brown, the remaining green. Laughter in the woods, even brighter.
"Don't! No pushing! I'll fall, and they'll go everywhere!"
"Racing was your idea, remember? And all you have is a sweater full of hickory nuts--I've got the firewood, for pete's sake!"
It was inevitable--in the battle for the home-stretch lead, they tripped and fell on the cabin's front steps, their cargo tumbling with a crash and a rattle over the rough floorboards of the porch. Laughing so hard they couldn't breathe.
The door opened.
"Busted! We are sooo dead, Lena!" Duo fell over with a melodramatic sigh.
She looked up, trying to stifle the giggles--Heero looked so forbidding there in the doorway, though she could see the effort required to hold back an answering smile.
"You woke him up. And you know what that means. Any deviation from his schedule, and--"
They shared a look of mock alarm, still too giddy from the scrambling chase to stay serious. "Cranky Gabe!"Faced with their grins, he couldn't help smiling. "As long as we're clear on who has to keep the baby occupied for the rest of the afternoon."
"Oh, we'll find a way to make it up to you."
She gathered herself up from the porch and paused to kiss Heero on her way indoors--he caught her a moment longer, burying his face in the cool gold of her hair. "Leaves. Why do you always smell like leaves?"
"Right now? Because someone knocked me over under a maple tree. I'm surprised I don't also smell like mud, and lichens, and--"
"Hey, now," the someone protested, "Don't go trying to get me in trouble when you started it."
"No," Heero let her go with a thoughtful look. "Not dead leaves. Live ones."
I suppose that's a compliment," she said, smiling, and went indoors to gather up Gabriel before his fussing could turn into full-fledged wailing.
Relena resurfaced from the memory before Milia had a chance to furrow her brow over her absent-minded mother's daydreaming, and took her daughter's arm with an affectionate squeeze. "Mustn't keep Gabriel waiting--you know how he gets!"
Down the hall, past the curving stairs to the dining room. All of them were there, gathered around the long table: two daughters and two sons, two golden heads and two dark ones. Though she had carried only one of them in her own body--so great had been the need for adoptive parents after the war--they held equal rights to her fierce pride, her limitless love. Her joy, and more than just her own.
In her children's eyes she saw their fathers' strength--and her own idealism, tempered by the lessons of her own experience. And now they came with their own children, to this brick house among the sheltering trees where they had spent so many autumns. To remember, and to hover.
They were hovering now, watchful eyes on their small mother as she made her dignified way to her seat.
The youngest of her grandchildren knew her only as a stately miniature in clothing that always seemed to rustle--a fragile porcelain figurine of a grandmama who smiled, but with sad eyes, when they brought her violets. The older ones remembered impromptu polkas in the hall, conspiratorial whisperings over paper dolls and cups of cocoa. Only the very oldest remembered the best times of all--grandfathers who never tired of tag, who could throw a ball higher and faster than any father alive, who told the best stories ever. But they all loved her, would do anything to protect her; that much they had inherited from their grandfathers, whether they knew it or not.
The dinner was exquisite--Gabriel's skill was unquestioned, in spite of his compulsive habits--and she basked in the glow of their open faces, the warmth of their energetic conversation. Then the meal was over, and the children grew restless.
"Now, Grandmama?"
"In a moment, sweet. Be patient. Your aunt isn't even done with her dessert."
Six pairs of eyes watched Astrid scoop up the last bite of her apple tart, and then turned back to their grandmother.
"Now?"
"All right. Find the basket, and someone bring me my jacket."
The whole entourage turned out of the house and into the coppery light of late afternoon. In the hill's shadow, the trees were already out of the sun's dying glow--but the indirect light only deepened their colors to a richer flame. Her family walked, chatting quietly, through the scurrying leaves that covered the stone-flagged path.
Watching them, she felt the familiar buoyant rush of pride. /We did well,/ she decided. /Proved we could change the world on a small scale, too. All of them settled, now, or else happily unsettled. Gabriel, with his buildings and his talent for organization; Kensuke, with his passions--his painting, and his Alex; Milia, with her watchful eye on every child here; and Astrid, with her boundless curiosity. Still taking apart every electronic device she can get her hands on, just to see how it works. That one's your fault, Maxwell./ She shook her head, smiling.
[flashback]
"Mama, she took my mecha apart!"
"She did it last week too, Gabriel, and put it right back together again. Stop teasing her, and she'll be able to work faster."
"But MA-ma, this time she swallowed two of the pieces!"
Duo laughed, taking the abused toy from his bristling son to see if repairs might be possible. "She's only two and a half, Gabe. She'll figure out what's food and what isn't before too long, I promise."
"Well--" Gabriel wasn't ready to give in just yet. "Between now and then, tell her not to eat Zero any more!" Then he glared from one parent to the other as they fell apart in helpless laughter. "I'm telling Papa that you're all on her side!"
But even as he spoke, his Papa came from the other room to gather him up. "Gabriel, Astrid says to tell you she's sorry."
While Mama and Dad could be reasoned with, there was no arguing with Papa. Gabriel tried one last salvo. "How d'you know, Papa? She doesn't even talk!"
"Oh, he's an expert on nonverbal communication." Dad almost fell over chuckling at his own joke, and even Gabriel had to join in as Mama accidentally spluttered her tea all over the floor, choking with laughter.
They reached the fringe of the forest after only a short walk, and the children scattered into the woods while their parents lingered on the grass, watching the game. The goal--and this game was an old one--was to find the prettiest leaf of all.
Though allegedly among the adult non-competitors, Astrid and Gabriel stalked purposefully over the dampening grass, eyes on the ground out of old habit. Milia rubbed her sweatered arms and listened in case the children's delighted shrieks turned frightened; behind her, Kensuke seemed to be framing the whole scene as an image to store in his mind.
Relena turned to Alex, smiling. "They do love this, don't they?"
Alex's brown eyes were gentle. "We all do. Maybe one of these years I'll actually win!"
But she didn't seem to hear him--was looking past him to the treeline, one hand raised to her throat. He turned quickly, thinking one of the children must be in trouble. There was nothing there.
"Are you all right, Relena?"
She recovered herself, but her eyes were still wide and distant. "Y-yes. I thought--I thought I saw--it was nothing, Alex. Just a crazy old lady jumping at shadows."
Smiling, but concerned, he held his arm for her to take and supported her as they rejoined the others. She looked back once to the deepening shadows under the blazing maples--for a moment, for just a moment, she had seen him. As young as when she first met him--she had even seen him move to push those bangs out of his eyes, eyes she knew would be grey-blue like polished steel. And although distance and the falling darkness made certainty impossible, she had known he was smiling.
The children came running back from the forest at Milia's call, bringing handfuls of bright leaves for Relena's inspection. She sat on a stone bench and inspected them carefully, setting aside one, then another, while the children watched intently. At last she gathered a selection of leaves into her lap, and her audience settled expectantly. "This one I love best, because it is gold the way the sun is gold over the pond in the morning." Geillis smiled proudly--that was hers.
Relena took up another. "This one I love best because it has these scalloped edges--see?" Michael puffed up a bit at her words.
"This one I love best because it is three colors at once: red, and brown, and some green."
"This one I love best because it is the reddest leaf I've seen this year." Sarai beamed.
"This one I love best because it is brown and a little bit red, like my sweetheart's hair." Milia realized she must be especially maudlin this evening, because her mother's familiar ritual was making her downright teary-eyed.
Mariam was looking downcast--she had gotten distracted, watching a squirrel, and hadn't found anything at all. The one leaf she had gathered was a crisp, crumbling brown one, and Grandmama always liked pretty things. She sighed.
But Relena was holding up the curled leaf, and speaking softly. "And this one I love best, because it is so fragile. It must have been very hard to carry, since whoever chose it had to be so very careful." She smiled at her youngest granddaughter's happy cry, and steadied herself for the child's rushing embrace.
When she looked up again to the others, Relena froze for an instant; just as her head came up, she thought she saw him turning away, smiling, at the edge of the clustered group. That slight toss of the head to flip the plait from shoulder to back--the way he used to do when he was headed somewhere, and wanted to make sure she'd seen him.
She realized she was staring too fixedly when Kensuke came up to her in his quiet way, dropping to a crouch beside her and kissing her cheek. "Mama. What is it?"
She shook her head to clear it, and patted his hand. "Nothing, love. I just--I suppose I'm remembering your fathers today more than usual. I keep thinking I see them--"
Milia compressed her mouth into a worried line, and even Astrid looked downright alarmed. Relena tried for damage control. "Now, I'm just being silly, and you don't need to look so concerned. Let's all go indoors, and we can see if the fireplace feels like working."
The children cheered and scattered, leaves forgotten, and the adults followed. Kensuke offered his hand to help his mother stand, and then walked with her toward the house. "It's all right, you know. It makes sense that you'd see them here, doesn't it? This was your first house together, after all, and--"
/...and they both died here. You can't say it, can you? My sensitive Kensuke. But it's true. Duo first, and then Heero--it's been thirteen years, and ten, since they went to see what happens next. I've never been alone since then, at least not for long, but I've been lonely. Living on the memory of all those years together, time we never thought we'd have. So dearly bought, all those days, all those hours. The richest of gifts, and from a universe we had found to be so stingy with its wealth. But I am greedy, and I still rail against the world--against your own old age--for taking you from me. How I have missed you--my love, and my love./
Kensuke didn't break in upon her reverie as they entered the house, but stopped to hug her close before opening the door. "I love you, Mama. You know?"
"I know. And I love you."
He patted her arm and wandered off in search of Alex.
The fireplace did feel cooperative that evening, and the large sitting room became cozy, flame-lit--its role as the heart of the house made visible in its ruddy warmth. The children popped corn, and guzzled cider, and sang; the adults flipped through photograph albums and talked; and Relena sat in a low chair and dreamed.
[flashback]
Red firelight flickering against the piled cushions, finding answering flame in their eyes; the fire banked, now, as they lay curled together in luxurious satiation. She rolled onto her elbows. "Did you ever, ever think we would be this happy?"
"Sometimes I'm still not sure we are--that it's real, I mean. I keep expecting to wake up in an Oz cell, waiting to be dragged off to my execution." Duo's eyes were haunted, watching his devils dance in the shadowy room.
Heero shifted to put an arm more closely around him, to shut off the flow of bad memories before it could start. "I didn't know things like this could happen. At all. So I guess I'm still coming up with definitions for happiness. I think this ought to be the standard, though."
Verity was pulling at her sleeve insistently. "Grandmama?"
"Mm--yes, dear. What is it?"
"Mama says we have to leave soon--I wanted my hug before we go."
Relena opened her arms to the curly-haired seven-year-old, who pressed close for only a moment before squirming to be let go.
"I'm sorry to leave you all alone, Grandmama--we'll see you next weekend, right?"
"Of course, Verity. Now collect your sister, and make sure you both have all your things."
Milia watched her daughter scamper off, and fixed her mother with a searching look. "Are you really all right, Mama? You've been acting strange all day."
"Absolutely. Just tired. But it's been so good to see you all--especially since Ken and Alex make it up here so rarely."
"All right. I'll be by tomorrow to check on you, help put the house back together--but if you need anything in the meantime, or just feel lonely, you call us. Got it?"
Relena smiled. "I will. Now hadn't you better get those children home to bed?"
She stood on the front veranda for a little while after the cars had pulled away into the starry darkness. It was chillier now, the frost tightening its grip on the stilled leaves, on the few plants still holding up their stems in defiance of the season. Suddenly reminded of the flowers she had meant to bring in, Relena made her way down the steps and around to the side garden.
The moon was huge and silvery, its light casting strange shadows over the walls and urns of the little garden. Two or three pots were all that remained, and she made the slow trek into the house with the first two before sitting down to rest for a moment. The stone step was cold beneath her, but the view of the forest under the moon made it worthwhile; the silver light flattened the flaming colors of the leaves into monochrome, making the trees a study in greys and blacks. It was incredibly still, too--as if the night held its breath.
While she looked out over the garden, not really seeing anything but vague shapes, her eye was arrested by movement. Not all that strange--she was always having to try new tricks to keep the deer out of the kitchen garden. But that hadn't looked like a deer. Not in the least. It had looked like--
Moving as if spellbound, she came down the steps, across the wet grass. Every part of her stiff, uncomfortably chilly body wanted to go back to the sanity of the warm rooms behind her--but something, some unbelieving wonder, drew her forward.
There, at the edge of the trees. Something--
Someone was standing there, dark against the moonlit tree trunks.
Relena wondered briefly if she should go indoors, phone for help; she had always felt secure in this place, but she was a long way from her nearest neighbor. And if someone'd had car trouble and walked this far, she would need to--
The figure moved forward, out of the shadows, and she saw that he wasn't alone. Her heart stopped dead, then pounded as if she had been running.
It couldn't be. Just couldn't. And yet it was.
They were.
She could see the pale outline of their faces against the night, could even make out the white collar at the throat of Duo's black tunic. /Making sure I would recognize you? As if I could ever forget./ Her throat felt tight, tears burning behind her eyes.
Now she wanted to run--not back, but forward--and her legs couldn't do it. She sank to her knees, laughing. "I can't! You'll have to come to me."
She half-believed that words would break the spell, that they would disappear and she'd be just a refrigerated ninny calling to no one but the chipmunks and the raccoons. But they didn't vanish, didn't dissipate into the frosty night--instead, they came down the slope to her side.
She realized she was crying as they reached her, the hot tears turning cold on her face. Gazed up at them in utter disbelief, in complete delight. This couldn't be happening, made no sense, but she didn't really care.
Heero brushed the tears away with a gentle hand, blue eyes deep with compassion. "We didn't want to leave you. You do know that?"
"I know. I do." She reached to touch his face, its youthful lines made perfect by memory and the moon. "Wh-why--?"
"Are we here?" Duo's smile was a flash in the silver light as he reached down to pull her to her feet. "We got tired of waiting and came to visit you. Gotta be back by dawn, though."
She felt her heart sink so fast it should have made an audible thud.
But Heero was shaking his head, smiling. "Don't harass her, Maxwell--she may not remember how to tell whether or not you're joking, you know. It has been a while."
Relief, warm and sweet. This was going to be the good kind of ghost story, it seemed. But her words tripped over themselves. "You--you came--"
"To bring you home, love. Are you ready?"
She looked back at their house, at the brave yellow lights of its windows. The doors were shut, the fire would burn itself out. There was only that last plant, waiting in its pot at the edge of the garden--but it was a hardy sort of rose, and could probably last the night. Not worth turning back, she decided. It could take its chances.
They were smiling when she turned to them again. "So. Where do we go now?"
Now they looked at each other and laughed, and then Duo pulled her into a hug. "It's a secret. But you'll like it.
The End
(:./lilias/last)
