Written for the '101 ways to snog en route to a colony' fanfiction and fanart challenge. Please visit the archive at http://happyfangirl.org/snogs/ and take a look at the contributions so far, then write/draw your own!
I realise Mrs. Darlian and Relena aren't technically related, but to my mind at least, the relationship portrayed in this fic is still incestuous. Please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable.
"Mother," she said, "come with me to L5?"
She was lonely. My Relena had always been lonely, since she was a little girl. She thought things would change once she found a purpose for herself, but they did not, and she remained isolated. Indeed, the more devoted she became to the world, the more she seemed to slip away from life, and all I could do was watch; nothing I did could pull her back to me.
She asked again: "Come with me, mother?"
That surprised me; until then, I was unaware that I had not already accepted. Perhaps, to me, it had been so natural that I would want to be with her, the actual words did not seem necessary. It had made me happier than I can say to see Relena reaching out to me, and I could not deny her. I had not given birth to this girl. She had no natural reason to need me. But I wanted her to.
"I would love to," I said, and she smiled, and my heart felt warm. Then she visibly sagged, fatigued after a week of near-ceaseless work. In a moment, she was in my arms, her hands clutching at my waist, her head buried in my shoulder, and my heart felt warmer still.
We stood like that, quietly holding one another, for some time. After a while, Relena began drifting to sleep, so I carried her to bed, tucked her in with a kiss to her forehead, and then set about packing for the trip.
On the shuttle, we were thoughtful and tense. Relena crept about me softly, as if trying to hide herself, and I sat, motionless, and asked questions she must have heard ten thousand times before. Her responses were steady, confident, and impersonal... Perhaps, in her eyes, I was just another person to be dealt with. Not anyone who had seen her weakest moments, or touched her face, but just a worried old woman whom it was her duty to calm and reassure.
I needed to be alone. I left her and went to the ladies' room, turned on the tap and let the icy cold water pound against my fingers. Above the basin, there was a mirror, and when I looked at my reflection, I saw tears in my eyes. They were the first I had shed in years. I watched, numb, as the tiny beads made their way down my cheeks, drawing shaky vertical lines that glimmered slightly when they caught the light. I must have stayed in that position a long time, just staring at the image in the glass.
Relena came after me. Worried when I did not return, and scared. I heard it in her voice as she called for me. As she drew near, I looked down, not wanting to see that she pitied me.
Her steps were hard and dull on the bright white floor, with long pauses between them. When she finally saw that I was, she begged me to tell her I was not crying. I looked in her eyes and she flinched, then stepped forward again, quivering faintly.
Her hand moved up and touched a tear, and she brought it to her mouth, tasted it, and shook her head, "Not real."
She stepped closer still, and this time licked one straight from my face. Her tongue felt warm on my skin, and I could feel the blood beating through it. She pressed her lips together, and shook her head again. I was helpless, and so was she.
I said her name, "Relena..." and then she moved, and suddenly her mouth was pressed against mine. Our kiss was hot and moist, organic, and full of feelings without words or sense, and I know she was burning beneath her skin because I was too.
I don't remember it ending, or our returning to our seats. Just the feeling of my daughter lying against me, already asleep, her sweat mingling with my own.
I rested poorly, forever awaking and shifting, and all the while Relena was still and silent at my side, a plastic doll, or a corpse. My dreams were strange, full of screaming and fire and the throbbing of my head, and stabbing pain in my throat. In contrast, my conscious moments were lonely and frozen.
At some point, I realised she was gone.
Fin.
(:./psyche/snogawake)
