11-Dec-2001
Title: What You Deserve
Author: Tabs (puckrobyn@aol.com)
Archive: GW Addiction definately, if you want it you can archive it!
Category: Christmas Fic!
Pairing(s): 1x3, 4xR
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing, its characters, and its concepts, are all
property of Sunrise, Sotsu Agency, Asahi TV, Bandai Visuals, and all
other associated parties. No money has or will exchange hands for this
work. Rating: G
Warnings: SAP!
Spoilers: None that *I* know of...
Notes: Merry Christmas Lovlies.
Feedback: puckrobyn@aol.com or lady_tabs_une@yahoo.com
Heero loved Trowa.
That was the terrible part.
If Heero hadn't loved Trowa with all his heart and soul, he would never have given in to his lover, and then the two of them would never have gotten into the mess in the first place. But Heero was totally in love. This went beyond infatuation; this was total and complete devotion. And Trowa, being Trowa, played on that devotion to get what he wanted, which was a pair of shoes from Duo Maxwell. Duo wasn't sure why he kept the shoes, himself. They were something that always got packed in his duffle bag when he went someplace.
They'd been in there since before the Maxwell Church Massacre. Originally he was planning on giving them to Sister Helen for a Christmas present, but her death had tainted the things. He never could bring himself to get rid of them, since they were a link to his past, but there wasn't anything else he could do with them.
"Why do you carry them, anyway," Heero asked him one time. Duo frowned and tugged on his braid, studying the pair of shoes that he was about to pack again. "I don't really know. That's the funny part. I guess they're sort of like a talisman or something. Like, maybe Helen's soul is still here, as long as I have these things. Like she can't really die if I don't get rid of them."
"Christmas is coming up soon," Heero told him. "Trowa was thinking we should get the girls something. He mailed something to Catherine before we left the last safe house, but he was thinking we should do something for Relena, since this is the first time she's not going to have a real Christmas."
"You're sure that *Trowa* decided that?" Duo chuckled. He looked at the guilt lingering around Heero's eyes and patted the boy's shoulder. Devoted to Trowa or not, Heero really felt strongly about Relena. It didn't surprise Duo, not really, not with her tagging along behind him like a left-behind little sister everywhere he went. Duo supposed Heero really didn't have any sort of family. Probably why Trowa wanted to do something for her. After all, she was the only family that his lover could claim, and Duo knew that Heero had done Cathy a kindness or two before the two of them left the circus.
Duo looked at the shoes again. They weren't anything spectacular, but they were nice. Black, though, Helen never wore bright colors. Relena was the sort of girl who liked wearing bright and colorful things, or at least white. Black, Duo thought, might not suit her taste. Still, it was the thought that counted, and her shoes were starting to look a little run down anyway. "I guess you can give them to her."
Yes, Heero was mostly to blame because he loved Trowa with all his heart, and was willing to give in and get the shoes from Duo. But Trowa was also to blame, because he loved Heero enough to want to do something special for the girl that his lover thought of as a little sister. Yet, these two weren't the only culprits. Wufei was as much to blame as either of them, because he was the one who suggested the dinner that evening, and suggested giving presents two weeks early. Maybe if she'd gotten the shoes on Christmas Day, or maybe on the Epiphany, the day the Three Kings found Jesus in the manger twelve days later, then whatever had happened wouldn't have occurred.
But he wanted to do his own gift-giving, not because he was Christian or because he was celebrating the holiday, but because he knew that the people with whom he had thrown his lot were becoming depressed. That happens in a war. They were also becoming angry. That also happens in war. And he, more than any other, was truly angry. He wanted to make others hurt as badly as he himself was hurting.
But he loved these people too much, in his own way, and instead of striking out at them, he tried to make himself put aside the anger for a little while, and just enjoy himself.
And you could say that Quatre was to blame, as well, because it was he who first saw the shoes in Duo's backpack, and it was he who thought that they would fit Relena's feet. And it was he who had fallen in love with the honey-blond girl. When he heard what Trowa and Heero wanted to do for her that Christmas, it was his idea to find something equally useful to her, something that she would enjoy as much as the shoes. He, unlike Duo, knew that she would appreciate the black shoes. They would look lovely with a dark blue dress she owned, after all. So he bought her the paint set, just watercolors and brushes and quality paper, and they weren't that expensive because he didn't have access to his ready- cash at the time, but he thought they would be a nice gift for her to enjoy until he could get her something more personal. Not that he ever celebrated Christmas, but he loved her enough that the holiday didn't matter so much as making her happy.
Even Duo was partially responsible, if you think about it, because he owned the shoes to begin with. But really, the greatest responsibility fell on Relena's shoulders. She was the one who loved them all and who wanted to do something for them to thank them for the gifts she got two weeks before Christmas. So she wore the shoes, she took up her brushes, and she started painting. She didn't know what it was at first, because Relena wasn't very artistic even though she loved to look at watercolors and loved to paint. She'd never be famous, but she loved to do it for fun. Now, though, there was a look of pained concentration on her face as she painted. Two weeks it took her. Dorothy, who had been staying with Relena and was probably the only person who wasn't responsible, because she didn't particularly love anyone, began to worry. Relena wasn't coming out of the studio room except to eat and use the ladies room. Then she stopped taking meals outside the room. Dorothy paced and pondered. "Miss Relena?"
"I'm busy," Relena would say through the doorway. Dorothy worried. Not that she loved Relena, oh no, she was a wicked child who didn't care about anything or anybody except herself. Well, perhaps she did care a little about Relena. After all, they were friends, though their friendship was strange.
And when it comes down to it, Dorothy was as guilty as anyone else, because deep down inside she did really care about Relena, which is why she used and abused Relena's connections to find the Gundam pilots and make them come to the mansion.
Maybe, if they hadn't cared, they would never have given Relena the paints and shoes. Relena would never have painted the picture. Dorothy would never have summoned them there on Christmas Eve.
Because it wasn't What she was painting, but Who.
Relena didn't have a scrap of artistic talent, not really. Everyone had seen her attempts; they were all over the studio. They were a lot of fun for Relena, but there was nothing even slightly professional about them.
They'd all been expecting something like her misshapen past attempts when Relena revealed her Christmas present. That's not what they got.
Heero broke his trance first, reaching out to touch the paper's surface. He looked at Relena, who smiled at him tiredly.
"Merry Christmas," she said.
Who she had painted.
It was like looking into a mirror, one that took away all the blemishes, one that took away the war for a little while. Heero hadn't looked that happy since he was fourteen. Maybe younger. Wufei's face, and Duo's. Trowa, and Quatre. Like looking into a mirror that showed the past, or future. Even Dorothy was there. Because for the first time, Relena had seen clearly.
Once upon a time, there were some young men who were told to shape the invisible. They were told, "Go to war. Kill. Try to bring peace." The cost was their own peace of mind. The cost was guilt and sin and anger and hatred and pain. Lots of pain. Then there was the girl who was told to spy, to spread disinformation, to try shaping the invisible in her own wicked way. The cost was her soul. The cost was slavery, anger, and being possessed, and being an object to so many people.
And once upon a time, there was another girl, who got to see something that nobody else ever saw. She got to see who these people really were.
It was their own fault that Relena loved them so much. It was nothing less than what they deserved.
The End
A Christmas wish from Tabs, the Insane, to all my readers, my family, and my friends. Because you never realize just how much you deserve the love you get from my heart. May your lives reflect the joy you give to others.
Tabs
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