Army of One Arc Part 4
The Aristocrat's Conspiracy
"Heya Yuy, don't look now, but Relena Darlian is makin' pretty eyes at you."
Uh. As if I didn't know. I cut my eyes over at the boy who had told me about it. He spoke to me every time I sat down next to him, but I can't remember speaking even ten words to him as long as I had been in St. Gabriel's. He was grinning, as if having Relena drool over me should be the highlight of my scholastic life.
Yeah, right. I kept my face as blank as possible, looking at him a long moment before turning back to my book. I had no need to study, really. I could get fairly good grades without it, and even if I couldn't get good grades, it didn't matter. I'd be out of here soon, anyway.
"Damn, man, what are you, a freak or something? You got the most popular chick in school gawkin' at ya, and all you care about is-" He grabbed my book out of my hands, giving it a casual glance, then tossed it ceremoniously back on my desk. "-American history? We don't even live in America!" The professor looked up from the romance novel she was reading at her own desk, but didn't do anything but roll her eyes and go back to her reading.
I gave him the stoniest glare I could manage. I'd been in the class for three weeks, and I still couldn't remember his name. "So what?"
"Soooooo?! Most of the guys here would give a ball to get Darlian to even smile at 'em."
"I'm not one of them." I picked my book back up and glanced over at Relena. Yeah, she was looking at me all right. The smile she gave me was a conspiring one, like we shared a secret. Probably writing my name all over the front of her notebook. She had that dreamy schoolgirl- crush look in her eyes.
I sighed, hiding my face behind my book, and heard some of the girls in the class giggle. Obviously, my nameless friend in the desk next door wasn't the only one who had noticed Relena Darlian had a new crush. Sure, she was sweet, and cute, and her intentions were good, but she knew way too much. I probably would have taken her out when I first landed, but I was a little more concerned with saving my own ass at the time.
You would have thought that pulling a gun on the girl would have discouraged her just a tad. If she was anything, it was persistent. Even I have to give her credit for that.
The guy next to me snorted in disgust and went back to his own work. Good to know I was a good influence on someone.
~*~
I thought class would never end. When the bell finally rang, I grabbed my books and bag, hightailing it for the door.
Relena was somehow magically next to me, walking with her books held primly to her chest. She strutted like a debutante, and her friends tagged along at a distance behind her in a flock. They giggled with their hands over their mouths, looking at my back with their merry knowing eyes. It made me wonder exactly how much they knew. What did you call a group of girls, anyway? A gaggle of girls? A gossip of girls? Yeah... that sounded about right. I walked with my head down like a man in a high wind, keeping my eyes planted firmly at my feet.
"So, Heero... feeling better?" she asked me suddenly, her quick steps keeping time with my retreating ones.
"Hai." I went outside, heading for the boys' dorms. It was a stormy day, and a hard wind was blowing my hair all over the place. I lowered my head and walked faster. It felt like rain. I could smell it in the air.
"Are you going to the dance?"
// Dance? //
I looked over at her. Her gaze was innocent enough, but I knew that she knew. A lot more than she should. She was as much of an idiot as Duo, following me around like she did.
"Iie. I have studying to do."
"You may be a good soldier, Heero, but you're a horrible liar."
"And you're a loudmouth. Keep your voice down if you want to live, Darlian." I whispered back. I was sure to keep my voice lethally gentle, and sure to make sure she knew I was absolutely serious. I couldn't afford to have my position compromised. I had a vital mission coming up at the North Pacific OZ Supply Base in Grays Harbor. It was an important OZ stronghold, and I couldn't allow them to keep it. I pushed open the door to the boys' dorms, but stopped when she put her hand on my shoulder, grabbing the fabric of my suit carefully but firmly.
I looked back at her. Her expression was resolute. "Don't be a coward."
"You won't like me when I'm brave." I jerked out of her grip, pushing into the lobby. She stood at the glass door, looking in at me. She wasn't allowed in; she could be expelled. I knew she wouldn't follow any further.
I headed up to my room. I had arranged to have a private room through the school's computer files. I couldn't afford to have a roommate stumble into any of my... extracurricular activities.
Finally, sanctuary. I closed the door behind me, locking and deadbolting it before throwing my bag in the corner, flopping on the bed sprawl-eagled. Ahhhh. Even I need a break now and then. I got up and went over to my duffle bag. Between my bookbag and my dufflebag, I could carry every possession I owned. Besides Wing, of course.
I retrieved from my dufflebag the thing that had always meant more to me than anything I ever carried; unzipping it and reaching beneath the meager collection of clothes I had, I pulled out a tattered sketchbook, loose papers tucked neatly in it where they had fallen out, and a couple of worn charcoal pencils. I would leave my gun behind before I'd leave that sketchbook anywhere.
Yeah. I know what you're thinking. Sombre serious Heero Yuy, the Perfect Soldier, bane of the Alliance, a closet artist? Sorry to disappoint you, but even Bundy and Dahmer had hobbies. And I've killed more people than either of them.
I've kept things in here for as long as I can remember, ever since I became a soldier. It was one of the few things unrelated to my training that Dr. J approved of, mostly because it taught focus and hand/eye coordination. There were sketches in it of Odin, done from memory. Thinking back on it, looking at the portraits I had made of him, I was even more sure that people were wrong about him. His stern expression was more ruthless than cruel, and the set of his mouth more determined than merciless. I had sketched him a lot when I first joined the colonial rebel forces, when I was at my most homesick.
There were other sketches, too. Dozens of them. Some of the other young soldiers that had been in Project Apocalypse... and had not survived their training. Their faces were all grim in my drawings, desperate. There wasn't as much detail in these. I was afraid to get too close to the other potentials. I knew there could only be one Soldier. And I knew what would happen to the rest.
I drew sketches of the colony, from the inside and out, and I sketched Dr. J. At first, he was apprehensive about posing for me, allowing me to sketch his picture, but I was persistent, and I hardly ever asked for anything. I had never realized before the old man was so self-conscious about his cyborg-like appearance. I always leafed through the pictures of my home and my mentor when I was on Mission, to remind myself what I was doing on Earth in the first place.
Lately, during that time at St. Gabriel's, I was into landscapes and trees. The school was located on a beautiful campus. Since my sketchbook also served as a sort of diary to me, I drew Relena as well, trying to capture her tenacity and strong will in her expression. There was a sort of disdain and unconscious contempt there as well, but I downplayed it. Next to the boldness of her spirit, her naive pride was a minor flaw. I may not have liked the girl at the time, but I sure as hell admired her, then and now, that was for sure.
I had been drawing Duo from memory, too. I drew his face, again and again, sprawled across my bed with his hair in a silky halo around his head and his face relaxed and peaceful in a serene sleep. I drew him standing in the barracks of the salvage ship, his hair cascading to the backs of his knees, a pleading expression in his eyes. I drew him standing on the deck, the wind blowing his braid as he looked out over the horizon. I drew dolphins, trying to capture the essence of them in the drawings, but I could never quite get it.
I started to draw again, shaping out the shape of Duo's face again with sure, deft strokes of the pencil, but I wasn't in the mood to sketch. I set the sketchbook aside, the drawing still just a ghost of the subject.
I leaned back on the bed, my laptop beside me, and looked up at the ceiling. I was suffering, and I couldn't figure out why.
TBC...
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