Disclaimer: GW, mine? Pish-posh, nothing here belongs to me except for the general idea, the students, and the teachers.

(If I over exaggerate school lunches, please bear with me.)

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She blinked and made sure her backpack was with her. In front of her was Linden High, sprawled out on concrete sidewalks, bordered by the surrounding city and the street.

Relena climbed the steps slowly with the honks of traffic and vendors behind her. She pushed the large doors bordered in blue, made of thick glass, open. The noise coming from inside stunned her.

She had been in National Press Conferences all over the world, but this was incomparable. Students and teachers milling around the hallways and in doorways; standing by lockers and the entrance to the gym, all shouting, talking, whispering, laughing, whining. No one took notice of her as Relena walked by toward the office. She found herself in a large room when she had first entered; it opened up in halls to the different sections of the school. To the right were the Principal's office and the secretaries.

Now, she waited in the office by the one of the secretaries' desks for her Student ID and the library card. Inside, the sound of the students was muted. The constant typing, clicking and ringing of the office, along with some people muttering to each other, were the only things that felt real to her.

"Miss Burg?" Someone stood beside her and she realized they were referring to her.

"Yes?" She stood up. A tall, slim man with bony hands handed her a small, blue folder.

"In here are the things you will need. We are glad to have you at this school. I trust you know where your first class is?" He sounded cordial, inviting. Relena smiled politely.

"Yes, I think I do. Thank you."

"Your welcome." Then he turned around and left.

Relena tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She trailed out of the office and into one of the halls, packed with people. It was the hall that lead to the senior's section,
according to the handbook she had received earlier that week. The classroom where she would begin was Room 149.

She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, feeling out of place though she looked much like any other person there. Relena still found the newness of her clothing irritating, and tugged at her jean shorts. Beside her was a water fountain. She bent down for a quick drink.

"Are you okay?" Relena looked up, surprised. Then she looked left and right. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder.

"I said, are you okay?" It was a girl who looked about her age, maybe a little younger, who came to Relena's shoulder. Jet-black hair, thick and straight, was cut at the base of her neck. Large, dark eyes hid behind huge, round glasses in a heart-shaped face met Relena's. Relena found it a small marvel that the girl had skin as snowy pale as could be. The girl pushed her glasses up with her finger.

"I'm fine, thank you." The girl nodded.

"You new here?"

"Yes."

"When did you move here?"

"A week ago." The girl nodded again.

"My name's Lark Gable; you?"

"I'm Re-...Lena Burg." Relena tripped over the words hastily, but smiled to cover up. Lark noticed her mistake with a raised eyebrow.

"Need help finding your classroom?" Someone pushed by Relena.

"I don't think so."

"You sure? It can be a maze sometimes." Relena stepped aside for others to use the water fountain.

"I guess. Do you know where Room 149 is?" Lark grimaced.

"An immigrant has to have that old dinosaur as a first-hour teacher? What's wrong with the administration these days?"

"Pardon?"

"You've got the same first-hour teacher as me. Her name's Mrs. Dubose; she's the toxic waste of this school." Relena must've looked puzzled since Lark just sighed and asked her to follow.

"Oh, do you need to put your stuff in a locker?"

"I think so." Lark turned to face her with an expression of mild weariness.

"Don't you know about lockers? Haven't you ever been in a public school before?" Relena cracked out a friendly smile.

"Till now, I've only been in a private school."

"Figures." Lark pushed her glasses up her nose again. "Well, welcome to reality."
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That whole day, Relena felt as if she were just watching another person, perhaps a clone of herself, wandering through the extensive network of halls in Linden High. She looked so much like the rest of the students, with the casual clothing and a backpack slung over her shoulder. When someone approached her, she immediately tensed then almost melted in relief when it turned out all they wanted was to borrow a pencil.

Through the confusion of info that rained down her, she felt lucky finding her next class. For some reason, she seemed to have ended with all the odd teachers; Mister Deas, toothless and wrinkled, who spit whenever he talked, to Miss Maude, who presumed the students didn't know how to tie their own shoes, to Misses Dubose, who, at the sight of the new batch of students, 28 in all, had slipped a small flask of tequila from under the edge of her skirt and sat drinking till the class had stared in complete silence.

At lunch, everyone had filed into the cafeteria and lined up. Relena quickly learned that macaroni and cheese was not one of the lunch ladies' specialties and settled for a cupcake given to her by Lark, who saved her a seat. While fooling with the sugary wrapping left from her lunch, Relena listened silently, but attentively, to Lark's highly opinionated ideas, watching the waxy substance of cheese harden on the noodles in the Styrofoam plate and a yellow liquid seep out from under the shell. At the sight of her lunch taking on the appearance of rancid road kill she pushed her tray to the side.

Lark pointed out a group of girls seated at a table at the end of the cafeteria. She explained that they were the cheerleaders ("Blonde, mean as snakes, and all flunking."), to which Relena reminded her not to follow the stereotypical remarks. Lark shrugged, replying nonchalantly that it was true, and that'd she'd find out soon enough. She pointed out some more cliques, each individual in some way. Relena noted with some amusement that, regardless of the way Lark belittled and sarcastically summarized each person, she blindly counted herself as part of the student body. The wrapping from the cupcake shredded into flaky strips, Relena really listened to what Lark had to say. As unflattering and sharp as her opinions were, she was extremely comical.

When the conversation turned to herself Relena did her best to veer Lark's interest to something else. Eventually, they were talking about possible occupations; Lark wanted to join the marines. Granted, though her personality wasn't one to get along with easily, she had a profound intellect.

Something that never ceased to astonish her was the vague interest in politics the students had; since her alibi was that her home was the Cinq Kingdom, at the moment the most political country besides Britain at the time, she had expected someone to come forward with a question or two. Yet, no one asked her anything, enabling her to get through without too much lying on her part.


The next day was pretty much the same as the first one. So was the whole week.

The next week, Relena found out the meaning of 'homework'. Though it didn't challenge the amount she usually managed back at her office in the Cinq Kingdom in the least, it did call on surprisingly much effort. Every day she wound up with a large load.

After school, Relena either walked or took a bus back to her apartment, depending on the weather. Since her new home was only two blocks away from the school itself, she didn't have much to worry about.

She came to feel quite content in her small apartment. At first glance it would appear to be a very narrow, two story high building. When one entered, they were in the living room; ahead was the kitchen, in the back of the housing. A steep staircase to the left led to the bathroom, situated above the kitchen, and the bedroom down the hall, directly over the living room, with windows giving a view of the street and of Montreal.

In the afternoons she did her homework and worked on some business Lady Une or one of her ministers had sent her via mail. When that was finished, she contacted her office so they could fax over other things for her to do and look over. The work never ended.
Every Friday at eight PM, she took a taxi to a private airport, boarded a jet and took off across the ocean, where she landed in the Cinq Kingdom four hours later. With three hours of sleep behind her, Relena got to work on various things left to her during the week. But the Nigeria Case, as it was often called, took up most of her time.

She had many long meetings with the President or his assistants where they discussed possible solutions and the consequences to each. The terrorists had become bolder; they threatened to plant bombs in heavily inhabited areas, and seemed to be growing in numbers (though her minister's argued since, that being the most cliché list of choices possible, they might surprise them). Anonymous death threats were sent to different officials in the Nigerian government. President Cole Mahini, as was his name, had become harried and stressed. He had not caught a single terrorist; they had managed to escape the police in each city.

In this way, the first five or six weeks of school passed for her. If the days weren't spent worrying about the next step to take with Nigeria, or getting her work done on time, Relena had to find ways to avoid being found out. More than once people had wondered about her; Lark had become a little suspicious even. Just a little.

Relena felt the oppression of her existence more than she had when she was in the Cinq Kingdom, and she hoped she wouldn't turn out a failure in the end.
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Deep in thought one day, Relena was hurrying to Mrs. Dubose's class when she crashed into someone. She bounced back a few steps and her book bag slipped to the ground. Relena picked it up and shouldered it once more.

"I'm sorry for running into you." She apologized politely.

"That's okay." Someone said. Relena glanced up and met a large grin. "I'm Denna Angela; you?"

"Lena Burg." Relena had become accustomed to calling herself that and being called that, though she still didn't always react to it. The name was unfamiliar and meaningless to her; like an item she couldn't wait to get rid of.

The person she had bumped into was very tall and slender, with short, spiked hair dyed bright red. She had camouflage pants and a tight, black shirt on, a large mouth, and lively dark eyes in a slim, oval face. Relena smiled at her.

"I don't think I've ever seen you here..." She began.

"Really? That's because we don't have any classes together, and anyway, you seem pretty preoccupied most of the time." Denna grinned at her. "I've seen you around, though; you're the new senior, right?"

Relena nodded. Denna was at least a head and a half taller than herself; she had to strain her neck to meet the girl's eyes.

Then it hit her.

"Angela?" She exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up, "You're last name is Angela??" Denna groaned.

"You're one of the few who know about my family; wonderful."

"I didn't know the Angelas went to Linden High." Denna's grin had vanished; her face was uncharacteristically grim.

"They don't. They go to the private schools in Vienna. I didn't want to; you might call me the rebel in the family." She sighed, and placed her fists on her hips, "That's me; a rebel. A rebel without a cause." She gave Relena a quirky side-glance. "How'd you know?"

" I...read about you in the newspaper." The quirky glance lessened. Relena bit her lip and gave her a meek grin; how could she explain she was a friend of the family? The Angelas were a powerful alliance to have, one that was on her side.

"Oh."

Just then, someone incredibly short walked down the hallway toward Relena.

"Good morning, Lena!" She called. It was Lark, in an ankle-length blue skirt and sleeveless shirt. She stopped when she saw Denna.

"Good grief, what are you doing here?" She asked bluntly. Denna grinned down at her; Relena had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at seeing the two so close by each other. Denna must've been at least six foot, and compared to Lark's meager four feet eleven inches, it was a comical sight to see.

"Hey, Charlie Brown, I haven't seen you since last year." Lark snorted.

"It couldn't stay that way, could it?"

"Guess not. Hey, have you met Lena Burg?"

"Of course I have." Relena quickly intervened.

"Is something wrong or do you just like to argue pointlessly?" Lark and Denna gazed at her with wisdom.

"She likes to argue." Denna explained, patting the girl's head with a hand.

"She likes to be on the defensive." Lark replied, slapping the hand away from her.

Next, the bell rang, signaling all three to be late.
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Duo trotted through the door, a bag of freshly baked bagels in hand. Heero had just come out of the shower; his hair was dripping onto his tank top and down his back.

"I got breakfast." Heero shook his head so little droplets flew in wild arcs around the room.

"Good." He grabbed the chair in front of the computer and sat down. Duo frowned.

"Aren't you hungry?" Heero placed his fingers on the keyboard, sight trained on the screen.

"No." Duo shut the door behind him before leaving the bagels on the counter in the kitchen.

"How is it you stay awake all night and day without anything to eat?" He grumbled disgustedly. "That's impossible." Heero twisted around in his seat to stare at Duo.

"Listen; I think I've got a lead on Nigeria's terrorists. Call Lady Une and tell her I'll send the information to her." But Duo leaned against the table, intently staring at Heero.

"You know, we'll have to go back to the Cinq Kingdom and become temporary Preventers. When do you intend to go?" Heero shrugged, turning back to face the computer screen.

"Soon." Duo stayed in his position.

"We need those Preventers passes; that way, we can get into Nigeria easier and figure out what's really going on. The sooner, the better." Heero glowered at the screen.

"You have the plane tickets, didn't you?" Duo reached into the pockets of his jacket, pulling out long, rectangular booklets.

"You bet."

"When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Don't worry; you'll be back before the month is over."
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Relena sat at the small table in her kitchen with a cup of orange juice. Her kitchen was tiny, though not as small as the bathroom (it was the size of her walk-in closet back in the Cinq Kingdom), but maybe twice as big. In it the movers had squished the washing machine, dryer and dishwasher alongside the stove, fridge and cabinets. A tight squeeze, but she didn't spend all her time in the kitchen. The phone rang; since it was cordless, Relena had left it on the windowsill next to the table. She picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Lark."

"Good morning, Lark, how are you?" She heard a sigh at the other end of the line.

"When will you understand; it's not 'how are you' it's 'how's it going'?" Relena cracked a sleepy smile.

"I just got up, Lark, I must've forgotten."

"I'll forgive you. Isn't this wonderful? No school, just freedom." Relena could imagine Lark's pale face glowing happily, her glasses making her eyes seem even larger than they really were.

"I guess."

"You okay? You sound exhausted."

"I've spent most of the night wondering if the President of Nigeria would be able to get out of the country safely for our next meeting, Lark." Relena thought to herself.

"Yes, I am a little tired. I think I'll go back to bed soon."

"Okay; you want me to get off so you can go?"

"I think so. I'll call you later."

"Sure; bye."

"Good bye." Relena hung up. She put a hand to her forehead, pushing away some long strands of hair. Then, leaving her juice at the table, she got up and walked heavily through the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Her bedroom wasn't as crowded as the kitchen; it had a bed, a dresser, and a small desk with a chair and a small set of shelves. Another door that no one immediately noticed led to a tiny closet. The wooden floor creaked under her bare feet as she walked. Relena climbed back into her bed, set her alarm clock to wake her again at nine thirty that morning, and dozed off.

She gazed at the window above her bed, and at the gray sky just turning a faint blue.

"What am I to do?" She asked herself. "It hasn't looked this bleak in so long. Why can't peace last? The President has children...if the country goes to war, that could be disastrous. For everyone." She stared at the ceiling. "I hope Lady Une has found out more about what to do. No compromises or pleas will keep the terrorists from attacking at any time; they just want the government to fall. What do they intend to achieve? It can't be peace...maybe a warped kind of peace..." Relena suddenly sneezed loudly and she reached for a tissue. "Whatever they're trying to do, I can't give up." Her thoughts turned muddled, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

A loud beeping woke her up. Nine thirty. Relena groaned, pulling the covers away and freeing her legs from the tangle. She let them fall over the side, momentarily wondering what next to do.

A bath seemed to be just the thing at the moment. Staggering up, she crossed the hall in a beeline to the bathroom. While the tub began to fill, she splashed her face with cold water to wake up a little more. Next, she set out soap, shampoo and towels.

The tub had not yet finished filling up, so she slumped against the wall and sat down on the cold tiled floor, pulling her legs to her chest and linking her arms around them. Lastly, she rested her chin on her knees, letting her eyes dart around the room.

The bathroom was of such ludicrous proportions; she often wondered how the builders had squashed a bathtub into it without forgetting the rest. But she was thankful to those clever architects, whoever they had been.

Tilting her head to the side, she found the water to be just right. She turned the faucet off, stripped out of her nightgown and stepped into the tub, gingerly testing the water first. When she found it to be perfect, Relena sank right in, ducking her head under quickly, submerging her whole body for a few seconds of liquid quiet. She blew some bubbles and felt them tickle her forehead as they swam to the surface.

With a satisfying hour of soaking behind her, she climbed out and dried herself hastily with a towel. Wrapping her hair in a second, she got into a bathrobe.

With not much else to do, she went back to her room and made her bed, carefully folding the covers, tucking them under the pillows. She sneezed again, and grabbed a tissue. Next, she got dressed in a shirt and slacks. They had finally ridden themselves of the starchy newness from the first week of wear, and Denna had quit remarking about how everything Relena seemed to own was brand new.

Suddenly, a melancholy howl outside the window made Relena jump around, eyes wide. She crept to the window above her bed and took a glimpse outside; it was wind. Hardly anyone was on the sidewalks; the people who were now where getting into taxis or staggering against the high-pitched scream of the gales, coats and jackets flapping like banners against their bodies, hats flying off never to be seen again. Pigeons whirled through the air, and Relena saw one smack into a window. At that moment, she decided to leave for the kitchen.

Slipping into a sweater she went downstairs, intent on brewing tea.

She set the teapot on the stove coils so the water could boil and sat down to wait it off. A few minutes later she poured the scalding water into a mug, dipped a teabag into it and swished it around, watching the water go from translucent to steady brown.

Why did she feel light-headed? Another sneeze came on and she snuffled.

A loud ringing caught her. Getting on her feet again, she padded over to the phone. But it wasn't ringing; it was the doorbell. Sighing, she reached the front door.

Carefully opening it, lest the wind blow it right off its' hinges, she saw two bundled up figures on the doorstep. Quickly standing aside, she let them in.

One was dressed in a shaggy, purple fake-fur coat that reached her knees; the collar was propped up till it reached her nose. Dalmatian-print earmuffs settled over pink, spiked hair.

The second was in a puffy coat, huge mittens, a wooly hat, large glasses and snow boots. When she looked up, Relena found it be Lark, only her nose and cheeks were a pinched, pink color while her eyes watered.

Denna, on the other hand, showed her face with a big grin and chattering teeth. She stuffed the earmuffs into a large pocket and rubbed her freezing cold hands together for warmth.

"Woo! Talk about wind! It's wonderful out there, though..."

"You're crazy." Lark murmured, her blue lips numb. Denna patted her on the back hard and Lark tipped forward.

"You're only cold, my dear, but you're mood will hopefully lighten-up as you get warmer." She turned her attention to Relena. "So, how's it going? -Have you been outside yet?"

Relena hurriedly took their coats.

"I'm fine, but no, I haven't been outside yet. Come into the kitchen, I'm making tea."

"Ah, the regular little housewife. To heck with tea, we need hot chocolate." Relena led them through the dining room, dropping the coats on the couch. Denna immediately started searching for the ingredients to make hot chocolate while Lark stamped her feet to get feeling back into them.

"It's actually 36 degrees out there, but the wind gales make it drop ghastly low." Lark murmured. Relena nodded, a grin beginning on her face.

"What brings you here?" She asked them.

"She hauled me away from the TV to go to a movie. Tell me, isn't that irony??" Lark sounded miffed to a high degree.

Denna turned around, a gallon of skim milk in one hand.

"Relena, why do you only have skimmed? -The stuff tastes like water."

"Because I don't like two percent. What's Lark talking about?" Denna set around to her search again.

"Oh, a really good movie I've been waiting to see for a while. 'Thought you guys would like to come along. No one's going to be there, so we'll have the best seats and everything - Hey, you've got a bar of chocolate!" She held up her newly found prize. "Can I use it?"

"Go right ahead. What movie?" Relena prodded.

"I forget, but it's just a few blocks away. We can walk." Lark's eyes widened and her glasses slipped.

"O-o-oh no, we are NOT walking out in that weather again! -Let's just get on a bus or something, okay?" Denna poured out the milk in the teapot and filled it with milk, instead, setting that on the stove to heat.

"Oh, come on, you wimp. What's a little wind?"

"A little wind?? A little wind?? Those are gusts out there that'll blow our faces off!!" Lark snapped tartly, pushing her glasses up hastily. Denna rolled her eyes, her back to them.

"I agree with Lark, Denna. What if we get sick? I think I've already caught a cold, and Lark seems pretty much against it" Denna shrugged. She peeked in the cupboards beside the fridge, and after some time looking, found a grinder.

"Perfect." She said to herself. Then to the others, "Fine, fine, fine. We'll take a tram or something. Charlie Brown over there might've been blown to New York, anyway. But we have to leave in an hour at the most, okay?" The disturbingly loud noise of something hard being ground to dust filled their ears. Several minutes passed by while Lark and Relena sat at the table, watching, till Denna stopped the machine.

"Let's wait for fifteen minutes; my special hot chocolate will be served then." She called to everyone.

Lark glanced around the kitchen. This was the first time she had been to Relena's 'new' home; she grasped the newspaper beside her and read the front page.

"Mmmh..." She hummed thoughtfully. "Hey, Lena, what do you think of the Vice Foreign Minister's speech in March?" Relena looked up quickly, anxiousness passing over her face. She swiftly stood up to get some cups from the shelves, just to preoccupy her person in case something in her face tipped Lark off.

"Well-" She began, only to get cut-off by Denna.

"She's done better before, I think." Lark scrutinized Denna as she poured milk and ground chocolate into a pot.

"Thanks for your opinion, but I asked Lena, so...Lena, what do you think?" Relena wondered how she'd answer; how does one grade something they made themselves?

"Well, being that she was given only a half hour to make a point, I think she did pretty well." Thinking for more to add, she got out some spoons. "But I do think she could've done better. Her introduction was a little weak-"

"You sound like my middle school English teacher, Lena." Denna muttered. "Anyway, Relena Peacecraft isn't the only thing that occupies everyone's mind, thank God. Politics, blech." She added some quick stirs to the contents of the pot and a breeze of chocolate blew around them. "Well, this'll be ready in five minutes..."

Relena watched her two new friends, glad that she had some company. Lark swung her legs, the fabric of her baggy pants making swishing sounds. As usual, her glasses were nearly on the tip of her nose. With each turn of her head, her black mane blew into her face and around her ears, settling onto the shoulders of her black turtleneck. The dark clothing gave her skin a highlighting effect, making it seem paler than ever.

Denna, of course, chose a completely different course of clothing; neon green and electric blue, confusing the eye with the wild put-together of shirt, vest and blotchy-dyed belt. Her hair was a little longer, but still the color of flamingos.

Carefully keeping the pot balanced, Denna brought her concoction to the table. She poured hot chocolate into all three mugs, not making a single drip, before setting it down. In silence they drank, staring out the kitchen window. The minutes ticked by; Denna was the first to finish. She wordlessly brought her cup to the sink, washed it out.

Maybe fifteen minutes later they were ready to leave. Relena tied her hair back, pulled on her jacket and a shawl, and set the hood over her head. Making sure the key was in the deepest of her pants' pockets, she waited for Lark to put on the array of mittens, shawls and hats she had brought along. Denna shrugged on her furry cloak.

They stepped outside, immediately greeted by the pressing force of the winds, nearly blowing Lark over. With difficulty, Relena propped herself against the door so it would keep close long enough for her to lock it.

In slow steps all three made their way to the bus stop. Denna held her face up, obviously enjoying the piercing, dry cold of the wind on her face and bare neck. Lark kept her head down, hair blowing around her head like a black tornado, her skin once again regaining that strange, pinched pink effect. She squared her shoulders, sunk her hands into the pockets of her fluffy coat, and struggled with each foot she put forth.

Relena didn't know what to think of the weather. The wind beat against her stomach, ribs, and arms fiercely, the clothing she wore feeling like rough canvas crashing against her torso. Her hair either blew back, yanking her head around, or slapped her in the face, eyes and mouth, depending on which way the wind decided to go. Her pants flapped and rubbed abrasively against her legs, and she was sure she'd have bruises the next day.

The bus stop sheltered them from the brunt of the blow, though Lark still huddled miserably on the bench. Denna checked on which bus they would take, and Relena joined Lark.

"It'll be here really soon!" Denna called back at them. After making sure she wasn't looking at the wrong route, she sat next to her two friends.

The bus stop was a tiny booth made of thick, plastic walls. It's ceiling was a blue metal, scratched and scribbled on with numerous writing and spray-painted phrases. In the back, set up along the walls, were old wooden benches, also scruffy looking and old.

Their wait took a few minutes that seemed longer than they really were. Denna was refitting her Dalmatian earmuffs over her head when the bus came to a halt. Hurrying in, they found it to be nearly deserted, so seats were easy to find.

Just a little later, all three were at the movie theater, a tiny place squeezed between a café and an apartment building. After paying for their tickets, Denna insisted on getting a drink for the movie.

"Hey, we still don't know what we're seeing!" Lark cried. Denna stuffed her earmuffs into one pocket, making sure not to risk upsetting her drink in the other hand.

"Look at the ticket." Denna shot back.

" 'Stand and Stomp'. What kind of a movie is called 'Stand and Stomp'??" Lark muttered crossly.

"Lighten up. You ask too many questions, Charlie Brown."

"Must you call me that?"

"Hey, the movie is starting. Stop fighting; we need to get some places." Relena told them in a dry tone. The two glanced at her guiltily, then at each other for good measure.

But that's all that it took to get them into the theater.


Relena settled into her seat just as the room darkened and the screen lit up with a commercial. For Coke.

Behind her sat Lark, who declared the best seats to be the ones in the way back, at the top of the theater. Denna argued that the best were the ones ranging from the middle to the ones in front, so they parted. Relena sat in between, shaking her head at the stubborn streak in both.

The commercials waned and previews followed. Relena found her seat to be a little too comfortable; in the middle of a preview she had been dozing off. Only when someone screamed was she driven from her reverie; immediately, instinct took over. She sat up and glanced around, fingers digging into the cushioned armrests.

But it turned out only to be the last preview for a movie called "Scream For The Last Time." Finally, something in the back of the room buzzed and the 'feature presentation' started.


Labor-roughened hands covered in flour kneaded a large lump of dough. The screen zoomed out and the hands were found to belong to a gentle, motherly-type with hazel eyes and hair loosely tied in a bun at the back of her neck. Beside her, chin just reaching the table surface, was a small girl, maybe five or six years old, with that round face, so serious and innocent, customary of children with more knowledge than anticipated.

Relena hadn't known about Denna's soft side, hadn't known that she even possessed one. But this portrayed it in detail; though preachy and old, the movie was sweet and worth the blackout the small audience suffered halfway through. It was about a very friendship oriented family way back when, in the 1930's, to whom tradition meant much. They lived in Italy, and worked a successful vineyard. But though tradition and family was held above all else, the many daughters wanted a different sort of life than what they had been taught.

Some parts were close to tear-jerking. Relena was sure she heard some snuffling noises in the front rows.


The movie lasted two hours. When Relena, Lark and Denna got out into the lobby again, each had a different view on it. Denna set on the heavy coat again, which she had taken off during the show. The wind had not lessened in the least; it might've even gained velocity.

But Relena heard the constant beeping of something deep in her pockets. She was bringing up the rear of the troupe as they headed out so the others didn't see her visibly pale as she fumbled around for the noisemaker.

"Oh, please, no, don't let this happen..." She thought to herself, and sneezed. It was a tiny pager, and a small red light flashed repeatedly as the noise grew in alarm and noise. She clicked the pager off and tucked it back into her coat, suddenly very grave.

Since nothing could be heard but wind and clothing being battered against their bodies outside, she wasn't obliged to say something to keep the others in the dark about her worry. All she did was duck her head and follow where they went to the bus stop.

Still not saying anything, they waited for the oncoming bus.

"What time is it?" Lark called. She glanced at Relena, who hurriedly pushed back the sleeves of her coat to get to her watch. Her hands shook, and Lark noticed this.

"Is something wrong?" She asked eyes narrowed behind her glasses. Relena looked up, managed a weak smile.

"No. I just need to get home." Denna craned her neck to look for the bus.

"Hey, here she comes!" She grinned. Relena hastily stepped, paid the driver and sat close to one of the exits. Lark watched her closely, suspiciously.

"Lena, you look like you've just seen a ghost." She told her bluntly. Relena slid to the side to let Lark take a seat next to her.

"I guess it's the wind." She said. Lark smiled a little as if to help.

"Are you sure?" Relena nodded calmly.

"Yes, I am." But when Lark still glanced at her suspiciously, she added, "I'm fine, don't worry."

Hoping that she wouldn't have to say more, Relena turned around to stare out the window at the cars passing by.

"Lady Une, I'll be there in just a few hours, hold out till then..."


Having just recently bidden good-bye to Denna and Lark, Relena raced into her apartment. The door closed behind her; she quickly leaned against it, eyes wide. Something important, most likely devastating, had happened and she only had a brief amount of time before the media would seize hold of it. Ripping her coat off, she left it in a heap on the rug and leaped up the stairs.

Once in her bedroom, she shut the blinds and got out the uniform signifying her as the Vice Foreign Minister of the Cinq Kingdom. Throwing that on the bed, mindful of creases, she reached for a phone on top of her dresser. Already, it was beeping.

"Lena Burg speaking."

"Relena, don't bother packing up, just get dressed in a coat and get to the airport immediately. The jet is already running; you've got fifteen minutes." This made Relena's blood freeze.

"Did he get out?" Of course she meant the President and, possibly, some of his employees.

"We've received news of his boarding a plane to the Cinq Kingdom just an hour ago." Relena breathed a short sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Lady Une."
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Truthfully, I don't know much about the Canadian school system, something I didn't pursue to find out more about. If anyone has any comments or suggestions on how to make this better, please email me. Thanks!