Disclaimer: Characters not mine, etc.
Author's Notes: Yall like the story! This makes me so happy. It's
a merry writer's buzz...hehe. Thank you so much for helping me
get high;)
****
To Dance Beneath the Diamond Sky
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"In life, as in dance, grace glides on blistered feet."
-Alice Abrams
"Let us read and let us dance, two amusements that will never
do any harm to the world." -Voltaire
****
"And I see that today it's Miss Dorlian who's absent."
The long-suffering Biology teacher gave Heero a sad look. "I
don't suppose there's any hope that you two completed your project
over the weekend?"
Heero dug into his bag and produced the thick report. "Dock
whatever points you think you need to," he said, holding
it out. "But we just didn't have the time to put together
a presentation."
Mr. Berardis shook his head. "I'll only take off five points,
seeing as how you're both under a lot of pressure."
"Yeah..." In his own desk with his arm around a stereotypical
cheerleader, Kyle snickered. "Poor ballerina boy."
"Ballerina boy? Nice to see you expanding on your kindergarten
vocabulary, Kyle." The teacher took Heero's report and headed
back up to his desk. "Now, I know you're all graduating in
two weeks, but I really....well, I don't care. I still have to
teach you everything I know about plant reproduction, so get your
books out and turn to page 159."
Heero went through the motions, but paid little attention when
the lesson began. The space next to him felt too empty; he wondered
if it felt the same way to Relena all of the days he had been
absent. Where was she? Was she sick? Or did she simply not want
to be around him?
"Mr. Yuy, can you read the second paragraph on the stamen,
please?"
With a sigh, Heero began to read. It was going to be a very long
day.
****
"We only had sex once! And we used a condom!"
Quatre looked around the restaurant, grateful that Relena was
at least pouring out her frustrations in French. Even though it
was a Monday afternoon, the restaurant on the edge of the Central
Park pond was relatively crowded. "Relena...cher. You simply
must take the test."
Setting down her water glass, Relena shot a look down at the shopping
bags next to her chair. When Quatre and Trowa had convinced her
to skip school and spend the day shopping with them, she hadn't
known that their first stop would be at a drugstore to purchase
a pregnancy test. It was now stuffed between a backless top from
the Gap and Quatre's new leather jacket from Barney's. "I'm
afraid to," she admitted. "I don't have any idea what
to do if it comes out positive."
"What if it doesn't?" Trowa asked, lighting a cigarette.
"Is it not better to know for sure?"
Relena lifted her shoulders, staring at her half-eaten salmon.
"Ignorance is bliss," she muttered in English. She repeated
the equivalent of the phrase in French.
Quatre smiled sadly. "I think you do not wish to take it
until you talk to your Heero. Yes?"
"Yes." She tucked her hair behind her ears like a little
girl. "I want him to be by my side while I take it. And I
want to know that he'll still be there no matter what it says."
Relena shook her head. "But he won't be."
Their waitress approached the table. "Are you in the mood
for dessert?" she asked in a soft, Jersey accent.
"Chocolat," Quatre said, giving Trowa a meaningful look.
Trowa nodded and reached for the dessert menu she handed him.
After looking it over for a minute, he handed it to Relena. "My
English is bad," he explained in French.
She smiled and quickly chose for them. "A classic American
chocolate sundae. Whipped cream, nuts, cherries, the whole works."
The young girl moved off and Relena turned her stare towards the
gold-green waters of the pond. She picked up where she had left
off, moving gracefully from English to French. "He thinks
I'm a slut. He probably wouldn't even believe the baby was his.
If there is a..."
"Relena Dorlian."
She recognized the voice immediately; her eye twitched. "Dorothy."
Twisting her head to the other side of the table, Relena managed
to give her classmate a surprised smile. "Imagine running
into you here."
"Especially on a school day," Dorothy agreed. "Playing
hooky to go shopping..." She gave both Quatre and Trowa a
thorough once-over. "...with two gorgeous men, Relena?"
Quatre, ever the gentleman, stood up and reached for Dorothy's
hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he said in his
halted English. Dorothy's eyes widened in pleasant shock as Quatre
kissed the back of her knuckles.
Relena smiled. "Dorothy, I'd like you to meet my oldest friends
from Paris. My former pas de deux partner, Quatre Winner..."
She gestured to Trowa. "And his boyfriend, Trowa Barton."
It gave her immeasurable pleasure to watch Dorothy's face fall.
"They've come to watch the workshop."
Trowa nodded, exhaled a curl of smoke, and in his quiet French,
commented, "Your eyebrows frighten me, mademoiselle."
Dorothy gave him a huge, fake smile to cover up the fact that
she could not understand him. "My pleasure, I'm sure."
She looked back at Relena, who was trying very hard not to choke
on a mouthful of water. "Will I see you in rehearsal, Relena,
or will you be skipping that, too?"
"I'll be there," she assured her. With a flounce of
her too-long hair, Dorothy walked off through the restaurant.
Relena rolled her eyes.
"Who was that?" Quatre asked, switching back to French.
Relena spied their waitress approaching with an enormous ice cream
sundae. "Just a member of the corps. She doesn't like me
very much."
Quatre didn't have a chance to press the issue; he soon found
himself faced with mounds of chocolate and whipped cream. A gleam
in his eye, he dug in. Trowa smoked and watched his lover eat,
a smile on his lips upon seeing the blond boy so content. Relena
herself only took a few bites before sitting back in her seat
with a sigh. Her ankle brushed against the shopping bags, an unnecessary
reminder of her future's uncertainty.
But while sitting outside, in Central Park, on a gorgeous spring
day, watching Quatre, her favorite person in the world, feed a
cherry to his boyfriend before stealing a kiss over the table,
she just couldn't be sad anymore.
****
It never ceased to amaze Heero how, just by the simple act of
entering a room, Relena managed to light up his entire world.
He couldn't keep his eyes off of her as she walked through the
backstage halls, dressed in her rehearsal skirt, which would have
looked ridiculous on anyone else. She seemed preoccupied with
something; even as she passed by him, she kept her eyes on the
tiled floor against which her pink toe shoes made soft, wooden
noises.
Heero was brought back to reality when someone grabbed the elastic
strap of his own shoe and snapped it violently. "Fuck!"
He looked up, not at all surprised to see Duo glaring down at
him. "Bored, Maxwell?"
"Don't look at her," Duo said without a trace of his
characteristic cheerfulness. "You don't deserve to look at
her like that."
"And you do?" Heero challenged.
The braided dancer shook his head. "Relena is my friend.
I'm only protecting her from the bastard who broke her heart."
He leaned in for clarification. "That's you, by the way."
"I had my reasons."
"That's bullshit," Duo spat back. "And you know
it. Open your fucking eyes, Heero. All that shit you accused her
of doing...does any of it sound like Relena? Honestly?"
Heero turned a heavy, hooded stare onto him. "You couldn't
possibly understand. So back off."
"Are you afraid to ask her for the truth, whatever it might
be? Do you like being able to sit in the shadows and brood over
your supposed betrayal?"
"What do you think?"
Duo crossed his arms. "I think you do. It ensures that you
don't actually have to be on the front lines, in a real relationship.
You're playing it safe." He shook his head. "You're
a coward."
Heero stood up slowly. "Never, ever call me that again."
"Then...go talk to her and I won't be able to." Duo
searched the other boy's eyes. "If you love her...if you
ever loved her...you'll swallow your goddamn pride, deflate your
ego, and take back the only thing good thing in your life."
He paused. "Besides dancing."
"Everyone! Act II places. This is your two minute call for
Act II places."
Duo glanced up at the announcement pumped through the backstage
intercom. "That's my cue. And yours, too, I believe."
He started walking away, ballet shoes in hand. "By the way...she
loves you. She'll forgive you."
Heero needed a lifetime to pour over that thought, but he only
got two minutes. By the time he reached the wings, the corps had
already fluttered onto the stage. Relena was patiently waiting
for her cue, rising up and down on her toes in a final bit of
stretching.
She gasped suddenly, feeling the warm solidity of his body directly
behind her. His breath against her ear sent a shiver through her
entire frame. "I need to talk to you," he whispered.
Relena cleared her throat and tried to focus on the corps as they
danced in perfect sync. "I need to talk to you, too."
"Come with me to the Park after this."
"You're not meeting that girl there again?"
Heero frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Later," Relena replied. "Ten o'clock. Your spot."
She lifted her arms over her head, preparing for her entrance.
"Tell the blond girl to stay home."
When he followed her several minutes later, he lifted her into
arms in the long-memorized movements that suddenly seemed fresh
and new again. Even Treize had no complaints as they danced; Siegfried
and Odette were back. But, Heero wondered as he walked her through
an arabesque turn, could he and Relena come back to life as well?
****
His jazz band wasn't there when he arrived in the Park, a bad
omen if ever there was one. He had gotten there fifteen minutes
early, and spend the extra time purchasing a pink blush rose from
a nearby vendor. The color reminded him of Relena's lips the night
he had kissed them for the very first time.
With the rose in his hand, he wandered in restless patterns around
the fountain. Ten o'clock came and went. A cool breeze ruffled
Heero's hair as he checked his watch for the hundredth time.
"Relena...where are you?"
****
It was a successful evening. She had arrived home before Jean-Paul
and her mother returned from an exhibit at the Whitney Museum.
Quatre and Trowa called while she ate dinner in her room, and
they agreed to meet for a late supper the next night. She also
made a mental note to invite Duo. He needed to get out and have
some fun, plus she was looking forward to introducing her friends.
Although she was pretty much set to graduate, she did some homework,
but her mind wasn't really on it. When a glance at her clock told
her it was a little after ten, Relena quickly got up and went
to change her clothes.
She had just finished tying the back of her top when there was
a knock on the door. Without thinking, she called out, "Come
in."
Jean-Paul stepped into the room causing Relena to take an instinctive
step back. "Relena...cher," he began.
"Get out of here," she told him in French, so there
was no mistake. "Get out of here before I scream."
"You do not seem glad to see me, cher." Rather than
do as she asked, he closed the door. "You have been avoiding
me, yes?"
Relena suddenly wished she had put on a thick sweater, rather
than a black velvet backless, strapless top. "I swear...if
I scream, Millardo will be in here in five seconds."
"I am sure he would be." Jean-Paul slipped his hands
into his pockets. "Were he here. But he and his fiancee have
gone out for the evening. And your maman..." He smiled. "I
am afraid she had too much drink at our dinner. She is passed
out in her room. That leaves you and I, cher."
Too frightened to do much else, Relena backed up against her desk.
"Leave me alone. Please..."
"Why are you a frightened animal, ma cher? I do not wish
to hurt you. I only wish to finish what we started."
Relena shook her head. "There was no 'we'. You tried to rape
me!"
Jean-Paul made a condescending "tsk-ing" sound. "You
misunderstood me. I only wanted to be with you, cher. We have
something very special. Why do you think I have come here? It
is not to spend time with your silly maman." He approached
her steadily. "You ran away from me in Paris. But you cannot
run now. You are..."
He stopped suddenly, something on Relena's bed catching his eye.
She realized, too late, that when she had pulled her new top out
of her shopping bags, the pregnancy test had fallen out and now
lay exposed on the thick quilt. Jean-Paul studied it for a minute,
but his English didn't need to be great to figure out what it
was. He looked back at her with disbelief. "What is that?"
he demanded.
"It's none of your business," she whispered. A moment
passed; they ran forward to make a grab for the box. Jean-Paul
got there first, crushing the cardboard in his hand.
"You have let another man have you?!" He grabbed her
wrist. "Answer me, cher!"
Relena tugged her arm back, trying to get away. She had always
thought he was just a rapist; now she realized he was completely
insane. "Let go of me. You don't have any right to..."
He cut her off with a hard, bruising kiss. "Do not fight
me, cher. It will only make it bad for you."
She screamed around his mouth when he pushed her to the floor.
After he gathered her flailing wrists above her head, he pinned
them down with one hand, while his other hand pulled at her top.
"Help!" Relena cried. "Help me!!"
Jean-Paul moved the hand that was holding down hers to cover her
mouth. "Be quiet! I only want to be with you!"
"I don't!" she shouted. Her teeth clamped down on one
of his fingers, startling him. She took the opportunity to push
him away by his shoulders. Her knee lifted; she slammed it into
his groin. He yelled in pain and rolled to the side. Relena scrambled
to her feet, her top slipping down and exposing her nipples. Sobs
welled up in her chest. "Get out of here!"
He struggled to his knees, still doubled over. "Fucking cunt,"
he hissed in French. "We are not finished here, cher."
Once he was back on his feet, Jean-Paul staggered for the door,
spitting on the floor before he slammed the door closed behind
him.
Relena dropped back down on her knees, clutching at her top to
keep it up. Her back curved until her cheek was pressed into the
carpet as she cried. It was several minutes until she heard a
light tapping on her bay window. Her head shot up.
Through the open curtains, she could see Heero, crouching on the
fire escape, pink roses in his hand, a knight in leather and Dockers.
****
To Be Continued