Disclaimer: Check the past 28 chapters...

Author's Notes: I felt compelled to put this chapter up the second it was done, spell-checked and proof-read, lest I be accused, even more, of stretching the story out. I'm sorry if that's what it seemed like I was doing, but truly, I tell stories as they come to me. Nothing more, nothing less. Thank you for all the kind words and encouragement;)

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To Dance Beneath the Diamond Sky
by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."

A warm breeze blew over the cemetery, ruffling the elaborate flowers that decorated the casket. It was a lovely place to be buried, Relena thought numbly. As far as she could see there was only green, like Central Park only less contrived somehow. Live in Manhattan, be buried in Queens. Everyone did it. Heero's own mother lay in rest somewhere nearby. Had she possessed more energy, she might have sought out the woman's grave.

The funeral was drawing to a close; Millardo's hand on the black silk sleeve of her blouse indicated for her to stand up. She did so without feeling. It was just a motion everyone expected her to perform.

"We commend this soul into God's loving hands," the minister said, closing up his Bible. "Rest in peace."

Relena threw her handful of dirt into the open grave with the same detached movements. She longed for Quatre and Trowa's comforting presence, but the beginning of their contracts with the Paris Ballet had cut their visit short before the funeral. At least Duo and Hilde were there, waiting now by the limousine as she paused for a moment at the freshly cut headstone.

She ran a hand over the marble. "Goodbye." With the simple farewell, Relena turned and headed up the gently sloping hill to the grey gravel path. She didn't turn for one last look at the grave. She merely slid into the backseat of the shiny black limo and waited for her friends and family to do the same.

"How are you holding up, Princess?" Duo asked once he was seated across from her.

"I'm all right," Relena replied tonelessly. She watched Hilde next to Duo, holding his hand ever so discreetly. "It was a nice service."

"Yeah." The dark-haired girl nodded. "Very nice."

When Millardo and Noin were settled into the limo, the door closed and they lurched forward heading for the cemetery's exit and the bridge that would take them back into their city. A few minutes passed in silence. When the tiny cell phone in her little black purse rang a moment later, Relena jumped.

"Hello?" she answered it when she had recovered from the slight shock.

"I couldn't wait to call you any longer."

Color touched Relena's cheeks again as she smiled. "Heero. Oh, god it's good to hear your voice."

"The service is over?"

She nodded, catching Duo's eye across the seat. He gave her a little wink. "Just a few minutes ago."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you."

"You were," Relena assured him. "How are you feeling?"

Heero let out a breath. "Better. Demerol is my new best friend."

A chuckle escaped her lips. "I bet."

"Are you coming to the hospital today?" There was a pause. "I mean, I'd understand if you didn't. I don't remember being able to do anything on the day of my mom's funeral."

"Of course I'm coming to see you," Relena replied. "I'm just going to stop at home to change first. Black does not look good on me."

She could almost see Heero shaking his head. "Everything looks good on you. I'll see you soon?"

"Can't keep me away, Yuy." A moment later, she closed up her phone, her smile still firmly in place.

"Are they really going to let him go on Sunday?" Hilde asked.

Relena's expression grew even brighter, all the answer Hilde really needed. "He's doing absolutely great. With the way he's going, he'll be more than ready to start rehearsing with the company in August, Millardo."

Her brother nodded, but he couldn't make himself smile. Lucrezia rested her cheek on his shoulder giving him all the comfort she could. After a moment, Millardo finally spoke. "I'm glad."

The rest of the ride was quiet. In her heart, Relena mourned for her mother. But she had a feeling the period of grief was going to be short. Her friends were happy and well. Her career was laid out for her. Jean-Paul was rotting in jail, awaiting trial. And while the trial, set to start in January, would be an ordeal, it was one she would not have to go through alone.

Her life with Heero, brought back from the brink of death twice, lay ahead of her, sparkling with promise. Although she still held her breath every time he winced in pain or closed his eyes too long while they talked, he was out of danger according to every doctor who examined him. The loss of his spleen seemed to be having no more adverse effects and they were even starting him on solid foods, which would be a relief. Heero did not like Jello and was not hesitant to let everyone know it.

It was another hour before she arrived back at what had become her second home for the endless week between the night of the workshop and the day of her mother's funeral. Relena scolded herself for taking so long, but she hadn't been able to find the bag from the costume shop in the mess that had become her room. Once she had it, she had lingered over choosing her clothes.

As she walked down the hospital hallway, she could see that the door to Heero's private room was open. Another doctor must be checking on him, Relena figured. She approached the door and peeked inside.

Ethan Yuy was seated in his wheelchair which was drawn up fairly close to Heero's side. In the bed, her boyfriend had his arms crossed; the monitor hanging over him beeped in steady succession. Neither man noticed her. For a long time, there was nothing but silence.

Finally, Heero spoke. "Is that all you came here to say?"

"I flew all night from Hong Kong, boy." Ethan's tone was sharp. But, Relena realized, it was also sober.

"Should I be impressed by that?"

The older man lowered his head for a brief moment. "When did it get so tough to talk to you?"

"Maybe around the time you started calling me your little faggot." Heero looked away towards the window.

There was another, painful pause between father and son. "I tried to get on a plane as soon as I heard what happened," Ethan said. "But I thought..." He cleared his throat. "I thought you might do better off without me here."

"I've been surviving just fine on my own for long time," Heero agreed with him. A moment ticked by. "But it still would have been...acceptable to have you in the city."

"I'm sorry." The words were so unexpected that Heero had to whip his head back around as though seeing whatever look was on his father's face would be the only way to confirm they had really been uttered.

Her boyfriend blinked, dumbfounded. "What?"

"Ballet took your mother away from me," his father started. It was obvious he had given the words some thought, perhaps even rehearsed them over and over again. And while it might not have been the most opportune time, the older man was determined to get them out. "She wanted to have you...more than anything. But babies change a woman's body. She thought she could go back to what she loved after you were born...her dancing. And she couldn't." He raised his shoulders. "Eventually...she couldn't stand living anymore."

"Why are you telling me this? You've only spoken two words to me in the past ten years and one of them has been 'faggot,' but you're dumping all of this onto me now?? Why?" The hurt in Heero's voice made Relena want to run inside and throw her arms around him. But her feet stayed firmly planted in place as Ethan continued.

"You deserve to know...why I've been the way...I've been. When you decided to start dancing, just like her..." He stopped, shaking his head. "It became your entire life. Again, just like your mother."

Heero's eyes narrowed. "Was that wrong of me? To want to be part of something she loved so much?"

"No. But it was the only thing you cared about, boy. And that's fucking dangerous." Ethan wheeled even closer to the bed. "I don't have a goddamn right to lay this all on you now, especially after the way I've treated you. I didn't even get how bad I am when I drink until your little girlfriend came by looking for you one night." He chuckled. "She's got a backbone, that one. And what she said stung. Anyways..." Ethan took a breath. "Nothing mattered to your mother but dancing. Not me, not even you. Don't imitate her like that, boy. 'Cause if you ever lost it...I'd lose you, too."

"You lost me years ago." There was a pause. "Why wasn't I enough for her?"

"You probably were. She just couldn't see it. But she did love you in her own way. Hell, she left you everything she had. And she kept it away from me. Good thing, too."

His son echoed the assertion. "A very good thing."

Ethan backed up a bit. "You've been trying to get rid of me since I got here, not that I can blame you, so I'm gonna go. By the way...." He stopped his wheels. "There was a message on the voice mail for you from a real estate agent. He said he's got a list of apartments for you to look at whenever you get a chance. I take it you're moving out?"

Heero nodded, but he was obviously not thinking about anything except the new revelations concerning his mother.

"I understand," Ethan said. "I can't blame you, boy. I hope though...that I'll still see you around."

"You could always come to the ballet and watch me prance in my tights."

The older man smiled sadly. "That's fine with me." He began to wheel himself towards the door; Relena quickly ducked out of sight.

"Dad," Heero called out. Ethan turned his wheelchair back around. "Don't worry. I have more than just dancing in my life now."

His father nodded before resuming his exit. In the hallway, Relena spun around until her back was facing his direction, but the man didn't even seem to notice her. When she turned a moment later, he was wheeling himself down the hall and out of his son's life.

She let a minute slip by before she reached out and knocked on the open door. When she moved into his sight, she caught him wiping under his eyes with the hand that was connected to the IV bag. "Heero? Are you all right?"

"Did you see him leave as you came in?"

Relena nodded, approaching his bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Later, yeah." Heero looked up at her. "Why are you so beautiful?"

A blush tinged her cheeks and she busied herself with her shopping bag. "Gomez always thought Morticia was beautiful."

"You know...I was pretty much delirious when I said that..."

Relena shook her head, reaching into the bag. "Too late to take it back." She pulled out the fake mustache and wig. "Happy 1st week of recovery."

Heero had to laugh as much as the healing wounds in his lower back from Jean-Paul's knife and chest from the surgeon's scalpel would let him. "I think we've found our Halloween costumes for this year. I want to wear pinstripes. And slick my hair back!"

She lifted an eyebrow. "Loving that Demerol, aren't you?"

"Almost as much as you," he replied flippantly.

Tossing the wig and mustache aside, Relena carefully crawled into Heero's wide hospital bed, snuggling up against his good side. They lay in silence for endless minutes, her hand lightly resting on his arm, the only place she could think of touching that wouldn't bring him any pain. His full recovery wouldn't happen for a long while; until then, Relena was just happy being allowed to touch him at all, in any little way.

After a half-hour had slipped by, Heero turned his head to press his lips, dry from the blessed pain meds, against her temple. "Relena..."

"Hmm?" Her eyes were closed in perfect content.

"Can you reach the TV remote?"

Her eyes opened. "You want to watch TV?"

He looked almost sheepish. "It's the drugs and I'll deny it to anyone else, but I'm kinda hooked on 'The View'."

Relena sat up and stared down at her boyfriend. "Where can *I* get some of these drugs?"

"Mocking the man with open chest wounds is not nice."

Trying to fight back her laughter, Relena plucked the remote off the rolling tray, which had been pushed to one side, to accommodate Ethan's wheelchair, she assumed. She turned on the little TV that was suspended from the far wall.

"...police have a suspect in custody in the botched bank robbery that took place on Monday afternoon at the Union Trust on West 53rd St..."

Heero frowned. "Channel 10. Channel 10. Channel 10."

Relena lowered the remote to her lap. "I'm bringing a camcorder next time I come. You have got to see yourself hyped up on these..."

He pressed his fingers against her mouth. "You wouldn't."

"Why's that?"

"Because..." Heero thought for a moment. "You love me."

"All right. Got me there." She glanced back up at the screen. The picture next to the anchor's head changed from a shot of the Union Trust bank to a picture of a pair of toe shoes. Her interest peaked, Relena nudged up the volume.

"In other local news, the man accused in the strangulation death of society matron Helen Peacecraft-Dorlian, as well as the attempted murder and attempted rape of two Ballet Conservatory students last week was found dead early today, having taken his own life by hanging himself from the bars of his cell on Riker's Island. Jean-Paul Chevalier of Paris, France was arraigned on Wednesday, pleading not guilty by reason of insanity to two charges of sexual battery, assault, attempted murder and murder in the second degree. His trial was set to start early in the new year. The French embassy has agreed to ship his body back to Paris for..."

Heero turned his head to look at his girlfriend. She was staring up at the monitor without blinking, but the tremble that rocked her slender frame gave away her state of mind. "Relena..." He reached for her hand, only to find it ice-cold.

"It's over," she whispered. "He..."

"He's gone," Heero finished for her. "He can never, ever hurt you again."

She shook her head; the gentle swishing sound of her long hair against her skin drowned out the news anchor's words. "He took so much from me, Heero. And he tried to take even more. He tried to take you away from me."

"He didn't win."

Relena lowered her chin. His hand, which covered hers, was marred by the plastic IV needle that ran into the vein behind his middle knuckle. She stared at the implement as she spoke. "Yes, he did. Now...because of this...he's won. He took one final thing from me, the only thing he could. My opportunity to see him pay for it all."

He could sense her tears even before he could see them. Ignoring his own pain, he lifted her face back up and over to look into his. "It might seem like that, Relena. But in some way, he will answer for everything he's done. And really...you're the one who's won. You're the one who survived."

"We survived," she whispered. Staring into the bottomless depths of his eyes, his words suddenly hit her. She had won. She would get to live her life and explore her love for Heero. Jean-Paul had taken much, but Relena had held on to far more. "You and I, Heero."

"You and I," Heero echoed. With easy motions as not to pull any stitches, he reached for the abandoned mustache.

Relena tried to grab it. "Don't...it's not sterile..." But he had already pushed the costume piece into place over the oxygen tube that ran under his nose. "Heero, I don't think you should have..."

He silenced her by plopping the long wig onto her head. Her blonde silk mixed with the fake black locks. "Wow..." Heero said.

"What?" She patted the wig. "Does it look that bad?"

"No. It just looks..." He snickered, something he had never done and probably would never do again. "It looks like you really need to do your roots."

Incised protests and drug-inspired laughter floated out into the hospital hallway, an affirmation of life, love and survival in the least likeliest of places.

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To Be Continued