Disclaimer: Characters are not mine...blah, blah, blah. You
know the drill.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the continued feedback;) I'm glad
you all think that ballet + Gundam = something not entirely crappy.
I was worried myself;)
****
To Dance Beneath the Diamond Sky
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Are you having fun?"
Heero looked down at the blond girl who had her arm wrapped around
his shoulder as the club's singer belted out a fast tune. "It's
been an interesting night."
Relena frowned. "Is that all? You're telling me that you're
not having one bit of fun? Not even a smidgen? An iota? No fun?"
He blinked, taking in her flushed cheeks and slightly slurred
words. "You've been drinking."
"I had one little amaretto sour while you were in the bathroom,"
Relena scoffed. "I'm hardly drunk." Her fingers curled
around the back of his neck. "I'm just having fun for the
both of us." There was a peal of laughter from a few feet
away where Duo and Hilde were cutting a rug. "Now, *they're*
drunk."
Heero shook his head. "Maxwell is always like that."
"They really dance well together." Relena smiled. "And
they look good, too."
Without warning, Heero dipped her. "We can do better."
Her loopy smile fell. "Is that what dancing is to you? A
competition?"
"Not always," he replied, pulling her back up.
"When is it not?"
Heero's gaze darted back and forth between her blue and violet
flecked eyes. "When I'm having fun."
"Are you having fun?" she repeated her earlier question.
"I'm here. I'm dancing with you." He turned her; somehow
she managed to keep her balance on her heels. "What more
do you want?"
Her happy buzz fading, Relena stopped moving with the music. "Nothing.
I don't want anything from you, Heero."
"Hey!!" Duo pushed across the dance floor toward them,
dragging Hilde with him. "Switching partners time!"
"Duo...I don't want to..." Hilde began. But it was too
late; Duo had already made the switch and had his arm around Relena's
waist. She sighed and looked up at Heero. "Having fun?"
Now across the dance floor, Relena's good mood was rapidly returning
as Duo took over spinning and dipping her slender body. "So,"
he called out over the music. "Making any headway with the
tight ass?"
"Not a bit," she shouted back. "He's an ice cube."
"Then you'll have to melt him." Duo spun her around
before doing the same.
Relena laughed. "And just how do you propose I do that?"
He dipped her low, lower than Heero had dared to. "With your
sizzling personality."
She threw her head back; her long hair pooled onto the floor.
Duo yanked her back up and her arms wound around him in a tight
hug. "Thank you, Duo."
"For what?"
Relena kissed his cheek. "For being you."
Back on the other side of the dance floor, there was a witness
to the innocent kiss. And she didn't like it at all.
****
"All right, cool cats and hot dames...get your asses on the
floor for another of your favorites." The lead singer pointed
to the band to begin the next song.
Hilde shook her head and clasped the underside of her chair with
both hands when Duo held out his arm to her. "No. I refuse
to dance anymore."
"Oh come on! Don't tell me you all are tired!!" Duo
put his hands on his hips, effeminate, but he hoped, effective.
"It's barely three-thirty!"
"Duo..." Hilde glared at her boyfriend. "We've
been here for four hours now. We're hot. We're sweaty. We all
smell like an ashtray. And quite frankly, we're ready to go."
Relena nodded in total agreement as she held her thick hair up
off the back of her neck. "My feet hurt. My pointe shoes
are more comfortable than these." She gestured to her three
inch heel, strappy sandals.
Heero stood up from his chair. His hair was damp with sweat at
his temples and his evening shirt clung to his back and chest.
"I'm leaving."
"Every party has a pooper and this one has three," Duo
muttered. But he let himself be led out of the club by the undone
bow tie around his neck.
The street outside was still busy; it didn't take Heero long to
hail two cabs. "Thanks, pal," Duo said, clapping the
other boy heartily on the back. "Hilde, you're with me. Yuy,
you and Relena take the other."
Relena glanced at Heero. He didn't seem to have any objections
to the plan. After all, they were both headed uptown, to Park
Avenue. "All right," she agreed.
Duo opened the door to one cab and made a deep bow towards Hilde.
"After you."
She folded her arms tightly over her chest. "Duo...I can
just catch the train. I don't want to..."
"Shush!" He pressed one finger to her lips. "It's
my money. Well, my parents, actually. Let me worry about it."
Hilde closed her mouth and slid into the cab with great reluctance,
Duo behind her. Before he shut the door, Duo grinned at Heero
and Relena. "You two don't do anything we wouldn't do."
The door closed and the cab took off to Brooklyn.
Relena licked her lips, tasting the salt of her perspiration.
Their dancing had been fast and furious. When Heero danced, he
was alive. He held nothing back. It had been a struggle to keep
up with him, but one she had enjoyed immensely. Now, however,
the usual Heero had returned. Cool and detached. Still, he held
the door open for her and gestured her inside.
When they were both in the cab, Heero addressed the driver. "Two
stops...." He looked at Relena.
"67th," she supplied. "67th and Park."
Heero continued. "And then at 72nd and Park." The cab
jolted forward into the traffic flow.
It only took Relena a few minutes to work up the nerve to speak.
"I had fun tonight." Heero nodded curtly. "You
really are an amazing dancer." She paused. "How long
have you been dancing?"
"Since I was six," Heero replied after a moment.
"Me, too." Relena smiled. "You must have been adorable
back then." Heero lifted his shoulders. "Sorry. I didn't
mean to..."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it."
She let out a breath. "I never know what to say to you, Heero."
"Maybe you shouldn't try."
"Is that what you'd like?" she whispered a minute later,
when she had recovered from the emotional punch to her gut.
Heero's reply was even longer in coming. "No," he finally
said. "You're just the only person who's ever tried so hard.
To talk to me."
Relena coughed lightly. "What about your groupies in ballet
class?"
"I don't even know half their names. We've been dancing together
for two years, but I couldn't tell them apart if..." He stopped,
suddenly aware of how much he was saying. "It's different.
You're different."
She glanced out the window. "Thank you."
At long last, the cab pulled up outside of Relena's building.
"Well," she said. "I guess this is goodnight."
Heero said nothing, so she opened the door and slid out. He shifted
over and followed her out. "Heero?"
His breath swirled around his face in the early morning air. "I'm
not gay," he blurted out.
Relena smiled. "I'm glad."
"My whole life has been about dancing. And nothing's ever
gotten in the way of that," Heero continued.
"The last thing I want is to be in your way."
Heero shook his head. "It's too late." She waited for
the kiss for a long minute; the moment called for a kiss. She
even closed her eyes in preparation. But it never came. "Goodnight,"
Heero said instead, as he got back into the cab.
Relena sighed, turned on her heel and walked towards the front
entrance. "Hi, Martin," she greeted the night doorman.
Martin let her into the building with a wink and a smile. "Nice
looking young fellow, Miss Relena. Your boyfriend?"
She watched the cab pull away from the curb and continue up Park
Avenue. "You know, Martin. I'm not even sure I can call him
'just a friend'."
****
From mid-town Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge, Duo employed every
trick in his book to get Hilde to talk to him. He shifted on the
backseat of the taxi to see her better as they crossed the river.
"Baby...if you could just tell me what I did to make you
mad, then I could..."
She turned her head away to stare out the greasy window.
He slumped into the slightly smelly seat. "Great...the silent
treatment. What, are we two again?"
"I'm not sure, Duo? Are we? I didn't know you when you were
two; maybe you were the world's biggest flirt then, also."
"Flirt??" Duo sat up. "What the hell are you talking
about?"
Hilde pointed a finger at him. "Don't you play dumb with
me! I hate it when you do that! You were flirting with her all
night and you know it, so just admit it!!"
"With Relena? You think I was flirting with Relena? Babe...come
on! I thought we settled all of this the other night..."
"Yeah, well...before the other night you weren't holding
her hand and calling her your princess," Hilde muttered.
Duo spread his hands. "I'm trying to get her with Yuy!! Would
I be doing that if I were interested in her as anything more than
a friend....which, by the way, is fucking insane since I'm completely
crazy about you!"
"You have a funny way of showing it."
He opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but the spark of anger
died. "Do you know something? You're adorable when you're
jealous."
In the front seat, the taxi driver whistled under his breath.
The boy in the backseat had just made a major error in strategy.
Hilde's eyes narrowed. "Do you have any comprehension of
just how condescending and insulting that was?"
Duo blinked. "It was?"
She threw up her hands. "I don't even know what to say anymore!!"
"I don't understand what you're so pissed about!"
The cab pulled up next to Hilde's apartment building. The sound
of an ambulance siren whirled in the background. "Listen,"
Hilde said, getting out of the car. "When you've figured
out why your girlfriend is pissed at you for calling another girl
your princess and posing for pictures with her and holding her
hand at the ballet and letting her kiss your cheek....give me
a call." The door slammed shut before Duo could reply.
"Hilde..." He reached for the door handle to follow
her.
"Better not do that," the cabbie advised him.
Duo frowned. "Why not?"
"Women need a cool down period. No point trying to talk to
them when they're that riled up." The burly man pulled away
from the curb and made a U-turn, heading back for the city. "Where
you going again?"
"Chelsea," Duo replied. He sighed. "I just don't
get it...how could she even think I'm interested in Relena like
that?"
The driver shrugged. "Men'll never figure out a woman's mind.
She's a pretty little thing, though. Bit too skinny."
"She's a ballerina." He ran a hand down his face.
"I like a woman with some meat on her bones. Soft...you know."
The cabbie made a turn. "My first wife was dancer. Strip
club...had no tits until I paid for..."
Duo tuned the man out. In his mind, he replayed the night's events.
Could she have really misinterpreted everything he had done in
regards to Relena? He rubbed his eyes. There was only one way
for him to convince Hilde that he had no interest in the new dancer
beyond friendship.
He would have to get Heero Yuy and Relena Dorlian together if
it was the last thing he did.
****
"Relena..." Quatre's voice was fresh and awake when
she called him at four AM, New York time, a far cry from the sleepy
tone she received when she called any earlier. "Est que vous?"
"Oui, it's me," Relena smiled into her phone. "I
just got in. It's four in the morning here."
Quatre made a tsk-ing sound. "Too late, cher, too late. What
keeps you out at night?"
"Dancing."
"Je vous..." Quatre laughed. "You go on the date,
bien?"
Relena rubbed her aching feet. "Not exactly. It was a group
thing."
"A group thing," he repeated.
"Four of us went out to a club after the ballet." She
sighed. "It was really fun."
"And you dance with who, cher? What lucky man?"
Relena flopped back onto her pillows. "He's just...a guy.
We have ballet class together and we go to the same school."
"Your pas de deux partner? The Duo?"
"No...Duo is just a friend. But Heero..." She stopped.
Quatre's laughter was soft. "You wish to be more?"
"Oui," she admitted. "But it won't happen."
"Ah...petit. He is like me?"
It was Relena's turn to laugh. "Actually, no. He's definitely
straight."
"C'est merveilleux!"
"No. Not really..." she continued. "He's not interested.
All he thinks about is dance."
She could sense Quatre's disappointment over the phone. "Oh,
cher. You find another."
Relena nodded. "When I get back to Paris and I'm with the
company..."
"Cher," Quatre began before abruptly stopping.
"What is it? Quatre?"
Quatre sighed. "You know I change class after you leave,
bien? I can not look at that man now, but I want to hurt him for
you. But...Trowa stay. He is not man of change."
"I remember." Relena smiled at the memory of Quatre's
tall, quiet lover.
"Trowa tell me last night...Jean-Paul being...how do you
say...given a better job. With company. He will no longer teach
class."
Relena's face paled. "Are you saying....that he's working
with the company now? My company??"
"Je suis desole, cher. I am sorry."
"But..." She shook her head. "I was counting on
getting a job with the company. I could come back to Paris, but
I wouldn't have to see him anymore. If he works for the company....what
am I going to do?"
Quatre sighed again. "I did not wish to be bringer of sad
news, cher. But you should know."
"Non...non, non, non..." Relena closed her eyes. "This
isn't fair!"
"Je suis desole," Quatre repeated. All he had to offer
from so far away was his sympathy. "Je souhaite qu'il y ait
eu quelque chose que je pourrais faire."
She stopped listening to him, no longer in the mood to think in
French. He was going on about wishing he could something for her,
but she knew there was nothing for him to do. The decisions had
all been hers and she had made the wrong ones. Not pressing charges,
running to America, naively thinking she could return to Paris
someday without having to deal with what had happened to her.
"It's all right, Quatre," Relena finally said. "I'm
fine. I promise."
"You still come back to Paris, cheri?"
Her eyes were glassy. "No. I can't go back now. As long as
he's there...I can't ever go back."
****
Heero let himself into his father's apartment as quietly as possible.
There were no lights on; he breathed a little easier, assuming
the older man was already asleep. He locked the door behind him
and started for his room.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, rolling in
here at four AM like you owned the fucking place?"
He sighed and turned around to see into the dark parlor. The metal
lines of his father's wheelchair shone in the moonlight from the
open window. In the chair, where he had been stuck for twelve
years, Ethan Yuy glared at his son. He didn't seem drunk, but
then, alcoholics rarely did.
"Sorry, Dad. I forgot that you're the only one who does the
rolling around here."
Ethan wheeled closer to him. "You better shut that smart
lip, boy."
"Or you'll do what, Dad?" Heero crossed his arms. They
played this game ever so often. He always won; he was eighteen,
strong and healthy. His dad was fifty, paraplegic and under the
influence.
"You and your mother...just the same." His father pounded
the arm of his wheelchair. "Smart mouths, both of you! And
fucking dancers, too. Is there where you were tonight, boy? Prancing
around in your tights?"
Heero lifted his eyes to the fresco on the molded ceiling. "Yeah,
Dad. I was prancing. Go to bed, okay?"
"Don't you fucking order me to bed like I was a fucking child!"
His father's face became red with rage; he wheeled even closer,
but Heero showed no signs of fear, but braced himself for the
first blow. "What's that smell on you?" his father asked.
He sniffed. "Perfume. Perfume and cigarettes?"
"Um..." Heero pulled at his dress shirt. "I was
out. That's all."
"With a girl." Some of the anger melted from Ethan's
face. "Well...this is a first for my little fag."
Heero calmly placed his hands in his pants pockets. "Don't
embarrass me with such cute nicknames, Dad." He bypassed
his father's wheelchair and continued on to his room.
"Don't you walk away from me, boy!! Hey! I'm talking to you!"
He shut the door to his bedroom, bolted it for extra measure and
released a long pent up breath. His fists clenched. Without hesitation,
he strode across the room, past his neatly made bed, past his
state of the art computer, past his personal barre and weights,
all purchased with the money from the large estate his mother
had left him before she hung herself by the banister in their
old townhouse.
He didn't know just how his mother had known her husband well
enough to place Heero's money in a trust fund, accessible only
to him on his sixteenth birthday, but he was grateful. The money
had paid for his ballet classes and private school tuition. Had
it been up to his father to decide how the money was controlled,
he would have gone to public school and taken hockey lessons.
With these thoughts, he headed straight for his punching bag.
Five minutes later, his knuckles were raw and he dripped with
fresh sweat, but his anger was under control. Heero wrestled his
shirt and tux jacket off and threw them across the barre. He wanted
to dance, but he was too angry to remember the steps he needed
work on. And, he had to admit, after spending four hours turning,
lifting, dipping and spinning Relena Dorlian, he was too wound
up to concentrate, anyway.
So, he flopped onto his bed and lay still for several minutes
to catch his breath. His dad had been right about one thing; he
smelled like her perfume. But he had no desire to shower. He could
still smell her on his clothes and skin as much as he could feel
her slender body on his hands and still see the occasional glimpse
of lace she had accidently flashed during some of the more risque
swing moves.
Relena Dorlian was messing with the world he had spent twelve
years trying to patch back together. Heero turned his head to
one side, to see the framed photograph of his broken family on
his nightstand. His mother, a ballerina and more beautiful than
life, his father, before the car accident the night after his
mother's suicide that had forever robbed him of the use of his
legs and his subsequent drinking, and then him, six years old,
only dancing to please his mother.
He reached out a hand and turned the picture down like he did
every night before sleep claimed him.
****
To Be Continued