~ She was drowning, the darkness cradling her in its cold depths, the water freezing her flesh with its icy waters. She couldn't breathe, her lungs burning in her chest, and she felt her mouth open unconsciously, trying to take in air but only finding water to fill the emptiness. Streaks of warmth lanced across frost bitten cheeks, searing the delicate skin.

She was crying, her body sinking deeper into the abysmal deep, and she never wanted to return to the surface again.

"Relena . . ."

Her lungs collapsed, expelling what little oxygen had miraculously clung to the largely empty organs along with the water she had previously inhaled.

"Relena! WAKE UP!!"

Furiously pumping her legs, she attempted to swim to the surface, her body numb, a force pushing down on her shoulders, hindering her progress and preventing her from reaching her goal. She couldn't give in.

She was dying. The proof was their haunting voices, and as much as she wanted to follow them to the next world, her baby didn't deserve to have her life cut short by her own mother.

"Damn it Relena! Open your eyes!!"

They were so close. All she needed was there just beyond her reach. All she needed was them, to know they were alright, then she could die in peace.

The pressure upon her shoulders intensified, jagged steel fingernails biting into her back as she began to jerk violently against the pain, the unyielding weight when -- ~

Relena gasped, her body thrusting up against the bands of strength across her shoulders, stomach, and thighs, holding her down. Her eyes shifted around her wildly as three dearly familiar faces came into focus above her. Sweat and tears ran down her face as her mouth opened and a sob escaped her lips. They were alive. Her boys were alive! And she was alive as well!

"C'mon Rel, you didn't really think we'd lose didja?" Duo smiled gently as his hand skimmed over her forehead, his other arm resting against the swell of her stomach protectively.

A tremulous smile quivered upon her bloodless lips, the numbness fading away as her shaking subsided, "I . . . I thought y . . you were . ." Her voice cracked upon another sob. She couldn't say it, couldn't say what she had feared, couldn't admit that the possibility was always there looming just beyond her vision, couldn't accept the reality that one day they might lay down their lives for her.

"We know. You were crying and screaming," Wufei took his hands from her shoulders, one hand grasping and squeezing hers, and she suddenly noticed how pale he was, how distressed each of them looked, how wounded . . .

Wufei's hair had come loose from its tight restraints, blood smeared across his smooth forehead and under his left eye. He was noticeably favoring his right leg, a line of blood, vibrant red, slashing across his left thigh, visible through the long tear in the dark material of his pants.

Kneeling on her other side, Duo's braid was not longer as neat as it had been before he had gone to meet the enemy, a few errant strands of light brown hair escaping the arrangement. He had somehow lost the black suit jacket he had been wearing and one arm of his white dress shirt was died a grizzly copper color . . . dried blood gluing the material uncomfortably to his skin. There were several black smudges upon his face, hands, and shirt, as if he had been very near some form of fire and the ashes had settled into his skin and clothes. The scent of gunpowder clung to him.

Blue eyes looked to Trowa, alighting upon the flowing blood rolling down his one visible cheek. His green eyes bore into hers, the concern buried deep within the cold depths, concern for her.

"Wh . . what --" Panic rose to her throat, blocking any words that wished to flow to her tongue.

"Calm down," Duo patted the hand Wufei wasn't holding as Trowa lay a reassuring hand upon her ankle, "The guy was taken care of. We can go home now."

A noise from the far side of the room alerted them to an intruder, and the three men shifted slightly to better protect their charge as Relena tensed slightly, the fear not completely drained from her system, adrenaline still pumping in her veins as her hands came up to clasp tightly together, flexing and unflexing spontaneously.

"I see the Princess is awake," the old man from earlier smiled gently at her, nodding to her caretakers as Wufei assisted her to a sitting position. "How are you dear? You scared my wife and I nearly to an early grave when you fainted."

Relena bowed her head, feeling a tidal wave of guilt engulf her already frazzled nerves. It seemed that no matter what she did, no matter where she went, no matter her intentions, she would always endanger and cause worry to those around her. She very suddenly wanted to cry, her throat swelling with the burning salt of the suppressed tears, the whites of her eyes flushing red as blood rushed to the straining orbs, and her face reddening with the pressure of keeping the sobs from crossing her lips.

Sliding an arm about trembling shoulders, Duo glared at the old man before helping Relena to her feet. "She'll be fine," he answered, his voice even despite the rage churning in his gut. This guy had something to do with the attack. He could feel it in his bones. The fact that the old man had called Relena 'Princess' was proof enough.

"Indeed," Wufei spoke softly, his voice like a coiled snake ready to strike, the tension in that one word enough to strike fear in the heart of any man, "we should get her home to rest. Thank you sir, for watching over her in our absence."

Trowa watched with a slight smirk as Duo and Wufei ushered the quiet, reflective Relena out of the little shop/house, before turning to their host, allowing his smirk to drop into a frown, his green eyes probing sparkling brown. This man, one Mario Boticelli, the maker of the two lockets, had betrayed one he had sworn allegiance to. This man had nearly cost Relena her life and the life of her unborn child. Of course, Trowa had experienced a sneaking suspicion before, but now . . . with that one slip, the elderly man had made a huge mistake.

"She's a delightful girl," Boticelli said lightly, trying to make small talk, not knowing he had been found out.

"Yes, she is," Trowa commented flatly before taking a step forward, his hand coming up to grasp the other man's windpipe through sagging skin. Gnarled hands clawed at Trowa's arm in the hopes of finding purchase to freedom, but the ex-Gundam pilot wasn't about to let this slide. With an animalistic gleam of command in his eye, Trowa stared at the old man's face with a cold indifference that told poor Mario that he had gotten mixed up in a whole heap of trouble.

A few moments of frightening silence followed, Trowa staunchly holding onto Mario's windpipe, Mario fighting for breath and his precious hold on consciousness, before the younger man finally spoke in controlled, even tones, thinly veiling the fury that burned behind the cool green eyes, "A warning." With a snap of the wrist, Trowa let the man go, the deceptively frail body collapsing to the ground as Mario coughed, his hand massaging his abused throat, trying to get his wind back, his mind working furiously to understand the threat behind the words as the sound of Trowa's footsteps faded.

The sound reminded him of a death knell, and it resounded for the inevitable fall of ERIS.

*A few hours later near the Peacecraft/Maxwell/Barton/Chang residence (say that 10 times fast)*

"You guys didn't have to gather all those clothes. I could've just had Noin and Milliardo send some over," Relena said softly, half dozing on Duo's shoulder. It was so quiet in the car, Trowa driving while Wufei stared out the passenger side window thoughtfully. Even Duo wasn't talking, his hand stroking her hair in a strangely hypnotic rhythm. She wanted to sleep so badly, her body crashing from the sudden chemical reaction forced upon her by the traumatic experiences of the evening. Her baby wanted rest.

"It would be a waste of perfectly good clothes that *you* picked out for yourself. Besides we can search them all for bullet holes tomorrow. Until then, you can borrow my clothes. You're not *that* big just yet." Duo semi-jested with her, but even in her pseudo-conscious state, she could still pick up on the lack of humor in the reply. The guilt that had stabbed at her psyche just a few hours before attacked her mind with renewed vigor. It was her fault they had nearly gotten killed.

It was all so stupid and silly. She was just one person, a nobody who had become somebody through rather extreme and unusual circumstances, and even though she held a highly prestigious position with limited political power, she could not understand why anyone would wish to kill her. It was unfathomable why some were willing to resist the peace she and so many others had struggled to build and maintain.

Studying Duo's profile, Relena thought these men, the famed yet secretive Gundam pilots deserved that peace more than anyone, and yet, they were the ones who constantly suffered because of the peace she had helped to usher in, because of her.

Pushing herself away from Duo, Relena rested her back and neck against the seat cushions, fervently wishing she were at home instead of the car, trying to take her mind off the fact that she very desperately needed a bathroom soon. With a slightly shaking hand (probably caused by the gradual flushing of adrenaline from her system), the Peace Minister rubbed her round belly softly, talking to the baby inside her mind.

Tears came to her eyes as she thought of the child within her. She had hoped that she could tell Heero by now. She could just imagine how it would be, afterall, the man would have to be blind not to know just by looking at her. He would walk into her room, see her extended belly, and . . . What would he do? What did she expect? Just because you love someone doesn't mean you're automatically ready for a family. What if he didn't want children? What if he . . . left . . . What if he didn't care?

*Why don't you just admit what's bothering you, Relena?*

She was so scared. Fear seemed to be her constant companion these days. She was afraid of the people after her life. She was afraid Heero would resent her for unknowingly getting pregnant. She was afraid her child would never know his/her father. She was afraid one or more of her friends would get hurt or killed on her account. She was afraid she would be left alone in the end. Most of all though, she was afraid of closing her eyes and forever living in the nightmares that sought to trap her every night. She was afraid she was losing herself.

Shuddering harshly, Relena breathed a sigh of relief when the car pulled up to the house that had become home to her, even if it was only her home away from home. Reaching to open the door, she was halted by Duo taking her elbow and pulling her against him. She gave no resistance, trusting him, and an explanation wasn't long in coming.

With stealth and grace, Trowa and Wufei both exited the car, guns drawn, and began to inspect the grounds for any signs of intruders.

Relena buried her face in the curve of Duo's shoulder, desperately fighting the tears that were begging to be released. She had done enough crying. The stress wasn't doing her child any good.

Wrapped up in Duo's warm, brotherly embrace, Relena's mind wandered from this place to Hilde, Catherine, and the others. She wondered how Hilde was doing with the wedding plans, speculated on how Catherine was getting along without her usual target, and tried to imagine how Dorothy was handling Devon who was on the brink of foregoing the terrible two's to enter the fantastic three's. Thoughts of those she had left behind inevitably forced her to remember her brother . . . her only living blood relative, and with the picture of his face, his words echoed in her mind, the message as loud and clear as it had been at its first utterance sixteen years ago.

*"It's always ok to cry Rele. Remember that, ok?"*

And so she did as her brother willed her, as her heart entreated her, crying for those who had suffered and were suffering for her sake, weeping for her lost parents, and sobbing bitterly for Heero who was missing out on his child's prenatal development.

She vowed it would be the last time she allowed tears to fall from her eyes.

~ A few hours earlier . . . with Heero . . . ~

Heero grunted as he gave one last tug and his left hand finally popped free of the iron manacles they had imprisoned him in just a few hours ago. Gingerly rubbing his raw and bloody wrists, he absently popped his thumb back into its correct socket, then cracked his knuckles as his eyes took in his less than attractive surroundings.

As far as he could tell, it had been about two to three weeks since they had first brought him to this rank prison, the dirt floor hot and itchy beneath his sweaty form, the air stale from disuse and poor circulation (there was no air conditioning to speak of), and the metal walls were rusted to the point of flaking, a rather bad leak in the metal ceiling allowing a downpour of water through the ruined seams. He guessed they had placed him beneath the communal baths.

The only light he was allowed was a stream that filtered through a tiny window in his cell door which was used as the guard view, and there was always at least two guards standing by at all times. There were no grates or vents he could slip through, no trap doors to speak of. He would have to bide his time, besides, Mai would be coming soon. She was the only one who connected him to the outside world now.

Glaring at the door and its small bulletproof window, Heero leaned back against the burning metal, stretching his legs out and slipping his hands back into the manacles. It wouldn't do for them to guess he had gotten free of their medieval restraints.

Just then, there was a soft click-hiss as the door to freedom opened and a short, female outline filled the space between himself and the hall.

It was Mai.

"Hey Jaggie, how they treatin' ya in this here hell hole?" She stepped into the dark, hot cell, and wrinkled her nose as the stench of sweat and raw human waste met her nostrils, the door giving booming shut behind her. "Damn, it's like a friggin' convection oven in here . . . A convection oven without a flushing toilet." The tray she held propped on one shoulder with her hand supporting the bottom was shifted downward where both hands could grasp the handles on either side.

". . ." He really didn't feel like talking to her if all she would do is make fun of the situation.

"Well fine. You don't wanna talk, you don't get to eat, and trust me honey, you need all the calories you can get." She knelt, poking him in the ribs, before setting the tray she had been carrying on the ground, her hands coming up to unlock the iron bands around his wrists. Actually, for someone who had been trapped in a sweatbox for weeks, he was still in remarkable shape.

"What did you do?" Mai asked, concern lacing the secretive inquiry as her fingers worked the rusted key into the abused keyhole, her eyes fixed on the blood trailing down Heero's arms like the tears he had never shed.

". . ." He wasn't about to answer that one either. He didn't want her feeling guilty. She had to stay focused if she was going to help him.

Mai rolled her eyes and unlocked the stupid manacles before sitting back on her heels, "If you don't talk to me, I won't tell ya what's been going down!"

"Tell me after," Heero said finally, picking up the tray of limp, boiled cabbage, charred mystery meat, and something that resembled refried beans with a side of stale, black crusted bread. A small cup of water was his drink of the day. These were the only nutrients keeping him alive and aware at this point.

Watching him eat the 'food' with a green expression, Mai sighed weakly, "Fine, but I thought you might be interested to know that the Mistress finally found what she was looking for."

Heero choked on his 'beans', and Mai heartily slapped him on the back, a rather sadistic grin on her childish face.

"I knew that would get your attention." The young girl's face was far too proud for Heero's liking, but he took the bait anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Mai didn't answer right away, her hand nervously playing with the light brown bangs falling into her eyes, a somewhat calculating look on her usually open and friendly face. She rose to her feet, walking over to the door, testing it to make sure it was locked before coming to kneel before him again, not minding the dirt that was ruining the pristine white material of her dress uniform, "You tell me who you really are, and I'll tell you what the Mistress has planned for your girlfriend, Relena Darlian Peacecraft."

Schooling his features, Heero was careful not to let even the slightest hint of his surprise slip into his expression. His reply was as flat and to-the-point as ever, "You know who I am."

"You're lying," Mai frowned at him, her hazel eyes reflecting the bruised spirit within. He had hurt her. "Look, I need to know who you are before they make good on their orders. They're planning on killing her! They've already sent snipers to her proposed location! Please, if she's who I think she is, tell me who you are!!!!"

Heero stared at her appraisingly. Her face was glistening with a sheen of sweat, her eyes wild and desperate, her manner mature but skittish in the face of such a serious situation. She trusted him, Relena was in danger, and she was willing to help him by taking his place as Relena's protector for the time being.

There was no decision to be made.

"I'm called Heero Yuy . . ."

~ That night at the Winner Mansion ~

"Devon!" Dorothy chased after the giggling two year old, making a grotesque looking 'monster' face while shaping her hands into something resembling open claws. She roared, "I'm gonna get you!"

The little boy ran on sturdy legs away from his mother, naked as a jaybird, and squealed, falling on his rump as his Aunt Hilde jumped out from behind the couch. He just laughed at the funny face his Auntie was making before struggling back to his feet and trying to run away again. His mommy, however, didn't want to play "Chase the Dirty Baby" anymore.

Lifting him up, Dorothy pressed her open mouth to her son's belly and blew, a rather . . . unsavory but funny noise issuing from the action, sending the toddler into a frenzy of giggles again. "C'mon you little monster. Time for a bath!"

The little munchkin stopped laughing and began squirming in his mother's arms, sniffing as tears pooled at his eyes lids. The dreaded b-word had been uttered, and if there was one thing little boys hated it was the b-word and all the horrors that went with it.

"WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Hilde followed Dorothy and the screaming child down the hall to the large bathroom, trying to cheer the crestfallen boy out of his hissy fit by making wierd faces behind Dorothy's shoulder.

It wasn't working.

WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

As they neared the door to the bathroom, Devon's stuggles became more violent, and Dorothy had a hard time keeping her hold on the tike. Luckily, Rashid saved them by announcing there was a visitor and taking the still-wailing child into the bathroom.

"Who do you think it is?" Hilde asked as she watched Dorothy comb one hand through her long, tangled hair while the other smoothed the skirt of her dress.

"I don't know, but if I were to venture a guess, I'd say Mrs. Darlian. She called this morning saying she might stop by after visiting with her relatives."

"Mrs. Darlian? Why would she wanna see you?" Hilde cringed at how rude that sounded, but her pale colored friend didn't seem to mind one bit, a smirk curving her lips.

"I don't know. She said something about planning something for Relena. A baby shower perhaps?"

"But Dorothy --" Hilde started before . . .

"Miss Catalonia! Miss Scheibecker! How are you?!" A pair of silk sheathed arms hugged both of them simultaneously as they entered the living area of the large Winner estate.

"Actually, it's Mrs. Winner now Mrs. Darlian." Dorothy smiled as the older woman released them. A tolerant smile, Hilde noted.

"Ah, yes. Sorry about that." Whether she was sorry that she had made such a grievous error in addressing the hostess or sorry Dorothy had married Quatre and into the Winner fortune, Hilde didn't know, but she smiled and nodded her head in greeting while she shot a side-long glance at Dorothy whose smile was somewhat tight and forced. Hilde got the distinct feeling that something was wrong here.

After a few verbal meaningless pleasantries, the three women adjourned in Quatre's study since it was smaller and more personal than the expansive and spacious living area. Mrs. Darlian made a few compliments about the interior decorating while they sat, Dorothy in a leather upholstered chair while Hilde and Mrs. Darlian took the leather couch.

"So . . . what did you wish to talk about Mrs. Darlian?" Dorothy inquired after they were all settled, one hand airily gesturing the servant at the door to bring some tea. Hilde cocked an eyebrow at her friend. She never behaved like this. It was almost as if she were trying to make everyone uncomfortable . . . her old sly and scheming self making itself dominant after years of suppression.

"Please dear, calling me 'Mrs. Darlian' makes me feel so old. Call me Joan."

Dorothy nodded slightly, her eyes shifting to Hilde when the silence fell over them, and the dark haired woman stuggled to find something to say, an unusual situation since she ALWAYS knew what to say.

"Mrs . . . Joan, you must think of Relena quite a bit since she left," Hilde tried to keep her voice level and genuine despite the suspicious thoughts running through her head. If this woman had indeed suggested organizing a baby shower for Relena, the mere mention of the baby condemned her as an enemy. Hilde knew for a fact that Relena had never mentioned her condition to her foster mother.

"Oh yes! In fact, I was wondering if you could tell me when she's coming back or how I can get in touch with her. I wanted to know when she's going to be free so I can organize her baby shower."

Called it, Hilde thought darkly.

"That's wonderful!" Dorothy gushed, her hands clasped to her chest in excitement, and Hilde had to restrain herself from severely hurting the blonde woman. Either Dorothy didn't know Mrs. Darlian wasn't supposed to know about the baby, or she was an extremely good actress. She fervently hoped it was the former.

Mrs. Dar . . . *Joan* looked pleased with herself, "Well, she is my daughter, and I am pretty excited about being a grandmother, but there's one thing bothering me . . ." She trailed off for dramatic effect, and Hilde felt a snort coming on, "Who's the baby's father?"

At that point, Dorothy did her best impression of an owl, blinking absently in a masterful display of serious confusion and cluelessness, her mouth formed into a small 'o', "Didn't Relena tell you? We were hoping you could tell us! Isn't that right Hilde?"

"Yep," the blue-black haired woman took a calm sip from the steaming cup of tea set before her despite the rather unsettling feeling of being seated near a suspected enemy.

The Darlian matriarch aimed a sharp stare at Duo's fiancee, "And what about you dear? I tried to visit you earlier this month only to find an empty house. Trouble in paradise?"

"Nope," Hilde said cooly, inwardly growling at the woman. It was no secret Relena's mother disapproved of the friendship between Relena and the Gundam pilots. It was also equally obvious to their tight little group that Mrs. Darlian -- sorry, *Joan* -- cared even less for her foster daughter's attachment to Hilde, Catherine, and Sally. Hilde resolved not to let the older woman's feigned friendliness and civil insults get to her. "Duo's out of town on business, so I'm staying here till he gets back."

"My, my . . . isn't that strange?" *Joan's* mouth turned down into a frown, "Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Barton, and Mr. Chang all gone while Relena's on vacation . . . "

"Coincidences -- so thought inducing," Dorothy murmured, her eyes somewhat vacant, and Hilde somehow knew she was thinking of Quatre who had left that morning with Sally Po to check on Relena and the others. It was the same look she often got when thinking of Duo.

An uneasy silence fell on the trio before *Joan*, making excuses and begging pardon, made to leave, but not before asking, "Are you sure you don't know how I can reach Relena? It's really important that I speak to her."

"No." Dorothy said with some finality before graciously inviting *Joan* to visit again sometime and asking a servant to see the older woman out.

When the study door closed, Dorothy rested her chin on her palms, elbows supported by her knees as she leaned away from the soft cushions of the chair in which she sat, "Well, THAT was interesting."

"I didn't even know she knew Trowa or Wufei . . . or Duo's last name for that matter," Hilde added thoughtfully, bright blue eyes meeting solid blue-gray across the short distance between them, staring at each other as realization set it.

There was no doubt about it. Relena's foster mother was a part of this. All they had to do was figure out how.

~ The next morning . . . around 2 AM at the Peacecraft/Maxwell/Barton/Chang residence (say that ten times fast O.O) ~

*1243 . . 1244 . . 1245 . . 1246 . . * Relena stared hard at the ceiling of her room, trying to count sheep, wondering why the 'sheep' all looked human, male, Heero. Pausing in her count, she glanced at the digital bedside clock. Two in the morning. Great.

Abandoning the idea of sleep, she first made her way to the bathroom to make a deposit, before quietly tip-toeing down the hall to step carefully down the stairs. She was still way too keyed-up from the whole attack, not to mention, the baby inside her seemed to have his/her days and nights mixed up. The kid was in danger of breaking one of her ribs.

She began to hum softly, rubbing her belly and feeling the movement within her. She then proceeded to fix herself a cup of warm milk, trying her best to keep the noise to a bear minimum. This was her private time to converse with her child and come to terms with the happenings of the day, and she didn't want to be disturbed by her bodyguards.

Staring into the ivory depths of the warming liquid, Relena's mind took her where it usually ended up anyway, settling on thoughts of her missing love. She wondered if he was ok, if he was thinking about her . . . She wondered when he was coming back.

The baby settled down, the head a pronounced lump bulging on the left side of her abdomen, and she giggled softly, wishing she could hold him/her in her arms.

"Well, Baby, what shall we talk about tonight, hmm?" Relena sat at the head of the small table, pouring the warmed milk in a pink mug with her name printed on it. She took a short sip, decided to let it cool a bit, and set it down on the table, leaning back against the chair and running a hand up and down her round belly, eyes closed.

"How 'bout I tell you about your Daddy?" A kick was her affirmative, and she smiled drowsily, her voice becoming faint as she spoke, "Your father . . . where do I begin? Sometimes I think I know what's going on in his mind, sometimes I wonder if I'm crazy, loving a perfect stranger, but I've known since we were just kids, only fifteen years old, that my heart was his forever." She giggled a little, "I think he knew it too. I think he thought it was just a crush, and then he came see me that last time." Another kick and a wiggle. "Yes, sweetie . . . and that's when we made you." She kissed her palm only to press her hand against the evidence of her pregnancy.

Her voice became a whisper as she went on, all humor gone from her face, "I hope you look like him, girl or boy, with eyes as bright and blue as the most perfect of skies and infinitely unkempt hair. I hope you grow up to have his strength and purity, but unlike him, you'll have a happy childhood, you'll have a big, loving family, and I adore you already." She smiled widely only to let it fade from her lips, "And I know that if he knew about you . . . I know he'd love you too."

Opening her eyes slowly, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Trowa standing across the table.

"How long --"

"How long has the baby been moving?"

Staring up at him, she felt a growing unease. Would he be hurt that she hadn't told them about the baby moving?

"About a week now."

He nodded then walked around to sit next to her, "Your milk will get cold."

Obediently she drank, wondering what was going through his mind, waiting for him to reveal his thoughts, but he said nothing, just sat and watched her. He was always watching her it seemed.

Taking one last gulp of the lukewarm liquid, Relena stared into her empty cup, biting her lower lip nervously, "Are you mad?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because I hid something from you and the others." It seemed to her, he had every right to be angry with her. They were friends . . . closer friends that she could have ever anticipated. Didn't friends tell each other this sort of thing? Shouldn't she be excited enough to want to tell him?

She felt his hand grasp hers under the table, "Everyone has their secrets. Come to bed."

Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to find him smiling at her, really smiling, "You're smiling." The baby kicked in agreement, and Relena gasped, not prepared for such an intrusion. She had thought the baby had fallen asleep.

"What's wrong?" The short-lived smile dropping in his usual non-expression, green eyes alight with concern.

"Nothing. Would you like to feel?" She didn't wait for an answer, pressing his hand to her tummy and giggling when the child inside her greeted Trowa. Her eyes rose to meet his only to find that his eyes were already fixed on her enlarged belly, his gaze bespeaking wonderment, his features softening as a small smile once again graced his lips, and a fledgling idea that had entered Relena's mind more than once over the long weeks spent in this house suddenly became clear and fixed.

"Trowa?" She smiled at the sparkling light in his eyes. He almost looked happy, his hand warm against her child's resting place beneath her heart, and she suddenly knew that this was the way it was meant to be, that what she was about to ask was right. "Trowa . . . I want you to be the baby's godfather."

"Me?" His eyes widened, mouth becoming lax with shock, and Relena laid her hand atop his to keep it there, nodding her head emphatically.

"Yes you. Please, consider it. You've been such a wonderful friend, supporting me through all of this, and I know I would never have survived if you hadn't been there by my side . . . To me, you've been like a guardian angel, and I want my child to always know he or she is looked after. I know that this is right. I want you as my baby's godfather. Please Trowa." She stared into his eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering, and gasped when she saw the glittering mist of tears form in his eyes. Trowa was . . . crying . . .

Getting up from her seat, Relena wrapped her arms about his shoulders, pressing his head to her chest as quiet sobs wracked his body. His arms came up and around the small of her back as he whispered that it would be an honor, and they stayed like that, Relena holding him as he cried, until he calmed a few moments later.

Looking up at her, Trowa wondered at the influence she exerted over nearly everyone she came into contact with, even those hardened and dehumanized by the lots life and destiny had handed them, even those like himself and Heero. She was amazing, and he realized how fortunate he was to have met her and to have gotten the chance to know her. And now she was asking him to be a permanent fixture in her child's life, the emotional overload pushing the boundaries of his self control. He dried his cheeks before standing and offering her his hand.

"Let's go to bed."

She nodded with a heartfelt smile, placing her hand in his much larger one, and together they ascended the steps to their bedrooms.

In the hours that followed, Relena fell into a deep sleep, no nightmares plaguing her rest for the remainder of the night.