CHAPTER 14- The Dark Hours

A/N: WARNING….Limey at the end. I know that many of you have been pleased that this series have been very clean of sex, but at this point, it was necessary for the story. I tried to keep it very tasteful and is NOT in any way explicit. I found it important to the plot and the growth of the characters, gomen ne!

Also, I wanted to thank all of you have been reviewing so consistently and not being afraid to tell me what you think. You guys rule!

~Moonkitty

"Tyrone?"

The small boy pulled off the thin blanket that smothered him and turned to her right, flipping partly onto his stomach, facing the other child that was lying on the cot beside him.

"What is it, Latka?"

"What's it like?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's it like in the Machine?" Latka whimpered, "They test me in it tomorrow."

"It's okay. Just let your mind focus on other things." Tyrone said bravely, "My parents were on Lx436 during the hostage situation last year. The Mob killed them along with sixty others when the ESUN refused to negotiate," the boy whispered in the darkness, "So when I control the Machine, I think about their faces as they were being killed, and how wonderful it will feel to avenge them. As long as you have a reason to fight, you know you'll survive, 'cos you can't die until you beat your enemy. If helping Doctor J helps me avenge my parents, I'll risk being torn to bits."

The other boy was silent for a while, "I think I understand."

"Then you'll have nothing to worry about."

"My name is Relena Darlian, and I have been sent as an envoy to represent the ESUN to observe the conditions the mining colonies have been subjected to. I am also supposed to discuss the recent terrorist threats of many organizations within the colonies." Her voice was clear, her expression cool and composed, "My duty was to 'find a solution.' But this, loosely translated into political terms, means to protect the interests of the companies that make rather large campaign contributions to my party."

A poor television station supervisor turned to his attendant, who was pressing buttons frantically.

"Turn this off! What happened to our regularly scheduled programs?"

The attendant looked like he was close to tears, "I don't know, sir! The signal's too strong!"

"I'm awfully sorry for interrupting your TV shows, people of ESUN, but I didn't really have a choice. This information will not be brought to your attention in any other way. Many of you have no idea what a mining colony looks like. Let me show you."

The camera followed Relena's delicate figure. She was dressed in a conservative black number that was rather informal.

Still, it could not hide the elegant lines of her body or the regal way with which she carried herself. She crouched beside several children, all of whom were moaning with swollen bellies and wide, hunger-laden eyes.

There were men and woman as well, most half bent and coughing from the dust and inadequate protection. Some moaning like dogs with pain from diseases and others walking along absently, feeling the rocks beside them or staring at Relena with a blank, disease-ravaged intelligence.

Many of the young teenage ones shouted complaints. Some carried posters.

But it was the middle-aged ones who were the most moving.

They simply walked as if they still had stones burdening them, their work thickened muscles coated with permanently stained skin, and the pained terror in their eyes that showed that they were close to death.

Relena looked kept walking, to the mining shafts, to the factories, and the camera continued to follow, jarring in a nauseating motion with ever step of the cameramen.

Finally, Relena stopped, "The ESUN wants me to stop the terrorism. The Mafia here wants to keep it in place so that they may continue to rule in tyranny. The presidential candidates want to twist this to their benefit.

"But who, my good fellow citizens, who out of the lot of them cares about the people? You have seen how bad things really are. Now you must decide for yourselves the action we should take to stop this problem. Each person can make a difference, but remember this, a nonviolent solution will take longer to achieve, but will always have more lasting results.

"We created peace three years ago not out of tiredness of war, but out of the common agreement that peace was better! Violence is only vengeance glorified. Decide the path that you prefer and complain! My orders come from the ESUN, and if I resign, I am powerless. Make the ESUN change their decision to make me hammer out a pact with terrorists. Let me help the people. Let me save the children."

And any threats Relena had against her life just tripled.

Ariel Yuy cocked her head as she watched Relena's procession. She had made a good decision to use the Foreign Minister to get herself into the presidential office.

Jour scowled over his next move.

Wayridge was pensive.

Relena buried her face in Heero's woolen sweater as he put down the camera. He loped one arm around her shoulders, feeling her quake against him.

"It had to be done, didn't it?"

"You had to manipulate them. It was your only option."

"What are we going to do, Heero? They'll all want me dead. I won't be able to help dead."

She lifted her tear-streaked face to his, her eyes pleading with him to let her draw strength from him, which of course he gladly gave.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

She sighed and settled her shoulders, taking the world's problems on her shoulders once more. Heero found himself resenting her. Couldn't she allow the ESUN to run without her? Why did she have to blame herself for every bad thing that happened? Why did she always close herself away in pain in solitude?

Senator Ariel Yuy put down her morning paper. It was full of news of hunger strikes, work strikes, letter-writing campaigns, and petitions. She didn't exactly enjoy nonviolent movements, they always seemed slightly too cultish for her tastes.

Still, it proved one thing.

Relena had become a master at using her people.

Ariel closed her tawny eyes and imagined victory within her grasp. It would only be a short while now before she would get the most respected job available.

It as dark, but there were only a few hours until day would return. Heero had settled himself at Relena's bedside, well aware that almost everyone on the mining colonies wanted nothing more than to kill her. He never believed in putting his time to ill-use.

He could have been doing a million other things, but he found his hands reaching for a sketch book and paper, and he had settled himself down to draw Relena's sleeping face.

They were in the shuttle that they had docked onto the colony with, and Heero had encoded all of the safety mechanisms a thousand times, making sure there was no way the colony could auto eject the spacecraft until he decided to. These few moments were the calm before the storm, and the soldier in Heero knew that things would get ugly real soon.

But during those few dark hours, it really didn't matter. She frowned as he examined her face. Portraits did not just mean technical precision. To create the perfect portrait one had to exaggerate slightly, with perhaps the shapes of the nose or the shade of the lip. It was not distortion to create a travesty, but to define a personality.

It was very intimate and personal to be allowed to stare at someone's face, to hungrily devour every curve, every nuance of the subject's features.

He would have felt embarrassed if he had been looking at anyone else, but Relena was always different in that respect.

First, there came a rough outline, then the definition of features. He shaded carefully and lightly, constantly aware of the scratching sound his pencil made on the rough paper.

His palms sweated from the crouched position of his hand.

He rubbed them on his pants and continued to work.

When he was done at last, he admired his handiwork. It was by no means perfect, but it was clearly obvious who it was. It was, however, a sad face, marked by pain and doubt.

Now that he understood the contours of her flesh, he drew her again in a different pose, with eyes open and a smile tugging her lips. He liked the smiling one better.

And then, the unexpected happened.

Relena opened her soft, gentle eyes.

They remained that way for a moment. Her weary face was pale in the small amount of light that streamed in from the port outside. She in turn, looked at him, at his dark eyes and mysterious expression.

"Heero."

"Yes?"

The questions had already been asked in that brief moment. Their hearts lay bare before each other.

"Lay with me, if only for tonight." She said softly, a gentle request that could easily be denied or accepted, and he was comforted by the knowledge that she would not weep over his reply. She felt the urge to continue, "I won't manipulate you. Just, if you can, could you please help me make something beautiful? The world has become ugly in my eyes. You always give me so much strength."

And that night he gave himself to her, and her unto him, bestowing upon each other the sweet burden of their hearts, their souls, and their bodies.

They whispered the words that were only dared in dark hours such as these, when life itself seems to hover on the edge of the pit of oblivion. The did not speak aloud or cry out in passion, only murmured, not daring to intrude upon the quiet stillness of the night, and knowing fully that when the alarm rang, the magic would end, and harsh reality was all that remained to face them.