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" Untitled "Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Pairings: 3xR Summary:
" Untitled " Almost seven hundred channels, and the only thing that interested Trowa even a little was a documentary on long extinct Terran wildcats. Trowa supposed that there was a reason to have seven hundred channels on a television, but he was hard-pressed to figure out what that reason could be. Especially considering the fact that nearly all of the programming was appalling. So, after finally settling on the wildcat documentary, Trowa made himself a bowl of popcorn and settled on the couch. Athena, the gray tortoiseshell cat he had found abandoned on an L4 colony two years ago, curled up beside him. She pillowed her head against his thigh and blinked her large, green eyes lazily at the television screen until she fell asleep. Trowa found himself drifting off as well towards the end of the documentary. The only thing that kept him from falling asleep entirely was the program transitioning to the demise of the wildcats habitats during the Global Atmosphere Crisis that had also spurred the colonization of the moon. It was sobering stuff, and left a slightly sick feeling in his gut as he contemplated just how little humanity seemed capable of learning from its past mistakes. By the time the documentary began to cover the last days of the last captive wildcat, Trowa was starting to contemplate switching the television feed over to the parliamentary session - it would likely only be slightly less depressing than the documentary, but still. He was actually in the act of reaching for the remote when he heard the apartment door open and then close with a swift, angry thud that made him wince. Maybe he should have been watching the parliamentary session, Trowa couldn't help but think as he listened to the sharp, resounding clack clack clack of heels on the hardwood floor. Athena stirred, standing and stretching in anticipation, but Trowa found himself sitting cautiously still. Relena walked into the room, still wearing the white satin sash across her torso that the ESUN government decided she should wear at all formal and political occasions. To commemorate your dedication, they had said. To make you a target, Trowa had thought. Not just for assassinations - but for any unrest or ill will from the public. It was just all too easy to blame the young, beautiful girl in her virginal white sash - all too easy to write her off as naive or superfluous or superficial when she was forced to look like that. She stopped, mid-stride, and stared at Trowa, still seated cross-legged on the couch, the bowl of popcorn nestled between his legs. "I thought you couldn't be here until next week." Her tone was just as bitter and angry as her walk had been, but she looked shocked, not upset. "Wrapped up the mission early." Relena nodded, every line of muscle in her body tense. She looked towards the television screen, eyebrows lifting at the sight of extinct wildcats romping through grasslands. Trowa had learned, as a child, that it was better to wait and listen than to blunder into a situation without enough intelligence to come out of it unscathed. It was a lesson that had kept him alive in situations where he really ought to have died, and it was a lesson he had had to use from the very beginning of his relationship with Relena. He had made the mistake, a few months into their liaison, of ~ * ~ |
