My first response to Smarty Cat's fanfic challenge on the subject of waxworks.

Warnings: Angst

Rating PG





Exhibit


by kmf



He watched her silently as he always did. She stood tall and proud,
resplendent in her latest designer fashion purchase and her hair was
twisted up into an elaborate style. Her face was a mask of serenity;
calm and peaceful, her mouth curved into the slight smile that she
always wore when she was in public. Her eyes were a little duller
than normal, missing the sparkle that usually enlivened them.

She was generous with her time, never refusing to attend an event she
was invited to in case it caused resentment amongst the people who
curried her favour. Most people would tire of such a gruelling
agenda, but she never minded being the main exhibit at an event such
as this. To her peace was more important that her health.

He often asked her to rest, to take time off, to go away somewhere
with him so they could be alone together. Somewhere where they could
spend time in each other's company away from the distractions and
demands of their day to day existence. She would wrinkle her nose
in a small frown as he tempted her with destinations where they could
be an ordinary couple for a short while. Her eyes would glitter with
excitement at the thought of a holiday away from the demands of the
Ministry. But always she would put him off, saying that next month
or next year would be better, that there would be plenty of time for
them to enjoy each other once the world and colonies fully accepted
peace. And he would acquiesce because he could never deny her
anything she wanted.

She stood still in the midst of a sea of people eager to see her, her
gaze fixed on him. For once, he was off duty as her bodyguard and
attended the event as her partner. Habit had taken over and he had
distanced himself from her, blending into the crowd content to
observe her from afar. She had been able to find him, her eyes
seeking out his across the crowded room. They silently gazed at each
other, sharing the moment content with each other's presence even
though they were separated by the milling crowd.

He frowned a little as she continued to stare at him, and his gaze
travelling slowly down to the gown that she was wearing. It
glimmered in the artificial light of the room, white and silver,
clinging to her figure as if it was a second skin. He seemed to
recall a red corsage pinned to her breast, startling blood red
against the white fabric of her dress. It was not there now, but the
thought of it made him feel uneasy; it made his heart beat faster
almost painfully in his chest. Panicked, his eyes leapt back to her
lips and once there safe he relaxed into her smile, his heart calming
as thoughts of red against white faded from his mind.

"....Heero..."

Her whispered voice called to him across the room. His name on her
lips made him forget everything else as it always did. He smiled and
whispered hers back silently promising himself that soon they would
be together.

"Relena..." he breathed.



* * * *



A startled scream issued from a woman who had been sitting on the
bench next to what she had assumed was a waxwork figure. Her
partner, who had been crouched in front of her taking her photo,
rocked back on his heels as she moved quickly away from the old man,
her hand clutching her chest and her frame shaking with embarrassed
laughter. He got to his feet, murmuring an apology to the old man,
who had become still again, staring once more at the waxwork in front
of him.

Grinning, the man wrapped his arm around the woman's waist, giving
her a squeeze of reassurance.

"He's an actor," he said confidently, "I heard that they employ a few
to give visitors a scare. If you watch long enough, you will see him
catch someone else out."

The woman smiled, glancing back at the white haired old man, his
unusually deep blue eyes fixed and staring, his face pulled into a
frown of concentration. Turning back to the exhibition, she watched
her husband peer down at the display and listened as he read out
details of the woman they were looking at.

"Relena Peacecraft Dorlian. Brought peace to Earth and the colonies,
and was assassinated shortly before her twenty fifth birthday. She
is depicted in a copy of the outfit she was wearing to the function
when she was killed," he paused crinkling his nose as he studied the
figure. "She was a bit of a looker; beauty and brains."

"Mmm, I remember studying about her when I was at school," the woman
commented, peering at the old fashioned dress. "I recall that the
assassin was just after the notoriety; he had no political
affiliations at all. Wasn't he found beaten to death...?"

She trailed off, as her husband obviously bored with the display,
walked towards the next one. Following, she glanced back at the bench
one more time. The old man remained still ignoring the curious stares
and whispers of the visitors. She thought for a moment that his eyes
looked sad and lost as he contemplated the long dead woman in front
of him.

Then she grinned. The atmosphere of the waxwork museum was obviously
getting to her if she was thinking that he was pining for a woman
dead nearly sixty years.

After all, he was just a part of the exhibit.


End