The Broken Road

Chapter 8: Homecoming

Heero wearily dragged his duffle bag from the passenger seat of his car. Readjusting his shoulders to the weight, he locked the vehicle and moved towards his apartment. His chest felt tight- he knew that was from worrying about Relena. What he really needed now was time alone to sort through his thoughts. It had been a long, eventful weekend.

Heero paused with his key in the lock, noting the sound of a television. He shoved the door open to find Gloria lounging on his couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. His bag fell to the floor. Gloria was on her feet instantly.

"Welcome home," she said in a dangerously sweet tone. Heero just stared at her, face blank. She stepped towards him. He crossed his arms. "Remember me? I'm your girlfriend, you bastard!" she screamed, hurling the bowl of popcorn in his general direction. He didn't even need to duck, which only infuriated her more.

"What the hell ever happened to 'Call me if you need me'?" she spat. Heero pulled his phone from his pocket. 62 missed calls. He hadn't even glanced at it after it had been recovered. He should have known her calls would rack up.

"Couldn't you have just left a voicemail?" he commented.

"Couldn't you have just called me back?"

"My phone was found in the fire pit. It was on silent."

"And how exactly did it get there, Heero?"

"Somebody put it there," he answered.

"Why would somebody put your phone in the fire pit?" she demanded.

"Ask Duo," Heero shrugged. For a second she stood there, bug-eyed, looking like she was about to explode. The quiet didn't last.

"YOU ARE SO INCONSIDERATE!" she screamed. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! YOU'RE TRYING TO GET RID OF ME!"

She threw herself back onto the couch, sobbing.

"There is no 'try', Gloria. Failure is not an option. If I wanted to get rid of you, you'd be gone."

"That's it!" she exclaimed. "You're sleeping on the couch!"

Heero stared at her in disbelief. He glanced around himself, just to be sure. Yes. This was his apartment. Why was she even here? He was already emotionally spent; he didn't have the will to calm Gloria. He just wanted to unpack and write an email. Instead, he was faced with defusing the bomb that was his girlfriend. Severely irritated, he lifted his duffle bag and turned his back on her, making his way to the laundry room. As he began sorting laundry by color, fabric, and level of soil, he swiftly dialed his best friend.

"Hello?" came her nervous voice.

"Relena," he acknowledged coolly.

"Heero!"

"Miss me yet?" he smirked.

"Of course," she told him. "I take it you miss me, too?"

"Has your flight left yet?"

"Yes, we took off a little while ago," she answered tersely. He chuckled.

"Relax. Nothing will happen. Those in-sphere flights are very reliable. I called because Gloria was waiting in my apartment. Angry. Buy roses on your way home."

"Roses, Heero?" she asked skeptically.

"Fine. Lillies," he teased.

"Don't be cruel," Relena sighed. Then she yawned. Her flight-tolerance sedative was kicking in. Heero smirked.

"Later, Relena. Have a good nap."

"You think you're clever, Mr. Yuy. Good day."

They disconnected. Relena yawned again and settled peacefully into her seat. Heero tried to relax his shoulders as he leaned against the humming washer. He should have stayed in the Lakes Region. He didn't care that it wasn't practical- he'd been happier there than he'd been anywhere else in a long time. Wistful thoughts were not truly in his nature, though. He pushed them aside and prepared to face Gloria.

A bell at the shop entrance tinkled pleasantly as Relena entered. She stepped uncertainly towards the display case. As she was examining a beautiful bouquet of lillies, a stout woman emerged from the back room.

"May I help you?" the woman began, then a startled expression overtook her features. "Miss Vice Foreign Minister Relena Dorlain, Ma'am!"

"Miss Dorlain is fine," Relena told her uncomfortably.

"Is there something I can do for you? How may I help you? What are you looking for today?" the excited woman inquired.

"Some flowers," Relena tried to answer politely, thinking that this was obvious. This was a flower shop, wasn't it?

"Yes, of course. Which type? Which variety? Which ones?"

"Well-"

"Are they for a wedding?!"

"No, I-"

"An engagement party?!"

"No, I just-"

"For a romantic evening with your secret lover?!"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't offend," the shop owner replied quickly. Relena felt the urge to run, but she'd been brought up better than that. She would face this woman with dignity and a gracious smile. She nearly cursed as she felt her traitorous feet inching backwards.

"They're just for a friend."

"Oh! A friend! A companion! A girl-pal!"

"No, a male friend," Relena emphasized. The shop owner's eyes widened. Relena felt diplomacy slipping out of her grasp.

"Is he gay?"

"No, he's most certainly not."

"But... flowers?"

"They're friendly flowers. Do you have anything like that?" Relena asked, getting impatient. "Roses, perhaps?"

"Roses? Mercy, no! Not for friendly flowers. And for a man? Ah. Well, let me think."

She crossed around the counter to look at the cooler that held all of her flowers. She tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully, craning her head back and forth to find the perfect blossoms.

"Ma'am, please, I'd like to get home. I've had a very long flight," Relena ground out. The shop owner remained deeply engrossed in her task. Relena resisted the urge to glance at her watch. Instead she stole a glance out the shop's front window to where her driver waited patiently for her.

"I've got it! You know, I can make a gorgeous arrangement using just greens," she declared. "How would that be? It's masculine, but gives the message that you care."

"Fine, perfect, great!" Relena exclaimed in exasperation. The shop owner beamed and set to work. Ten minutes later, Relena was climbing back into the car, feeling like a complete idiot. Dorothy would have a hay-day with this story. She glanced down at the bundle of greens in her lap. It was rather inventive, truly, but in Hale's eyes Relena was sure it was just a pile of weeds. Why, in all the sphere, hadn't she just stuck with roses?

"Heero, this is all your fault," she groaned as the car made its way to her flat.

"I talked to Duo about us visiting, it's not as if I forgot you existed."

"Oh, so you remembered to talk ABOUT me, but didn't bother to talk TO me?!" she returned.

"I see you every day."

"So? So you're sick of me?"

Heero nearly answered "yes", but caught himself. He speedily recovered and opted for plan B.

"I'm home now," he told her. "I'll spend the day with you to make up for it."

"You think I'll just forget about this?!" she cried indignantly.

"We can watch whatever movie you want to, order pizza, and you can pick the ice cream."

Her crying receded slightly. She lifted her face from the pillow she'd buried it in. It was beat red from having cried for the past hour without stop. Heero watched her silently, waiting for a verbal reaction.

"I can pick the movie?"

Heero gave the slightest inclination of his head.

"And the toppings?"

Again, he nodded stiffly.

"And the ice cream?"

Another affirmative.

"Alright," she decided. "I forgive you. Give me the phone, I'll order the pizza."

Heero knew that giving Gloria free license was a dangerous tactic, but also one with assured success. As he watched her order his least favorite toppings, he almost wished that his weekend had gone on forever. He didn't wish it, because it was a self-indulgent wish, and he'd been trained against such things.

So, Heero ate the ham and pineapple pizza. He curled up on the couch with his high-maintenance girlfriend, watching "Die Hard" and "Sweetheart"- two of his least favorite movies.

Gloria had never understood why Heero hated action movies. She claimed that it was feminine of him. He never argued. What was the point defending himself against such a ridiculous claim? Really, he just despised the senseless killing. He'd had more than his fill of violence, and the scenes that Gloria found most exciting, Heero found dramatic and completely unrealistic. As for the corny romance films- Heero preferred something with a bit of humor in it. "Sweetheart" was dripping with sickeningly sweet scenes and unbelievable proclamations.

Needless to say, the movie night didn't capture Heero's attention very successfully. He had an encore of superman ice cream to look forward to, which was a flavor he loathed. It was obvious that Gloria simply wanted to punish him, but he'd been through worse. Instead of being bothered, he found himself composing his next email to Relena in his head. She'd be very interested in the turtle he'd saved from certain death on the drive home. He wondered how her reunion with Hale had gone and whether or not she'd had to avoid any flying objects.

Good luck, Relena, he mused.

Relena fumbled with her key, trying to balance her hefty bag, the "flowers", and her purse all in one arm. Finally, she dropped everything on the floor, and wrenched the door open. She dragged her belongings across the threshold and slammed the door shut behind her. She was exhausted; her sedative was still eliciting a definite effect.

The lights were off- that meant no Hale. She flipped them on and ventured forward, just to be sure.

"Hale?" she called, feeling foolish. She didn't know whether she had expected some sort of welcome, but she felt relieved that at least she didn't have to face his potential wrath yet. Now, hopefully, she'd get the chance to listen to his many voicemails before she talked to him.

She put the exotic arrangement in a vase, admiring its structure. She'd never have thought to combine bamboo and ferns herself, but then, she wasn't a florist. It looked striking in her blue ceramic vase, and Relena was glad that she'd be able to keep it for herself. She felt slightly guilty for having told the florist that they were only for a friend. The woman's nose was obviously sniffing for gossip, though. The last thing Relena wanted to deal with was a slew of engagement rumors after a long weekend. She was already behind.

As if testament to this, her phone blinked insistently in the corner of her vision. She'd instructed her secretary to forward all important messages to her home phone. Hardening her resolve, she approached the menacing object, ready to accept her fate. 26 flashed impudently at her in red.

With a sigh, Relena gathered a reliable pen and a large pad of paper to begin sorting through the mess. Perched unhappily on a stool at the counter, she glared at the machine that sat before her. Almost involuntarily, her finger depressed the button labeled 'Play'. The voice of her secretary came speedily at her from the speaker.

"Miss Dorlain, this is Marcy Kish. There is a serious conflict- it's Senator Walton Edwards again about proposal 14. He's staunchly refusing to cooperate until Senator Mitra Tiramen reconsiders his points about the economical issues imminent with the proposal. He's been calling non-stop. I told him you were on private leave, but he was adamant. He certainly won't let anyone but you get involved...."

Marcy's voice went on to detail the contact information and cited the specific sections of the proposal that were under question. Marcy was followed by a message from Hale, reminding Relena to call him as soon as she got back. Hale was followed by a representative from the Green Committee, thanking Relena for her attendance at the last meeting, briefly listing some updates, and requesting her presence at the next meeting. Her dentist called to remind her of an upcoming cleaning. Relena whipped out her planner and checked that she had the appointment written in. Her tailor called to tell her the pink suit was ready for pick-up, but not the blue. Marcy left another message about a call from the Foreign Minister. The Foreign Minister called and left a lengthy message about public relations in the Eastern Eurasia Region. Marcy, again. One of Relena's partners in colony cluster L1 had a question about the phrasing of a contract between L1 and L3. The tailor. The blue suit was ready. The Middle American Legion of Peacemakers called to request her for a speech at their convention.

The messages went on and on.

By the time she laid down for bed, Relena's head was swimming with all the things she had to do the next day, all the calls she had to make, and all the people she had to please. Hale was the last thing on her mind, and her call to him was left forgotten. She tossed and turned for nearly an hour before sheer exhaustion won out.

Heero was vacuuming up the popcorn Gloria had poured all over his carpet the night before. Thankfully, he knew she'd be sleeping in until noon, since she'd stayed very late watching movies. So, for the moment, his apartment was peaceful. Late nights didn't stop Heero from having early mornings.

It was a Tuesday. Heero had a mess of lectures to attend all morning, but he had an hour before the first one started. Although he had just finished his midterms, he was back full force again. Stowing the vacuum in the closet, he straightened the cushions on the couch. Gloria's favorite bracelet was stuck beneath one. He pocketed it and made a note to return it.

Satisfied with the condition of his apartment, he began packing his school bag. One heavy textbook followed another as he prepared for his classes. Finally, he packed his laptop in with the rest. Fully ready, Heero pulled the straps of his bag over his shoulders. He turned of his light, shut his door, and locked it.

As he crossed the parking lot, he gently stretched his calves. Up ahead, the commuter bus that went to campus flashed its lights and pulled out into traffic. Heero broke into a run, glad to be on time. His mornings always worked like clockwork. He hit the sidewalk, carefully adjusting his posture so that his heavy pack wouldn't shift as he ran. Almost as soon as it had pulled out, the bus had to stop at a traffic light. Heero mused that better planning could prevent such a thing. As he did every morning, he ran past the bus. The driver gave him a cheerful wave. He saluted her.

The first few mornings that Heero had begun this routine, the aged driver of the 241 had thought he was running to catch her. She kept opening her doors as he approached the light. He had paused to see if something was the matter. Each time, seeing that she expected him to board, he shrugged and continued on his way. Naturally, he'd told Relena about it. She insisted that he speak directly to the woman and explain his actions. So, at the end of the week, Heero had gone out a few minutes earlier and boarded the bus. He explained that he preferred to run, that he was studying to enter med school, and that his route was faster, anyhow.

Martha, the driver, hadn't believed a word of it. She suspected that it was only pride that prevented him from the boarding the bus once it had departed. She told him that he was too young to be studying for med school. She was also certain that running to campus couldn't be faster than taking the bus.

"Besides," she had told him sternly, "it's just too far." Heero had shrugged. He wasn't interested in explaining his past to this woman, and he certainly wasn't worried about whether she thought him a liar or not. Apparently, Martha was worried about it, though. So he stayed on the bus and talked to her on the way to campus. She wanted to know how his route varied from her own. He told her which alleys were short cuts on foot, and told her that as a long-distance runner, six miles was an easy trip. Still skeptical, they'd arranged a friendly bet. On Monday, Heero would run, as usual. If he arrived at the bus stop on campus before her, she'd cover the fee he'd paid to ride that day. If she got there first, he'd have to ride the bus for a week.

On Monday, it rained heavily. Heero was unabashed, as his bag was completely waterproof. He made his way to the bus stop. The usual commuters were bunched around the door, anxious to board the bus and be out of the rain.

"Martha," Heero had called.

"Heero? Dear, we don't have to race today!"

"Rain has never stopped me before," he answered confidently. "Your route will be extra slow today."

"How do I know you won't catch a ride around the corner with a friend?" Martha asked suspiciously. Heero just stared at her. Martha finally nodded, seemingly satisfied with his integrity. "Alright. Let's see what you've got."

The sidewalks had been especially bare, as they always were in poor weather. Heero made his way easily towards campus. He jumped the large puddle in the alley between the bakery and dry cleaner's on Main. He had to dodge a large umbrella that took up most of the sidewalk, but those were his largest obstacles along the way.

At the bus stop on campus, Heero waited patiently for the 241 to pull up. He watched the 234 and the 268 come and go. Finally, Martha arrived. She gaped at him. Then she jokingly blamed the weather. As Heero had predicted, her route had been unpleasantly slow. So they'd had a rematch, then another. Martha was very impressed by him. She declared that he was always welcome on the 241 if he wanted someone to talk to.

Once in a while, she still opened her doors for him at the traffic light. He'd board and they would catch up. Heero wasn't a natural conversationalist, but Martha was always full of questions. She'd even invited him to a family picnic once. Over the years, they'd become fairly good friends. Martha had even turned down an offer for a different route a year ago.

Heero picked up the pace as the buildings of campus came into sight. Students were swarming the sidewalks, all comparing exam experiences and stories from the weekend. Heero avoided the crowds by cutting across the lawns. He had to pay homage, anyhow. In the center of the grassy expanse that spread before the main building of the university was a statue. It was the image of a man with one arm raised to the sky and the other held outstretched before him.

"Good Morning, Treize," Heero said. He inclined his head slightly towards the noble figure. He stood in silence for a short while, then he smiled. "We still have peace." His smile remained as he made his way to the first lecture of the day.

Classes, for Heero, meant plenty of solitude. He usually read the textbook while listening to the lecture and taking notes on his laptop simultaneously. The other students were intimidated by this and kept their distance. Today's lesson was on wounds caused by explosions. Heero didn't bother to take notes.

A new student, most likely a transfer, chose to sit next to Heero. She noticed that he was deeply engrossed in a textbook for another class.

"You'll fail the test if you don't listen," she whispered haughtily, not daring to take her eyes of the projections of wounds that the professor was displaying. Heero ignored her and her frantic note taking.

"Aren't you even going to look? How will you know the difference between a wound caused by flying shrapnel and the ones that split from impact alone? You won't know the difference between a laser burn and an ultra-heat missile burn. Really, aren't you too young for this class, anyhow? Are you sure you're in the right place? You don't even have the right book." She'd stopped writing and turned to glare at him pointedly. Annoyed, Heero finally looked at her.

"This is caused by shrapnel," he told her, pointing to a scar on his left forearm. He turned, rolling up his sleeve and exposing a scar on his shoulder. "This is from impact. The one on my hand is from a laser," he jabbed pointedly at the back of his neck, "but this one is from a UHM."

She shut her mouth and turned her attention back to the lecture. Somebody behind them was snickering. Heero ignored them all and returned to his textbook. This lecture took place simultaneously with his History of Medicine class, so he had to do both readings at the same time. He simply did not have time for snotty classmates and crazy girlfriends.

It was Friday before Relena realized that she still hadn't seen Hale. Marcy had come in to offer Relena more coffee, but on her way out, she made an offhanded comment about the empty vase on the table near the door.

"Oh, curse all the sphere!" Relena exclaimed, startling her secretary. "Marcy, I forgot to call him. I've just been so busy!"

And she had. Relena had hardly slept since her return from the Lakes Region camping trip. She'd been pouring over documents, calling representatives, senators, and business professionals.

"You'd best call him right away, then," Marcy insisted, thinking fast.

"I simply can't. I've got so much work to do and he'll want to go to dinner tonight!"

"I'll call for you and leave a message with his secretary. She never gives him your messages. Don't worry about a thing, Miss Dorlain."

"Thank you, Marcy. Really. You don't know how grateful I am," Relena sighed. Marcy just smiled.

"I'll be back with more coffee shortly."

Relena bent back over her work, carefully reading through the new adjustments to Proposal 14. She prayed that both Senators Tiramen and Edwards would be satisfied. Why doesn't the Foreign Minister ever do this, she wondered irritably. The Foreign Minister rarely appeared in the office. He spent most of his time meeting with diplomats in the colonies and all across the sphere. Relena was grateful for being grounded, but the paperwork was tiresome.

She rubbed subconsciously at her eyes, which were dry from lack of sleep. The only thing that kept her going was the constant intake of caffeine. Finally, she skimmed through the final page of the proposal, confident that the changes would satisfy both parties. She slid the thick stack of papers into an envelope and pinned a note to it, outlining exactly who needed to get the document from Marcy.

Leaning back, Relena examined her cluttered desk. She wasn't sure which documents she wanted to start on, next. They were all marked "Important", but none of them seemed pressing to her.

A soft sound alerted her to a personal message on her phone. She wondered if it was Hale, calling her back after all. Reluctantly, she pulled her cell from her coat pocket. How could she explain to Hale that she was completely spent and had no energy for dinner? They had yet to celebrate the success he'd had on his all-important case. Relena was pleasantly surprised to find that the message was not from Hale at all, but from the trusty Heero Yuy.

'Relena. You're working too hard. It's Friday. Go home.'

"Easier said than done, super Heero," Relena joked quietly. She smiled in spite of herself, and quickly texted him back.

'Heero. I've got a job to do, and a lot of work.'

It was a matter of a few moments before his reply appeared before her eyes.

'Take it with you. You have a home office. Finish your work in those horrible bunny slippers.'

Relena laughed aloud. She glanced up to see Marcy at the door, an eyebrow raised. Relena weighed her options thoughtfully. Then she smiled.

"Miss Dorlain, you've been grim all week," Marcy commented. "It's good to see your spirit back."

"I got a little overwhelmed, Marcy. I'm going home early. If you could take care of these documents before you go home, I'd appreciate it," Relena explained, indicating the envelope. Marcy grinned. She knew that Relena had been working very long hours all week, staying long after everyone else had called it a night.

"Don't take too much with you. It'll still be here in the morning," Marcy told her knowingly. Relena smiled, selecting five or six stacks of paper from her desk and shoving them in her briefcase. She shrugged on her coat and turned off her office light.

There was nothing she wanted more than to curl up in bed with her bunny slippers while she went through the rest of her work. How Heero knew she was at the office, she wasn't sure. How he knew exactly what she needed when not even she was aware of it was even more mystery, but for the time being, she was just glad to have him in her life.

Alright, so I know it's been forever and a day since I last updated, but stuff happens. Anyhow, if you're still out there, show me some love :)

-Izzy