Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, which is a registered trademark of Sotsu Agency Co., LTD. TM & Sunrise & under license by Bandai.
A/N- This was written for the gw500 LJ community's weekly prompts; this week's prompt was "trash." Mi Casa, Su Casa can be read as a companion story to my series, Valhalla, but also stands alone.
Mi Casa, Su Casa
by Terra
It had become a daily ritual. At the end of the work day, she would patiently load the shredder and watch as the blades dissected countless pages before spewing them out into the trash bag below. Then, she would tie the bag with a double-knot, sling it over her shoulder and carry it out to the dumpsters behind the federal building. If anyone wondered why the Vice Foreign Minister of Interstellar Affairs was taking out the trash, they wisely kept their thoughts to themselves. For Relena, it was cathartic, a necessary action to discard any residual worries that might follow her home.
When she walked into the office that morning, her colleagues had been aghast. Twenty-one, they reminded her, was an important time in a young woman's life. She had barely fielded a few phone calls, before she had been unceremoniously ushered out of the office, trash bag in hand and told in no uncertain terms that she would not be allowed back in until tomorrow. Relena considered being grumpy, then resigned herself to the wisdom of their words. She stared woefully at the lumpy trash bag before coming to a decision. She would throw it away and then head home for a long overdue bubble bath.
"You're taking out the trash."
Startled, her hand slipped off the hood of the dumpster and it clanged shut, narrowly missing her fingers. She said, wryly, "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"
"I don't see your security detail."
"You're awfully obvious today." Her voice was serene, barely containing her mirth. "It could be, because they're not here."
"You've become careless."
"And you've become paranoid. I can take care of myself."
"You didn't notice me approach."
"If I could have, then I wouldn't need you anymore, would I?"
He mulled her words over for a moment. "You need me?"
"Of course," she teased, "without you, I wouldn't have any idea what to do with my damsel self if I were kidnapped again. I may have to resort to such dramatic measures as escaping."
"You've changed, Relena."
"So have you. Don't look so surprised. Everyone changes."
He hesitated. "You've done well for yourself."
"I wish I could reciprocate your compliment," her tone was bittersweet, "but I haven't any idea what you've done for yourself, well or otherwise."
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, she looked at him, with a relentless gaze, not probing, not accusing, but full of an intensity he couldn't discern. It startled him how blue her eyes had become. Was it possible that he had forgotten how she always looked at him? But no, he hadn't forgotten. She had changed. She was not looking at him now with a demand in her eyes. She looked merely interested, curious. It took another moment for him to realize that her intensity came from her unconscious charisma, a forceful magnetism she was no longer aware of. He replied, "I went back to school to study architecture."
"Oh?" she smiled, pleased. "I always thought you might go into engineering, but architecture is much better."
He echoed, "Better?"
"Because you won't be able to hide behind a computer or in a laboratory. Your best will be on display for the world to see."
"What makes you think I want to hide?"
"Because you're very private," she paused, in consideration, "no, that's not all. You're the type who won't care about acknowledgment. It wouldn't bother you at all to work behind-the-scenes. That's why I'm glad you're going to be an architect, because you won't allow public opinion to sway you, either."
He said, slowly, "I didn't think about that. I just like construction – building, instead of …"
"Destroying?" she interrupted, softly.
"Yes."
"I'm happy for you."
"Thank you," his voice was rough, untrained, "but I'm here to wish you happiness today."
"I know."
He handed her a photograph. Her breath caught as she reached for it. As she took in its contents, she smiled genuinely, a sharp disparity from the practiced one always straining the muscles of her face. Relena was looking at the projection of a house – its glassy panes unafraid to reveal the contents within, the relentless skyward reach of its rafters and the utilitarian division of its spaces – her house, if she wanted it.
Heero said, "I graduated today. I came to offer my services."
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A/N- There are so many stories starring Relena that open with her hating the piles of paperwork on her desk, which I've always thought as terribly cliché, so I thought I'd write one where she shreds them instead. This was my first attempt at a flashfic. I'm one of those people who writes sprawling epic stories (as anyone who's read Valhalla can certainly attest to) so I hope this was enjoyable. Thanks for reading!