Chapter Text
Apartment #718
New York, New York
206 February 23
That damn business card had been burning a hole in his wallet for the last two months. It stared at him every time Wufei opened the billfold, peeking out from behind a credit card, the crisp edge barely visible.
He hadn’t told the others of the exchange at the gala in December, though he suspected that perhaps Heero knew something about it. Whenever Wufei went off on some political tirade, his roommate would level him with a meaningful look that spoke volumes. “You know who would actually care about this,” those eyes seemed to say, “and it’s not me.”
But perhaps Wufei was simply projecting his own internal monologue onto the other man. After all, Heero gave no real indication that he knew anything about that damn business card, gave no outward suggestion that he was any wiser to Wufei’s internal struggles.
Because struggle he did. Those precious few hours with Relena had been...nice. She’d challenged him in ways he hadn’t realized he missed, weaving logic puzzles and traps of false rationality with the best of them. She’d single-handedly rekindled his lost love of the debate.
She’d rekindled far more than that, if he was honest with himself. He had needed a very long, cold shower upon his return to the apartment after the ESUN’s December gala just to scrub the sight of her in that dress out of his mind’s eye.
And even still she lingered, anchored to his daily life through that damn business card. As time passed, she whispered from his subconscious. Come now, Agent Zhang, she prodded as the challenges of his new job mounted, what’s the solution?
The days became weeks and the weeks became months until now — today — when he found himself writing her an email. Some lovesick monstrosity he deleted before hitting send. Thankfully.
But now he paced his room with that damn business card flipping over and over between his fingers, the crisp paper snapping as it turned. Up from his subconscious those clear blue eyes laughed and dared him to move a chess piece. She’d made her first salvo months ago and he’d ruminated on his response long enough. And yet the fear of miscalculation drove him into the purgatory of inaction.
Come now, Agent Zhang…
“God fucking dammit,” he cursed and slid into his desk chair. Opening a new browser window, he pulled up the news article that had prompted his aborted attempt at contact earlier in the day. The image at the top of the page had shown the new President speaking before some committee or other, but Relena sat not far away, her eyes glued to her mobile when the photo was snapped. Wufei dropped the article into a new email and wrote only, Any thoughts on the proceedings? Reports aren’t trending well. And before he could second-guess himself any further, he hit ‘send.’
Immediately dread hit him and he hurtled to his feet with the force of it, groaning between clenched teeth. Once more, he set to pacing his room with renewed vigor.
What if—
It’s gone it’s gone it’s gone—
Should he have—
Too late too late too late—
Wufei buried his face in his hands and sighed, defeated. Stupid…
And then his laptop pinged. Turning back to his desk, Wufei saw the message alert flash in the corner of his screen. He took a deep breath and walked back to his chair to sit down. Then he took a steadying breath and opened Relena’s reply.
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From: Darlian, Relena (Brussels)
To: Zhang, Wufei
Subject: RE: Reuters Article
Reports don’t have the full picture. Humans don’t respond quickly to change. They respond even worse when they’re organized into an entrenched bureaucracy. We’ll get there, I think.
PS: It’s good to hear from you. Been too long. How are you?
R
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