Chapter Text
President’s Suite
Brussels, Belgium
26 January 208
Duo sighed and leaned forward over his terminal, burying his face in his hands. After a brief respite over the holidays, the push for allies in the independence vote had come roaring back with a vengeance. If he had to field one more snarky email out of some junior staffer at the ESUN General Assembly, he may actually murder someone.
Or at least take up drinking.
But that may have already happened, Duo reflected. The office liquor cabinet had grown exponentially since September’s announcement of the schedule for December. A bitter laugh escaped his lips at the thought and he straightened. Against his better judgment, he checked the clock display on his monitor and suppressed a groan.
“Go home.”
Turning to look back over his shoulder, Duo found Analyn Mendoza, their Chief of Staff, hovering nearby. “I can’t,” he replied, fearing he sounded petulant and perhaps a bit defensive. The woman was one to talk. Duo was convinced the woman ran on caffeine and vindictiveness. He added, “I’ve got staffers to flay and alliances to build.”
Mendoza snorted and shook her head. “And miles to go before you sleep,” she quipped as she walked over to lean against the vacant desk next to his. “How many hours this week?”
Duo laughed at her. “Eh...no comment.”
“Fine. How many do we have in our court?”
Duo picked up the notepad next to his arm and leaned back in his chair as he skimmed the depressingly short list of names and offices. “Not enough,” he said flatly. “I have a call with the Disarmament Committee staff tomorrow. Global governance is out of their lane, but…”
“But they have Darlian.”
“To be blunt, yes.” Duo tossed the notepad back onto his desk. He loathed relying so heavily on the woman. He liked Relena, liked her a lot. But, Jesus Christ...no one person should have that kind of sway in the global order, and yet here they were. So what happens when her influence runs out? Relena had been a staunch ally in their efforts to get to ‘yes’ to even have a vote, but now they had to get to a ‘yes’ on independence. Allowing colonial self-determination was a much harder battle, made ironically worse by the decade of peace. The insidious notion that perhaps Earth and the colonies could continue the status quo, that the present arrangements weren’t that bad, was taking root faster than they could fight it. All of it fueled by the fear of the unknowable, he expected. Cowards , he thought with a grimace.
His boss read him like a book. “We’ll get there, Duo. I promise,” she told him. Her tone was startlingly earnest, heartfelt, which took him aback. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond. Pushing away from the desk, the kindness evaporated into strictly business once more. “Please go home,” Mendoza instructed. “Get some rest. We’ll start up again tomorrow.”