AN: This was weird, very much so. It was intended to be a myriad little one shot but then Zechs appeared and messed everything up. The first part is a lot of internal thinking, rambling, demented feeling. Please give it a chance if you can and some feedback would be wonderful!
Disclaimer: GW belongs to whoever owns GW. I borrow their names and likenesses only.
She would admit that her behavior at times was misleading. The tenderness she showed towards him, that unquestioned willingness to follow him, to protect him, to accept any word or action of his without hesitation. She had a weakness for beauty. And he had beauty. He breathed it, shined with it, his hair, his shoulders, the perfectly cut soldier's body with the delicate face. The royal heart beating and pumping royal blood. If there was a flaw with him it would be his voice. It was husky, but it was slightly acidic. What she displayed, what she gave to him, was never insincere. It was the fact that she treated him this way that was misleading to everyone else. This unearned reputation of sympathy, devotion, loyalty. She had all of those things only for him and for other beautiful things. If he was not so beautiful she might have been convinced to defect over to the side of the Gundam pilots earlier.
They all had the potential, raw potency. But it was not refined. With Zechs, his beauty was blooming, it was growing, but it had also been channeled and was not left as a potential for greatness. And so she stayed with him. This attraction to beauty left her feeling hollow, empty, unfulfilled and fearful. She wondered of her own capacity to love. It wasn't that she could not stand the ugly, the repulsive, the dank and disgusting. It was that when beauty came, she followed. If anyone came along, smelling of orchids, skin golden clean and always hot to the touch, fine eyebrows, clear features and shining hair, she would undoubtedly leave Zechs, leave the Preventers and follow this man or woman until her attentions were pulled elsewhere. Maybe in a few more years, when the ex-pilots had grown more.
Noin closed her eyes and thought again of how delicate her hold onto this life was. She was sure that if someone with more beauty then Zechs came along, she would follow. And she would leave this life behind without any significant hesitation. But how much hesitation would there be? Would she regret it? This life of routines, of surety, of friends and a steady job with good pay? Would she ever miss Zechs? She had orchids sitting at her desk, wild, riotous in form if not color. Long, shapely velvet petals with intense specks of violent pink. Noin reached her hand out to brush a finger against a petal. She bought these for herself because the scent soothed her. This was the scent she associated with beauty. This elegant, foreign smell only slightly ruined by the tinge of green life. They reminded her of Zechs, though to be true to him, the orchids would have to be white with either pale blue or dark gray speckles. But the pink added color. She needed color in her life right now.
This was the beginning of the third week without Zechs. He was off on a mission in Bosnia regarding smuggled weapons. And since Heero's knowledge of weapons was superior to her own, he had gone with Zechs. She thought of that thin, wiry body, rough brown hands and dark fingernails. His eyes saved him. The dark, brutal shade of bluish-purple, a sweep of sky before night floods over. His eyelashes were peculiar, an almost faint shade of brown, a shade too dark to be blonde. He was rough beauty, untamed, uncared for and if he grew taller, when his senses changed