She stood in front of her bedroom mirror, losing herself in the aquamarine pools that were staring back at her. Relena watched the reflection she was so familiar with for a long while before turning on her heel with a decisive swish of her robe. The face in the mirror was no longer hers, she reminded herself. She had been losing that person very slowly and for a long time now. That person, with her honey-colored hair and blue-green eyes, was nothing more than a memory trapped between glass and silver. Soon it wouldn’t even be there, either. That woman was for the history books to remember. She was a person necessary to keep the world alive, but doing so had killed her.

Relena flicked on the light in the bathroom and went straight to the shower, avoiding the medicine cabinet mirror. She turned on the hot water, letting it run through her fingers absently while she waited for it to warm up. It reminded her of the decontamination showers at the research facility.

****

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” the young man asked for the third time, while measuring out fluid in a syringe. “The research on its effects hasn’t been completed yet.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” The young doctor looked at her over the rims of his glasses. He didn’t know why this young woman was so eager to risk her health like this, but whatever the reason, it had to be quite important to her. She was young, healthy, and very lovely. He surmised that she must be a movie star, the way she hid her face behind her sunglasses, held her head up high, and walked as if she always had a purpose. She was a far cry from the twelve that had volunteered prior to her. They were all meek and cowering types, as if a different hair color might change their luck with life.

“The potassium iodate will shield your body’s thyroid gland and prevent it from absorbing any radioactive iodine.” She extended her arm and he administered the drug. After discarding the needle into a bio-hazardous waste container, he picked up her file off of the desk. “A nurse will prep you for the IV of MM-13,” he looked down at the name written on the application at the top of the file, “Miss Collins.”

Ilene Collins. An alias to be sure, but somehow, it fit. Ilene seemed a perfect match for that long black hair, contrasting so sharply with her pale skin, and crimson lips. The only name perhaps more suited to her would have to be Snow White. She was definitely an accurate modern day depiction, right down to her tailored black suit with the modest skirt that ended just above her knees and heeled shoes that clicked as they walked down the tiled floor toward the radiation room.

It was noted in her file that this would be her third and final visit. This struck him as unusual since after radiation therapy, the patients were required to come in for follow up examinations every three months. She must have put down a lot of money for the kind of special treatment she was getting. During her two preliminary examinations she had talked little, save to answer the doctors’ questions, and revealed nothing about herself to anyone, not even who her regular doctor might be, as if that little tidbit of information might give away all of her secrets. What he wouldn’t give to get a look at her mitochondrial DNA.

He stopped suddenly at a blank door, causing Relena to stumble slightly to keep from walking into his back. She hated high heels; what she wouldn’t do for a pair of flats or even her boots right now. What’s more, she had thought that once she had become Vice-Foreign Minister she would be free of the restricting skirts of her childhood. But here she was, wearing a skirt and stiletto heels, and all the while putting her trained poise and grace to the test trying not to scratch her itchy scalp and get hair dye under her fingernails.

“Inside you’ll find a gown,” he waved at the door. “When you’ve finished changing just leave your clothes on the chair. A nurse will be here when you come out.” And with that he left her alone, his footsteps echoing depressingly in the empty corridor.

The room, it turned out, offered no comfort, and if anything, was more depressing. Folded neatly on a cold metal chair in the corner of the small bare room was a plain hospital gown with matching courtesy slippers set on top.

She undressed quickly and slipped the gown on. After a few checks to make sure that everything was tied up properly, she stepped into the oversized slippers and shuffled back out into the hallway. Just as the first doctor promised, there was a middle aged male nurse waiting for her. The man was leaning against the opposite wall and reading over her charts. She felt terribly exposed, with everyone passing around her medical history as if it were a good novel.

“Ready for your IV?” he asked, looking up at her reassuringly.

“Of course,” she responded honestly.

“Then if you’d follow me, please,” he opened another door a bit further down the hallway and led her into the room and into a chair. She didn’t even flinch when the needle was inserted into the back of her hand, and in a few moments the tube was securely taped down. “That was impressive. Not even the slightest wince,” the nurse acclaimed in mock admiration. “I think you deserve a lollipop.” She couldn’t help but smile just a little at that. “Finally! And here I thought you were made of stone.”

He picked up a small insulated container marked with bio-hazard warning decals and led her out the door. The sheer monotony of the hallway they walked through made the trip seem to take hours, when in fact a female technician seemed to materialize from one of the identical doorways after only a few minutes.

“Have you said your final prayers?” she questioned mockingly. Relena nodded, even though the thought had never occurred to her. “Then lets get this show on the road. Follow me.” Relena found it difficult to keep up with the woman’s rapid pace without losing a slipper, and so she was relieved when she finally came to a halt in front of two very large steel swinging doors.

“Go right through there, if you will,” the woman said with a wave toward the doors. “We’ll be with you in a second. We have to put on the suits.” The Suits. The Suits that protected the technicians from radiation poisoning. This was it. Once she walked through those doors, she was exposed to the radiation and there was no turning back.

She walked through without hesitation. After three plastic curtains, Relena found herself in a large white room. The sarcastic woman was waiting for, her leaning languidly against some very sensitive-looking machinery, while the male nurse removed the IV bag of MM-13 from the cooler. They were covered from head to toe in protective material as white as the walls that surrounded the three of them. Except for the one wall off to Relena’s right, she noted amusedly, which was mostly a one-sided mirror where observers could watch the procedure that was going to take the place of plastic surgery. This was particularly unusual considering that testing on humans was still illegal during this stage of research, and the room was of such a size, that it would be superfluous for any non-hominid experimentation.

The technician kicked a very odd-looking steel platform with a metal frame that came up on two opposite sides and were joined with a metal lintel about seven feet off of the base. The strange device was attached to the floor, and she noted with curiosity the tracks in the metal frame. Relena could see the woman smirking behind the transparent material that exposed the moon of her face.

“Hop on,” she said as if it were some amusement park ride. Relena had to step up just a bit to get onto the thing and quickly found out that the platform was as cold as it looked, despite the thin slippers she wore. “Here. Open your mouth,” the woman held out a tube and took a mouthpiece out of its sterile prepackaging.

“Oxygen?” Relena asked apprehensively. She couldn’t seem to remember when the doctors had mentioned artificial respiration in their briefing.

“Mostly.” She attached the disposable mouthpiece to the tube. “You don’t have any problems with that, do you Princess?” Relena flinched slightly at the unintended use of her former title, but opened her mouth and closed it when ordered. She waited patiently while her nose was plugged up and the IV tube was connected to her left hand. Her hands were then lead to steel handgrips jutting toward her from the inside of the frame at just about eye level. She watched the IV bag being turned upside down and hung off to her left and above her head.

She could feel the serum enter her bloodstream; after all, it was considerably colder than her average body temperature. In a few moments, she found herself shivering uncontrollably, and didn’t notice the floor opening beneath the platform. A strange white box was riding the tracks on the metal frame and sliding up the length of her body. She was vaguely aware of the humming of the motor pulling it up from beneath her feet and of a distant voice telling her to “look up” just in time to see the thing pass her face. It eventually reached the end of the tracks about a foot and a half above her head, and it switched gears and traveled back down, back towards its home beneath the floor.

****

Relena was jolted back to reality when the hot water nearly scalded her hand. She quickly adjusted the temperature setting, and when it had cooled down, she let her silk robe slide down her shoulders and pool about her feet. She reached in and turned on the shower head before tentatively stepping in.

The hot water rolling off her body helped her to relax and let her tense muscles loosen. It was so much more comforting than the cold showers at the facility.

****

Her teeth chattered loudly as the cold water harshly beat against her skin. She was given a second hospital gown and taken to a “clean room” where a doctor measured the amount of radiation she was giving off. After two more visits to the showers, her radioactivity levels were finally deemed “acceptable” and she was handed towels and allowed to dry off before being given her regular clothes to change into.

She looked herself over in the mirror one last time, checking to make sure the dye had held true to its promise that it wouldn’t wash out without its accompanying rinse. She then reapplied her lipstick, slid her sunglasses into the breast pocket of her suit jacket, and walked out.

The young bespectacled doctor was waiting for her. She followed him to his office, where he had first administered the potassium iodate, and there he performed a routine physical examination. He checked her pupils, her reflexes, and just about everything else. When he had finally given up trying to find something wrong with her he sighed, told her that they were done here, and offered to escort her to her car.

“Miss Collins, you came to this facility in top physical form. Not even a childhood cavity,” he mentioned as they entered the main lobby. “I sincerely pray that whatever your reasons were for coming to us, they outweigh the risk you have put yourself at.” He pointed to her breast pocket. “Remember your sunglasses before you walk outside; your eyes and skin will be especially sensitive to light for about a week. And if you feel any symptoms of radiation poisoning such as anemia, chronic diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, hair loss or suppressed immune system, contact us immediately.” He stopped at the large glass door and turned to her. “You are the thirteenth volunteer to undergo this procedure,” he crossed his fingers and gave her a small smile. “Here’s hoping thirteen proves to be your lucky number.”

****

Relena poured a goodly sized amount of shampoo and started attacking her hair. She had let it grow unimpeded for a few years now, and at the rate her hair grew, it was now longer than Duo’s, easily. Her bangs now, more than ever, resembled her brothers. They fell at rakish angles, often falling into her eyes. She knew that many people were whispering about her increasing resemblance to the Peacecraft line, especially the notorious Milliardo. The underlying fear was obvious. She knew that her appearance made them worry that she would become more and more like her brother, but despite her looks, she knew she would never turn down that path. Even so, the stares continued to follow her.

Relena watched the soap swirl around the drain at the floor of the shower, puffs of white floating on murky water. She shampooed and rinsed her hair again, to make certain all of the dye had been washed away.

It had been a year and a month already since she left that horrid maze of monotonous hallways and identical doors. The first two weeks were by far the worst. Waiting, praying, checking for symptoms of poisoning, and making excuses to stay out of the sun. When she first noticed a change in the color her hair at the roots, she almost shrieked with joy. Since then she had been on a constant daily cycle of waking up, getting in the shower, washing in the hair dye, putting in the contacts, and doing the makeup, but luckily, no one ever noticed a thing.

Relena stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. After drying off her body, she slipped back into her robe and began towel drying her hair. Once she had removed all the water she could, she reached for the brush that was sitting on the edge of the sink. She took the brush back to the bedroom, sat upon the edge of the bed and, out of habit more than anything else, began counting out one hundred strokes.

Her damp hair lay flat against her back, and her bangs were pushed behind her ears. She reached for the heavy silver scissors that were lying on top of the dresser and began to cut just above the line where the color changed.

Once she had finished, she took great care in gathering each and every strand and disposing of them into a small paper shopping bag, set aside for just that purpose. She then stood in front of the large mirror on the wall behind the bureau, and very carefully evened the edges of her hasty haircut. All of the trimmings fell onto the top of the bureau, and were easily swept off and into the bag.

Next, she went to her suitcase pulled out some undergarments, and out of the false bottom retrieved a red silk blouse, and the black suit she had worn that day at the Mont-Blanc Medical Research Facility. She put these on rapidly, and then went to a second smaller bag and retrieved a pair of red pumps that Relena Darlian would never be caught dead in. She stepped into them and then quickly went about cleaning up her suite of rooms. She gathered any items out of the bathroom that might lead people to her, like the empty dye bottle or hair brushes. All of these items went into the paper bag.

Then Relena went to the closet and pulled out her empty black briefcase; she had left all of the documents necessary to the position of Vice-Foreign Minister with her assistant Seth Brooks before leaving the meeting/dinner at five that evening. Into the briefcase she put only a few necessary items of clothing and her fake identification. She looked at the name on the passport and sighed. The briefcase clicked shut and Relena stood to look at herself in the mirror, but something was wrong. There was something she had forgotten.

With a blink, it came to her.

She hadn’t taken out her contacts yet. Relena dug into the paper bag and pulled out the contact case. Carefully she removed her color contacts and replaced them to their case, before dropping the case back into the bag. Then she looked at the mirror again.

“Nice to meet you,” she said to her reflection. She almost couldn’t believe the change. Her hair was now platinum blonde and resembled Zechs’ more than ever. She had cut it just above her shoulders, and it hung straight and sharp. The combination of red and black made her almost incomparable to Relena Darlian. But what would keep people from recognizing her while staring at her were her eyes. No longer was she wide-eyed and innocent; the shape of her eyes had become more gracile, and the color was a stinging ice-blue. She wondered what opinions Duo might voice about her new look.

Duo.

She had almost forgotten about him. Her brief look of doubt was quickly replaced by one of determination. She had been planning this night for six months and the plan she had formulated was near perfect. She had the layout of the hotel memorized, as well as the meeting schedule. She had gotten the fake identification cards, she had written her letter of resignation and an accompanying letter of recommendation for Seth to take over her duties until the next election, and made sure that both would be delivered to the Prime Minister of Foreign Affairs in the morning. She had even pushed for the convention to be held in this historical hotel in the only part of Old London that had survived the Orbital Satellite System attacks of WWIII, therefore, the security system was severely lacking. It was the last day of conferences and meetings; if she didn’t go now, the odds of getting a second chance were a million to one. She couldn’t let a bodyguard replacement ruin her last chance at freedom.

She picked up her briefcase and paper bag, and walked around the room a little, making false footprints. Then she aligned herself parallel to the window, facing the back wall, and sidestepped onto the window seat. She pulled her hands into the sleeves of her jacket and then pushed the window up and open. Relena stepped out onto the fire escape, set down the bag and briefcase, reached into the hotel room, smoothed away any footprints on the window seat cushion, and again with her sleeves, shut the window.

After a quick mental check to make sure she had followed her own instructions down to the letter, she picked up her bag and briefcase and started down the fire escape.