The soothing feeling of smoke killing her lungs made Relena smile. She took another drag, leaning back on the gilded chair placed on her balcony. Her huge, carnation pink robe rubbed against her skin softly. It more likely suited a child than her, but she didn't bother to comment. After tonight, it wouldn't matter.
She'd prepared for this night. Oh, how she had planned. While politely ignoring lascivious words and stares, she'd seen herself in a new city. While pulling her hand away from a handshake that had purposely gone on too long, she'd imagined leaving not a clue as to where she'd gone. While being forced to lock her doors at night to keep out eager men, she'd counted the few friends she could trust with this secret. While being tracked like a wild animal by paparazzi, she'd subtly checked weaknesses in the security system of her mansion.
After she was gone, everything would go crazy. Some would cry that she had been kidnapped, others that she had abandoned her duty. But what did she care? Nobody knew her past her blonde curls and gleaming smiles. They thought she would follow in her father's footsteps. But Relena refused to. She wasn't like that. She wasn't peaceful and sweet and serene. She was rude and crazy and brazen. No one knew it except her. Everyone believed she could make the perfect painting of happiness and peace into reality, so that no one would be hurt. But they *needed* to be hurt. They *needed* to feel pain. They *needed* to survive without her. *That's* why she was leaving. Along with the fact that she was screaming inside....screaming for freedom...
Sighing, Relena flicked some of the ashes of her cigarette into the ashtray on the table beside her. She'd started the addiction because she had wanted to separate herself from her father. A drug-free, starched, God fearing diplomat. Exactly what she was supposed to be. Bitterly, she remembered the way she had once admired him for those traits. Now she wished he had been the opposite, so she could have had a semi-normal life.
The maid came in, fluffed the pillows and curtsied, then left. Smirking, Relena knew it was almost time. She'd paid good money for an anonymous computer whiz to loop the tapes on the cameras spread out across the mansion and grounds tonight. As if everything was normal, she would go to bed and fake sleep. Then, once he had finished, the man she had hired would flash a light from his car. She would then get up, get dressed and bolt. All the rest of the world watching the computers would see was a snoring diplomat for the rest of the night. Ah, life was good.
Humming to herself, she put out her cigarette and walked into her bedroom. As she always did, Relena closed the sliding glass door and locked it. Then she tossed her robe onto a chair beside the door and climbed into the sleigh bed. Closing her eyes, she bit back a smile. Like a child, the blonde pulled the covers over her head, then opened her eyes and peeked out from under the coverlet to watch the grounds through her French doors.
'Come on,' she pleaded. 'Hurry.' It felt like she had waited an eternity, and for a while she thought they hadn't fulfilled their side of the bargain. Then, like God answering her prayers, three flashes came in through her windows. Cheering silently with happiness, she all but bounced out of the huge bed she had slept in for five years. She pulled open the drawer in her nightstand and took out plastic surgical gloves, pulling them on. Then, the politician pulled a chair under the air vent and unscrewed the already loose screws, making the hatch fall open. Instead of dust falling out, a handle slid into view. She tugged it excitedly and a duffle bag slid out. Once she had set it on the ground, Relena stretched her hand in farther and pulled out a screwdriver she had placed there just a few days ago. After replacing the hatch and putting the screws back in, she stepped down and pushed the chair back to its original place. Relena pulled clothes out of her bag: a pair of flare jeans, a black short-sleeved shirt with the Chesire Cat on it, and a pair of red High Tops. An old friend from school had told her it was something a "normal" person would wear.
Grinning, she tugged the clothes on. Then she pulled out something she had never used before--a wig.
She followed the directions she had been taught, putting her hair into the hair net she had received, making sure it was all securely tucked in. Then she slid the wig into place. She pinned it to her head securely, just the way she had been instructed.
Relena paused to look at the stranger in the mirror -- she had black hair that was styled in a messy bun, stray strands escaping it. It was odd to see such a different person.
Quickly, she applied some makeup make her skin slightly darker, put in contacts to change her eye color, and slid on coke-bottle glasses. The last part made her laugh. Wasn't it common in the movies to wear glasses as a super clever disguise? Hopefully she wasn't quite as obvious as Super Man.
When she was done, Relena put all of the stuff back into the bag, including her nightgown, zipped it up, and tiptoed over to the sliding glass door. She slid it open, quickly closing it behind her. It was a cold night, and she set down her bag. Pulling out a navy blue hooded jacket, she smiled once again and tugged it on. Then she walked to the railing and looked down. She was on the second floor, so there was only ten feet to go. Throwing a leg over the iron rails, she sucked in a fearful breath. But she wasn't going to stop here. She'd been planning for this too darn long to stop now.
'Damn,' she corrected herself. 'Not darn, but damn. I need to work on that.' Relena pulled her other leg over and looked down. Oh, dear. Bending over the railing, she grabbed her duffle bag and threw it over the side, hearing it thump on the ground. It sounded unbearably painful. She fervently hoped her landing wouldn't sound like that.
Bracing herself, she grabbed the Christmas lights attached to the building. The staff had gone insane during the holidays and practically covered the whole mansion with white lights, and Relena thanked them for it. Biting her lip, she tightened her hands on a few strands she had squeezed together in both hands, and stepped off the ledge. Don't scream, she begged herself. 'Freedom is just a string of lights away.'
Her legs braced against the slightly ruff wall, and the blonde forced her hands to inch downwards. They were shaking, she noticed, and wondered how it would look in the tabloids if they found her dead beneath the lights.
And what a pleasant picture *that* was.
After what felt like hours of climbing down, her feet touched the dewey grass. Relena's eyes flew open in disbelief. *It had worked.* Collapsing to her knees, she tried to steady her breath and body, putting a hand to her racing heart. 'I'm okay,' she thought. 'I'm almost free.' Shoving herself up, she looked around. The only illumination came from the Christmas lights, and all was still. Picking up her bag, she stealthily made her way to the brick wall surrounding the estate. It was a long trek, because she had to first cut through the gardens. Then there was just plain grass all the way down to the guard's gate. Except for a long stretch of shrubbery, made to line the amazingly lengthy driveway.
Falling to her knees, Relena crawled the whole way, forcing herself not to lie down in exhaustion. She remembered the wandering eyes of a creepy older politician, and, quite quickly, her energy came back to her. She peeked up over the shrubbery to the guard. Seeing him watching the road--and her spot--with bored vigilance, she pulled out her cell phone from a compartment in the duffle bag. Dialing the guardhouse, she cleared her throat briefly. Then, when he picked up and answered with a monotone "Guardhouse," she said in a remarkably impressive English teacher voice,"Robert?"
His voice instantly sounded worried. "Ella? What are you doing, calling here so late? Are the kids okay, sweetheart? Anything wrong?"
"Well--" she did a rather inspiring falter"--I don't want to worry you; I know you're working and all, but Charlie's pulled another Peter Pan stunt and---"
"Oh, God," he whispered. "I'm coming. Don't worry, honey, I'll be home soon."
She watched as he slammed the phone onto the receiver and bolted from the guardhouse. He would be too concerned to call another guard to take his place.
Relena smiled. Charlie, the guard's son, was known for his attempts at flying to Never Never Land -- which usually meant he went jumping off of high places. His wife, a British teacher who taught Language Arts, was constantly panicking over him. Relena had figured that a few words and a distressed voice similar to his wife's would send poor Robert running home to check on his son.
Relena thanked Pargan's obsession for knowing every single one of the employees in the household.
The sandy blonde, now too exuberant over this victory, forgot about crawling. She stood up, ran to the guard's house, and pressed the button the open the gates. 'Leave with style,' she thought with a grin, and all but skipped out of the estate.
For a moment, sadness flitted through her. She'd never called the place home, but just *The Estate*. Hopefully, the apartment she'd bought would become her home.
Her jovial mood soon came back to her. Her *apartment*, in a new *city*....it was so amazing!
A car was waiting a good ways down the street. She made her way to it, and got in, smiling at the driver. "Nice to see you," she said as she pulled off the plastic gloves she'd been wearing.
"Have fun running around the grounds?"
"You have no idea."
Her companion grinned, and they started towards the airport. They chatted about what the ex-diplomat would do, where she was going, how she would live.
When they finally arrived, Relena's legs felt like jelly. She'd never been on her own. Somebody had always been there to guide her. What would she do now? Fear crept up her spine at the thought of having no one to help her.
"Don't worry," her friend said, once they had gotten out of the car. They were staring at the building in front of them. "This is your destiny. You deserve this."
They hugged, and both felt tears prick in their eyes.
"Come on," the older woman sniffled. "Your flight leaves in less than an hour. You don't want to be late."
Relena nodded. They parted, and Relena picked up her bag. She looked up at one of her closest friends. "Thanks, Sally."
The older blonde grinned. "No problem. Just remember to write, okay? But be careful. Send it to Hilde on L2, okay? That way both of us will know how you are, but you won't have to worry about the letter falling into the wrong hands."
Relena nodded. "This could be the last time we see each other."
"I'll see you someday. I feel it."
"Let's just hope it's not when I'm being hauled back, kicking and screaming."
Sally chuckled. "Nah. You'd probably be attempting to persuade the people hauling you back that you were only at a super secret meeting. Kicking and screaming isn't your style."
They both laughed a little more, hugged again, and then parted ways. Relena felt the tears in her eyes, and blinked them away. She would definitely contact Sally and Hilde; they were her closest friends in the world.
It was late, so the usually busy airport was dwindling in crowds. She made her way to the counter and smiled at the tired woman behind it.
"Yes, I need to catch the one o'clock plane to New York City?"
She followed the necessary procedure, deposited her duffle bag, and then hurried to the terminal.
When she was curled up on her seat next to the window, she slowly pulled out the wallet from her back pocket. Opening it, she glimpsed briefly at the new credit cards and currency. Her eyes came to rest on her Driver's License. Next to her face it read: Francesca Elle. The name and what it translated into made the tears she had pushed back earlier fall.
Francesca Elle. Free Woman.
