Chapter Text
Heero looked over the colony with concern. Where there should have been peaceful, steady production, there was instead a buzzing sense of unease, a community on edge. He stepped back away from the most dangerous area, shucking his protective gear, and piling it on the edge of his truck. Trouble was brewing and he didn’t know how to fight it.
The ugly specter of Colony Collapse Disorder and the new strain of OZ mite was hanging heavy over the valley, but with hard work and endless battles, Heero and the other independent beekeepers in the valley had, for the most part, been able to keep their hives healthy, although it had been touch and go. It had also not been without universal success; the Chang family had opted to destroy their hives rather than watch CCD run rampant, and the loss of colonies and family operations had had a strong effect on his old classmate and scion of the operation.
There was something else though, Heero felt, bothering the hives. CCD wasn’t a new problem, they had been fighting it for years, and the OZ mite, while still a major threat, had been mitigated by the use of formic acid infused strips. There had been a lull, however slight, and full recovery had seemed hopeful.
But something was wrong with the bees.
He stood at the edge of the beeyard, leaning against his truck considering. Usually he had some insight, some idea of what was happening, but he felt unprepared and unsure. This was beyond his personal ability to navigate.
As he stood, his phone vibrated from the bed of the truck; he always left it in the box, both due to some vague, unscientific idea that it might trouble the bees and also the desire to be completely absorbed in working the hives, allow himself to be part of the buzzing action, to remain careful and cautious when pulling wax and honey, and integrate himself into the system that were the hives, each bee working together to form some greater organism.
He would never forget when he had first begun beekeeping, and a faulty job of stacking boxes had led to the new boxes falling, taking the boxes of two other hives with them, crushing them completely. While one hive had ultimately survived, he had found the queen of the other crushed in the debris. He had held her in his gloved palm and sworn that he would never be so reckless and careless again.
The valley, a verdant break in the mountainous forests, which boasted both one of the largest lavender growing regions in the world, a thriving tourist season and, best of all, only a small town center and a mainly remote, rural community, was not without a group of other apiaries. He had found friends among the other beekeepers, and as he reached for his phone, he saw that he had both a missed call and a text message from Barton.
new apiologist making the rounds
He hesitated, thumbed back a reply.
What happened to Noventa?
old guy croaked
heart attack
do you never read the paper?
Heero grinned despite himself, answering Trowa again.
What’s the new guy like?
you’ll see
bee nice
*be
ducking autoc
Heero let out a snort, and tossed the phone back into the tool box, debating between pouring a capful of coffee from his thermos or continuing to work while the day was still cool and the bees still relatively placid. As he considered, he heard, and then saw, a jeep rounding the corner of the dirt road and heading his way. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting, skeptical and more than a little wary. Who on earth drove a pink jeep, and why were they coming to his beeyard? If the new State Bee Guy (as the beekeepers usually dubbed the state apiologist who would appear for routine inspections and pest checks) was on his way, Heero really didn’t have time to play guide for lost tourists.
The young woman who climbed down from the pink jeep (pink!) looked very much the picture of a wide-eyed rich girl out to explore the local mountains. He admitted, grudgingly, that she was at least dressed properly, in Carhartts and thick boots, with a snug burgundy wool jumper over light layers, but her enthusiastic wave and complete lack of regard for the NO TRESPASSING signs put him on edge. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked around at the surrounding mountains, walking from her jeep over to his truck with a bright grin on her face, oblivious to the fact that she was interrupting his work day.
“Lovely morning!” she called out, still smiling.
He didn’t budge. “Can I help you?” he asked, letting just enough ice into his voice that he hoped that she would take the hint and leave.
“Well, I certainly hope so,” she smiled back, “I’m looking for Wing Zero Apiaries?”
“We aren’t open,” he countered.
She considered him, hand on her hip, “I wasn’t aware that Wing Zero Apiaries had its own retail operation. Is that a new addition?”
He stared at her, thrown off a little, “No. I mean, no we don’t have one. I don’t have one. It’s just me.”
“But you aren’t open?”
He glared, hard, “Not for visitors or tours.”
She smiled at him, bright and twinkling, held out a hand, “Good thing I’m not a visitor then. Dr. Relena Darlian, the new State Apiologist? You must be Mr. Yuy. Mr. Maxwell described you to a 'T'.”
“Duo better not have said anything unsavory,” he frowned, but she laughed in response.
“No, not at all! He just said I’d find you if I looked for ‘handsome, dark, and brooding." She laughed again, obviously trying to break the tension, "I know that I’m a big change from Dr. Noventa, but I’m coming to introduce myself, check all the apiaries in the area, get to know all the keepers. I need to just follow your rounds and check for OZ mites and make sure we don’t have any invasive species attacking your hives. And I want to make sure that you are comfortable to call me if you see anything odd, or have any problems. I’m here to make sure all of the bees and keepers in the valley stay safe.”
“Darlian,” he let the name roll around in his mouth, tasting it, “You were the part of the Perfect Bees Program down at the University. And you did your doctorate on the effects of requeening hives to combat moonbrood in colonies.”
“That’s me,” she said, looking a little embarrassed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Hair, he realized that was the same dark gold as the honey from the first spring wildflowers. His favorite kind of honey.
“Um, if you are still working the hives this morning,” she ventured, “I’ll just follow around, get to know your set-up, what yards you use, which farmers you work with. I’ll try not to get in the way.”
He considered, looking at his boots, leaning forward to push away from the bed of his truck.
“I don’t really....” he cleared his throat, “I’m not really comfortable around new people. And I’m not really comfortable with them in my beeyard.”
He glanced up at her sideways, and she was smiling, but there was understanding in her eyes.
“These are your hives, your colonies. I understand that you wouldn’t want me nosing in. But it’s my job. I promise that I will stand back and won’t interfere without permission or direction.”
He looked her up and down, realizing, with the sudden rush of blood to his face and stomach, that she was gorgeous. Smart. Liked bees. He felt his throat close, but he managed to choke out, “It just feels. I feel. Discontent with it.”
She smiled at him again, looping the hair tie around her wrist to twist her hair into a high bun, “Well, discontent is the first step in the progress of a man or a nation.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” she replied, laughing again, “I’ll go get my kit.”
As he watched her walk back to pull her suit and veil out of the jeep, noticing, despite himself, how well she wore her Carhartts and work boots, he wondered if the bees had known that she would bring this storm of uncertain emotions into his morning.