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The Chains We Wear	By : LadyYeinKhan Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 13123 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/n: Hello to all once again. Well seeing as how I am currently working on chapter four, about half way done actually, I decided to post chapter 2 so that my two lovely reviewers, Draconayzia and MissBlue will have something to read soon^^ Thank you both for the reviews, and the 5 stars...er plus signs, rating^^ More reviews means I will post chapters more often, hint hint nudge nudge. Although I shall worn my readers, the quiet and the reviewing both, that I will be entering college come the first week of septmeber and, depending on my schedules, it might be a little more challenging to post chapters when I want to (or even write them). BUT I SHALL NOT FORGET YOU! But that's in another couple of weeks. Until then, please enjoy...

Chapter 2: No fear

The gentle pitter patter of rain upon the uncovered window startled him from his slight daydream. Trowa lifted his head and gazed towards the window, watching the water bead down it in slow rivulets. He walked towards it and laid his hands on the sill to steady himself as he looked up at the gray clouded sky. A gentle frown crossed his face. He had not been expecting rain; rain would make it more difficult. Driving in the rain was dangerous, and the others would worry. They might even offer to take him themselves.

Trowa wanted his solitude.

He turned back to the bed where the duffle bad that Heero had lent him was sitting half full of clothing and other daily necessities. A letter that seemed to have been unfolded, read, and refolded several times sat beside him. He picked it up once again, sitting down where it had been. Trowa found himself reading the graceful, if not a little hurried, writing once again. His sister need to learn how to slow her hand down.

Still, he felt a wisp of a smile starting to form as he read it again. He could almost hear her excited voice.

Dear Trowa, I certainly hope that this got to the right address. I’m not sure as to how…reliable your friend is. I wouldn‘t be surprised if he gave me the wrong address on purpose. He didn’t seem very keen to letting me know what country you‘re living in now, let alone your new address. Is he paranoid? Or does he just not like the idea of your one and only big sister being able to contact you whenever she feels like it?-

Trowa snorted softly, imagining her grinning to herself as she wrote that. It was true that Heero had taken his dear sweet time to agree and actual give her their new address. He was still a very cautious individual. Trowa thought sometimes, in certain aspects of life, he was overly so. Borderline paranoid, yup. Got it right in one….

How have things been with you? I know that you managed to get a different job now that things have settled down and your old position is…unnecessary. How is it working out? Are you enjoying it? What sort of work do you do there?-

Did he really have the heart to tell her that he had been demoted from an expertly trained killer to a lowly paper pusher? She’ll either laugh or make a face…

How are your roommates? You live with three of them, right? I’ve meet them before, haven’t I? Quatre is the blonde, quiet one. Duo is the one that I need to keep the sugar away from and has the braid. Has he cut that thing yet? He looks so silly with it dangling down his back!-

No he hasn’t and he never will; we tried.

And Heero is the Japanese guy who apparently doesn’t like me since he took over four months to give me your address. Your fourth friend doesn’t live with you, right? But I think you told me before that you work together, right?

Well anyway, things are going quite fine over here. Everyone’s told me to write that they all say hello and that things have been too noisy ever since you left. Thomas broke his leg, again, trying to do the three back flips in a row on the trapeze. He keeps insisting that he doesn’t need the net as high as is regulation. He’s such an ass; maybe when he’s broken his neck he’ll wise up and starting listening to reason.-

Trowa doubted that.

Oh! And Aimee left. She and her boyfriend, she found one just after you left. I told you about him on the phone that one time, remember? The jazz musician? Well they got engaged about three months ago and of course started to live together. I was so certain she would stay with the group too, at least until the wedding, but I can see why she left. She certainly can’t do trick riding being a month and a half pregnant.-

He shook his head to himself. Aimee had always struck him as being a little fast moving…a rather nice young woman, very vibrant but fast. He wasn’t so surprised that she had gotten pregnant after being engaged for only a month and a half. Though Trowa didn’t suppose it was such a bad thing. It was her life after all, and she had always seemed to be very good with children.

Everyone’s wished her luck and gave her a nice sendoff. Me and most of the other girls threw her a small baby shower; she started crying, she was so surprised. It was actually really cute! We’re all pretty sad that she left though. She was the best trick rider we ever had. But she did promise to come by and see the show whenever she gets the chance and when the baby’s born, she swore she would bring her (she’s praying for a little girl) to see my knife throwing act. But it will seem even more quiet around without her shrill voice barking at Edmund for leaving his dumbbell in the center ring again.

Well speaking of the circus, did you know? We’re coming to the city just next to yours.-

Trowa had seen something about it in the paper, although he only remembered having read about it before receiving her letter because Duo had thrust the article in his face while they were at work and unintentionally spilled his hot tea on his lap in the process.

Now I know that you must be busy, what with living with your new roommates, and having a new job-

Could a person be bored and busy at their job at the same time?

but I was hoping that, if you can get the time off, that you could come see me for a few days. I’m certain everyone would like to see you again, and we can catch up with one another. It feels like it’s been forever since I last got to see that odd hair of yours. I bet you haven’t changed the style at all.

Nope.

I’d really like it if you could come by to see me, and the show of course. We’re going to be in the area for a few months and it’s not very far from where you’re living. Only about an hour or two from what I managed to gather from the map I borrowed. It would mean so much if you could come by for just a couple days so we could catch up with each other. Of course I’ll understand if time is scarce. The job comes first, after all.-

Oh yes, he certainly understood that…

But if you can, drop me a line at the address enclosed and tell me when I can expect you. And if you can’t, well then drop me a line and just gossip with me for a page or two.

I love you Trowa. I’m looking forward to seeing you, or hearing whose dating whom among your little friends. You better write me back.

Love from your big sister, Catherine

He sighed to himself, folding the letter up once again. Setting it on the top of the duffle bag, Trowa laid himself back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Sparse shadows slid across it from the ceiling lamp he had flicked on low earlier. It was because of this letter that Trowa was picking through the sparse items that he owned and deciding just what he needed for a week away from the house. It was actually a bit more a challenge than he had previously thought it would be. He hardly went anywhere by himself for a “vacation” as it were so he was not so very knowledgeable in the area.

It was there that the soldier instinct kicked it: take what’s light, and essential for survival. And then add the toiletries.

Trowa closed his eyes, muttering softly under his breath as he marked imaginary checks in the air to trace his steps to anything that he could have possibly missed that would be essential for a short trip. When his mind came up with nothing, he sat back up and set about to refolding the clothes he had wrinkled in his gatherings. From outside the room Trowa could hear quiet conversations, overlapped slightly by the sound of the television turned to something. The news perhaps? It didn’t really matter, he wouldn’t be there much longer to hear it. He set the folded items carefully in the borrowed bag, piling the rest of his essentials on top of them and zipping it up. Trowa stepped back from it for a moment, thinking one more time. He shouldered it experimentally. It seemed very light to him, perhaps too much so.

He shrugged. He didn’t need very much anyway. Light was fine.

With one last look out his uncovered window at the gradually heaving rain, Trowa flicked the ceiling light off and slipped out of the room. A comfortable warmth seeped through the house; it sifted through his soft sweater and faded jeans gently to settle into his skin. He shifted the bag on his shoulder for a moment and walked towards the noise. Setting the bag on the floor behind the couch in the living room, he leaned over the back of the black leather couch that Quatre had insisted on getting. While it did match splendidly with the cool colors of the living room and the dark woods that made up the other furniture, Trowa had never ever seen him before as being someone who adored the touch of leather. He watched the program that Quatre was currently engrossed in with mild interest.

“One of the few weekends you have off and you choose to watch television?” He asked quietly. Quatre jumped slightly, hands tightening around the cup of coffee Trowa hadn’t notice he was holding. At least he hadn’t spilt any. He was certain Quatre would have a stroke if someone spilled coffee on the leather couch. It was the only thing he could even imagine the blonde having a fit over.

“Trowa! Oh, you scared me.” He chuckled, breathing a little quickly. Trowa nodded softly.

“I noticed. I didn’t mean to…”

He smiled. “Oh, it’s alright. You’re just so quiet, it’s hard to know when you’re sneaking up on someone.” Trowa shrugged. He had been trained for that. “And I’m only watching this until Duo and Heero stop arguing.”

“They’re arguing?”

“Well they were, but they took it to a different room.”

Trowa nodded absently. He had only barely noticed that the sound of voices had diminished. “What were they arguing over this time?”

“I’m not really sure actually.” Quatre said, thinking for a moment. “I’m fairly certain Duo mentioned something about movies…” Movies? That seemed like an odd thing for the two to argue over, at least to Trowa. Quatre, setting the coffee down on the glass coffee table, leaned over the back of the couch himself and smiled. He eyed the duffle bag Trowa had left on the floor. “Are you leaving now?”

He looked back to it. “In a few minutes, yes.”

Quatre made a slight face. “It’s started raining. Are you sure it’s a good idea to take your bike in the rain? It’ll ice over pretty quickly in this cold.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Yes but…well we could give you a ride. It’s not that far away.” He said with a smile. Trowa shook his head.

“No, no it’s fine. Today’s your day off. You don’t get them often and I don’t want you to spend it taking me to my sister’s.”

“But…”

“I’ll be just fine, Quatre. Like you said, it’s not very far away.” Trowa insisted. Quatre sighed softly but smiled at the same.

“All right, if you’re sure. Just be careful okay? And tell Catherine that I say hello.”

He shoulder his bag again. “I will.” He walked quietly towards the door, listening as Quatre rose from the couch and followed him. He should have known that Quatre would at least see him off. He was pulling his jacket on when Quatre had managed to call Heero and Duo’s names loud enough to get their attention and draw them from their argument behind close doors to the back door. He zipped it up and leaned down to pick up his bag again, catching the smirk on Duo’s face. Trowa could only imagine just what he was thinking.

“See? I told you’d he’d risk himself being electrocuted.” Duo laughed with a smile. Trowa sighed softly. He should have expected that

“I have a better chance of winning the lottery than being struck by lightening, Duo.” he answered, shouldering his bag.

“Not when you’re riding a motorcycle in the rain you’re not. Metal conducts electricity, hun.”

“There’s no lightening Duo.” Heero told him. “And there won’t be all day. Unless a phone line snaps on the highway and hits him, he’ll be fine.”

“How come you always take his side?” he asked with a pout. Heero ignored it.

“Have a good trip Trowa.”

“I will.”

“Tell everyone we say hello.” Quatre smiled.

“I will.”

“I can’t believe Une gave you a week off.” snorted Duo. Quatre chuckled softly and Heero sighed.

“Trowa does his job well and doesn’t usually ask for anything. Is it that surprising that Une decided to show her appreciation for his hard work by granting him a simple request, to see his sister for a short bit?”

“She’d never give me time off.”

“That’s because you piss her off almost daily.”

“I do not.”

“You annoy her the most out of all the people in our department.”

Duo snorted. A sly smile was playing across his face. “Do not. And that’s not the reason that she gave him the time off anyway. It’s favoritism, man. She likes him.”

“It is not favoritism.” Quatre bit back. Trowa sighed, staring at the ceiling shortly.

“Is so. She never yells at him.”

“Yes she has, just not usually because he gives her no reason to.”

“No, she just likes him too much to yell at him.”

“Duo…in the last week, tell me one thing Trowa did wrong that needed reprimanding.”

His mouth opened soundlessly, closing just as quickly as he tried to recall a moment from the last week. Trowa closed his eyes. “He…no….Wait he…no that wasn’t him…Oh didn’t he!…no…er…” A soft groan escaped Trowa and he rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers, a small headache forming. “Well shit!”

“My point exactly.”

“But-”

“As much as I’m enjoying listening to you all speak of me in the third person, I believe I should get going. Catherine’s expecting me before dark.” Trowa said just loud enough to draw their attention to his continued presence. Quatre and Duo’s faces flushed an equally bright red. Heero’s face showed very little sign of embarrassment, although his eyes did manage a slight turn downwards to the floor. “I will see you in a week…”

“Have a nice visit with Catherine.”

“Don’t get struck by lightening!” Duo called as Trowa opened the door. The smell of cold rain invaded his senses.

“Yes, yes…”

“If we can, we might try to come see the show, is that okay?”

“If you’d like…but if you’re busy it’s nothing to worry over.”

Quatre smiled and waved at him as he moved to his bike and attached the bag to the back it. The rain slid across his face and down the back of his neck, chilling him. He was most thankful for the helmet’s protection when he put it on.

“Be careful! Have fun!” Quatre called out, the words only slightly muffled. Trowa merely nodded, mounting his bike and sending a small spray of gravel out from under it as he sped from the driveway. He didn’t notice the slightly worried look that crossed Quatre’s face as he watched him disappear into the rain, or the frown and the head shake that Heero and Duo both shared. Still, they disappeared back into the warmth of the house and let him risk his neck on the slicked roads.

Freezing rain or not, Trowa had to admit there was a certain pleasure in driving through the rain. The silence seemed to be different now. More absolute than when it was just his engine that drowned everything out. The rain isolated him, wrapped him in a comforting and numbing shield. It sheltered him from everything and everyone; no one other than him would enjoy the icy rain’s freezing touch. It kept Trowa completely alone.

To hell with the very possible chance of contracting pneumonia.

An hour later, while Trowa still appreciated the rain’s sacred touch, he was a little less pleased with the chill that it sent through his entire body. Rain had continual dripped down the back of his neck beneath his coat, seeped into every fiber of his clothes. His body felt heavy as he dismounted his soaked bike, grimacing as the cold and stiff fabric tried to drag him entirely to the ground. Gripping the handle bars, he pushed the bike along for a few moments. He stopped for a moment, looking up through the heavier rain at a sight that he hadn’t seen for quite some time. The circus tent brought a slight smile to his face, rain soaked though it was.

No one seemed to be about. There were a few lights on in the mobile places that they had come to call their homes. It seemed that Trowa was the only one willing to freeze himself in the winter rain. There was no one to notice as he pushed his bike beneath the awning type covering that come from the one place he almost fully recognized. It was not the same it had been when he had been here many months before but he knew that it was the proper one. Trowa could simply feel her presence.

He could certainly hear it when he knocked on the door.

The door flew opened with a squeal that was quickly accompanied by the tightest hug that Trowa had ever felt in his entire life, and he lived with Duo Maxwell. Catherine’s body squeezed his as though she were trying to merge with his skin; he fought to breathe. “Trowa! Oh Trowa it‘s been so long!”

“Ca-Catherine. Catherine, I can’t breathe…” He gasped softly. She made a soft sound and pulled away. Trowa patted his chest lightly as he panted, checking to be sure that all his ribs were still intact. “I missed you too…”

She smiled brightly at his words. “I missed you so much! It feels like it’s been forever.” She set her hands on his face and lifted his head. “You look tired, your cheeks are a bit shallow and oh my god, ew you’re absolutely soaked.” She said, staring at her water drenched hands. She dried them on her pant legs. “You couldn’t have been waiting out here that long…” Catherine’s eyes narrowed sourly. Trowa fought back a swallow. “Trowa Barton, you did get a ride here, didn‘t you?”

“Catherine…”

“Didn’t you, Trowa?” Trowa sighed, heavily, and gestured half heartedly to his bike sitting quietly under the awning. Catherine’s face contorted in annoyance. “You drove that thing in this weather? You’re lucky you weren’t struck by lightening!”

“There’s no lightening.”

“Fine, you’re lucky you didn’t fall and break your neck. Get inside now and change out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

He bit back another sigh while he allowed her to tug his yielding body into the warm interior. “Yes Catherine.”

Trowa bit back several more sighs, each more difficult than the last, as Catherine, after she had shut the door and took his bag from him and set it on the floor, circled him like a vulture and fussed over him. He closed his eyes and took it in good grace as well as he could manage. Although Trowa despised being treated like this, like a very small child incapable of caring for himself in anyway, there was a certain…warmth to her mothering that made it almost entirely possible for him to put up with her incessant coddling. Almost.

“Catherine, I am fine. Really.” Trowa sighed quietly, pushing lightly on her shoulders. She frowned more; he did his best to smile at her. “Really…I’m alright. It’s just a little rain.”

“In the middle of December.” She scolded, tossing the bag at him again. “Change out of those wet clothes right now.

Trowa shook his head. “You sound almost exactly like Duo, it’s frightening…” he muttered. A smile couldn’t be suppressed as he heard her giggle while disappearing into the bathroom to change. He had almost forgotten how nice Catherine’s laugh was. Almost contagious. He soon found himself, almost ten minutes later after having changed out of his wet clothes into a warm and relatively loose turtleneck with a baggy pair of jeans, seated at the small table with a warm cup of jasmine tea nestled between his hands. Catherine had just finished pouring herself something and sat across from him. She made a slight face as he sipped its contents.

“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.” she sighed, taking a sip of the coffee she had poured for herself. Trowa looked at her over the lip of his mug.

“I don’t know how you can drink that liquid chalk.”

“It isn’t liquid chalk.”

“It certainly tastes like chalk."

“And how would you know? Eaten chalk recently?” Trowa, snorting quietly at the comment, took a large sip just to spite her. It didn’t seem to work since she merely smiled sweetly at him. “I’ve missed being able to argue over which tastes better with you.”

“…That’s an odd thing to miss.”

“Well it’s one of the many things that I’ve missed being able to do with you ever since you left.” Catherine smiled. Trowa shrugged a bit. “What, you didn’t miss me?”

“Of course I missed you Catherine. I told you so earlier.”

“Then don’t you miss being able to sit like this too?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t act like it…”

Trowa set the mug down and looked at her. She must have noticed the softness, and the slight hurt, in his eyes for she fell very quietly. “Catherine…” he started. Trowa paused, looking down for a moment into his tea. Still…still he found it very difficult to say things, to talk with an air of acceptable normalcy. Still, Trowa found that his tongue simply could not match with what his mind wanted to convey. It was part of the reason why he always seemed so very quiet, unwilling to speak with anyone. His tongue simply could not obey his mind. It was far too…inept in the art of conversation.

Catherine sat her warm hand on his own, smiling gently. “I’m sorry Trowa…I forget sometimes. But I know that you don’t need words to convey everything. I know that you missed me too.” He sighed softly at her words. Still…I sometimes wish that I could say what everyone wants to hear… “Come on now, cheer up. Gossip with me, tell me what’s going on with your roommates.”

Trowa shrugged, sipping his tea again. Catherine frowned.

“A shrug is not an answer Trowa.”

“Well I’m not sure what you want to know…”

“Well let’s start with something basic: is anyone injured?”

“No.”

“Is anyone engaged?”

“No.”

“Is anyone pregnant?”

He choked into his tea. “They’re all males, Catherine.”

“Just checking to see if you’re actually paying attention to what I’m asking.” She answered with a smirk. Trowa snorted softly and sipped his tea. “So then…is anyone dating?”

“…I suppose you could say that, yes.”

“Oh really?? Well come on, tell me the details.”

“What details…”

“Like whose dating who Trowa. Where they go, if they like each other, how long they’ve been seeing each other. You know, details.”

Setting his tea down, he thought about it for a moment. “Well Wufei is still living with his lover, Zechs. And they seem to be getting along fine…”

“Wufei…he’s the Chinese one, yes? Black ponytail, bit of a sourpuss.” asked Catherine. He could just imagine the look Wufei would have if he had every heard some call him a “sourpuss,” befitting term as it was.

“That’s him. He and Zechs have been living together for quite some time now.”

“Zechs…I don’t think I’ve met him.”

“You haven’t yet.”

“And they’re doing well? No fights to speak of?”

“Not that I’ve noticed or been told about, no. They seem quite content with each other whenever I see them.”

Catherine smiled as she lifted her mug to take a sip of coffee. “Well that’s great. It’s always nice when people find someone they can spend their lives with.” Trowa simply nodded. “So anyone else?”

“…Heero and Duo are together.” He mentioned as he took a sip of his own. Catherine sprayed coffee on the table top. Trowa blinked over his mug.

“No way!”

“Is it so surprising?” He asked, watching her get a towel to clean the mess she had made.

“No, no of course not…well okay, yes it is. I just never really imagined Heero whose so serious and icy falling for someone like Duo. He’s so…so…”

“Energetic?”

“I was going to say insane but yours sounds nicer.” She tossed the soiled towel into the sink. “He’s just so hyperactive and bouncy and Heero is always so serious and calculating…”

He shrugged again. “Well they seem to get along…alright…”

“Alright?”

“They fight on occasion…but it’s only little things and they don’t seem to mean it really. It’s more like…”

“Play fighting?”

“I suppose.” She ran fingers through her hair. “Mmm well they say opposites attract. And if they really do like each other, then I guess they were made for each other.” Catherine sat herself back down across from him.

“They seem happy enough…”

“It must make for interesting moments though.” she chuckled. Trowa looked at her over the mug.

“…I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well they must have a very interesting relationship, being such polar opposites. It must make for some interesting moments around the house.”

“…I really wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, blinking lightly. “You all live together.”

“They are…rather discreet about their relationship.” he replied.

Catherine laughed. “But you live together!”

“That doesn’t mean that they cannot be discreet about what they do and do not do in private company.” He answered. It was actually something that Trowa was secretly thankful for, this discretion of theirs. While it was perfectly within their rights to show affection to one another in public, or even just around the house, Trowa appreciated the fact that they kept it to a low minimum. He was not sure if his mind or body could take it if the two were hanging all over one another constantly. The jealousy might become just a little too much for him to take… But they were discreet and considerate of Quatre’s and Trowa’s feelings.

Heero had never struck Trowa as someone who could handle an overabundance of physical affection or cuddling that much anyway. In private or public.

Catherine was frowning still. “Are you sure…maybe they’ve broken up and just haven’t mentioned it to you yet. Are you sure they are still together?”

Trowa held back a face. Oh he was quite certain they were still together. Aside from the minor, few and far between moments of affection that they shared while he or Quatre were present in the room, they still shared the same bedroom with one another. And if the noises that he could occasionally hear in his own bedroom coming from theirs in the dead of night were any indication, breaking up was the last thing on either males’ mind.

“I am quite sure. They’re still seeing each other.”

“I see. Well that’s good for them, I suppose. If they’re happy.” She nodded with her words, sipping her coffee. It was quiet for a moment, the rain upon the roof seemed oddly hypnotic to him, before she spoke again. “What about Quatre?” Trowa blinked from the rain’s spell.

“…Pardon?”

“Quatre. Is Quatre seeing anyone?” She asked. He frowned lightly against the mug.

“No, no he isn’t seeing anyone…” he answered cautiously. She tilted her head. “Quatre is too busy with his job to consider dating anyone right now…” Yes…far too busy. It was something that Trowa found he was, secretly, extremely thankful for. And at the same time, he was exceptionally saddened by it, but not in the way that a friend was supposed to be. It surprised him, how suddenly selfish his thoughts could turn. It was a good thing that Trowa kept such things to himself.

“That’s right, he’s in politics now, yes? He works with Relena Peacecraft doesn’t he?”

“He is on her council…she appreciates his knowledge of the past…”

“Oh I see…” she muttered softly. Trowa watched her look down into her coffee, run a slender finger around the lip of the mug in a slow movement. He waited, it was coming, he knew it was. “So…you know that he isn’t seeing anyone, for certain?” Trowa nodded minutely. Catherine looked at him. “…And I take it you aren’t seeing anyone either?”

There it was. “Catherine,” he began, a slight exasperated tone entering his words. He set the empty mug on the table far harder than necessary or proper. “let me answer your question here and now: Quatre and I are not dating, and we won’t be dating anytime in the coming future.”

“Why not?”

“…Because.” Trowa answered flatly.

Catherine’s frown darkened. “ ‘Because’ is not an answer Trowa. It’s an evasion.” she said surprisingly cold. Trowa bit back his retort. He rose from the chair instead, mug in hand. He was amazed that it hadn’t shattered when he slammed it onto the counter in annoyance. “Now give me a real answer Trowa.”

“…It is for the same reason that Quatre is not dating anyone. He is too busy with work…”

“Trowa, the two of you live together. You see each other every single day. You-”

“It would not work Catherine…”

“Why not, Trowa?”

He sighed. “Quatre is very busy. He is hardly ever home and I’m sure that the last thing he needs is to feel guilty because he is not around for a significant other to be close to.” Trowa looked down at the mug that he was filling with hot water. “…Besides…” he added softly.

“Besides?”

“I highly doubt I am…his type.”

He could just imagine her tilting her head in question. “His type??”

“Yes Catherine,” he sighed reaching up to retrieve the box of tea he knew to be kept in the cabinet above his head. “I am quite certain that I am not his type.”

Oh yes, Trowa was fairly certain that he was not Quatre’s type, not at all. He was fairly certain he was none of their types. He was no one’s “type.” His aberrant body separated him from the nearly entirety of the human population. Trowa had certainly never met anyone else that was “like” him. He closed his eyes and sighed slowly. No, it was apparent that he was never going to be anyone’s type. Just imagining how they would react if they were to know… It sent a strangely frightening shiver down his spine.

“Trowa.” She called. Emerald eyes opened at the sound, a strange curious glint in them. Had there been a tinge of anger in his sister’s normally cheerful voice? Mentally, Trowa shrugged and dismissed the notion, pulling the box down from the cabinet. “Why are you wearing that?” He nearly dropped the box. She couldn’t possibly… Trowa opted for a continued silence. He could hear her rise, her chair squeaking slightly against the floor. “Why are you wearing a corset beneath your shirt?”

He really did drop the box this time. Amazingly, it did not open on impact and the countertop remained spotless. “…I am not-”

“Don’t even try to lie to me, Trowa Barton.” She bit across him. “I could see the back of it through your shirt when you reached for the tea.” He cursed inwardly; he knew he should have thrown that sweater over himself as well. “Trowa, you promised.”

“Catherine…” He tried. His words did not get far. Her slender hand appeared on his equally slender shoulder and pulled him about with a strength Trowa did not know she possessed. Though similar in size, he had to marvel at just how intimidating Catherine could look when properly angered.

“You promised me that you would stop wearing that.” She said, her fingers gripping his shoulder. “You promised me when you left the circus that you wouldn’t do this to yourself anymore.”

His own eyes narrowed. “…I did no such thing.” He answered darkly. Managing to pull himself from her suddenly strong grip, Trowa turned back to the mug of hot water and the tea.

“Yes you did, you told me that you would stop. Trowa, honestly, you need to stop wearing that thing already, like you said you would. It’s not going to help you forever.”

“…I am fine with it…” He passed her a cold look. “And in case you have forgotten, you were the one who introduced me to this ‘thing’ as you so call it…”

A sigh came from her lips. She shook her head slightly as she spoke. “I know that Trowa…and I wish that I hadn’t.” He could feel himself bite the inside of his cheek as though to steady himself. “Please, Trowa. Stop doing this to yourself, please. You told me you would stop wearing that around your chest.” His breath quickened, hands tightening to the point of pain around the mug in his hands. “Trowa, please. You could kill yourself with that thing, with the way you wear it and how active you usually are.” Active. He found that he couldn’t focus on the area ahead of him; his blood was pounding in his ears much too loudly. “You could end up damaging your body.”

It was impossible to explain but something within the confines of his being shifted drastically. An enormous amount of heat rushed through his blood and body. It empowered him in a bizarre way. A vaguely familiar one. It forced his hands to slam the mug hard enough onto the counter that it cracked noticeably. It closed his eyes tightly and coated his voice in a strange tone that Trowa had not adopted for many years. “Fine!! Let it be damaged, I don’t care!!”

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the rain seemed to have been stunned into silence from the strange outburst that he had just undergone. Trowa stared blankly ahead, swallowing heavily to alleviate the odd lump in his throat. His shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breathing; what in the world had that been? He knew that he knew it but Trowa could not find the name for the strange emotion that had just surged through his being and out of his mouth. It had been like his body was on fire with it; he had wanted nothing more than to break something with it’s strength.

…Anger? Had that been it? Had Trowa actually been angry?… When was the last time Trowa Barton had ever been angry?

A sudden cold presence across his hands startled him from his thoughts. He looked down at the cold cloth that Catherine had draped over them. It was only then that Trowa truly noticed that his hands were very uncomfortably hot, border lining on pain, and that there was water all over the countertop that steamed slightly.

“…I don’t think it was hot enough to really burn…does it hurt a lot?” she asked softly. Trowa shook his head. A small smile crossed her face. “That’s good. Just leave that on for a couple minutes just to be safe.”

He sighed softly, stepping back slightly so she could wipe the hot water off the counter with a different towel. She continually kept her back to him as she worked, setting the cracked mug carefully in the sink, taking a new one out of the cabinet to her left. Pouring water into it and setting a tea bag into the fresh water that she had poured. Smiling at him gently, Catherine removed the cold towel from his hands; his fingers were a pale reddish color. It wouldn’t be permanent.

She was still smiling when she held out the mug to him. Trowa found that he could barely look at it. “…I…I’m sorry Catherine…”

“It’s alright, Trowa.” She replied with a shake to her head.

“…No it isn’t…this isn’t your fault…I shouldn’t have…I don’t know why…This isn’t your fault…” Catherine said nothing. She watched him fix his gaze to the floor, trying to understand how he had felt such strong emotion once again. He had not felt anything like that for so long…it was odd and unwelcome. He heard her set the mug down; his own eyes closed. They did not open again until he felt her arms wind themselves about his waist and squeeze lightly.

“This isn’t your fault either, Trowa.” She told him softly, her head resting very lightly against his chest. He did not move but the muscles in his body relaxed quite slowly to her touch. Catherine smiled up at him. “How bout an early dinner? And then you can get some sleep, you must be tired from riding in the rain and cold. And then tomorrow we can get up early and see everyone and get ready for the shows this week.”

“…That sounds like a good idea…” he managed quietly. She stepped back.

“Good, then let’s make dinner together. We’ll go all out.” She laughed. Trowa nodded lightly.

He stood beside her some minutes later, cutting up vegetables while Catherine sautéed them and worked on homemade soup at the same time. He listened as closely as he could as she went on and on about things that had been going on in the circus, gossip as she called it. He didn’t have to answer her, she knew that he was listening and was more than happy just to continue discussing the current events of the troupe without much input from him. Just the occasional body movement was good enough for her it seemed.

Trowa watched her for a moment from the corner of his eyes as she started a long story about the tightrope walkers’ fight over something or other. She had a smile on her face as she spoke, as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. It still managed to amaze Trowa, how quickly she had adapted to him and his personality. And how quickly she managed to write off his abnormality. She was the only one that he felt almost able to discuss it with…or at least acknowledge it.

He had not confided in her about it; Trowa had not confided in anyone about it. Catherine had discovered his secret all on her own, although he had to assume that she would have as they had been living in very close quarters when he was using the circus as his cover for the Operation Meteor. That did not mean it had not startled him greatly when she stumbled upon him in a state of undress at night. He was not sure if it had frightened him or not; Trowa was not certain that he could feel fear any longer. All he knew was that it had made his blood turn suddenly and painfully cold and he was absolutely certain that he would have to find someplace new to hide his identity. He had expected her to scream, throw him out of the place, call him a dozen names that he had heard before. He expected her cruelty at his strangeness. Trowa had not expected the kindness that she showed him. He had not expected the warmth of a motherly embrace or a blur of gentle words.

Trowa had not expected her to treat him kindly, to treat him almost the same as she always had. He had not expected her maternal protection. He hadn’t expected her help in furthering the length that he maintained his secret. He hadn’t expected her to continue even acknowledging his existence. Her kindness never ceased to surprise him.

The meal they shared was quiet yet delicious affair, with many foods that Trowa could partake in without silent complaint. Catherine had always been very good at making sure that he had always plenty to eat, sometimes she made sure he had too much. It also helped that she was rather health conscious. While she was not a vegetarian like himself, she understood the value of having a good portion of fruits and vegetables with any meal. He spent most of the meal in silence, listening to her continuing stories as he ate with polite vigor. It had been sometime since Trowa had eaten something that she had prepared. And it was not long before he felt a pleasant sort of numbness settled over him from the warmth and food.

“Well that was delicious.” She said finally, setting down her glass. Trowa nodded softly. “Shall we turn in?”

“Yes, alright…” The two made quick work of the remaining dishes, Trowa excusing himself when Catherine suggested that he clean up and get ready for sleep, and assuring him that she was fully capable of putting dishes away by herself. He stepped out of the bathroom a short time later, dressed in a warm pair of dark colored pajamas. Minus the corset. It was a feeling that he still was not used to, cloth against this sort of flesh. It still managed unnerve him after all this time. Catherine raised her head and smiled at him, rising from where she was setting a pillow or two and blankets on the couch.

“Ah, well at least you don’t wear that thing to sleep. That’s a start.” She said with a good natured smile on her face.

Trowa fought back a face. “Do you think I am stupid?” he asked with only a slightly offended tone. If his bedroom door had no lock and he ran the risk of having someone intruding on him in the middle of the night or in a moment of privacy, Trowa sure as hell would wear the corset to bed as well.

“I know you’re not stupid Trowa. But I do know that you are stubborn.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek lightly. “Good night Trowa.”

“…Catherine.”

“Hm?” She muttered as she fluffed the pillows a bit. “What is it?”

“Go sleep in your own bed.”

“Oh but Trowa, you’re the guest. And the couch is so uncomfortable to sleep on, it’ll mess up your back-”

“And you’re the one who has to do a show soon. I highly doubt that a sore back will improve your aim.”

“But Trowa-”

“No.”

Catherine gave him an annoyed look. She sighed, standing straight. “Fine, fine. Be that way, ruin the basics of hosting a guest in someone’s home.”

“Good night Catherine.” He sighed. Smiling again, she hugged him lightly. Trowa fought back a grimace well.

“Good night Trowa. Sleep well.”

Trowa waited until she had closed her bedroom door and the faint light from beneath the crack beneath it had disappeared before sitting himself on the couch. The rain had slowed to a gentle tapping above his head. He sighed gently to himself before rising again and moving to the wall switch. The darkness engulfed the place completely; he felt his way carefully to the couch, stopping only when his knees bumped into the invisible cushions. Blind, he pulled back the several blankets she had thrown over it and laid himself down. Already, Trowa knew what Catherine was talking about; it felt as though there was a very long pole stabbing him all along his spine. He shifted slightly. Now it was poking into the small of his back along the organs in his side. Perhaps tomorrow night I’ll sleep on the floor…

Perhaps it had been boredom, or the drumming of the light rain, but Trowa somehow managed to find sleep on that very uncomfortable couch. He was sure he had fallen asleep because he awoke late into the darkness, breathing shallowly. A thin layer of sweat adorned his forehead, dripping down the side of his neck. Running his hand through his hair, Trowa sat up just a bit. What had he dreamed this time… He couldn’t remember.

A small sound broke him from his thoughts. He looked towards the sound; it had come from Catherine’s room. The light beneath of the door was on. It flicked off just as quickly as he had seen it. Trowa arched an eyebrow slightly. Catherine had been up? Whatever for? A curious memory floated through his mind briefly. Frowning slightly, he reached into the darkness with his hand and felt about the air for the small and plain side table he knew to be sitting along the end of the couch he had been resting his head on. He flicked on the lamp that was there, blinking slightly in the light that it spread over him.

One solitary mug of tea sat upon a worn looking book under the lamp’s glow. Trowa blinked down at it. He looked towards the bedroom door for a moment then sighed. It would seem that Catherine had noticed his apparent restless sleep and realized that he would wake soon. He never realized how loud he was when his sleep became disturbed. He must have been quite loud to have woken her up and prompt her to prepare an insomnia remedy that Trowa had almost completely forgotten about. Trowa would have to thank her for it in the morning. Reaching over, he took a sip of the hot tea and sat back with the book on his lap. He could not recall if it was something he had read before. Trowa certainly didn’t recognize the cover. That didn’t stop him from opening it with one hand and reading the first page.

He had forgotten how effective it was as well. The warmth of the tea running down his throat and settling in his limbs combined with the soothing effects of late night reading sent a calmness through him. He barely managed to set the mug down on the floor before it forced his heavy-feeling eyelids to close.

Trowa would definitely have to thank her come the morning.

Sunlight was what woke him, falling over his face and changing the blackness of his sleep to a light colored reddish orange. Groaning slightly, he opened an eye and closed it just as quickly as the bright sunlight from the window that was opened nearby assaulted his vision. Apparently, it had been a very effective remedy; he had slept through the rest of the night with little trouble or so it seemed. With a quiet yawn, Trowa sat up on the couch and almost immediately wish he hadn’t. He double over slightly, hands pressed against the very painful ache all along his back.

Tonight, he was going to sleep on the floor.

Looking around, it appeared that Trowa was the first one to wake. A sign that Catherine was up and about was nowhere; her bedroom door wasn’t even opened. It seemed to be not long after dawn judging by the light that he could see from the window beside him. The others of the troupe were probably just starting to rouse themselves. He stood, albeit slowly to prevent further strain on his already sore back, and grimaced only slightly at the feeling of a cold floor beneath his feet. He would have to deal with it for the moment, as his bag was sitting by the door inside the bedroom and he had no desire to wake his sister any earlier than she needed to be up. His steps were purposefully quiet as he went into the kitchen and, after placing the empty mug in the sink to be washed a bit later, started to look around in the cabinets and refrigerator.

By the time Catherine came out of her bedroom, already dressed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes lightly, Trowa had almost fully completed making breakfast for the two. She stopped in her tracks, staring at him. He looked up from placing a cup of coffee at her usual seat.

“Good morning Catherine.” he greeted.

“…Good morning Trowa.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Uh huh. Did you?”

“…It could have been better. Thank you for the tea last night.” He said, setting a glass of milk at his own space.

She smiled a bit. “You’re welcome Trowa. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“It’s a newly acquired skill.” He replied with a slight shrug. “I thought you’d like something to eat and since I was up before you…”

Catherine’s smile grew. She crossed the room and hugged him lightly. “Well aren’t you a sweet little brother? Thank you Trowa.”

“Of course Catherine.”

Breakfast was a far more hurried meal than the dinner the night before had been. Trowa understood why of course; their days had always started quite early when he had been living with the troupe and he assumed that it would not change even with his leaving. Catherine continually commented on his cooking throughout the meal, to each Trowa gave her a quiet thank you. He had no idea why she found it such a big deal. Who couldn’t cook eggs, cut up fruit, or pour cereal into a bowl? He excused himself briefly after the meal, disappearing to change his clothes while Catherine washed and put away the dishes that had used.

She frowned only slightly when he reappeared but thankfully kept her comment to herself. “Well how about we go and see everyone now and get started with the day?”

“Sounds fine.”

Slipping on his shoes, he followed her out of the small place and into the cold but bright morning. There was a thick layer of slick frost adorning the grass around them from the rain that had frozen over after the storm. The air smelled amazingly fresh, filled with scents that he had not experienced since his departure from the group. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing as deeply as he could without going too lightheaded from the piece.

“…You missed it, huh?”

He opened his eyes and looked over at her. “…Yes.”

“Well let’s go say hi to everyone and find you something to do.”

The morning went without much incident. He followed Catherine about the grounds and familiarized himself with the people he had lived among for quite some time. He remembered the grounds of the circus quite well, as long with the numerous people they encountered throughout the morning. Most of them seemed quite surprised, and extremely happy to see him. Some overly so, like Sophia the contortionist who had shrieked his name at a decibel Trowa had assumed was impossible for humans to hear and nearly knocked him flat on his butt with the tackle hug she put him through. And because Trowa found that he had no true reason to give her a black eye for invading his personal space, he merely let her squeeze him to death. That and he made a point to usually keep his fists to himself when it came to overly emotional women. Others were far more discreet about their happiness, and much less painful about it. Manuel, the lion tamer, offered him a genial smile and a warm handshake accompanied by a few kind words. They shared a very calm and typical conversation, asking one another about their lives briefly before he excused himself to finish his practice with the whip. He still seemed to strike himself three times out of ten. Thought that was still better than the five times out of ten as it had been before.

Some of the troupe were not so excited to see that he had returned. Renee, the resident magician and “mistress” of slight of hand as she called herself, gave him a rather cold greeting and quickly made an excuse to get as far away from him as possible. Trowa assumed that she was still most upset of his lack of awe and idol worship of her “amazing” skills and tricks. He had never found the art of prestidigitation all that intriguing, or difficult. And the fact that he had managed to see through just about every single one of her tricks certainly didn’t help her mood towards him.

And then of course there was Thomas.

“Holy shit, it is true. You are still alive.” Trowa would recognize the snide tone of voice from just about anywhere. Beside him, Catherine stopped, her eyes closing as though she were praying strength, and turned around with a benign smile plastered on her face.

“Hello Tom.” she greeted with believable cheerfulness.

He shuddered noticeably. “Catherine, please.”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry. You prefer ‘Thomas,’ don’t you?”

“You know I damn well do. It sounds better in the program.”

“Yes, of course it does.” she muttered softly. Trowa could sense that she was having immense trouble holding back a snide smirk of her own.

“So…Trowa Barton. Been a bit hasn’t it?” He asked. He didn’t answer. It was an obvious rhetorical question. Hazel eyes swept over the entirety of him. Trowa fought back a shift of weight under its scrutiny. “You look about the same as usual, right down to that messed up hairdo of yours.”

“As do you Thomas. A shame to see that you injured your leg.” he replied softly, gesturing to the long white cast that encased the majority of his left leg. “A serious break this time?”

“What? This stupid thing?” he laughed. Thomas leaned the majority of his weight on the other crouch, freeing on hand to brush back dark auburn hair. “Those doctors don’t know what they’re talking about. Three months for a silly old fracture, hah! I’ve been through so much worse.”

“Yes yes Thomas. We know you have. So much worse…” Catherine sighed, cutting off the impending story. Trowa merely nodded softly.

He snorted softly and turned his attention back to Trowa. “So are you actually staying this time or are you going to run away again?”

“Trowa’s here for a visit, Thomas. And he didn’t run away. He’s living with a couple of good friends who happen to be coworkers of his.” Catherine said with only a slight snap entering her voice.

“Ah yes that’s right, you got a new ‘job,’ didn’t you? What are you doing now? White collar work?”

“…I don’t think my employment is any of your business, Thomas.” Trowa answered flatly.

Thomas smirked. “That or your just embarrassed that outside the circus all you’re capable of doing is mindless paper pushing, eh?”

He bit back the angry retort, and the wince of truth as the validity of his situation seemed to stab harder at him than normal.

“Very mature Thomas. At least Trowa is able to do a job at the moment.”

“Ah my pride is wounded Catherine. Really.” he sighed theatrically. She fixed him with a glare that he ignored by glancing at Trowa again. “So you live with a couple of friends, hm?”

“…Yes if you must know, I am.”

“They were three boys last time I heard, weren’t they?” Trowa decided not to open his mouth. He gave a small nod instead. “Well how are your lovers doing anyway?”

“…I’m afraid you have been misinformed.” Trowa said in a deadly quiet sort of voice. “I am living with friends…not lovers.”

“You’re living in closed quarters with three guys all your age. There has to be something going on.”

“…Does there?”

“Of course, or else you’d be living with a girlfriend, or at least alone.”

“…We are sharing a house to cut the living expenses of this day and age….”

“You’re sharing a house with three frigging guys.”

“They’re friends, Thomas. Not boyfriends.” Catherine chimed in. Thomas snorted.

“Is there a fucking difference in this case?”

“A big difference.”

“Oh really? Then tell me Trowa, who are you seeing?” he asked with a false innocent grin. Trowa bit his tongue to keep himself quiet and prevent him from walking any deeper into this conversation than he had already gone.

Catherine was not being so prudent.

“What’s it to you if he’s seeing someone, if anyone?”

“Call me curious. Come now Trowa, don‘t be so shy. It‘ll be our little secret. And of course, the third wheel as well.” He snorted gently to himself. Trowa could think of no one who gossiped more than Thomas of the Trapeze.

“Don’t you have some painkillers to take?” she snapped annoyed. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to take them three times a day? It’s almost lunch now, so shouldn’t you be taking them?”

“Ugh. What are you, my mother?” he sneered. Thomas heaved a heavy sighed and turned back to Trowa. “Every since you left she’s been looking for somebody to mommy. Apparently my vaguely wounded leg qualifies me for the appalling task.”

“I do not mommy him!”

“Heh, you keep thinking that, darling.” Thomas said with a knowing smirk, patting her on the shoulder. “Well then, if you will both excuse me, there are things that need to be done. And as it is getting close to lunch I am going to find myself something to eat as I am absolutely starving. Nice to see you again Trowa, let me know whenever you decide to go back to your little boyfriends. Till later then.” He nodded his head to them both, turning on his crutches and hobbling off. He didn’t seem to notice the smoldering look that Catherine was aiming at his back. Ducking down, she picked up a rather large rock and tossed it in the air once or twice.

“I bet I can peg the jerk. He’s moving slower than he usually does since he hasn’t taken his painkillers yet.” Trowa sighed himself, setting a hand on hers just enough to make her lower her arm.

“Don’t…”

“Why not? He deserves it.”

“…They are just words. They mean very little to me.”

“…Alright. I’ll leave him alone. For now. But he makes one more snide little comment and this rock cracks his head.”

Secretly, Trowa felt rather sorry for the rock.

The two shared a brief and hurried lunch together back in her little place. The afternoon was spent with him finishing his reacquainting himself with the others of the troupe and then performing various odd jobs that others asked of him. Mostly the carrying and unloading of various boxes for various performers. It was while he was unloading one box that he ran into the other people of his former “chosen” area of circus expertise.

“Hey you’re back!” Trowa looked up at the voice. He hardly recognized the two men who were smiling at him widely. Then again, it was very rare that he ever saw them without the massive amount of makeup they applied daily to their faces.

“Welcome back, man. It’s been quiet without you here.”

Trowa nodded a greeting to them lightly. “This is not permanent. I’m here for a short visit…”

“Really? Well that’s disappointing.”

“Disappointing?”

“Yeah.” The other sighed, running a hand through his natural blonde hair. “Things haven’t been the same since you disappeared on us.”

“We’re not nearly as popular as we used to be.” He sighed. Trowa blinked lightly; that had certainly not what he had been expecting to hear. Trowa had often assumed that, because of the popularity that he had received for his repeated performances of dangerous acrobatic and his hazardous and possibly lethal decision to allow Catherine to use him as a human target, had turned the others that chose to wear the mask of a clown away from him. He did seem to draw a larger crowd than they did for their performances.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean…” he said, treading softly over strange ground.

Surprisingly, they continued to smile. “Well, since you always went on before us and gave everyone near heart attacks with your performance, we were a great way to bring their pulses back down and relax them. They loved us more since we relaxed them after watching you. Since you left, well it’s just not the same, you know?”

He had no idea.

“So what are you doing now? Catherine said you got a new job?”

“Yes…with a couple of friends. We are living together.”

“That must be nice.”

“It’s been very interesting…”

“They’re treating you’re nicely, right?”

“…I couldn’t think of a reason they wouldn’t…or why you would think they might.”

“Well we never met these guys, so we’re just checking to make sure they’re not messing with one of us.”

Trowa blinked. “…Things are fine, interesting as I said…but fine.”

“Trowa, can you give me a hand over here?” Catherine called out to him. Trowa looked over to her. “I need to take these box over to the animals’ cages but it’s really heavy, I can’t do it myself.”

He nodded slightly. Rising, Trowa brushed the slight amount of dirt of his pants. “Coming…” he turned briefly back to the two makeup-less clowns. “Excuse me, it was nice to see you again.”

“Same here. We’ll talk later, yeah?” they asked. Trowa nodded lightly. “Great, see you later then, Trowa. Nice to see you back here!”

Trowa waved at them slightly as he walked over to Catherine who was smiling brightly at him. Kneeling down, he tested the weight of the box; it was rather heavy surprisingly and he wondered for a moment as to what it contained. He lifted it into his arms, being sure to use his legs and not his back which had finally started to stop hurting from that horrible couch he had slept on.

“Ah thank you Trowa. Now let me just get this end here and then we can go take it.” she said, reaching for the end of the box nearest to her. With a shake to his head, he stepped back out of her reach, feeling the box shift back into his chest. “Trowa!”

“I have it.”

“Trowa Barton, I asked you to help me carry the box, not carry it all by yourself. Now let me get this end.”

“…I have it.” he said over his shoulder as he walked off with it in a deliberately slow walk. He could hear Catherine snorting annoyed behind him and could picture her with her hands on her hips in a huff.

“You are so stubborn.” Catherine sighed exasperated, following after him. He slowed his stride a little further until she was walking along beside him.

The air around them was suddenly full of the scents of hay, both old and new, and those of various animal furs or flesh. A quiet cacophony of animal calls greeted them as the two entered. As the animals of the circus recognized the two newcomers, they quieted. Trowa looked around from the side of the box for a place to set it down. He noticed several other boxes to one side and decided that it would probably be best if he put them together. It wasn’t until he was straightening back up from setting it down that he noticed someone’s eyes following him.

The lion’s majestic eyes followed his movements with a strange look of comradeship, and condemnation.

“…Hello there. It has been some time, hasn’t it…” Trowa found himself saying softly. He crossed towards the large cage with a cautious and respectful air. The lion watched him unblinkingly. Trowa could sense that he was less than pleased with him; he held a very annoyed look in his elegant and soulful eyes. Mindful of this, Trowa stopped just before his cage, kneeling down on the dirt to lower himself to beneath the other’s height.

“I see you’re trying to get back in his good graces.” Manuel said with a soft smile to his voice. Trowa shifted his sight to the right for a moment, just long enough to see him leaning against the bar of the cage with his arms crossed casually, before returning to meeting the lion’s stared unfaltering. “He’s been in quite a mood lately. Far moodier than usual, doesn’t let particularly anyone near him. He’s even been distant and agitated at me, and I’ve been with him for about ten years.”

Trowa nodded lightly, keeping his gaze still. His eyes were starting to feel the strain of no blinking.

“Of course, he didn’t start acting so moody and annoyed until after you left the troupe to go work at the new job of yours, whatever you’ve been doing.” he said. “So of course, I blame you for the fact that he tried to bite me very hard the first day after you left.” There was a smile in his voice.

He could understand the lion’s feelings. He had, after all, left the troupe without giving his friend a proper good bye. Crouched on the floor, Trowa continued to gaze into the pair of eyes, watching his own reflection in them. He hoped the look of sincerity on his face was visible to him. Apparently it was, since the lion stepped closer to the cage and lowered his head to him slightly. Slowly, Trowa slid his hand through the bars. He would not blame him if he lashed out in the last moment just to spite him.

The lion had planned no such action as Trowa’s hand touched the soft fur of his mane with no incident. Its eyes closed lightly as he moved it slowly through the hair. Does this mean that you forgive me for not saying a proper good bye to you?

Manuel sighed in mock irritation. “How unfair. I train with him for ten years and it took him two weeks to forgive me whenever I ticked him off. And here you come back after leaving and he forgives you right away. I’m so very jealous.”

Catherine giggled softly, coming over to them from where she had been doing something with the boxes. “But Trowa’s good with all sorts of animals. So I don’t think it’s very surprising that he trusts him enough to forgive him so fast.”

“He trusts him more than me? So he does that mean that he can do my job better than me? Is that what you‘re saying, Catherine?”

“I never said that Manuel.”

“I know that.” he chuckled. Trowa watched the lion do something very akin to an eye roll. He held back a smile as he stroked the fur. I know…his jokes are very bad, aren’t they?

The afternoon was whiled away with Trowa spending the daylight hours in the animals’ quarters, attending to the boxes that had been left there to be sorted through. Catherine and the others had mostly disappeared to practice for the opening show come nightfall, although they occasionally wandered through to chat for a moment or escort an animal for a practice performance, Trowa assisting in the task when the need arose. Only once did Thomas come by to press Trowa further about his private life and try to incite an argument or emotion from him. He was comically thwarted in the attempt as the lion, apparently also aggravated with his incessant prying, let out a roar that sent Thomas jumping and toppling to the ground. He had barely managed to hold back the need for a smile as he helped the wounded man back to his feet.

“J-Jesus Christ…it always does that when I’m around.”

“Does he now…” Trowa asked flatly as he stood him up and handed him his crutches. Thomas, snorting softly, leaned on them. He glared over at the lion, who let out a low growl from his throat.

“I swear that thing hates me.” He muttered. Trowa shrugged absently, going back to the box nearest to the lion’s cage. The lion eyed Thomas from over Trowa’s back when he took a step towards him on the crutches. Trowa could hear the starts of another roar coming from the animal’s chest. Thomas seemed to notice as well. “…I think I’ll go take my medication now. You just keep going with…whatever the hell you’re doing.”

He nodded barely, waiting for the heavy set steps to fade before looking at the lion who was resting comfortably on the floor again. Shaking his head lightly, he returned to the boxes.

It was not until Trowa was on the final box that he stopped again. The sun was setting behind the trees that surrounded part of the grounds but there was still enough light to see what he was doing properly. The light let him see something that was both very strange, and very familiar. It must have been put in the box by mistake. It had absolutely nothing to do with the other contents of the box. Still, Trowa lifted it out of the bottom of the box with gentle movements, as though it were suddenly something most fragile. Cradling it between his hands, he let his eyes absorbed the details of the piece. Its smooth surface and white coloring was so familiar. Taking a deep breath, Trowa turned it over and lifted it to his face. Eyes closing he could almost hear the distant sounds of children’s laughter and the gasps and applause of an awed crowd.

“…Do you miss it Trowa?” Catherine’s voice almost rang a startled gasp from him, but it didn’t. It did send his head snapping in her direction; he could hear his neck cracking slightly from the speed. Trowa set the mask back in the box. Smiling, she knelt beside him, mindful not to get too much dust or dirt on her nightly costume and picked up the half mask. “Ah so here’s where it went. I was wondering where it disappeared to.”

“Yes…I found it a moment ago.”

“I can see that.” she smiled. “…So are you going to answer my question?”

He said nothing for a while, looking down at the empty box. “…I suppose I do…”

“…The show’s starting. Why don’t you come watch it?”

“I’ll watch from the side.”

She said and shook her head. “If you think you’ll be able to see it better than in the audience.” Standing, Catherine brushed off her costume lightly before offering him a hand to his feet. Trowa took it and rose, passing one more look to the lion before following her out towards the rings. He could feel the eyes on him again and looked over his shoulder only once. I will be here for a bit longer…and I will say good bye this time…

Trowa, leaning against a pole in the shadows, watched the show from the performers’ entrance in the main tent. Even in the dim lighting, he could see that the circus’ show was still immensely popular judging by the crowd’s size and response. The show was almost exactly as he remembered, the difference being only slight and hardly noticeable to most. Of course, Thomas was not the star of the trapeze as his leg was broken, and the replace star, a female Trowa knew mostly through appearance, was an admitted improvement; her ego was at least not causing her to break her limbs. The trick riders were also different since Aimee was no longer among them. It seemed to Trowa that the group had lost a bit of their spark and flair, though they were still most impressive. And of course, since he was no longer a part of the troupe in the terms of performing, Catherine was no longer using him as her human target. The target they had selected, someone vaguely new that Trowa was not sure of, showed his fear far too easily. If it had been any other person other than his sister throwing the knives at him in rapid procession, Trowa was certain that his fear would lead him to serious injury.

The sounds of the circus enveloped his senses as the performances poured on. Leaning his head against the pole, he let his eyes drift close to better appreciate sounds that he hadn’t heard for what felt like an eternity. The sounds of children’s excited chattering as the performers went in and out of their routines. The startled gasps drawn from the lion’s roar or Manuel’s “near” fatal something or other, or from the daring tricks upon the trapeze or tightrope. The riotous laughter of both young and old. Strangely, the cacophony had something akin to a calming affect upon him. It was a blessed change to the mediocrity that his life had now adopted.

The hour was late when the show ended, the last of the audience had left in good spirits, and Trowa had helped with the light cleanup that followed the end of every show. Catherine came up to him, dressed once more in casual clothes, as he finished up, taking the broom from his hand.

“Did you enjoy the show?” She asked sweetly. He nodded.

“Yes, it was very good…as usual.”

“Well we try to do our best at every one.”

“…Although I must say that your new target is…”

“A complete coward. I know.” sighed Catherine, setting the broom aside. She turned back to him with a faint smile. “But not everyone has nerves of ice cold steel like you, Trowa. Most people are rather terrified of the prospect of having someone throw knives at them.”

“You would never purposefully hit him…”

“No, but there is always the chance that something might make me. A distraction, a slip of the fingers, a sneeze. The chance of serious injury or death is always there.”

He merely shrugged. “If it happens, it happens…worse things could possibly happen.” Catherine, chuckling softly, shook her head.

“You’re the only one I know who would say something like that.” She grinned, wrapping her arm with his and walking him back to her now dark little home. They walked in silence for a few moments, the cold air whipping at them feebly. “…You know.”

“Hm?”

“People still ask us about you.” She said quietly, her eyes staring ahead into the night. Trowa looked at her for a moment. People asked about him?

“…They ask about me?”

“Mhm. Not a performance goes by where I don’t have at least one person come up to me before leaving and ask about ‘the clown with no fear.’ It seems that we aren’t the only ones who miss your stern looking face.”

He wasn’t sure what he should say to something such as this. Looking out into the darkness, he felt something very strange gripping at him; he wondered what he should call it.

“Trowa…” Her soft call pulled him back to her. “I know that you’re only going to be here for a week but…but well I can tell that you missed being in the show with us. And we missed watching you. So…why not one more show? I bet everyone would love it. One last show before you leave. We can do it at the end of the week, that will give you lots of time to practice. Not that you need it, I bet.” She tightened her grip on him just a bit. “So…how bout it?”

It took him some time to reply, staring out into the cold. One last show…a week to practice would be more than enough. Did he really miss it so much…

“…Alright.” He answered quietly. Catherine, her smile gleaming even in the dark, tightened her grip on him and lead him inside the dark home. He had the strange sensation that this week was going to turn suddenly and unexpectedly very busy.

The remaining days of his small vacation seemed to race by Trowa’s eyes in a wild blur. It was nothing but a spinning mesh of hurried meals and personal training. Not to remember the moves that he had used before, he already knew them, but to be able to perform before a crowd in bright lights with a corset tightened about his chest. Catherine, unsurprisingly, had been avidly furious with the mere idea of it. Trowa’s stubbornness persisted over the course of the days and she forced herself to concede to his wishes eventually; it would be too obvious to everyone else if he heeded her wishes and went through the training without it. Even if they were “small and unnoticeable” as Catherine tried to argue. She had, however, managed to convince him to loosen it from his normal.

Which was most likely a fine idea. Trowa didn’t need to nearly suffocate, again, in front of an awestruck and tear stricken crowd.

The end of the week came in a rush; it felt as though he had merely closed his eyes for a moment and life had sped on without him and transported him to the shadows of the performers’ entrance to the main tent. His old costume fit him as perfectly as it had, the mask rested in his slightly limp hand. He found himself entranced by the bright lights ahead that illuminated the current performer as he went through his personal finale.

“…You ready?” Catherine asked softly from beside him. Her costume glinted lightly.

“…Yes.” he heard himself saying although it was hard to hear over the din that the applause had caused. She managed to give him a smile before looking out to the ring as well where their circus master had taken stage.

“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls of all ages. We have a special treat for you this winter’s evening.” A soft murmur rippled through the crowd at the words. “The final performance of a performer who needs no introduction. Whose acrobatic skill has mesmerized, startled, and astounded audience all across the colonies and the planet’s surface,” The murmurs of curiosity turned to those of sheer excitement. They seemed to be hanging on the man’s words with the utmost intensity. Trowa had to admit that he, with his flair for drama and his rather surprising charismatic persona, was most impressive in the center stage. “Ladies and gentleman, it is my and the troupe’s great pleasure to present to you, the final performance of the man that you have often asked for. Please, a round of applause for the farewell act of the clown with no fear!”

The riotous noise drowned his thoughts in astonishment. He had never imagined before such a reaction, from anyone. A strange sort of fluttering erupted in his chest; what it was he could not say. Breathing softly, Trowa slid the mask onto his face, feeling its cool material against his skin and breathing in its scent. A calm rushed over him. Emerald eye opened once again, he made his way out into the center ring in the fashion that he had always done:

Wearing the face of no fear.

A/n(2): Well what does everyone think of chapter 2? as before, please read and review and as always, constructive critism is a good thing^^ Flames will be laughed at so don't bother. And as a reminder: I do not own any aspects of gundam wing (characters, places, things, ideas ect). No money is being made from this piece of fiction and exists only for preverted enjoyment.
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The Chains We Wear