The Chains We Wear

A/n: Hello once again from…my bedroom. Geez I miss Japan. I miss my friends, and my host families and karaoke boxes…maybe not going to school as much but I miss my friends. Good to be home but that’s losing its luster since I have to go to college tomorrow!! T.T NO the end of summer! And I only got half of it.

Well…no regrets^^

Anyway, before we begin chapter 4 of my lovely and angst ridden fanfic, some comments and explanations. As always, many thanks to my lovely reviewers whom I now adore. Can you believe I have 8 reviews! That’s the most reviews I’ve ever gotten! Wow…my life suddenly has little meaning… Anyway, thank you all for the reviews and the kind words. It really keeps me motivated.

Now about chapter 3. I’ll be honest, not my favorite and a bitch to write. A lot of you commented on the whole contract and mission explanation. Well firstly, it was used as a bit of a plot filler because I needed something. And secondly, I needed to give off some sort of reason as to why Trowa would even consider allowing something like this to happen. And you’d be surprised what people can get away with by slipping them into the boredom of a tediously long contract. Plus, this whole assignment will lead to some interesting developments and…yeah, you’re right it’s a poor explanation. Sorry!

Chapter 4 jumps around throughout the preparation week for Trowa, and it’s actually half of one chapter. The second half was cut off and turned into chapter 5, or else chapter 4 would have been over 30 pages long and that would’ve been hard for you to read in one sitting.

As always, please read and review, they are loved.

And as always, I own nothing but the ideas of my own design and the laptop. GW in all its entirety does not belong to me and no money is being made.

Enjoy


Chapter 4: Tracy Transformation

“Trowa. You’re home early.” Quatre said, blinking slightly as he pulled off his winter coat to hang up on the rack. Trowa, biting back an exhausted yawn, looked back at him through the barely lit house. He had only managed to make it home less than five minutes ago, entering an entirely darkened house and only having enough time to take off his coat and shoes and flip on the living room and kitchen lights before hearing the door open another time.

“…Not really…”

“Well you’re home earlier than usual.” he replied. Setting his keys on a small table, Quatre kicked off his shoes and walked over towards him. A look of worry showed more and more upon his face with every step closer. “Trowa, you look so tired.” So much for hiding it… “Did you have a hard day of work?”

“I’m alright…” he answered, setting the bag on the couch for a moment. Trowa leaned back against the arm of it for a moment. “I’m sure that your day was much more tiring than mine.”

Quatre smiled softly although with a hint of mischief, walking towards the kitchen. “Well I don’t know. I wasn’t the one dancing for the entire day.”

“…Heero called you.”

“Duo actually.” he answered. “He called me before I got out of the office to tell me that he and Heero were going to be later than usual and I shouldn’t worry about making them anything to eat. He mentioned, once I asked why, that he and Heero were selected for an important operation. And he just happened to also mention that you had been chosen as the undercover operative for the same operation.”

“Is that all he mentioned?”

“Well…” Quatre started quietly. Trowa sighed softly, straightening up and immediately feeling the muscles in his legs reject the movement. He forced them to carry him over to the kitchen where he leaned against the wall to take a bit of the weight off.

“Go on Quatre…”

Quatre smiled sympathetically. “He did say that you were going undercover as…well as a--”

“You can say it. I’m going undercover as a woman.”

“Well, yes. That.”

“How much did he laugh?”

“Duo didn’t laugh!” Quatre defended quickly. A little too quickly. Trowa watched him unblinkingly, wearing through the slight wall that he had placed over his face. It was a tactic that Quatre often tried when he was attempting to lie. It had no resistance against Trowa’s seeking stare. “…Much.”

Trowa sighed softly. Head laying against the wall, he watched Quatre pour himself a glass of something from the refrigerator, perhaps just some iced tea. He sat himself on the counter after offering Trowa one, which Trowa declined, and smiled at him gently.

“Well…it’s not like you’ll have to do this ever again…and it’s only for one night.” he said over the rim of the glass.

“True. I can deal with one night, I suppose. And it’s not like I have much of a choice in the matter. It is my job, after all…”

“Do you think you’ll like it better?” asked Quatre. Trowa tilted his head. Did he think he’d like what better? Being a girl? Dressing up instead of doing paperwork? “Do you think you’ll like being back in the field of something instead of sitting behind a desk?”

“…I won’t know until it’s done.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He nodded as he spoke. Trowa returned the gesture barely. They were quiet for a moment. He shifted finally, moving from the wall to the refrigerator. Spending a moment looking through it and deciding that there was truly nothing he felt like having even for a small snack, Trowa pulled out a carton of fruit juice with a gentle sigh. It tasted rather stale. “How bout pizza?”

“What?”

“Pizza. Since it’s apparently just going to be me and you for dinner tonight, and since I really don’t feel like cooking at all, why don’t we order a pizza and share it?”

Trowa frowned slightly over the edge of the glass.

“And I swear, I won’t order pepperoni or sausage this time.” Quatre sighed. Trowa frowned slightly, looking into his reddened reflection look up at him from the drink. He sipped it quietly. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Just me and you. We can talk, or play cards or something. Please?”

He took a moment to finish his drink and consider. Quatre was shifting anxiously by the time he finished
and had washed out his glass to leave in the sink. “…All right. Pizza sounds good.”

“Great! Go change into something comfortable if you want and I’ll call for pizza. Is there anything you want, besides a pizza without pepperoni or sausage?”

“No ham either, please. Anything other than those three are fine.”

Quatre nodded, waving at him to go and “change into something comfortable” while he waited for the local pizza restaurant to pick up their phone and take their order. Shaking his head slightly, Trowa walked back to the couch to retrieve his bag and carried it into his bedroom. He flipped the light on to bathe his room in the soft fluorescent light before dropping his bag to the floor and reaching up to rub his stiffened shoulders. They felt strangely tough, the muscles knotted painfully. How could dancing make him feel so stiffened and sore? I wasn’t even aware of using these muscles…

Kicking the duffle bag over closer to the end of the bed, Trowa took his time to unbutton the uniform shirt that he had decided to change back into before going home. He had had no desire to have anyone see him leave in clothes that were quite sweat covered. Or at least to him they were. At least he had time to do laundry or simple find another to wear tomorrow. Trowa tossed the shirt on the bed, unbuttoned his uniform dress pants and tossed them beside it. Shivering slightly in the cool and feeling his skin start to prickle as goose bumps began to line the surface, he rooted through his dresser drawers for “comfortable” clothes: a warm sweater and looser-than-normal jeans. He stopped for a moment to pull on a new pair of socks before flicking the light back off and going back towards the living room. He could hang up his work clothes after his before-bed shower.

Quatre looked up from his place on the couch; it seemed that he had changed out of his work clothes as well. And rather quickly as well. Leaning over the back of the couch, he smiled at him while the flannel pajama shirt slid just slightly down his left shoulder before he corrected it and cursed quietly at the ill fit. He patted the spot beside him which Trowa took after a second’s consideration.

“They said it would take about twenty minutes and that was almost ten minutes ago. So it should be here soon.”

“Alright…”

“And I just got extra cheese on it.”

“That sounds fine.”

“And I found the deck of cards, so we can play a game of something while we wait if you want.”

“Whatever you’d like.”

“And then we can get shit-faced drunk and have wild passionate sex on my leather couch.”

Trowa’s head whipped about fast enough to give him a most painful crick. He could not have heard him right…had he? “…Excuse me?” He watched the grin spread across Quatre’s face and instantly felt a welling feeling of stupidity.

“Just making sure you’re paying attention. What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“…What do you think would go best with pizza?” he managed quietly. Quatre, leaning back, stared into the ceiling lamp while he thought about it. It saved Trowa from showing the look of slight annoyance on his face. Not towards Quatre, never towards Quatre. At himself. How could he have even thought that Quatre had been serious…

“Well there’s some soda, and I think there’s some diet too… And there is juice and tea and milk but I really don’t think that goes with pizza all that well. And of course there’s water. Oh! And I think there’s still a bottle of wine or something left in the back of the fridge but that’s probably someone’s.”

“Soda’s fine.” Trowa said. Quatre smiled, hopping up off the couch and walking back towards the kitchen. Trowa took his place, staring into the ceiling.

“Hey, there’s some diet root beer in here! Or do you want just regular? There’s some cola here too!”

“Anything’s fine.” he called back. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the quiet sounds of cans snapping opened and carbonated drinks fizzing themselves stable in glass cups. They echoed through the house, it was so still. Peaceful. Almost strange.

“Here.” Quatre smiled. He set the glass in front of him on the coffee table. Trowa thanked him and sipped it, feeling the bubbles tickle the back of his throat. Quatre sat beside him and took the deck out of the small plastic box that kept them in usable condition. As he shuffled, he asked him “What game would you like to play.”

Trowa shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know many card games.”

“Well, we could play War, that’s pretty easy. Long. Go fish is more of a kiddie game. Poker, Black Jack and 31 are more fun with more people. Bullshit and Egyptian Rat Screw too. I hate Spoons. Garbage is a bit boring after awhile. I forget how to play Rummy… Oh we could play Spit!”

“Spit?” He inquired after shaking his head slightly. He had started to lose focus when Quatre muttered on about various card games that he apparently knew well enough to play, or teach. Card games have such odd names…

“Yeah, it’s more of a fast past game. We split the deck in half and set up five piles in front of us the same way you set up solitaire. Just five piles, instead of solitaire’s seven. We put the rest of the cards in a pile over them and then we both flip a card. Then we start piling cards up on top of the flipped card in ascending or descending order. If we get stopped, like we have no other cards to put down, we flip a new card and try again. We try to get rid of all the cards we have as fast as we can and then when you do, you slap the pile you think is smaller. That ends the round and you get that pile, unless the other person slaps the pile you want before you do, like the manage to slide their hand under yours and touch it first. Then you get the other pile. And then we set up again and do it all over until one person has all the cards and one person has none. The person with no cards wins. Got it?”

“I’m not sure.”

He chuckled. “It’s easier to show you while we play. Come on, I’ll teach it to you. It’ll be fun. Please???”

“Alright, if you really feel like playing it…I suppose there’s no harm in learning it.” Trowa said. Quatre smiled brightly and shuffled the deck as expertly as he could in the rush he seemed to be in. He cut the deck almost perfectly; Trowa only had to hand over two cards to make them even. “Okay, now just set it up like I do and we’ll get started.”

It was only maybe ten minutes later that Quatre, and Trowa as well, discovered that Trowa was fairly good at this particular card game.

“Well, remind me never to teach you how to play Poker.” Quatre snorted, eyeing the large pile that he had unfortunately accumulated. Trowa merely shrugged, lining up the three cards he had left. Quatre bit his lip as they were about to start the most likely final round; thankfully it never came. The door bell rang. He tossed down the card he was about to turn over. “That must be the pizza! It’s about time.” Trowa watched him rise and walk to the door, grabbing his wallet from his coat along the way. Leaning against the table, he listened to the brief exchange, the closing of the door, and the sound of a car peeling out of the driveway far too quickly to be safe. With the pizza in hand Quatre returned to the living room, setting it down before going to get the necessities like plates and napkins. “Oooh it smells good.” he sighed happily when he breathed in the scent. “Do you want one slice or two?”

“Two’s fine.” he said. Quatre handed the full plate to him before taking one himself. He barely waited before sinking his white teeth into the slice.

“Mmmm! This is good! We need to order in more often!”

Trowa took a bit himself. He had to admit, as the taste invaded his senses, that it was extremely good. And we do need to order out more often.

Half a pizza later, and well into the second bottle of high caffeine and sugared soda, they were both beginning to feel the edges of a massive sugar rush coming about. At least Trowa could begin to feel it. Quatre, lounging back on the leather couch, nibbled on the end of the pizza crust almost normally. Trowa leaned back against one of the recliners, knee bent and elbow with his glass balanced lightly over it. He was only slightly surprised that Quatre was even eating on his couch; if something spilled, he would have a heart attack. Then again, he was rather graceful and careful about his food. It’s his couch…

The TV was playing softly, the remote resting on the table between them over top a mess of cards. Quatre obviously got a little tired of being beaten at the games he taught Trowa to play and opted for trying to find some movie on television to watch. Apparently, tonight was a slow night. They had simply found a relatively interesting channel and let the programs run their course. It had to be fairly late in the evening now. The news was playing softly in the background, highlighting on some sort of forum that had taken place earlier in the day.

“--And of course the highlight of the day had to be the inspiring speech made of political favorite, middle eastern politician Fahd Kader.” the anchorwoman stated with her practiced television smile. A picture of him during his speech interposed itself in the upper right corner of their screen. “His inspiring and heartfelt, moving speech was by far the most popular of the gathering, driving many into an emotional frenzy that hasn’t been seen since--”

“Fahd Kader…” he said softly, watching the clip of the speech intently.

“Mmm…yes…” Quatre muttered softly.

“…What do you think of him, Quatre?” He asked after a moment of silent watching. Quatre would have a far better opinion of the man, seeing as he saw him on occasion in the business for one reason or another. Quatre took a moment before answering, watching the show himself from his slightly awkward up-side down position with his feet propped up on the back of the couch.

“…He’s an interesting man.” answered Quatre finally.

“Interesting?”

“Yes. He maintains that pacifist air very well.”

“But it is just an air?” He asked. Of course, he already knew that from Une and her briefing but Trowa valued Quatre’s opinions. Specifically since the two of them were in the same line of work and Quatre had been in closer quarters with the politician several times before. Quatre had to have a decent idea of what the man’s true persona was.

It took another long while before Quatre answered. Any sign of a soda-induced, sugar rush was gone from his eyes while he watched the clips playing to the woman’s commentary. His blue eyes were narrowed in apparent dislike. It was something Trowa felt almost…surprised to see on his usually benign face.

“He’s an actor. Most men from middle eastern royalty tend to be, or at least that’s what I’ve come to learn. I know that it’s not true for all of them, but for Fahd Kader, I am nearly damn certain he is… I can’t explain why I know. It’s just something in him, his eyes. His face. His stance. His voice. I look at Relena Peacecraft while she conveys in her speeches her dreams and ideals and plans for peace and I know that she means every word she’s memorized. And I look at him, I watch him while he speaks to the public with his “passion“ for peace and harsh punishments for those who want only to inspire terror…and I can just see him grinning to himself and thinking ‘I have these fools just where I want them.’”

Trowa did nothing. He said nothing. He merely directed his eyes back to the screen to watch the loop. Tilting his head, he studied Fahd’s face intently, searching for that which Quatre seemed to see. There was something gloating about his gaze. A small sense of arrogance in his smile. He hides something, only deep enough that the common masses cannot perceive it… He mocks them and they don’t realize it… How much of a threat does this man truly pose to this world’s era of peace?

“Quatre, what do you suppose he could be-” Trowa paused in his question. He sighed softly and shook his head. He turned off the television quietly and gathered up the dishes and pizza remains from off the coffee table. As quietly as possible, Trowa put the remaining slices in the refrigerator, washed the dishes and glasses and put them away before shutting off the kitchen and dinning room lights. He gathered up the scattered cards from the coffee table and the floor and returned the packed deck to its proper place before turning towards the couch.

Quatre made a soft, almost mewlish sort of sound the moment Trowa’s faint shadow fell across the former pilot’s face while he pulled a warm blanket that he had found in the hall closet of his sleeping body. He tucked the edges carefully about him, being mindfully to take his time as to not wake him. Leaning over, Trowa made to tuck the edge about his shoulders when Quatre shifted slightly; he froze, feeling Quatre’s soft breath against his hand. He was close enough to feel the heat coming from his cheeks, close enough to touch them if he dared. Balancing himself over Quatre deftly, he watched the blonde’s sleeping face as he hovered quietly above him. Daring not even to breathe. If he wanted to, if Trowa dared to, he could lean down and taste something that he had never before thought he would have wanted…

He pulled back, almost stumbling backwards over the coffee table. Trowa bit his tongue to keep quiet as a sharp pain ran through the back of his leg. Quatre muttered softly, turning over on the couch and nuzzling into its material. He walked over to the floor lamp and flicked it off. Trowa watched Quatre’s shadowed form for a moment more before sighing heavily and picking his way carefully to his own bedroom. It was just as he was closing his door that he heard the door beginning to open again and heard Duo’s wondering as to why the house was so dark.

Trowa closed the door tightly and kept the light off. He moved quietly around the room as he dressed into his designated sleep clothes. He didn’t move again until he was sitting on his bed pulling off his socks and he heard Heero telling Duo to be quiet so as to not wake Quatre or Trowa while they went into their own room. Only then did he groan to himself and fall back against the bed. Curling up, he realized something.

“…Sleep will not come easy tonight…”

Sleep did not come easy any night that followed, although because of Trowa’s activeness during the day, he at least did not dream when sleep finally decided to come to him at night. His days fell into a different sort of routine that end with an exhaustion that made him just tired enough to long for sleep and not get it. And Trowa knew he was going to be quite thankfully when this mission was over and done with and he no longer had to spend 11 hours a day with a rather crazy dancer and could return to his desk of paperwork that he was still certain that he truly missed.

Although, he was starting to think that he was going to miss Lena Crawford’s eccentricities when he was no longer required to see her daily. Insane as she was, she was someone interesting to observe and someone interesting to listen to. She always had something interesting to say or discuss when they were on one of their limited breaks. And while she talked up a blue streak, she didn’t expect him to pay attention, let alone reply to her, which was fine for him since he preferred to listen than to reply.

Of course, this didn’t keep him from thinking that sometimes, well nearly all the time, Lena Crawford was just far too much to handle.

“Alright, let’s take a break for a while. It’s almost lunch time anyway, and you’ve been doing really well today. So we’ll take a longer break today.” Lena said, turning down the pulsating music that Trowa had almost become accustomed to. He nodded slightly. Wiping the small amount of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, he pulled up a folding chair and relaxed for a moment. It wasn’t until Lena pulled up another one beside him that he sat back up and reached over for the bag that he had bought before work. As a new habit, Lena handed over a couple of her rolls of vegetable sushi, mixed in with the regular sort that she kept for herself, and stole some of his salad in return. Trowa took a sip of his tea before biting into his sandwich and eating a roll.

“Mmm, by the way,” she started after they had been eating quietly. “we’re going to start working on your routine after our lunch break. We only have a few days before you’re going on the job so we need to be
ready with your performance.”

“…Very well…” he answered quietly.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. You’ve mastered the basics damn well for someone whose never danced before. With some work we can come up with a great routine for you. And at least you’re only doing it once.” Lena paused. She leaned back on the back legs of her chair and nibbled at the mouth of her bottle of water. “What style should we do…I bet you’d do great with Indian style. Belly dancing maybe. Or a mix! Pop-n-lock with belly dancing. Now that has potential!”

He bit the vegetable roll savagely.

“Yeah, I think that’s what we’ll do. Oh and we need to think about what you’ll be wearing too.”

“Lovely…” he muttered while stabbing at his salad. Lena snorted and jabbed him in the arm with her chopsticks.

“Don’t give me that attitude, man. I’m helping Lady Une out by teaching you and getting you ready for this little operation of theirs. And that includes making sure you’re going to be a convincing piece of entertainment for those horn dogs.”

“I understand, okay? Please stop stabbing me with those.”

“Drop the attitude and maybe I will.”

“I don’t have an attitude to drop.”

“Do so, honey.” she shot back. Trowa sighed through his nose and took a mouthful of salad to keep his tongue in check. “That’s better.” She said, waving her chopsticks at him for a moment before stuffing a sushi roll into her mouth.

“…Lena.” Trowa started slowly, staring into the nearly empty salad container. There had been something nagging at him, something pulling at the back of his mind since he had met her and started being taught by her and become relatively “close” to her. Something that he felt that he needed to know before continuing any sort of “training.” Lena looked at him with the chopstick ends sitting lightly between her lips. “…How is it that you know of this club?”

She stared. “…Well shit, and here Une said you were the smart one.” Trowa frowned slightly. Lena sighed with a shake to her head. “I work there, genius.”

“…You work in a club to entertain a bunch of ‘horn dogs,’ as you so called them?”

“Eh, it’s a living.” she shrugged.

“I‘m certain it is…yet…how did it become your living?” he asked, surprising himself. What did he care about her personal life? What right did he even have to ask?

She apparently wasn’t insulted. Lena seemed almost flattered that he had even asked. “It’s nothing really. My mom skipped out my me and my brother and my dad when I was, like, six. And my dad squandered everything we had on his habits. You know, drugs, alcohol, gambling. The usual. And then my brother picked up the habits too when he got older and ran into some massive debts. I was in the dance academy at this time and dropped out so that I could use my tuition money to try and help him out. ‘Course it didn’t work; he just used it to fuel his habits. And me being the naïve idiot that I was back then, agreed to sign on a loan for him, not knowing where the hell he was getting it from since his credit was down the toilet. Well it turns out he decided to try and cheat a loan shark out of his money but of course the loan was written in my name so I’m the one who got nailed. Well he gave me two choices: seeing as I’m on the attractive side of the female spectrum, I could either work at one of his brothels, or I could help out a friend of the shark’s who was in dire need of some new dancers at a club of his. You can guess which position I’d rather take.

“Of course, I had to try out first and only if the manager liked my style would he even consider hiring me for the job. So I was hoping pretty badly that I could impress him because I sure as hell did not plan on working in a brothel to pay off my jackass brother’s debt. And it did turn out that the manager liked my style. Said I had the ‘potential’ to be one of their most loved attractions. I mean, I still had to suck him off and pretend that he actually had some talent in the sack--” Trowa choked on the last roll he had in his mouth. “but that wasn’t all that hard. Doesn’t take an Emmy winner to moan like a bitch in heat. And the job isn’t bad. Pays pretty well and the hours suit me fine and the other girls are pretty damn awesome, for the most part and hey, are you okay?”

Gagging slightly, he drained the remains of his iced tea to free up his throat and keep his skin from changing any bluer than it had. He breathed shallowly for a moment with a choke every few breaths; Lena leaned over and pounded the center of his back with her fist lightly. He waved her off lightly.

“I-I’m alright…”

“If you’re sure. But you know, if you chew your food, you won’t choke on it. Common sense, honey.”

“I’m aware of that.” he answered quietly. “So…so you…slept with the manager?”

“To get the job, yeah.”

“…Why?”

“Because I’d rather just be dancing on a stage than dancing in some loser’s bed every night.” Lena answered, sipping her water delicately. “Besides, it’s a good paying job being what it is. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. All I have to do is what I like: dance all night in whatever style I chose and get paid for it. And I mean sure, the guys there are perverted, little horn dogs who want nothing better than to nail me in an alley way but they can’t since I’ve been there long enough to chose whether or not I want to put out and I put out for no man!”

Trowa wondered if she expected him to say something, perhaps some loud proclamation of his impression of her self respect. Apparently not as she merely went back to her drink. Trowa nursed his ice tea slowly, eyes narrowing as he thought.

“Oi, don’t make that face.” Lena frowned. Trowa glanced at her. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s a good job, especially for someone like me. And the girls are all tight with each other and the pay’s a lot better than what you’d expect. And even if it is a bit of a sleazy place, it’s a high class sleazy place with a shit load of rules and regulations to protect us, not them.” She paused. “Like the ‘eye candy’ policy.”

“…The ‘eye candy’ policy?”

“Yeah. It’s basically the protection the club provides for temporary dancers and underage ones, rare as we get those. The manager is strict about keeping all his girls over the legal age to keep the sex police off his ass. Anyway, the thing is that under the eye candy policy, the patrons can look at the girl all they want, salivate to her dancing, jack off to it, fantasize about doing her any way their perverted hearts desire but they can’t touch her. At all. They so much as breathe on her too close and the security will throw their fat asses on the street faster than they can whip out a check book. It’s one of the few security measures for the girls that they are really strict on. You break the eye candy policy, you’re out and you don’t come back.”

“Well…”

“Yeah it’s pretty strict. And it’s hard as hell to get into the club in the first place, so you fuck up and they kick you out, you have a better chance of surviving a ticking grenade in your pocket than getting back in.” Trowa stared at her, vague interest showing on his face. “Well the thing is, this club is underground. Deep underground. It doesn’t even have a real name; reputation is passed by word of mouth through ‘secure’ channels. This is not just a club that you walk up to and expect to get in. If you don’t have the right connections, they’re going to throw you out on your ass in a filthy alley. And that’s the nicest thing they’ll do to you. Catch the security on a bad mood and you’ll probably just disappear. But seriously, security is tight. If you do manage to have the right connections, and a trust worthy rep, you need a shit load of cash. They don’t take checks, they don’t take credit cards. It’s cash only. No paper trail that way. They don’t even sell alcohol. You bring your own booze and they just supply the glasses or snifters or whatever the hell is needed.”

“Hm.” he muttered interested.

“Yeah it’s pretty tight that way. Makes it easy for reassembly when raids happen.”

“Raids. Do they happen often?…”

“More often than not. Another reason the club’s a bit hard to find. Usually, we get word through channels that the governments going to be coming down on us, usually it’s the feds on us. So before hand, the manager packs up everything and ‘fires’ all the employees.” Trowa tilted his head slightly. “Time off with pay. It’s usually a couple weeks while he sets up the new platform and gets the heat off him and find out just who snitched or let slip and has them taken care of or threatened or whatever. And then it’s back to business as usual and he contacts the old customers and let’s them know that, for the moment, he’s back in business until the next one comes along and he does it all again.”

“I see…” Trowa said quietly. He looked back towards his drink and lifted it to take a sip. Apparently, though, Lena was not finished with her stories.

“Yeah it was during one of those raids that I started my work with Miss Une, actually.”

The line had the desired effect; Trowa lowered the bottle and glanced towards her yet again.

“I’ve only been caught in two raids throughout my whole career; the first one was a couple years ago when the feds caught us by surprise. I had decided to stick around a day later to help dismantle the place and they got the jump on us. I was the only one who managed to get my ass caught and they were going to charge me with the whole shebang unless I turned snitch on them since I warned them that even if they charged me, they weren’t going to get the club owner or any of the guys working there. I can be a stubborn bitch if I want to be and I don’t tell tales on anybody if I can help it. But anyway, it was jail time or snitching so I ‘said’ I’d help them out. Never really got the chance to since not too long later, Une and some of her Preventor buddies pulled their own little raid on us.”

“Is that so…”

“Yup, and you know what the feds did? They dropped me like a hot iron. Don’t ever work for the feds. They don’t give you any benefits and when things turn south, they’ll be rid of you faster than you can think. Well anyway, there I was sitting in some little holding cell they got in this building somewhere, wondering whether or not the feds were going to come bail me out or if I was going to go to some woman’s prison when Lady Une walks in. Walks straight up to me and goes ‘so how much do you know about such-and-such,’ such-and-such being a patron and I just let her know a little of this and a little of that, hoping to keep her from chucking me in prison. And you know what she asks me?”

“No.”

“She asks me if there’s an opening in the club for a waiter.” she laughed. Shaking her head, Lena slapped her knee slightly. “She wanted an in for a sting operation, I guess. Not to different from this one, but less dangerous since it wasn’t as weird a guy. Well anyway, I got her the in and they got their guy and I didn’t have to do nothing except help the manager get some temporary ‘help.’ Well it worked out so well that I’m the one she calls whenever she needs to throw someone into the service for a bit.”

“So she called you…about me.”

“Well she told me she was going to need someone in her little force to take the role of a dancer; she hadn’t mentioned you particularly then but I have thought of a way to get you in.”

“…And?”

She grinned proudly. “You’ll be standing in for one of the girls whose out sick that night.”

“Whose going to be out sick?”

“Me.”

“You??”

“Yup, me. I’ll just call in sick the day before, or heck even a couple hours before just so that he has to take you. And I’ll explain to the boss that you’re a friend of mine from a similar background, that you’ve been my friend for, like, ever, and you’re doing this as a favor for me.”

“…Uh huh…”

“And he’ll definitely put you on the ‘eye candy’ policy the second I tell him you’re a mute.”

“Mute? I’m not mute.”

She shoved him lightly. “I know you’re not mute. But it’ll be easier that way. Your voice isn’t high enough to pass off as a convincing female and forcing it go unnaturally high will just make you suspicious. Besides, it’s easier just not to talk than to fake it. We’ll just give you a pad of paper. And being mute will make him be extra cautious and give you a lot of special treatment and keep the security on their toes about letting the ‘gentlemen’ getting too friendly with you.”

Trowa frowned slightly at the mere thought. He didn’t need to pretend to be a mute; he was certain he could pull of a woman’s voice if he absolutely had to. And the idea of being given “special treatment” seemed more of a bother than a relief. The point of his mission was to get close enough to Fahd Kader to obtain evidence of his illegal actions. How in the world could he possibly do that if the security was watching his every move to make sure that no one got too “friendly” with him?

“…Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of my mission?”

“They’re not going to stop you from moving around and sitting near whoever you need to. They’re just going to make sure that while you’re still on the payroll, no one is going to lay a hand on you that you don’t want. You can shmooze and snoop to your heart’s content, or however much you need. They’ll just make sure that no one finds out that you are not, in fact, a girl.”

…She had a point. That would be most disastrous.

“So the eye candy policy will keep you safe and let you still get whatever the hell you need to get.” She nodded as she spoke, draining the remains of her drink. Sighing in satisfaction, Lena tossed it into the nearby trashcan and stretched. “Alright, break is over! Toss out the junk and off your butt. We need to work on your routine.” Hopping off the chair, Lena pushed it out the way and started rummaging through the impressive collection of Cds that she owned. “I think a pop-n-lock routine with some splashes of belly dancing will be just fine for you and win the crowd over at the same time.”

Belly dancing? Trowa made a face at the mere idea. There is no way in hell I am showing off my stomach… One could not belly dance in a corset, after all. And he was not going through this mission without it.

The day continued and finished with little more difficulty. He felt extremely tired, and undeniably sore although he had been feeling that way every evening since he had begun this training. But it was uneventful; she even seemed to think that he was doing very well with the style. “Only a couple more things that we’ll have to work on before the actual job. Belly rolls and stuff like that. Other than that we’re good.”

It wasn’t until he was about to go change back into his usual clothes that she stopped him.

“Oh one more thing.” She called out to him while packing up her Cds and things. Trowa turned towards her slightly, hand on the doorframe. “Is that style permanent?”

“…Pardon?”

Lena gestured absently to his hair in the reflection in the mirror. “That. Your hair. Is that style permanent?”

“…Of course it isn’t.” he answered quietly. Besides it defying the laws of physics, Trowa was certain his hair would fall out before he managed to contrive of a way to make the style permanent. Not to mention, the cost that it would probably have and the increase of trouble he would have sleeping from its cumbersome form.

“Great! Leave it down from now on.”

Trowa nearly dropped the bag. He could not have heard her correctly. She did not just say that. She couldn’t possibly have said that.

“…I’m sorry, but what?” he asked, managing to maintain a grip on himself. Sighing loudly, Lena turned with a frown on her face and planted her hands on her hips in a most annoyed manner.

“You have got to be kidding me. This is not that extreme of a request, honey. Obviously, you spend some time every morning getting your hair into that fucked up style.” Trowa snorted softly. Fucked up style? He wasn’t the one who looked like a rejected pincushion was on his skull. “And I’m sure that you’ve grown attached to it but, for the sake of this mission of yours, keep the glue in the jar until this mission is over. That style is WAY too conspicuous to get away with and I’m telling you this right now: no woman in her right mind would ever do that to her hair.”

So says the woman with the green and purple spikes.

“…Well I suppose that I don’t have a choice, now do I…”

“Not really no.” Lena grinned. He made an annoyed noise, to himself of course.

“…Fine.”

“Don’t pout. It’s only going to be for a couple of days and then you can go back to that freaky do of yours.” She affirmed, turning back to her things. Trowa shook his head slightly and turned once more to go. “ ‘Sides, we need to coordinate your costume so you don’t look more boyish than girlish and hair is an absolute must.”

Trowa felt himself shudder slightly. He had almost forgotten. Wonderful…

“Now go get some sleep and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. And don’t forget, hair down.”

“Yes, alright, fine…” He called back to her while he slung the bag over his shoulder and used everyone ounce of will not to slunk out of the room moodily. Trowa Barton was not looking forward to tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He had not been looking forward to that new day. He had not been looking forward to it all night; it had put quite a dark look on his outward expression most of the night and caused the others to wonder just why he had opted to go nearly straight to bed after coming home from work. After a shower, of course. It had disturbed his sleep, making him toss and turn all night. He woke long after midnight trying to sleep and long before sunrise staring at his ceiling in the steadily brightening darkness. By the time that the light was seeping strongly through the blinds, he was already sitting on the edge of his once again nicely made bed, dressed in his Preventor uniform with the duffle bag of work clothes resting at his feet. Elbows on his knees, he sat forward slightly with a frown, watching is lightening reflection in the mirror. He frowned darkly at the strand of hair that fell into his eyes for the umpteenth time and flicked it back behind his ear with a growl. I can’t believe I’m doing this…

Rising quietly, he walked over to the dresser and snatched the hairbrush from the it. It didn’t catch even slightly as he brought it through his hair rather roughly; he had brushed it six times already trying to get used to the feeling of it against his neck. He glared at his reflection as he found some way to make his hair sit on his head in someway that was almost tolerable. Why won’t this just stay in one place!?

Shoulder length hair was becoming a very irksome pain.

Trowa sighed, slamming the brush back down and glancing at the clock close by. Biting his lip slightly, he studied the digital display until the digit on the right increased by one; he couldn’t put it off any longer now or he would be late for work. And breakfast less. And it wasn’t as though he could get away without being noticed at work, seeing as he passed many people on his way to his daily training whether he liked it or not. Not to mention that if I don’t come out soon, Duo will probably break down my door with his incessant knocking… Which he would rather not have to go through.

All this, over his own hair when it was actually natural. It surprised him, really, how he felt about walking out his bedroom door without that familiar shadow across his face. It didn’t seem that he had a choice, though. With a heavy sigh, he relaxed his shoulders as much as possible and pushed at his bedroom door. He had no choice, after all.

His soft steps across the floor were just loud to alert Quatre to his presence. With his back to him, he waved at him before grabbing whatever he was cooking off the stove. He was still smiling sweetly at him while he turned; Trowa sighed and waited.

“Good morning, Trowa. Did you sleep--” A sharp gasp interrupted his train of thought. Gaping, Quatre lost the grip of the pan transporting the pancakes he had just finished cooking. Trowa winced slightly as it hit the tiled floor, the noisy clattering resounding through the house. He didn’t seem to notice or mind the mess of batter splattered across the kitchen floor. Heero and Duo did.

“Quatre, are you okay?? Me and Heero heard something fa-- Holy shit!!” If Trowa hadn’t been in such an off mood because of this, he would have found it at least remotely amusing to see Heero and Duo crowded in the doorway wearing equal expression of awe-struck surprise. Unfortunately he was not in even a remotely good mood; his mood was turning more sour by the moment. He passed a look from one to the other to the next before locking eyes with Duo.

“…Not one word…” he muttered softly. Turning, he knelt down and lifted the pan, handing it to Quatre before taking his seat at the table as normally as he could.

“Trowa… What the hell did you do to yourself???” Duo demanded, walking around the table to him. He snorted softly in reply, staring resolutely into the table top. He followed him, pacing slightly back and forth behind him, examining him with a critical eye. Quatre and Heero exchanged looks before Quatre rushed back into the kitchen to gather paper towels to clean up the batter mess. “Seriously, what did you do to your hair!?”

“Nothing.” He answered quietly, which was the truth. He had done nothing to his hair this morning.

Duo leaned down to him, running his hand over the back of his head and down the hair almost timidly. Trowa closed his eyes, begging for patience. “But, but it’s soft! And normal looking!” Trowa suddenly had the powerful urge to bite Duo’s fingers clean off his hand.

“Duo…”

“Seriously! Your hair is always in that weirdo shape of yours. I swear its harder than concrete like that. What the hell happened?”

“I left it down, obviously.” Trowa answered. “And would you please stop that?” he requested, grabbing Duo’s hand and pulling it from his hair.

“Why???” He asked and resumed his pacing back and forth behind him. “What prompted this intriguing change?”

“I was told to…” He muttered.

“…For the mission?” asked Heero, saying at least something, finally. Trowa merely nodded, sighing softly. “Well, this is an…interesting development….”

Quatre walked over to him, smiling softly while setting a mug of tea in front of Trowa. “Well…it’s only until after the mission isn’t it?” Trowa nodded slightly. “Well then, it’ll be over and down with in a just a few more days and then you can go back to your usual style. Although, I think I might miss this one; I sort of like your hair down.”

He wish he hadn’t said that; the sudden blush was hard to fight down.

“Well, yeah Cat,” Duo started; Quatre made his usual face at the nickname Duo used for him on occasion. “it looks good on him, no doubt about it. He actually looks normal. It’s just…kinda weird, is all. I was so used to seeing Trowa’s…okay well not seeing Trowa’s face.”

“It’s not forever.” Heero said.

“May we start breakfast before we’re late for work…” Trowa asked softly, sipping his tea stubbornly.

Quatre chuckled lightly. “Yes! Yes of course, we should do that or else we’ll really be late. Oh but…” he trailed slightly, looking at the batter splattered dishtowel he had used to clean the floor. He had dropped the pan; well, his surprise at Trowa’s hair’s lack of its usual shape had forced him to drop the pan. They looked at the messy towel for a moment in silence. “Um…is cereal okay with everyone this morning?”

“Cereal sounds like a nice change of pace, man.” Duo grinned widely. “You can’t expect you to cook for us every morning. Even if you do.”

“Go sit down, Duo. I’ll get the bowls.” sighed Quatre. He smirked at him but did as he was asked. Of course, not before walking around Trowa one more time and feeling his hair, just affirm the smoothness. Only a few days of this…just a few…I can deal with it until then… But if he touches it again, I’m going to break his fingers.

Breakfast was a more rushed affair than usual, mostly due to the conversation surrounding Trowa’s new style and the other’s shock. Quatre had barely managed to eat even a quarter of the bowl that he had poured for himself before he realized that if he didn’t leave, and make every green light available, he was going to be late for a meeting that he had sworn to attend. Duo made one of his usual comments about how Quatre had to, at least inwardly, hate his job accompanied by a headshake. And Heero and Trowa both, in their own ways, muttered that it really wasn’t any of their business. Dishes were finished (it took much less time than usual) and the cold air was bared as they made their way to work once again.

His mood did not improve in the least; the looks of the few people that he met on his way or merely passed prevented that lightening feeling. If he wasn’t getting people’s stares, he was getting the oddest forms of whispering trailing along behind him. One person, from a department he wasn’t in or even knew the name of, walked himself straight into the wall because he had been following Trowa’s form far too closely. It was something that Duo seemed to find immensely funny. Wufei and Zechs had managed to get over their surprise as quickly as they were able, greeting him almost normally, although they spent a good time staring at him interestingly.

Good lord, haven’t these people anything better to do? He was almost completely thankful to disappear to the mirrored room.

Lena, not surprisingly, was utterly thrilled.

“Oh that’s perfect!!” she cried, dropping what she had been doing after he entered in the chosen attire for the day that he had changed into in the showers. She circled him excitedly. “That’s a great length for you. I was a little worried that down it would look, like, really weird. Awkward length and layering and all but it looks awesome! And it’ll go perfect with the costume I whipped up last night.”

“…Costume?” He asked, dropping the bag by the chair.

“Yeah, yeah. Finished it up last night. It’s amazing what you can do when you give up sleep.”

“…You gave up sleep for this?”

Lena merely shrugged. “Eh. I had been up anyway since I had to work the graveyard shift for the club and I was pretty hyped up on caffeine. It only took me,” she counted off on her fingers for a moment. “six hours to finish.”

“Six hours?”

“From design to model.”

“Impressive.” He answered truthfully, as Trowa could hardly sew a small button on in under fifteen minutes. Sewing was not his forte.

“Yeah you can check it out later. For now, let’s work.” she said. “I want to run through the dance with you one more time together before you do it alone. And we’ll see what’s what.” Nodding, Trowa followed her to the center of the room and waited for a moment for the music to land in the perfect spot. “Let’s take it from the top. Repeat after me.” Trowa nodded, watching their reflections in the mirror for a moment before remembering the precise moment that they would start.

For once, she didn’t chastise him for being a split second late; he wasn’t.

In fact, Lena said nothing about his performance throughout its entirety. Trowa hardly even seemed to notice her presence beside him. He certainly didn’t see the proud grin on her face in the mirror when she paused to watch him. He was focused too much on the memorization that he had gone through to notice her stepping back to lean against the wall. Trowa didn’t notice her until he couldn’t do another step since he didn’t know another. He did find her grin rather surprising though.

“Good. Now do it again.” she ordered. Sighing, he nodded and returned to the center position. Lena, pulling up a chair, reset the music and watched him from her new vantage point, leaning her chin on the back of the chair. He spun himself into the first few steps of the routine and fell into the remembered rhythm. “Keep the beat, keep the attitude. Good, good. Listen to the music, feel the beat in your steps. Dancing should feel like music is replacing your blood, beat is replacing the pulse. Dancing should become you, an extension of yourself.”

She was certainly right about that.

It was after another two times of dance that she stopped him again. Smiling she waved him over towards her. Trowa, frowning slightly for her smile put a slight tension in him, walked over to her cautiously. She patted the chair she had pulled up beside her and stared at him until he sat beside her. He watched her cautiously as she reached into her usual bag and extracted a box. A shoe box, to be exact.

“You’ve been doing great. I think you’re almost ready to perform in front of those perverts. Now there’s just one more thing to try before we get into personal prep.” Lena said. She set the box on Trowa’s lap. He stared down at the black cardboard box for a moment before taking the lid lightly in his hands and lifting it slightly. “I’m pretty sure you’re the same size as a friend of mine. You’re doing good, really damn good. So now we need to make sure that you can do the moves in these.”

“…Lena…these…are high heels.”

“Well, high heeled sandals to be exact but yeah. You didn’t think you’d be dancing in sneakers or something, did you? No self respecting woman dances in sneakers. Least not outside a club, maybe, or her own home.”

“…You never said anything about high heels.”

“It’s an understood thing, hun. Now try those on and let’s see if they fit you. And we’ll go from there.” she said. “And before you say anything, yes you have no choice. Now put ‘em on.”

Trowa breathed softly through his nose, looking at her for a moment before setting the shoes on the floor by his feet and beginning to unlace his shoes. He pulled them off, along with his socks that he folded and stuffed inside them, and set them under the chair. Frowning slightly at the pair of sandals, he pulled them in front of him and looked them over. It took a moment to discern just how he was supposed to tie them to his feet but he finally managed it.

“How they feel?”

“Awkward.”

“Smart ass. I meant do they feel too tight? Too loose? Cutting off circulation?” she asked. Trowa looked down at them slightly. Twisted his ankle one way and then the next, trying to discern whether or not he could actually wear these for an extended period. Unfortunately, he could.

“…No…they seem to fit fine…” he muttered quietly.

“Great! Now stand up and walk around so we can check your balance on those things.” Lena gave him a slight push off the chair. He wobbled slightly to his feet and felt a distinct drop in his natural balance. How do women do this?… “Walk around a bit. Um…walk from here to the other side of the room and back. It’s easier than it looks actually. Just do heel toe.”

Heel toe? Surely it couldn’t be that simple. Trowa looked towards the other side of the room; why did it seem so much longer than the norm? He swallowed slightly before taking a step, realizing he had a much larger margin for error than his typical shoes provided. His ankles pitched slightly as he walked slowly but at least he managed to stay upright. A couple more steps and his ankles stopped wobbling and turning inward slightly. Nearly halfway across and he nearly had the hang of it. Discreetly, he cast a look toward the mirror to his right and observed his profile.

Ahh…so it was the high heels that caused women to walk with such a roll to their hips.

Lena was most impressed when he managed to walk the remainder of the way to and back without so much as a slight stumble. “Well, you are good. Most boys I’ve met don’t catch on as quick as you do. Must be the gymnast in you.” She waved him off slightly. “Now do the routine again, in those. Hint: don’t put your heel down when you dance.” He sighed softly before taking his spot in the center of the room again, watching her for a moment while she reset the music. The beat pulsated through the staccato heels

Dancing in heels was more of a challenge than he had imagined but her advice was sound. If Trowa balanced most of his weight on the balls of his feet while he moved, he could maintain the proper rhythm and form. The soles didn’t even impede his steps. He could still spin perfectly from one move into the next. Actually, he almost felt as though he can do the steps even better than he had when Trowa was merely dancing in his normal shoes.

He wasn’t the only person to think so either.

“Well, I’m impressed Lena.” The sudden voice filtering through the ending notes of the music nearly caused him to jump; his heel did slip a bit and he messed the final move only slightly. Une’s typical flats clicked softly on the hard floor as she walked towards them. “I know you could teach almost anyone, but he’s learned a lot in such a short span of time.”

“Well he’s a good student. Attentive, eager, stubborn. And a perfectionist, almost as bad as I am.” she grinned. Rising, Lena walked over to her with her arms crossed comfortably. “So what’s up? You usually don’t stop in to see me when I’m working with one of yours so they can mingle with those of mine.”

“There’s been a slight change in the plan.” she said, casting a glance towards Trowa. He tilted his head slightly and wondered just what it could be… Perhaps she had found an actually woman to cover the undercover position? But that would mean that I learned dancing for…well nothing.

She scratched her head slightly. “Change in plan? I already taught him the routine and made the costume. Miss Une, if you’re going to change the person on me or something, you really should have let me know earlier; I can’t teach just anyone to dance in under week. He was a special case. And I don’t think I have the time or resources to make a new costume, or even alter it. Or-”

“No, no, no, no, no. You didn’t let me explain, Lena.” she continued. “Trowa’s still the undercover operative, he’s still going to be in the club and looking for the information we need but the time’s changed.”

“Really? I thought he was going to go, like, tomorrow or something.”

She shook her head. “He was. But we just got the news about thirty minutes ago; Kader’s getting suspicious. He plans on making tonight his last night at the club for a long while and finding a new venue for his deals. We need to get the information tonight before we lose him for an undeclared period of time.”

Tonight? Trowa was to do this all tonight?

“Hey, you know what? This is totally doable. Actually, this is great!” Lena said nodding. Trowa blinked; he and Une both looked at her. “This way, he can’t say no whatsoever when I call him and call out sick; he’ll have no other choice than to take Trowa on my word or else he’ll be seriously shorthanded and lose business. This is perfect, really!” He watched her run back over to her things and begin to rummage through her bag. Une, hands on her hips, watched as well. Once, she glanced over at him longer than normal.

“…Nice heels. They look good on you.”

A small rush of heat rose in his face. He had almost forgot about those.

“Aha!” cried Lena triumphantly a moment or so later. She held a small and thin cell phone in the air as she stood back up. “Now then…what’s a good sickness… I guess just a contagious flu; it’s been going around lately and easy to contract.” Muttering to herself, Lena flipped it open and pressed what Trowa could only assume was the speed dial button to the manager. She bounced on the balls of her feet listening to the ringing. He could hear a distinctive click and someone’s muttered hello. Lena grinned at them slightly before focusing on the task at hand.

She let out a series of hacking coughs that startled him and Une both. “R-Robert?” she asked in the most convincing congested tone that Trowa had heard. If he hadn’t seen her just seconds before completely fine, he may very well have believed her sick act. “It’s, it’s Lena.” she managed, sneezing loudly. “Look…yes I know I sound like shit. I look like death warmed over, man… Hey it isn’t funny, man…” She let out another hacking cough. “Oh, so you noticed that little cough of mine…Uh huh…Well a funny thing about my shift tonight. See the thing is I, excuse me,” Lena pulled the phone from her ear and hacked as loudly as she could, throwing in the sound phlegm dripping down her throat. “I’m pretty much bedridden. I can’t come in tonight.”

Trowa wasn’t sure exactly what he said but judging from the sheer volume of the reply on the other end and the string of what he could only assume were numerous curses, “Robert” was not happy.

“Yes I know I’m always headlining this shift… Yes I know this leaves you short handed, but it wasn’t like I was hoping to get this sick. Jesus man, you know me. I hate being stuck in bed, and I hate being cold which is what this 103 fever is giving me… Yes, yes I know I have just fucked you over…or at least that’s what you think.”

Sounding sick or not, she still had a large grin on her face at the questioning tone “Robert’s” voice garbled.

“I know that it’s hard as fuck to find a replacement dancer with the right credentials and shit on such a short time, but that’s why I,” she paused to cough again. “ugh, sorry. That’s why I found one for you… Nah, nah she’s a totally good girl, real tight lipped. She out to be, she’s a mute.” Lena passed Trowa a wink; he snorted. “Dude, she knows how to sign and she always carries a notebook around with her, don’t worry about communicating… Where’d I meet her? Oh we,” she hacked again. “go way back, me an her. Used to go to grade school together and middle school. We were in the same dance classes for awhile. We’re good friends and, what?… No, no, she’s doing this as a favor; she’s not in any sort of trouble. Totally clean… Well I helped her out, gave her a place to crash when she was hiding from her ex. Total creep that was. She owes me, so you don’t even have to pay her… Uh huh…uh huh… Totally! Seriously, Robert, she is on fire. She does have some vanilla in her personality but when she’s on the dance floor, she is a wild thing. Practically exudes sex, man; you will love her.” Sniffling, Lena nodded her head. “Uh huh…uh huh…yeah, yeah…uh huh….uh huh….got it…yup… Great! 9:00? She’ll be there. Her names Tracy, don’t give her a stage name. She hates that. I’m telling you, Robert, you will be ecstatic that she’s there filling in for me. The boys will adore her. Uh huh…yeah she knows about the eye candy policy, I told her this morning… uh huh….uh huh… Well of course I told her to burn and flush the address after I gave it to her. No worries, she won’t fuck you over. Uh huh…okay! She’ll be there tonight, on time, I swear.” Lena sniffled loudly. “Yeah, lots of sleep and mind rotting T.V. I’ll get better soon… Okay, I’ll check in tomorrow, let you know how I feel. Uh huh…uh huh…okay, talk to you later, boss. Later.”

She grinned as she flicked the phone shut and tossed it back into the bag. Une and Trowa blinked in unison while she walked back over to them. “Easy, man. Done and done, the boy is in.” Lady Une, surprisingly, started to chuckled. Shaking her head, she lay a hand on Lena’s shoulder lightly.

“Lena Crawford, you will never cease to astound me.”

“Good thing you decided not to chuck my hot ass in jail, right?” Lena asked with a seductive smirk. Trowa arched an eyebrow slightly. Strange, he had never considered it before but perhaps…

“Well now we know that we can get him in there tonight with no problems. They’re expecting him.”

“Totally, and he knows the routine and he can dance in those shoes. Now all we have to do is try the costume and do some last minute practice and prep so that he definitely looks, and acts, the part.”

“Can you get it done soon?”

“Damn straight. What time’s departure?” Lena asked. Une glanced down at her watch for a moment.

“A couple hours. I want the team to leave by 5:00 pm.”

She waved her off. “Plenty of time. We’ll grab some lunch and then get started. He’ll be totally ready by the time you get back down. Promise.”

“I’m trusting you, Lena. You’ve done a great job so far.” Une smiled at Trowa before turning about on her heel and leaving.

“Okay. Lunch time. Let’s eat quick and get going.” she said with a clap to her hand. Dragging two chairs over, she waved him to sit down. He did so and began reaching for his regular shoes. Lena noticed him just as he was starting to undo the clasps of the sandals. “Hey don’t take those off yet. You’re going to have to get used to having them on and besides, we need to work on alterations and it’s better to have the whole ensemble on.”

He made a slight face. Still, Trowa sat back and bit into his sandwich.

Lunch was a much more hurried affair than usual, perhaps because Lena had actually chosen for once to instigate any sort of conversation with him. She practically wolfed down her daily rolls of vegetables and fish. He was amazed she hadn’t choked. Swallowing the remains of his sandwich, Trowa didn’t bother to even remove the salad he had gotten earlier from the bag; Lena was already up and rooting through her bag once again.

This time, she took out clothes. He didn’t even have to guess whose they went to. Sighing through his nose as quietly as he was able, Trowa took the clothes in his hands and looked them over slightly. They certainly felt like female clothes: extremely softy and silky. He wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. It simply seemed…interesting at the moment. And it will only be for one night…just one night. He would have to deal with it for only one night, and he was almost certain he could.

“Excuse me,” he asked quietly, stopping from making his way towards the shower to change. Lena was following him closely. “…but what are you doing?”

“Well I have to see how it fits and where I need to take it in or let it out, hun. They’re called ‘alterations.’” Lena said as though it was perfectly obvious.

He turned about slowly, processing the words he had actually heard and what he thought he had heard. They matched perfectly. “You are not following me into the men’s showers.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like I don’t know what a boy’s supposed to have. Don’t be such a prude.” she sneered. Trowa ground his teeth into one another, feeling that odd sensation once again of blood pounding in his ears. The words that came out of his mouth were soft, dripping with some other strange tone that he never took before.

“You are not following me…”

“Yeesh. Okay, okay. Damn, turn off the ice already.” she said. Back up slightly she watched him with her hands on her hips. “You just better come back here when you’re changed so I can take a look at you.”

“I will…do not follow me again.” he muttered softly.

“Hey you don’t have to say it twice!! I’m not stupid!” Lena yelled after him but by then he could hardly hear her. The thick walls of the showers, and the room just before, swallowed most of the outside sound. Trowa set the clothes on a bench for a moment and glanced across from him.

The mirror was fully repaired. Flawlessly fixed. He wondered if, after he had slipped into whatever Lena had designed from her odd mind, the maintenance crew would have to do it once again.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Trowa looked over the pieces with a more critical eye, taking in the detailing before attempting to try it on. He had to admit, Lena appeared to be very good with a needle and thread but there was something about the design that he was not happy with already, specifically the shirt. There was a very large cut in the base of the shirt that went almost to beneath his breast bone. It was all part of the design, Trowa knew that, but it posed a problem to him. There would be no way for him to wear his corset beneath it and still keep it a secret. Even if the fabric was the exact same color of his flesh, Trowa had no doubt that the fabric would reflect even just a little light and give its presence away.

Which meant…that he would have to go without it. He felt a cold shiver slither down the length of his spine. His fingers trembled slightly as he slid them down beneath his shirt and lifted the hem up slightly. Out of habit, Trowa peered lightly over his shoulder towards the door. Shadow-less. Closed. He pulled the fabric over his head and cursed his own paranoia feebly. Trowa refused to look in the mirror while he removed the corset from about his torso. He wrapped it in his shirt, placing his folded pants overtop of them. Still refusing to face mirror, Trowa lay out the clothes on the bench. He tilted his head slightly at the third piece he hadn’t noticed before. It took him a moment to recall just what it was. He felt a sinking feeling at it.

Sinking onto the bench, Trowa held it in his hands. It felt so foreign to me; he wasn’t suppose to be holding one of these, or even considering wearing one. I’m not suppose to have to either…or have the required body parts for it… The padding that Lena obviously had added, under the assumption that Trowa was going to “need” it was unnecessary. He disposed of it in the trash can before looking at it one more time. He shouldn’t have to need this… He shouldn’t have to do this… It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it?

That didn’t matter. He still managed to figure out just exactly how he was to wear it. It felt uncomfortable, and not in the familiar way the corset did.

He continued to feel that uncomfortable prickling through his skin as he dressed into the clothes Lena had crafted. The cloth fell over his skin snuggly but differently than he was used to. Trowa couldn’t shake the feeling that he was naked, exposed for all to see. You aren’t. You are perfectly covered… To everyone else, this…it’s just an illusion…

The sound of heels on the hard floor alerted Lena to his returned presence. She lifted her head from her music induced trance, eyes locking onto him instantly. Her lips pursed and let out a low whistle. Trowa’s rare desire to blush embarrassed returned but he stilled it.

“Damn. Man if I was fucking straight, I would so let you fuck me raw.” Lena said. Trowa made a small face that sheer distance masked. Well wasn’t that a pleasant image. “Come here and let me look at you better.” Trowa obeyed, trying not to walk with a roll to his hips and trying not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He stopped before her and looked into nothingness while she scanned him with a critical eye. “Do a turn for me real quick? Just a slow one.” Eyes closed, he spun slowly in his spot. “Mhm. Fits you pretty good. I’ll take in the back of the shirt a bit since it’s a little big on you. And I’ll let out the hem slightly since your legs are a little longer than I thought.” She pulled out a small sewing kit and extracted a needle from it. “Move back slightly and stand perfectly still,” she ordered while threading the needle.

He stepped back and stood as casually as he could manage. Lena, crouched on her knees with the needle hanging from between her lips, lifted the edge of the skirt in her hands slightly and examined the needle work before making small and precise cuts with her scissors. Trowa felt himself swallow; the skirt was tight about his hips and rear. His underwear had shown through it quite clearly and he had had the sneaking suspicion that that wouldn’t have been what Lena wanted. Still, he would feel perhaps a little more comfortable if he had its cover. Lena never lifted the skirt any higher than it was while she crab-walked about him and lowered the hem. For that, he was most thankfully.

Removing the needle from her mouth, she rocked back on her heels and eyed the skirt some minutes later. “That’s better. Alright, now for the shirt. Normally I’d ask you to take it off to work on it,” No way in fucking hell. “But since you seem to have a problem with flashing skin at me and since it does make more sense to alter it on the intended wearer, just stay still for a bit longer.” He breathed deeply and tried to keep himself perfectly still as she wandered behind him and knelt down. The fabric across his stomach and chest tightened slightly while Lena pulled it back lightly and altered it to his shape. He glanced into the ceiling and resisted the urge to brush a strand of hair from his face. The changes here seemed to take a bit longer although he sort of understood why. She was changing its shape, not taking down a hem. His leg muscles were beginning to cramp long before Lena rose and put the needle back in the case.

“There we are.” Lena said with a nod. “Looks much better. Now, just one or two more little things.” She seemed to be saying that a lot, or at least he thought so. Lena pulled the chair over to them and set it down in front of her. “Park it.” He sat down on the chair as straight and normally as possible, fighting his typical habit of crossing his legs at the knee. Lena sat across from him, an odd look silver and black box resting on her lap. It was sturdy, almost like a small lock box. “Now I want you to relax your face, and keep it relaxed.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” Lena explained while she opened the box in front of her. “you’ll mess me up. Now hold still.” He grabbed her wrist before the makeup brush even made it from the box. “Oi!”

“I draw the line right here…”

“Okay, 1) you don’t get a choice in the matter since make up is a must when you do any sort of performance. And 2) I’m just going to extenuate your natural features so stop having a hissy fit. Now don’t blink and look up towards the ceiling without moving your head. And don’t worry, I have a very steady hand and will not poke you in the eye.”

He made a small face, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and cutting the ceiling tiles directly above his head. Trowa tried his best to ignore the feeling of the stiff bristled brush Lena was using dangerously close to his eyes. His eyelashes felt unnaturally heavy when she finished. He wanted to blink the gunky film away.

“Do not blink.” she ordered. “Just relax your face muscles.” Trowa felt a softer brush slide against his cheek bones lightly; he coughed at the powder that wafted from the air into his mouth. “Open your mouth slightly, and stop giving me that look. This isn’t going to kill you.” Opening his mouth just enough, Trowa stayed still while she moved the lipstick against his lips. At least he didn’t bit her fingers like a part of him longed to do. “Okay, last thing. Now you can close your eyes. Just lightly, don’t squint and keep them closed.”

It had better be the last thing. Eyes closed, he ignored the new type of film she was sweeping across his eyelids as lightly as she could. The uncomfortable feeling continued to increase. A roll to his hips, a sense of nakedness beneath fabric he had never considered wearing before in a design that should never be placed upon him, and the sensation of an unnatural mask blocking his face, slowly suffocating him. Only for a night… This will be a long night…

“There. Done.” Trowa opened his eyes at the clattering of the makeup brush and case back into the larger box. She snapped it closed and leaned her elbows on it to examine her work. “Looks good. Very good, I’d say. We’ll see what Une says when she gets back. But until then,” Lena, kicking the chair back, reset the music. “get up and do it again.”

There was no choice this time, as Trowa rose and returned to the center of the room to the starting point. He could not avoid the reflection staring back at him. A soft gasp escaped him whether he willed it or not. Trowa, he could hardly recognize himself, and wasn’t sure if he wished to. The blood red shirt, made of something that he could only imagine to be satin, hung down to just above his hips. It clung to him just enough to pull the cut in the bottom open a bit more to show his flat stomach and naval without hesitation. It was sleeveless and extenuated the natural slender slope of his shoulders with the low cut of the neck. At least, though, it flashed no cleavage…merely suggested that it was, indeed, there. The black skirt, made of some fabric he simply couldn’t name, held tightly to his hips and upper thighs before draping loosely against them. He could see nearly every part of his legs because of the lack of fabric before them. The inverted V cut’s vertex was just barely halfway up his thighs. He was perfectly happy that it didn’t end a millimeter higher but… A small shiver of something traveled up and down him as he observed his own form. The color on his face, on his cheeks and his lips and his eyes, mixed perfectly with both the cloth and his own skin tone. Lena was right; it was nothing over the top, it was beautifully subtle to bring out the angles and fullness of his features. The colors were all a very soft reddish. With his hair hanging down to just above his shoulders, even he could, for a moment, forget that he was not supposed to be doing this. Not supposed to be wearing this. Not supposed to be filling this shirt’s bust naturally. Not supposed to be looking at his own thin legs. Not supposed to be standing almost casually in high heeled sandals. He could forget all that and feel…almost right.

The urge to vomit came rather suddenly.

“Come on, I want to check this out like you’d be actually on the stage since I really can’t be there to watch you in the element.”

Gasping softly, Trowa looked towards her slightly before remembering what exactly was the reason he was standing here, looking as he did. He glanced back at his distorted reflection before, with a shake to his head, he focused his mind back onto the task at hand. He almost wished he couldn’t do it anymore…

Trowa had managed to do the routine flawlessly, again and again, losing track of the number well after 15 times, by the time that Lady Une had returned. As promised. Yet, she was not alone this time.

“Holy shit, please tell me I am dreaming.” Trowa would recognize that awed tone of voice from anywhere. He could see their forms in the mirror, all four of them. It is only for one night… Just one night…

A very long, long night that he was probably not going to forget for sometime.

“Who’s the boys?” Lena asked with her head tilted slightly. She turned the music back down; she never seemed to actually turn it off. She stood when Lady Une lead them over. Trowa stared resolutely into the empty reflection, seeing past it and nothing at all.

“These are four of the other operatives for tonight’s mission. Gathers and tech support.” Une answered. She gestured to them in turn. “This is Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei, and Zechs Merquise. Gentleman, this is Lena Crawford.”

“ ‘Sup, boys. Pleasure to meet you.”

Duo looked from one woman to the other. “…This is who you got as the dance instructor?”

Une frowned at him. Lena let out a soft snort. “Not that it’s any of your business as to whom I choose to assist in operation preparation, Maxwell, but yes, she is. And she’s done one hell of a job, as I should hope you can see.”

“I see, I see…” he muttered. Trowa glared at him from the corner of his eye. The women didn’t seem to take notice.

“Well you were right Lena. He looks perfect for the part. You did a great job.”

“Not a problem. He’s all yours now.”

“I owe you for this one, Lena.” She laughed at Une’s words and waved her off slightly.

“No way. You didn’t chuck my butt in a jail cell. I’ll be paying that back for a good long while. Anyway, I suppose that you will no longer be in need of me. Least, not for a while.” Smiling, Lena walked back to her things and gathered them messily in her bag. She tossed it over her shoulder, lifted the stereo to her shoulder and nodded to them in turn. “So I suppose that I’ll just be heading out. You know the number if you ever need my services again, Miss Une.”

“Well at least let me walk you out, or call you a cab.”

“Hey a cab would be nice.” She said with a smile. Although, Lena did look over her shoulder towards them then back to her. “But is it smart to leave these boys alone?”

“They’re good boys, for the most part. I think I trust them to be well behaved for ten minutes.” She answered with her own backward glance towards them. He recognized the look on her face: “Be good or you’re in very deep.” Smiling a smile that Trowa didn’t fully trust, Une turned her attentions back to Lena, the two of them walking from the room. He was almost surprised that they weren’t walking arm and arm. He truly had to wonder sometimes if…

The silence dragged on slowly. Trowa continued to stare absently towards the mirror and avoid the looks that he knew the other four were imparting on him. He breathed deeply through his nose while trying to keep everything from running away from him as it already seemed to be doing. Someone cleared their throat loudly; Trowa let his eyes roam over to them slightly. Duo’s face seemed strange somehow. He was doing his best to keep a straight face about him.

And it wasn’t working.

“Well,” he started. Trowa’s eyes narrowed at the tone of amusement in his words. He turned to them quickly. Duo stepped back slightly; the annoyed look on his face apparently startled him It had better…

“Not a comment. Not a word, not one. Don’t even snigger, or I will remove that braid in your sleep.” he snapped. Duo held up his hands.

“Okay, okay. I won’t say anything about you in the dress. I just have a question.”

“Well keep it to yourself.”

“But I-” He yelped suddenly, turning a glare onto Heero. His foot was resting painfully on Duo’s toes. He was shaking his head slightly at Duo before looking at Trowa.

“We’ll be leaving shortly, I’m assuming. It’s a fairly long ride to the location, an hour or two at most. Then it’s a bit of wait time before you leave for the inside.”

“Sounds fine…” he muttered.

“We just need to wait a few more minutes for Lady Une to come back up and give us the all clear to leave.” Zechs continued. Trowa only nodded slightly.

They were still standing in their same respective stops when Lady Une returned some few moments later, a black coat draped over one arm. She stopped short in the door way and stared for a moment before shaking her head and putting her hands on her hips.

“I said be good, not stand like statues for ten minutes.” Une sighed. Trowa looked over at her for a moment before staring blankly once again. “Well it seems that we’re now all set. Get going and head to the locale. And, I suggest you go out the back way. It’ll prevent awkward questions.”

“Yes ma’am.” they answered.

“Ah, and one more thing.” Une called, stopping them from their filing out. She walked over to Trowa and tossed it over his shoulders. “That’s for you. It’s extremely cold outside. There’s a pad of paper in the pocket and a pen. Use it at your leisure.”

He nodded slightly while pulling it on and zipping it up beneath his chin. That’s right, he wasn’t suppose to speak on this mission; he was a mute woman named “Tracy” tonight. Lovely…

“Good luck. I have faith in your abilities.” she called after them.

Well…that makes one of us…


A/n: Well wasn’t this an interesting week for our Trowa, hm? And it’s only going to get worse from here. Chapter 5 deals with the mission itself and I won’t spoil anything for you. So have fun making guesses. I’ll post chapter 5 when I’ve finished writing chapter 6.

Reviews are very much loved. ^^