Author's Note

I don't own Gundams (but I sure wish I did). Never have, and never will—but please, don't take my idea.

And so begins another adventure of nonsensical mayhem...have fun!

Chapter 1: Trowa's Specter

It came as a shock. Complete and total shock. He had only shot at a figure in darkness, who screamed in agony and hatred.

"You are now cursed Trowa Barton," the shadow cried. "Have a nice time with your new—companion."

Trowa stared blankly as his mind wandered back to the circus, where he was headed.

"Welcome one and all," the ringmaster cried. Trowa looked around him, wondering where the voice was originating. He was nowhere near his beloved circus, so how could he hear the ringmaster? He must have been really homesick. He began to quicken his pace, but stopped almost abruptly.

"Who's there?" Trowa demanded. His face grew fierce. "All right, come out now and I'll let you live."

His gun slowly came out of its holster. His fierce face became jarring to any soul who dared come close. In his case, he thought an Oz officer was sneaking up from behind. He whipped around and fired—hitting a tree. The poor Trowa realized that there had been nothing there to begin with.

"Come out now," Trowa demanded again, his patience being tested. He made a note to himself that all floating voices that he ever heard again—wait, a floating voice? What was that about? "Yes, a floating voice. Now come out now."

Hold the phone Trowa! I just can't come out on request. How can you hear me?

"What are you talking about? Why shouldn't I be able to hear you?" Trowa demanded again, confusion crossing his face. "Why are you narrating everything I say and do?"

Umm…. That's my job. I'm a narrator. In reality, you AREN'T supposed to be able to hear me. Wait, that's right, that shadowy figure cursed you, right? I guess you can hear me now. Trowa's posture shifted to a calmer one.

"How did you know about that?" Trowa quizzed. Narrator, duh? Anything that happens that my eyes catch hold of I report. Have you ever read a book? "Good point."

I thought so.

"So are you a boy narrator or a girl narrator?" Trowa asked. Hey buddy, that's PERSONAL information you're asking for! "Girl then. And what about your name? If I am going crazy, I at least want the craziness to have a name."

Gee, you decide that I'm a girl, and that I need a name. Okay, fine, fine. Let's see—a name right?

"Your name."

Oh, right. Well, just so you know, I'm a narrator. I am also a figment of some crazed author's stupid imagination (not that the current author is crazed or stupid for creating this plotline…). I don't get a name if I don't have a major part in the plotline. By that, I mean, I don't have a physical form. I'm just an entity.

"A specter?" Trowa asked me now. Okay, I guess that's fair. I mean, a specter is a little above a ghost, but I'm only a little above that. You see, I don't exist as a real being. I am basically a floating voice. "A specter with no name."

Exactly. Unlike you, I never had a name to begin with, kinda like that Heero Yuy guy, minus the perfect soldier routine. However, I have to say whatever goes on. Like how your staring at the sky in total confusion. Um, I'm not up there. Trowa seemed to understand as he looked around him. After a wasted effort, Trowa moved towards the nearest tree, and took a seat.

"Can you do me a favor and not call me Trowa? It sounds like you're pretending I can't hear you. Besides, who are you narrating to?"

Now if I didn't call you Trowa, who I'm narrating to would not know who I was referring to, since if I were to refer to them, I would say "you." Also, I know just as much as you about who I'm narrating to. Trowa sighed deeply. He smiled some now, as you and I can only guess, an epiphany had struck him.

"Specter, you're name is Nara Specter."

How original. He cursed.

…

…

Now that was uncalled for Trowa Barton! I have opinions too you know! By the way, the longer you sit there the more time I have to narrate your posture, which I'm sure you don't want me exposing "that" to whoever I'm narrating to, do you?

"Fine. I get the point," Trowa said, getting to his feet. "However, I do expect some courtesy from you. If I can hear you, and you can hear me, can you at least not pull any pranks on me up there? The Oz officer is no laughing matter, as I'm sure you're aware of."

Humph. Fine, I won't say what's on your mind and leave the world in a never-ending state of darkness. Happy?

"Yes."

Meanwhile—

"Wait, you're leaving?" Trowa asked, a little surprised. Well, yes. It's my job to narrate. I have to say what's happening, wherever it may be. "Can't you at least take me with you?"

Against the rules of a narrator.

"What rules?" he demanded now. Rule number one, don't change the course of the storyline without the author's consent. Rule number two, don't take anyone anywhere, as it may break rule number one. Rule number three, don't reveal important plot information to unsuspecting characters, as it may break rule number one. Rule number— "I get it. Don't tell me anymore."

Good, because I was getting to the legal procedures and you wouldn't have liked it anyhow.

"So Ms. Specter, what do you plan to do now? If you go anywhere else, you might end up revealing critical plot details in your narration," Trowa pointed out, mocking my new name. Stupid loopholes. I officially HATE the shadow that gave Trowa Barton this gift. And I want my lawyer. "But you said so yourself. You are also a creation of the author's, and since you have no physical form, you cannot possibly have a lawyer. And why did you call it a gift? I thought it was a curse."

I am beginning to hate loopholes. The rules will be violated if I do my job, and I'm breaking my contract if I don't do my job. However, following Trowa will accomplish my job without breaking any rules. Well, I guess that's that.

"Does Nara always think aloud?" Trowa wondered quietly. The answer is a yes. I can't express my opinions in any other manner, so I have to. Anyhow, I'm going to stick with you, since you can hear me and I can't possibly break any rules by narrating with you. That way, I'm as oblivious as you are. "But I thought the narrators are omniscient."

Only the ones with quality contracts.

"Okay then," Trowa said, not wanting to press my rage about other narrators further. "Let's head home."

Home for Trowa was the colorful and wondrous circus that he had known for a few years now. Katharine was probably waiting for him, wondering if he had gotten lost since his last transmission to her.

"You know about that?" Trowa asked, blushing some. Genius, it is back story. Of course I know about it! I'm given the back story but not the present or the future. Besides, that wasn't that bad of a transmission… You don't have to blush like it was some secret love note or something. "It was a personal discretion. You needn't pry into those."

Well, I can't help that the author gave me that knowledge. Besides, I can't tell anyone anyhow. Back story is not stuff that the audience needs to necessarily hear about, unless you WANT me to do a flashback.

"That's not necessary."

Good. Trowa regained composure, and continued his journey. There was not much more to travel. However—oh holy mother of narrators!

"What?" Trowa asked, worried. Umm—nothing! Nothing at all! "Liar."

It was then that I realized that someone other than the author was playing with reality here. In fact, they had toyed with it so much—well, umm—maybe Trowa, you ought to turn around and see.

Trowa once again whipped around to see a girl. Not just any girl mind you.

"Nara?" he asked. Yes, Trowa Barton. This girl is "Nara." However, I can't seem to make my lips move, which means I still can't alter reality on my own (stupid contract is still in effect). Anyhow, this seems to mean that since I have a physical form, I now can only see through her eyes, and others can see me, and hurt me. "Hurt you?"

A sigh came from my mouth, as a depressed demeanor was assumed. I can die Trowa Barton. If they kill me, this is over, and you will fade from existence. We will all fade from existence. He gave me a confused look. Think of me as a giant bomb powerful enough to destroy the entire galaxy and everyone in it. Like a big poof. In other words, if you don't protect me the world will end as we know it.

"That sounds like blackmail Nara," Trowa said. That's not blackmail. It's the truth! "However, we must get back. You were correct in thinking that Katharine might be getting worried about me."

So how do we explain me to her?

"You'll see," Trowa said. Somehow, I wasn't comforted by this. I just can't get over the fact that someone is bending reality like this. I half expect some random angel-looking person to hail down from the heavens to say that this is destiny or some other crap like that. "Quit complaining. We are almost there Nara."

We walked along, keeping an open eye for anything (I was looking for that angel), but our journey remained fairly safe, since we were within eyesight now of the circus camp. Trowa showed some signs of agitation, probably from my incessant narrating. When Katharine saw us, her eyes lit up as she waved and ran towards Trowa. When she finally got close, she saw me.

"Trowa, who is this?" Katharine asked softly.

"Her name is Nara," Trowa replied. "I found her on the trail home, and she and her family had been attacked by someone or something. They were gone by the time I arrived. However, Nara hasn't spoken a word since I rescued her, and it seems that she has nowhere to go."

That was the best lie I've heard since Clinton. Trowa tried to keep a straight face, but I know I pissed him off, since I'm sure he heard the sarcasm in my voice.

"How sweet of you Trowa!" Katharine exclaimed. "Don't you worry Nara! You can stay here with us!"

I looked to Trowa, wondering if this was Katharine's way of initiating people into the circus. As I kept a smile, he merely nodded. So I was being sent into the circus for protection now? That was brilliant Trowa Barton. Pure brilliance.

"We should go see the ringmaster, and see if he has any positions available for Nara to take," Trowa said simply, as I was—almost literally—dragged to the ringmaster, who looked at me with a raising suspicion. As if finding out that your clown was a bona fide Gundam pilot wasn't enough to raise any suspicion to who he brings in.

"Ringmaster, this is Nara. She needs a place to stay, and I'm sure she's willing to work," Katharine said, presenting me to the ringmaster with a small shove. Work? Like I have a choice. As long as the contract is in place I have to follow the rules and go with the flow, even if the flow gives me more work than I was assigned!

"Can she speak?" he asked, eyeing me down. I looked scared, and dove behind Trowa. He—being Trowa—hid a laugh.

"She hasn't spoken a word since I found her," Trowa replied. "Although judging by her speed, she might serve a purpose somewhere in the ring."

I didn't know at first what drove the ringmaster to walk towards me. Trowa moved aside, as I cowered there.

"It's okay," Katharine said, as she waved her good-bye. Of course, her leaving me with the ringmaster and Trowa—alone—wasn't all that comforting. The ringmaster reached for my hair, which I realized was in a bun, and it fell evenly to mid-back. I could finally see the pale violet locks of hair that I'd been given, that fell right over the left side of my face. As a reflex I guess, I started to pull it back up, but the ringmaster stopped me.

"You know, there is something that you can do," he said, a devilish smile crossing his face. Oh man, the author is going to hate this when she finds out…