All Fall Down
by Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Here's a fic for Trowa fans. He's my favorite GW pilot so I thought I should focus more directly on him in *one* of my stories. In the non-yaoi universe, Trowa's romantic life is rather open. Here I propose one possible solution. Let me know how you think it went! Oh, and I don't claim to have created Trowa or Harrod or Funck. Characters not original to GW are mine however!)
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All Fall Down by Harrod and Funck
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We haven't forgotten a thing
Trowa shaded the sun from his eyes with both cupped hands. He was trying to see something in the distance, but his thoughts were wandering before he found it.
"Trowa?" The voice tickled the back of his memory. "Is it the delivery truck? They're late again."
He hadn't been thinking about Catherine, but the subtle recognition of her shifted his wandering thoughts. He was remembering the earlier years. When the smell of grease was from a weapon and not the metal cages for the animals. The truck provided weapons for a rag-tag mercenary team rather than the truck that brought the supplies demanded by a successful circus troop.
Catherine reminded him of a decision he made. The decision to live. Trowa's mouth pulled to one side in a grimaced grin. Living. Something that most people did so naturally, and he had to find a reason to actively pursue it. Seek it. Endure it. Survive it.
And in the dullest moments of the afternoon, Trowa could not help but remember the conscious decision to live. A choice he made each and every moment, while others casually, eagerly took it all for granted. The truck was coming, and Trowa was going to meet it. Alive. Both of them. Very alive. And one of them would remember that.
But let's not kid ourselves these days We let years go by once again
Scarlet Hayami was the usual delivery girl. And she gave Trowa her characteristic "big wink" before sliding out of the front seat. "I'm late!" she announced, slapping the metal side of the semi. It was a solid black with a tiny logo in one corner that read: Hayami shipping. Only the best! And you're paying for it!
"You're late." Trowa followed her quick step to the back of the vehicle where she immediately opened the lock and revealed several boxes of programs for the show, crates of food service products and a new harness for Catherine's pony.
While Trowa motioned with his hand to the waiting circus crewmembers, Scarlet handed over the invoice. "Sign here. Sign here. And here."
Trowa scribbled his name and then deliberately paused over the last validation form. "A marriage license?"
Scarlet simply laughed. "Okay, I had to try."
"This is the third time." Trowa shook his head and handed back the clipboard.
Scarlet glanced over them and sighed with exaggerated heaviness. "I'm superstitious. I had to try."
"You keep saying that." Trowa surveyed the scurrying crew, half in their costumes and some half-in their costumes. Catherine was shouting directions and obviously wanted to assume control over the momentary chaos. "And what does this mischief have to do with superstition?"
After pulling her dark hair back and under her trademark red kerchief, Scarlet shrugged. "I had a fortune read for me when I was in elementary school. I'd gone to the carnival where they had a traveling circus visiting. The gypsy woman told me to marry before I was twenty-three or I'd be a spinster for life!"
Trowa glanced over at the Japanese girl and half-chuckled through an incredulous open mouth. "Fortune telling at the circus? Now there's an idea we haven't tried. I wonder if Catherine will take to it."
Slapping the slender man playfully, Scarlet scolded, "You wouldn't dare! Don't terrorize any other young girls, Mr. Barton!"
"That's about it, Trowa." Catherine stepped up and shook Scarlet's hand. "Good to see you again, Ms. Hayami."
"We're glad to have you Bartons back on L3." Scarlet replaced her sunglasses so that only her amused grin was visible. "Might have some good luck around here again like we did right after the war."
*flashback*
From moon and monkey shine and masquerades From quietly shedding our youth All the blame and that hawking about truth Finding we've dissatisfied
Nervously sitting at the table, Trowa took to an intense study of the china's floral patterning. The napkin rings were a matching silver of weaving metal and the silver wear had a similar cut on the handle. Relena knew how be a hostess for a civilized party.
Quatre had gently directed the order of the utensils. Leading by example, Quatre watched the other pilots take their forks and drink their glasses in the imitation of properness just after he himself had selected the same.
"Don't you all look cute." Noin stepped over and settled one hand on the back of Quatre's chair. She was wearing a faded blue evening gown that darkened in the party lighting to a silver-gray.
"Miss Noin! It's so good to see you." Quatre twisted to smile up at her.
"Hey, Lucrezia, can I have a dance later?" Duo suggested raising his fork and chewing noisily on the main course.
She tipped her head to cover her amused eyes and the betrayal of a smile with her hair. "I might have one open."
"Oh, right." Duo's eyes darted across the room surveying the faces. "That guy's probably here too. He is Relena's brother after all."
"Zechs won't mind."
"Nah nah nah!" The American pilot waved his hand with sudden dismissal. "I don't pick fights with him. I'll leave that to Heero." And upon saying that earned a familiar glare from across the table.
"I'm sure you'll find plenty of young women to dance with." Noin glanced around at the other tables. "In case you haven't noticed, the heroic Gundam pilots will have those dancing cards filled."
"We have dancing cards?" Wufei glanced over urgently.
"I think she's joking." Trowa hoped.
With a wink, the lieutenant elegantly dismissed herself to converse with others.
"I can't understand why she'd be off talking while there's so much food to be had." Duo muttered between mouthfuls.
"Duo," Quatre's eyes curled affectionately, "The main dinner did end some time ago and the official speeches will be made after the social festivities."
"Oi. Whatever." Duo shook his head and continued to appreciate the chef's efforts.
However, as soon as Duo heard the music, he decided that he had satisfied his other desires and needed to prowl a little to find the best dancer. Wufei managed to avoid the entire situation by hiding himself in official sounding conversation of politics with the governing officers.
Trowa sent a worried glance after Wufei and wondered if he might feel more comfortable avoiding the social awkwardness. It was one thing to have Duo's vibrant personality around to absorb the attention. And it was completely another when one sat silently between the snarling Heero Yuy and the blissfully content Quatre Raberba Winner.
Quatre was enjoying himself. Heero was wishing he could be anywhere else.
"Oh look, Trowa!" Quatre reached out to grasp his friend's arm. "Edith Gellar. She went to school with me on L4. Before Operation Meteor and all." The blond teenager deliberated for a moment and then pushed back his chair with an abrupt decision. "Come on, Trowa. It's our duty to introduce ourselves."
Trowa could hardly refuse and made no comment. They made their way through clusters of conversations to one in particular that included the girl Quatre recognized. Edith Gellar recognized Quatre immediately.
"I was wondering if you would know me!" She blushed furiously as she glanced at the floor, the ceiling, any where but at Quatre.
"Of course," Quatre reassured her. "Are you still attending the L3 Academy? I've thought of going back while Rashid helps me manage the affairs of my family."
Edith nodded, her cheeks still flushed. Trowa stood a step behind, very amused by the gentle girl's bashfulness. He stood straighter when Quatre spoke again, "This is my friend, Trowa."
"Hi." Edith responded properly.
He had never spoken to an unknown girl in polite company. Trowa fought the involuntary catch in his voice as he tried to meet her silver blue eyes. Oddly, they were the same color as Noin's blue dress. The thought distracted him enough to reply, "Hello."
"If you would dance with me," Quatre hesitated ever so slightly. "Perhaps we could find someone for Trowa?"
"Of course," Edith perked up at the task and glanced back at her neglected friends who continued to talk among themselves. "That's easy. Rosalind hasn't stopped talking about meeting the guests of honor. She's corresponded with Miss Relena at some length and seems anxious for her own 'encounter' with a Gundam pilot."
"Oi." Quatre tried to smile, and glanced back at Trowa who tried to shrug and still managed to look silently uncomfortable. All they needed was another aristocrat trying to find her own trophy soldier.
"You'll like Rosalind." Edith caught their glances and reassuringly pulled on Quatre's hand. The sunshine gold color of her gown matched the warming glow of her expression.
As the string quartet played soothing tunes, Trowa hoped he could imitate and learn Quatre's sophisticated dancing steps before he crushed the feet of Rosalind. She had demurely accepted Trowa's offered hand. But once they had passed the uncomfortable point of silence together, Rosalind had unashamedly begun to study Trowa's features.
At first, Trowa turned his head and continuously tried to find Quatre or Edith's blond halos in the sea of suits and gowns.
"You're so quiet." Rosalind whispered. "You do know that it's perfectly acceptable to talk with me."
"I'm concentrating on not stepping on you." Trowa answered truthfully, which earned a generous laugh. Rosalind's green eyes sparkled in the dimmed light.
"Darling, you are too cute." She chuckled casually.
Trowa took a moment to glance down at her auburn hair. Sunset to expectation. Sunrise to his attempts of socialize. And she laughed so eagerly. But he never knew how much to trust her words.
"The rumors are true, I see." Rosalind started. She let the potential of the conversation dangle in the evening air before continuing. "Gundam pilots are perfect soldiers."
"What do you mean?" Trowa asked dryly, trying to uphold his part in the formalities of the dance.
"You are told your mission. And you accept it without question." Rosalind spoke just loud enough for Trowa to hear. "You follow through and learn as you go. Why else dance with a girl? Unless you are told to."
Trowa narrowed his eyes. And he could feel Rosalind's body stiffening under his hands. In perfect response he lightened his hold. With excellent awareness he softly manipulated the direction of their steps to avoid colliding with another couple.
"How do you know so much?" Trowa asked softly.
"I can be watchful too." Rosalind closed the distance between their bodies so they could pass between others. "And I can listen." She turned her head to rest one ear against his chest. "And I can be curious."
"You can move quickly." Trowa smiled sarcastically.
"I like to call it decisively." Rosalind laughed into Trowa's dress shirt.
"Would you respond this way to any Gundam pilot?" Trowa wondered out loud. Hearing the music of the evening pulling to a final chord.
Over the polite applause of the crowd, Rosalind stepped back from Trowa and looked him in the eye to say, "Who can know? But I just did."
"Some decisions are that easy?" Trowa asked. Again he found the questions he had kept inside slipping out.
And Rosalind caught them all with the answer, "As easy as the decision to live. That's what decisions are."
"Decisions, huh?"
"Are you interested?"
"Interested?"
"In doing something. In not simply asking questions, but in telling me a little about yourself."
"My name is Trowa Barton."
Rosalind laughed, "Well, that's a start."
*end flashback*
Renouncing the doubts of the night in the clear dawn There's a far-away look in your eye
The evening was cooling, and the sounds of the animals seemed to grow in intensity with the anticipation of the coming performances. Trowa glanced around the corner of his trailer to see that Scarlet's truck was still along side the main path. She had mentioned leaving the circus delivery for last and perhaps staying to catch the show. Trowa had taken to hiding.
He had become quite gifted at hiding. In some cases, he could become invisible even as he walked out in the open. Memories of his tenure with Oz or infiltrating Dekim Barton's army flickered by his present predicament. At times, Trowa had even hidden from Catherine and the other pilots. He saw value in solitude. And true isolation had become a rare vision after the war ended. Faintly he remembered that isolation often meant loneliness, but circumstances had altered that possibility.
"Good grief, Trowa." Catherine had scolded, "You might want to get to know Scarlet better." She had settled both of her hands on the hips of her jean shorts. Sweat glistened off her exposed skin, testimonies to her labors for holding the circus together. While Catherine still juggled her knives and entertained audiences in an act with her "brother," when the Ringmaster had retired Catherine had assumed his supervising work as well.
"I think she wants me to *marry* her." Trowa's tone bordered on a pathetic whine. His eyes fought to capture Catherine's and she had to laugh at his mild, pleading expression. Years together had taught them both how to lovingly manipulate.
Catherine relented by slapping him lightly with the lion's whip. "Sure. Sure." She sighed, "You're just . . . an arrogant goof."
Trowa grinned easily and resumed his hiding spot behind the trailer. "I won't miss the show. Don't worry, Catherine."
"I hope." She sighed with dramatic exasperation before giving Trowa a playful wink imitating Scarlet.
"Catherine." Trowa growled with a lion's threat.
*flashback*
It's behind the lines of the second page It's like reading some poet sublime And your life until now was just commonplace
Rosalind allowed Trowa to escort her to the vehicle of her departing parents. "It's been lovely talking with you, Trowa." Rosalind smiled coyly in between glances at the expensive, shining black car.
"I agree." Trowa nodded, uncertain what to do with his hands and trying not to cross them.
"Um," Rosalind bit her lip, still smiling. "And I'm sure that you'll enjoy your fame as a Gundam hero."
"Right." Trowa nodded, realizing that he could put one hand in his pocket and leave the other available in case he should need it to, well, he wasn't sure what.
"And if you don't remember my name next time you see me at one of these parties, go ahead and ask, I won't mind."
"What?" Trowa suddenly found himself listening to what Rosalind was actually saying. She laughed.
"You are cute, Trowa Barton." Rosalind twirled to step closer to the car. An older version of Rosalind's feminine features was just visible on the other side of the window's glass.
"How could I forget you?" Trowa asked.
"You will." She smiled again. "It was only one dance. It was only one evening. It was only one mission." Now from inside the car she called out, "Don't worry, you'll have other missions!"
Trowa watched the car take off, eager to get home now all of its passengers were accounted for. And his hands slipped into the pockets, quite discontent. What could he want with a strange girl who followed her parents, money and the latest guest of honor at Relena's parties?
What could she want with hearing the stories of a Gundam pilot? Rosalind had sat with acute attention. Questioning what she felt he might speak at length and with comfort. Interested in his plans for the future, and completely understanding when he had none. And then, abruptly disconnected when her father had claimed her once again.
"Good-bye, Trowa." Sunbeam bright red hair.
Trowa was positive Rosalind's impression would be burned in his memory forever as a momentous eclipse.
*end flashback*
Rewrite, rehearse, and repent You've gone over it again and again
Trowa peeked around the back curtain and scanned the sea of faces. He never did more than survey the audience in one quick sweep. To make sure that they were there. The pressure of performing never entered the equation because Trowa did not allow personal doubts or inhibitions interfere with the mission.
And it was easier to never foster personal doubts and inhibitions.
Two of the elephant trainers caught Trowa up from behind and spun him around with a jovial song. Fortunately the bellows of the pipe organ covered up any conversation from back stage.
"Hey, guys." Trowa warned. "I might have to hurt you."
They laughed. Identical twins, Chip and Stan formed a comic team that misled the audience into thinking they were one person with extraordinary abilities. They also were talented singers.
"Sure, we believe you." One of the brothers twisted his lips to one side in what they imagined might be taken as a smile.
"You might rather hurt your sister." The other brother motioned over his shoulder with a thumb. "She was the one who invited Scarlet to the backstage. Just thought you'd like to know."
Trowa's eyes darted to where the elephant trainer pointed, and the brothers went on their own way. Singing a rowdy bar song about easy women. They deliberately changed one line to chortle instead, "that Trowa stole all the woah-I-men." Trowa scowled at them-his bland expression suddenly very concerned.
Trowa crouched behind the crates left unplaced from the shipment Scarlet had brought. If he was going to avoid personal discomfort-Trowa's first rule was to avoid intimacy.
Catherine had been an early accident. She had sheltered him faithfully during the war. And love came easily between them. Affection and genuine expressions were synonymous with Catherine.
Quatre was the friendship that Trowa never deserved. But their mutual faults satisfied their need for a dependable ally. When the Gundam Pilots disbanded, Trowa felt the distance and both had promised to break the separation often.
Catherine and Quatre. For Trowa, that was enough. No more. No more vulnerabilities. No more hesitations, worries, desires. No more Rosalind.
*flashback*
Aching to march in parades You bump shoulders behind barricades In a sea of faces
He would never have gone to the party, if he hadn't hoped to re-encounter a solar happiness named Rosalind. Trowa had insisted that his visit's to Quatre's mansion would be private affairs. But when Quatre had invited Edith Gellar and her friends to an academic social, Trowa managed to stay long enough to qualify for an official invitation as well.
He hadn't been expecting the quantity of people. They spilled out of the house and into the gardens and driveways. The plentitude of porch swings were very welcome for this occasion and Trowa made his way for one. He had silently wandered from one conversation to the next. Practicing his invisibility and finding that it worked flawlessly. No one was noticing him.
Trowa allowed himself a sigh of relief when he noticed the empty seat. Just as he was about to sit, a hand stopped him.
"Trowa?" the voice was friendly and welcome, "Trowa Barton."
He turned to stare at her, uncertain what to say. Suddenly unable to move his arms.
"Rosalind. Rosalind North." She put one palm against her soft cheek in the sign of distress. "You did forget me."
"No." Trowa's voice was low and purposeful. He was trying very hard to think of something to say. "I couldn't forget you, Rosalind. You made quite an impression."
"I'm sure," Rosalind laughed, not quite believing him. "Oh, don't look so awkward, love. Give me a hug, sit down and let's catch up."
She embraced him quickly enough that Trowa had no time to react, his arms dangling in space around her. Making a hurried decision, he tapped her shoulders lightly and sat down quickly.
Rosalind looked amused and sat down next to him. Pushing against the ground with her feet to start the swing in motion. As regular as a pendulum, Trowa subconsciously continued the same pattern of back and forth that Rosalind had begun. She slipped a small, satisfied smirk on her face and spoke to Trowa directly.
"Where have you been?" she asked, supporting with one hand the head of confined red curls that spilled outward in a style around her face.
"I'm part of a circus troop."
"Oh, yes." She smiled, turning sideways to focus more closely on the pilot. "I remember now. A clown, an acrobat, a lion tamer."
"How about you?"
"I'm sorry?" Rosalind asked, puzzled.
"Where have you been?" Trowa asked, looking past the sea of faces, not looking at her.
"Studying." Rosalind shrugged. "I see Quatre quite a bit, and ask him about you. He says that you don't say much to anyone. That I shouldn't be concerned if I don't hear from you. That you're fine and happy."
"You've thought of me?" Trowa asked.
"Sure have." Rosalind grinned. "First guy I've danced with who didn't step on my feet."
Trowa breathed out a laugh. "Heh."
*end flashback*
And so it goes, all fall down Could this planet hold a place for you? When the tide creeps in all around Take a knee-deep breath or two
"Why are you hiding now?" Catherine settled on her knees next to Trowa.
"Shh." Trowa responded glancing around for Scarlet.
"Goof." Catherine shook her head and crossed her arms. She was wearing her pink costume from the show. The contortionists were monopolizing all three rings, so the rest of the staff was lounging in the back rooms right then.
"You were the one who invited Scarlet." Trowa accused her. "You knew I was hoping she would leave."
"That license thing is really bothering you, isn't it?" Catherine asked. Her eyebrows twitched in an expression between frustration and humor. "Trowa, that's nothing new. She's done that for years. It's that story about the gypsy woman and that Scarlet will be a spinster. She's only joking."
"I know that." Trowa struggled to find words to excuse himself if not provide an explanation. "I don't like it."
"Why forever not?" Catherine pushed. "Don't you like girls?"
Trowa knew how to glare as well as Heero.
"Nevermind." Catherine shrugged. "Why don't you just take her out and then it won't be like she's pressuring you."
Trowa wasn't expecting Catherine to follow with that logic. He paused.
"Oi, oi, oi!" Catherine turned to walk away and shook her finger at him. "There's an idea, isn't it?"
*flashback*
Did your family teach you Everything about the in-betweens of grace and shame?
Daydreaming on the flat room of his trailer, Trowa watched the clouds pass over the sunshine of the day. He imagined the distance from Rosalind being like the veil of the clouds. She was close, her warmth a visible sensation, and yet faded into a memory for that moment.
He was deciding to like her. He was deciding to appreciate her constant amusement and laughter. He was deciding to look at the sun and burn his eyes with only her image. He would rather that Rosalind would be the last thing he would ever see. And he would go blind gladly.
Holding himself with his tactless arms, Trowa wondered if she was even obtainable. As a student and a wealthy man's daughter, Rosalind still showed interest in a circus boy and a warless soldier. Trowa wasn't sure exactly what hope was, but he wanted it.
Catherine asked him about the party. "Kind of unusual for you to be social, Trowa? Now why did you go?"
And he had confessed, in more words than he thought he had and Catherine stood in a stunned silence. Then her eyes lit with gleeful teasing and gladness. "A girl? Trowa? A girl?"
"Why not?" Trowa asked quietly.
"I just thought?" Catherine squeezed his arm to make sure he was the real, solid Trowa she'd known for years. "Wow. A girl for Trowa. Does she like you?"
"Well," Trowa decided to respond honestly, "How can I tell? We've met only a few times. But I like to hear her talk. And she's curious about me. She's very decisive."
"Decisive, eh?" Catherine's face registered incredulity. "Well, with you, Trowa," the tall girl laughed, "She'd have to be!"
"I want to see her again." Trowa admitted.
"A girl?" Catherine shook her head, avoiding the helpful role she could play at that moment to tease the quiet teenage instead. "A girl?"
"Stop it." Trowa warned her with mock sternness.
*end flashback*
Go, run and sound the alarm Because it's wearing off like novocaine
"Ask her first, huh." Trowa leaned back against the crates. He wished he had a gun. Not to shoot himself. Not to shoot Scarlet, or Catherine for that matter. But just to wave it around and look menacing. Like Heero. But, Trowa knew that his talent wasn't intimidation as much as it was invisibility. And somewhere he lost that knack to disappear. That's when one needed a gun. Even Duo knew that.
Duo would never find himself in this situation, or if he did, Duo would have initiated the trouble. And enjoyed the pursuit endlessly. Quatre would have the grace to side step problems and the courage to embrace who he might. And Wufei would not hide, but face each situation as it came in that moment and act decisively.
And who would be least likely to face a confrontation? And who lacked immunity? Trowa sighed. The pipe organs still overlapped the sounds of his exasperation.
"Ano," She spoke over the chords calling the clowns. "Catherine said that you wanted to talk to me behind the boxes?"
Trowa closed his eyes, hoping for a brief moment that if he closed his eyes Scarlet wouldn't really be there.
"How old are you, Trowa?" Scarlet's voice interrupted the content of Trowa's darkness.
He wasn't sure if she was mocking him or serious. "Twenty-three."
"Oh." Scarlet said, but he still didn't open his eyes. "That's unfortunate."
"Why?" Trowa asked flatly, without caring. He didn't care anymore.
"I'm twenty-three too." Scarlet sat down next to Trowa and gave his shoulder a strong bump with her own. "We're both too late. Doomed."
"I guess so."
"Yes," Scarlet nodded, matching Trowa's monotone. "Destined for misery. Destitution. Alas. Woe is us."
Trowa and Scarlet sat silently. When they both spoke at once, "Aren't you supposed to be out there?" "I don't know anything about you."
"Yes."
*flashback*
Awake enough to recognize It's a bore when your heart's vandalized By the ones who smile And say "that's the breaks" and the see-you-later-but-you-know-I-did-love-you-embrace that you've grown used to
He had sent her messages often enough that she learned the schedule of the circus performances and surprised him by arranging to attend when the show was closest to her home. When he heard that she was coming, Trowa sat in his favorite spot behind his trailer. It was shady, but he was nervous about sunlight right then. Rosalind was coming to the hot and dirty, dry and dusty circus that smelled of animals and sweat. Her acceptance of him hinged on her reception of his home.
Catherine peeked around the curtains.
"Is she here?" Trowa asked, something kin to nervousness settling into his fingers. They were numb.
"Red hair, you say?"
"Yes."
"Dazzling in beauty? Fair of skin? Brighter than the sun? With red hair?" Catherine rattled in a strange accent. "No. No, I see none of those."
Impatient with Catherine's joking, Trowa pulled the drape enough that he could see out as well. He scanned the sea of faces for a specific face. A face that he hoped to see.
"She made it." Trowa sighed quietly with relief.
"Sure she did." Catherine brushed her finger along Trowa's cheek affectionately. "Who can resist a clown?"
"Hn." Muttered Trowa, who was looking down at his arms with the nagging hope that they would wake up and realize this moment was real.
"Oh, and," Catherine tugged on his costume suggestively, "Who can resist these suspenders?"
After the show, Trowa remembered that Rosalind had really come. That she had sat about twelve rows up, and that the performance had been quiet exceptional. He hurried around his things backstage, sending sheepish grateful grins to the other cast members.
"Good luck, Trowa," One of the twin elephant trainers slapped the teenager on the back with a loud thud.
"oof." Trowa wheezed, "Thanks, Chip."
"Stan."
"Sorry."
"Trowa?!"
He glanced up at the female voice and then his shoulders settled in anxious relief when he recognized Catherine's after-performance vocal power. "Catherine?"
"Did you see her yet?" She bent over him. "Why are you on the ground?"
"Chi-Stan knocked me over." Trowa stood up. "And no, I haven't seen her yet, I'm trying to put my equipment away and get out of this."
"Oh, silly." Catherine prattled nervously and Trowa relaxed more as she absorbed and reflected his nervousness. "You look fine. Give me your mask and just go. I'll take care of this."
As Trowa slipped out the curtain to re-enter the three-ring stage he heard Catherine bellow, "Stan get Trowa's stuff where it belongs, now!"
The lighting crew was snapping circuit breaker switches as he stepped near the audience seats. The night lighting that stayed on constantly was enough for him to see that she had stayed in her seat. Exactly twelve rows up from the floor.
"Rosalind."
"Trowa Barton." She laughed. "It's been a long time. But, after tonight's performance, I understand how you became such a natural dancer. Brilliant performance."
"I'm glad." Trowa nodded. He'd never seen her so casually dressed. Her hair fell unbound around her shoulders-sunset orange curls in the dark light.
"Nice costume, too."
"You like it?" Trowa grinned in the dark, pulling at the suspenders. Occupying his helpless arms by stretching them.
"Yes." Rosalind stood.
"Are you leaving?" Trowa asked, suddenly concerned. He hadn't considered needing to entertain her. He wanted her to stay longer. Grasping for anything he asked, "Would you like to walk?"
"A tour?" Rosalind was puzzled.
"Sure," Trowa replied coolly, while his strategic abilities tried to pre- route a path that would take them into the fields where they could watch the starlight.
"Will that take long?" Rosalind asked.
"No," Trowa hesitated. "Why?"
"I can stay for a little while." Rosalind reassured him. She looped herself through his arm, and suddenly he knew what his hands had wanted all along. He liked this. "Let's take that tour." She prompted.
Steering clear of Chip and Stan, Trowa took Rosalind backstage to the costume rooms. Then they moved to see the outdoor animal cages. He thought about wrestling with the lion a little, but decided against it since his arm was pleasantly preoccupied. Working with options that included Rosalind's presence made his social dilemma a secret joy.
"And a field?" Rosalind observed. "Catherine really has organized the circus rather well. It runs so smoothly to the beckoning of the organ. Everyone fits in like clockwork."
"Family." Trowa suggested.
"Like a family." Rosalind nodded. "That's really what we're all looking for, isn't it?"
Trowa glanced down at her, but it was too dark now to make out her features. Instead, he turned to where the stars could be visible through the colony ring. "Family." He repeated.
"I've loved seeing your circus, Trowa." Rosalind spoke with finality in her tone. "I should go now. Maybe I'll see you at Quatre's again sometime."
"I'd like to see you sooner." Trowa continued to look at the stars. His emotions hopeful and vulnerably honest.
"I'm sure we'll write each other still." Rosalind murmured unhooking her arm. The warmth of her body disappearing with a cool breeze as replacement.
"I've made a decision."
"Yes?" Rosalind's voice asked distantly as if it were coming from far away.
"I want to love you."
*end flashback*
We haven't forgotten a thing But we won't kid ourselves this time
Trowa made his cue with no time to spare, and Catherine sent him one dirty look before beaming at the audience with her exaggerated grin. She only wore that look when she was missing her genuine happiness.
His heart was heavy with the thought. He never meant to mix others up in his confusion. He never meant to be confused. Cloaking himself with invisibility he took his place in front of the targeting board. "I'm tired. Kill me Catherine." He begged silently.
When Catherine stopped spinning her daggers in the air, to the delight of the crowd, she gave Trowa a hard look. And then she visibly relaxed.
Her eyes spoke as she threw the first dagger. *goof*
The crowd cheered as she followed immediately with another throw.
*you don't want to die*
Catherine paused and examined her handiwork. The crowd encouraged her to continue.
The third blade said *you've grown far past thinking like that*
As another dove deep near Trowa's ear, *use your head*
And his chest, *use your heart*
Now Catherine grinned with devilish glee. One dagger was left. She tossed in up before deftly catching it again. Someone in the audience shouted her name and she tossed a white smile into the dark sea of faces.
Simultaneously, the last knife cut into the board.
*try again*
Trowa and Catherine took their bows and left the stage in a show of acrobatics.
*flashback*
Because love's the show It won't ever fold
Rosalind didn't know. Trowa never told her, and she thought his interest in her was simple and friendship. Gently she explained that she had been visiting academic schools of higher learning in order to become an ambassador on earth. An occupation that would not correspond well with a traveling circus performer.
"I do love you, Trowa." She spoke quickly and earnestly, to console her friend before he stopped listening. "Maybe if I had seen you more often or earlier. Or if you had remembered me better at Quatre's party."
"I knew your name." Trowa choked, but he sounded characteristically collected.
"I didn't know." Rosalind insisted gently. Then she added, "Our mission assignments are so different."
Trowa stood quietly. A thousand arguments buzzed through his head and yet none of them stood out or were able to be spoken. She had no other romantic interests, yet she had no further interest in him. And how could she love him? A mission? Trowa was no longer a soldier. But peacetime, and Rosalind, had abandoned him.
"Don't think of this as a rejection, Trowa." Rosalind might have been holding him again, but his arms were beyond feeling her presence again. "You might have to accept me differently for this to work. I didn't know."
Her logic unnerved him. "I understand." He lied. "I won't keep you longer."
"I love you?" She asked as much as she told. Rosalind knew better than to offer the statement more strongly.
"Yes." His fists were cold. "Always."
*end flashback*
Around town it seems like everyone knows
"What's wrong now?" Catherine asked, pinning Trowa against the wall with one arm. She was smaller, but she knew how to carry her influence. "It's not Scarlet, is it?"
"No." Trowa admitted.
"So why are you moping?"
"I-I," And then he couldn't speak. The words were gone and every thought he had was blurred in a mystery. As much a confusion of pain as a confusion of absence. From whom was he hiding?
"Did you ask her?"
"Huh?" Trowa looked up startled. Confused eyes meeting Catherine's questioning ones at close proximity.
"Did she say 'no'!" Catherine pursed her lips in frustration.
"What?" Trowa asked again.
"You were acting so strangely I asked her to stay and cheer you up." Catherine explained. "We've known her for a while, and she does make you laugh now and again. But I finally had to just tell her where you were hiding!"
Trowa's lips were parted in amazement. "You, Catherine? What about having me sign the authorization forms?"
"Hee hee." Catherine grimaced gleefully. "That was Scarlet's idea of getting you to react to something. She did really get that fortune, but she's not superstitious."
"A reaction, huh?" Trowa frowned.
"Well, yes." Catherine admitted, pulling back her arm and simply standing there.
"Well." Trowa said. He thought back on the memories that resurfaced as result. "How about this?" And his swallowed Catherine in a hug, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
"That's nice."
"I love you, Catherine."
"Good for you."
It'll raise the sky. It'll blow the sky.
Trowa found Scarlet's familiar red kerchief resting on top of the crates behind which he had spent so much time that day. The woman herself was slumped against one. Her mouth slightly open with a peaceful breath of sleep.
It closed a moment before she spoke, "I can sleep just about anywhere. In case you were wondering."
"You didn't watch?"
"No." Scarlet admitted, opening her eyes and stretching. "I've seen your act before."
Trowa paused. Uncertain with what he wanted to say at the moment.
"Are you angry with me?" Scarlet asked, some residue of confusion remained in her voice.
"No." Trowa breathed and shook his head.
"How long have we known each other?" Scarlet mused. Settling the bandana over her straight black hair once again.
"Six years?" Trowa guessed.
"Almost, but close." Scarlet conceded, "Five." Trowa sat down and leaned against the opposite crate. He stretched his legs out in front of him. They both ignored the rush to clean the set. Faint echoes of Catherine's voice directed the traffic around them.
She asked another question, "Is Trowa your real name?"
"No." Trowa shook his head.
"Hmm." Scarlet sat in silence for a moment and then picked up the conversation again. "That's interesting. Scarlet's not my real name either."
"No?" Trowa lifted an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Nope." Scarlet tilted her head to one side. "How long have we known each other and you never saw on the invoice that my real name is Dandelion."
"Dandelion?" Trowa asked skeptically.
"Okay, it's not Dandelion." Scarlet winked. "But isn't that a great name?"
"I suppose . . ."
"So what's your real name?" Scarlet wondered evenly.
"I don't know."
"Dandelion, perhaps?"
"I hope not."
"Too bad." Scarlet smiled at him. "My real name is Kino."
The voices were farther in the distance now. The lighting crew was switching the breakers. And then the two were swallowed in darkness.
"Can I see you tomorrow?"
"Why are you asking?"
"I've made a decision."
"Just like that? So quickly?"
"Why not?" Trowa pondered after a pause. "It's the easiest thing. As easy as choosing to live."
the end
*****
All Fall Down by Harrod and Funck
*****
We haven't forgotten a thing But let's not kid ourselves these days We let years go by once again From moon and monkey shine and masquerades From quietly shedding our youth All the blame and that hawking about truth Finding we've dissatisfied Renouncing the doubts of the night in the clear dawn
There's a far-away look in your eye It's behind the lines of the second page It's like reading some poet sublime And your life until now was just commonplace
Rewrite, rehearse, and repent You've gone over it again and again Aching to march in parades You bump shoulders behind barricades In a sea of faces
And so it goes, all fall down Could this planet hold a place for you? When the tide creeps in all around Take a knee-deep breath or two
Did your family teach you Everything about the in-betweens of grace and shame? Go, run and sound the alarm Because it's wearing off like novocaine
Awake enough to recognize It's a bore when your heart's vandalized By the ones who smile And say "that's the breaks," And the see-you-later-but-you-know-I-did-love-you-embrace that you've grown used to
And so it goes, all fall down Could this planet hold a place for you? When the tide creeps in all around Take a knee-deep breath or two
We haven't forgotten a thing But we won't kid ourselves this time Because love's the show It won't ever fold Around town it seems like everyone knows It'll raise the sky It'll blow the sky.
(Okay-um, well, my fics never end up the way I intended them to once I've started in on them. Let me know how you think this one turned out! Comments, Complaints, Criticism? All is welcome at stormy812@hotmail.com)
(Disclaimer: Here's a fic for Trowa fans. He's my favorite GW pilot so I thought I should focus more directly on him in *one* of my stories. In the non-yaoi universe, Trowa's romantic life is rather open. Here I propose one possible solution. Let me know how you think it went! Oh, and I don't claim to have created Trowa or Harrod or Funck. Characters not original to GW are mine however!)
*****
All Fall Down by Harrod and Funck
*****
We haven't forgotten a thing
Trowa shaded the sun from his eyes with both cupped hands. He was trying to see something in the distance, but his thoughts were wandering before he found it.
"Trowa?" The voice tickled the back of his memory. "Is it the delivery truck? They're late again."
He hadn't been thinking about Catherine, but the subtle recognition of her shifted his wandering thoughts. He was remembering the earlier years. When the smell of grease was from a weapon and not the metal cages for the animals. The truck provided weapons for a rag-tag mercenary team rather than the truck that brought the supplies demanded by a successful circus troop.
Catherine reminded him of a decision he made. The decision to live. Trowa's mouth pulled to one side in a grimaced grin. Living. Something that most people did so naturally, and he had to find a reason to actively pursue it. Seek it. Endure it. Survive it.
And in the dullest moments of the afternoon, Trowa could not help but remember the conscious decision to live. A choice he made each and every moment, while others casually, eagerly took it all for granted. The truck was coming, and Trowa was going to meet it. Alive. Both of them. Very alive. And one of them would remember that.
But let's not kid ourselves these days We let years go by once again
Scarlet Hayami was the usual delivery girl. And she gave Trowa her characteristic "big wink" before sliding out of the front seat. "I'm late!" she announced, slapping the metal side of the semi. It was a solid black with a tiny logo in one corner that read: Hayami shipping. Only the best! And you're paying for it!
"You're late." Trowa followed her quick step to the back of the vehicle where she immediately opened the lock and revealed several boxes of programs for the show, crates of food service products and a new harness for Catherine's pony.
While Trowa motioned with his hand to the waiting circus crewmembers, Scarlet handed over the invoice. "Sign here. Sign here. And here."
Trowa scribbled his name and then deliberately paused over the last validation form. "A marriage license?"
Scarlet simply laughed. "Okay, I had to try."
"This is the third time." Trowa shook his head and handed back the clipboard.
Scarlet glanced over them and sighed with exaggerated heaviness. "I'm superstitious. I had to try."
"You keep saying that." Trowa surveyed the scurrying crew, half in their costumes and some half-in their costumes. Catherine was shouting directions and obviously wanted to assume control over the momentary chaos. "And what does this mischief have to do with superstition?"
After pulling her dark hair back and under her trademark red kerchief, Scarlet shrugged. "I had a fortune read for me when I was in elementary school. I'd gone to the carnival where they had a traveling circus visiting. The gypsy woman told me to marry before I was twenty-three or I'd be a spinster for life!"
Trowa glanced over at the Japanese girl and half-chuckled through an incredulous open mouth. "Fortune telling at the circus? Now there's an idea we haven't tried. I wonder if Catherine will take to it."
Slapping the slender man playfully, Scarlet scolded, "You wouldn't dare! Don't terrorize any other young girls, Mr. Barton!"
"That's about it, Trowa." Catherine stepped up and shook Scarlet's hand. "Good to see you again, Ms. Hayami."
"We're glad to have you Bartons back on L3." Scarlet replaced her sunglasses so that only her amused grin was visible. "Might have some good luck around here again like we did right after the war."
*flashback*
From moon and monkey shine and masquerades From quietly shedding our youth All the blame and that hawking about truth Finding we've dissatisfied
Nervously sitting at the table, Trowa took to an intense study of the china's floral patterning. The napkin rings were a matching silver of weaving metal and the silver wear had a similar cut on the handle. Relena knew how be a hostess for a civilized party.
Quatre had gently directed the order of the utensils. Leading by example, Quatre watched the other pilots take their forks and drink their glasses in the imitation of properness just after he himself had selected the same.
"Don't you all look cute." Noin stepped over and settled one hand on the back of Quatre's chair. She was wearing a faded blue evening gown that darkened in the party lighting to a silver-gray.
"Miss Noin! It's so good to see you." Quatre twisted to smile up at her.
"Hey, Lucrezia, can I have a dance later?" Duo suggested raising his fork and chewing noisily on the main course.
She tipped her head to cover her amused eyes and the betrayal of a smile with her hair. "I might have one open."
"Oh, right." Duo's eyes darted across the room surveying the faces. "That guy's probably here too. He is Relena's brother after all."
"Zechs won't mind."
"Nah nah nah!" The American pilot waved his hand with sudden dismissal. "I don't pick fights with him. I'll leave that to Heero." And upon saying that earned a familiar glare from across the table.
"I'm sure you'll find plenty of young women to dance with." Noin glanced around at the other tables. "In case you haven't noticed, the heroic Gundam pilots will have those dancing cards filled."
"We have dancing cards?" Wufei glanced over urgently.
"I think she's joking." Trowa hoped.
With a wink, the lieutenant elegantly dismissed herself to converse with others.
"I can't understand why she'd be off talking while there's so much food to be had." Duo muttered between mouthfuls.
"Duo," Quatre's eyes curled affectionately, "The main dinner did end some time ago and the official speeches will be made after the social festivities."
"Oi. Whatever." Duo shook his head and continued to appreciate the chef's efforts.
However, as soon as Duo heard the music, he decided that he had satisfied his other desires and needed to prowl a little to find the best dancer. Wufei managed to avoid the entire situation by hiding himself in official sounding conversation of politics with the governing officers.
Trowa sent a worried glance after Wufei and wondered if he might feel more comfortable avoiding the social awkwardness. It was one thing to have Duo's vibrant personality around to absorb the attention. And it was completely another when one sat silently between the snarling Heero Yuy and the blissfully content Quatre Raberba Winner.
Quatre was enjoying himself. Heero was wishing he could be anywhere else.
"Oh look, Trowa!" Quatre reached out to grasp his friend's arm. "Edith Gellar. She went to school with me on L4. Before Operation Meteor and all." The blond teenager deliberated for a moment and then pushed back his chair with an abrupt decision. "Come on, Trowa. It's our duty to introduce ourselves."
Trowa could hardly refuse and made no comment. They made their way through clusters of conversations to one in particular that included the girl Quatre recognized. Edith Gellar recognized Quatre immediately.
"I was wondering if you would know me!" She blushed furiously as she glanced at the floor, the ceiling, any where but at Quatre.
"Of course," Quatre reassured her. "Are you still attending the L3 Academy? I've thought of going back while Rashid helps me manage the affairs of my family."
Edith nodded, her cheeks still flushed. Trowa stood a step behind, very amused by the gentle girl's bashfulness. He stood straighter when Quatre spoke again, "This is my friend, Trowa."
"Hi." Edith responded properly.
He had never spoken to an unknown girl in polite company. Trowa fought the involuntary catch in his voice as he tried to meet her silver blue eyes. Oddly, they were the same color as Noin's blue dress. The thought distracted him enough to reply, "Hello."
"If you would dance with me," Quatre hesitated ever so slightly. "Perhaps we could find someone for Trowa?"
"Of course," Edith perked up at the task and glanced back at her neglected friends who continued to talk among themselves. "That's easy. Rosalind hasn't stopped talking about meeting the guests of honor. She's corresponded with Miss Relena at some length and seems anxious for her own 'encounter' with a Gundam pilot."
"Oi." Quatre tried to smile, and glanced back at Trowa who tried to shrug and still managed to look silently uncomfortable. All they needed was another aristocrat trying to find her own trophy soldier.
"You'll like Rosalind." Edith caught their glances and reassuringly pulled on Quatre's hand. The sunshine gold color of her gown matched the warming glow of her expression.
As the string quartet played soothing tunes, Trowa hoped he could imitate and learn Quatre's sophisticated dancing steps before he crushed the feet of Rosalind. She had demurely accepted Trowa's offered hand. But once they had passed the uncomfortable point of silence together, Rosalind had unashamedly begun to study Trowa's features.
At first, Trowa turned his head and continuously tried to find Quatre or Edith's blond halos in the sea of suits and gowns.
"You're so quiet." Rosalind whispered. "You do know that it's perfectly acceptable to talk with me."
"I'm concentrating on not stepping on you." Trowa answered truthfully, which earned a generous laugh. Rosalind's green eyes sparkled in the dimmed light.
"Darling, you are too cute." She chuckled casually.
Trowa took a moment to glance down at her auburn hair. Sunset to expectation. Sunrise to his attempts of socialize. And she laughed so eagerly. But he never knew how much to trust her words.
"The rumors are true, I see." Rosalind started. She let the potential of the conversation dangle in the evening air before continuing. "Gundam pilots are perfect soldiers."
"What do you mean?" Trowa asked dryly, trying to uphold his part in the formalities of the dance.
"You are told your mission. And you accept it without question." Rosalind spoke just loud enough for Trowa to hear. "You follow through and learn as you go. Why else dance with a girl? Unless you are told to."
Trowa narrowed his eyes. And he could feel Rosalind's body stiffening under his hands. In perfect response he lightened his hold. With excellent awareness he softly manipulated the direction of their steps to avoid colliding with another couple.
"How do you know so much?" Trowa asked softly.
"I can be watchful too." Rosalind closed the distance between their bodies so they could pass between others. "And I can listen." She turned her head to rest one ear against his chest. "And I can be curious."
"You can move quickly." Trowa smiled sarcastically.
"I like to call it decisively." Rosalind laughed into Trowa's dress shirt.
"Would you respond this way to any Gundam pilot?" Trowa wondered out loud. Hearing the music of the evening pulling to a final chord.
Over the polite applause of the crowd, Rosalind stepped back from Trowa and looked him in the eye to say, "Who can know? But I just did."
"Some decisions are that easy?" Trowa asked. Again he found the questions he had kept inside slipping out.
And Rosalind caught them all with the answer, "As easy as the decision to live. That's what decisions are."
"Decisions, huh?"
"Are you interested?"
"Interested?"
"In doing something. In not simply asking questions, but in telling me a little about yourself."
"My name is Trowa Barton."
Rosalind laughed, "Well, that's a start."
*end flashback*
Renouncing the doubts of the night in the clear dawn There's a far-away look in your eye
The evening was cooling, and the sounds of the animals seemed to grow in intensity with the anticipation of the coming performances. Trowa glanced around the corner of his trailer to see that Scarlet's truck was still along side the main path. She had mentioned leaving the circus delivery for last and perhaps staying to catch the show. Trowa had taken to hiding.
He had become quite gifted at hiding. In some cases, he could become invisible even as he walked out in the open. Memories of his tenure with Oz or infiltrating Dekim Barton's army flickered by his present predicament. At times, Trowa had even hidden from Catherine and the other pilots. He saw value in solitude. And true isolation had become a rare vision after the war ended. Faintly he remembered that isolation often meant loneliness, but circumstances had altered that possibility.
"Good grief, Trowa." Catherine had scolded, "You might want to get to know Scarlet better." She had settled both of her hands on the hips of her jean shorts. Sweat glistened off her exposed skin, testimonies to her labors for holding the circus together. While Catherine still juggled her knives and entertained audiences in an act with her "brother," when the Ringmaster had retired Catherine had assumed his supervising work as well.
"I think she wants me to *marry* her." Trowa's tone bordered on a pathetic whine. His eyes fought to capture Catherine's and she had to laugh at his mild, pleading expression. Years together had taught them both how to lovingly manipulate.
Catherine relented by slapping him lightly with the lion's whip. "Sure. Sure." She sighed, "You're just . . . an arrogant goof."
Trowa grinned easily and resumed his hiding spot behind the trailer. "I won't miss the show. Don't worry, Catherine."
"I hope." She sighed with dramatic exasperation before giving Trowa a playful wink imitating Scarlet.
"Catherine." Trowa growled with a lion's threat.
*flashback*
It's behind the lines of the second page It's like reading some poet sublime And your life until now was just commonplace
Rosalind allowed Trowa to escort her to the vehicle of her departing parents. "It's been lovely talking with you, Trowa." Rosalind smiled coyly in between glances at the expensive, shining black car.
"I agree." Trowa nodded, uncertain what to do with his hands and trying not to cross them.
"Um," Rosalind bit her lip, still smiling. "And I'm sure that you'll enjoy your fame as a Gundam hero."
"Right." Trowa nodded, realizing that he could put one hand in his pocket and leave the other available in case he should need it to, well, he wasn't sure what.
"And if you don't remember my name next time you see me at one of these parties, go ahead and ask, I won't mind."
"What?" Trowa suddenly found himself listening to what Rosalind was actually saying. She laughed.
"You are cute, Trowa Barton." Rosalind twirled to step closer to the car. An older version of Rosalind's feminine features was just visible on the other side of the window's glass.
"How could I forget you?" Trowa asked.
"You will." She smiled again. "It was only one dance. It was only one evening. It was only one mission." Now from inside the car she called out, "Don't worry, you'll have other missions!"
Trowa watched the car take off, eager to get home now all of its passengers were accounted for. And his hands slipped into the pockets, quite discontent. What could he want with a strange girl who followed her parents, money and the latest guest of honor at Relena's parties?
What could she want with hearing the stories of a Gundam pilot? Rosalind had sat with acute attention. Questioning what she felt he might speak at length and with comfort. Interested in his plans for the future, and completely understanding when he had none. And then, abruptly disconnected when her father had claimed her once again.
"Good-bye, Trowa." Sunbeam bright red hair.
Trowa was positive Rosalind's impression would be burned in his memory forever as a momentous eclipse.
*end flashback*
Rewrite, rehearse, and repent You've gone over it again and again
Trowa peeked around the back curtain and scanned the sea of faces. He never did more than survey the audience in one quick sweep. To make sure that they were there. The pressure of performing never entered the equation because Trowa did not allow personal doubts or inhibitions interfere with the mission.
And it was easier to never foster personal doubts and inhibitions.
Two of the elephant trainers caught Trowa up from behind and spun him around with a jovial song. Fortunately the bellows of the pipe organ covered up any conversation from back stage.
"Hey, guys." Trowa warned. "I might have to hurt you."
They laughed. Identical twins, Chip and Stan formed a comic team that misled the audience into thinking they were one person with extraordinary abilities. They also were talented singers.
"Sure, we believe you." One of the brothers twisted his lips to one side in what they imagined might be taken as a smile.
"You might rather hurt your sister." The other brother motioned over his shoulder with a thumb. "She was the one who invited Scarlet to the backstage. Just thought you'd like to know."
Trowa's eyes darted to where the elephant trainer pointed, and the brothers went on their own way. Singing a rowdy bar song about easy women. They deliberately changed one line to chortle instead, "that Trowa stole all the woah-I-men." Trowa scowled at them-his bland expression suddenly very concerned.
Trowa crouched behind the crates left unplaced from the shipment Scarlet had brought. If he was going to avoid personal discomfort-Trowa's first rule was to avoid intimacy.
Catherine had been an early accident. She had sheltered him faithfully during the war. And love came easily between them. Affection and genuine expressions were synonymous with Catherine.
Quatre was the friendship that Trowa never deserved. But their mutual faults satisfied their need for a dependable ally. When the Gundam Pilots disbanded, Trowa felt the distance and both had promised to break the separation often.
Catherine and Quatre. For Trowa, that was enough. No more. No more vulnerabilities. No more hesitations, worries, desires. No more Rosalind.
*flashback*
Aching to march in parades You bump shoulders behind barricades In a sea of faces
He would never have gone to the party, if he hadn't hoped to re-encounter a solar happiness named Rosalind. Trowa had insisted that his visit's to Quatre's mansion would be private affairs. But when Quatre had invited Edith Gellar and her friends to an academic social, Trowa managed to stay long enough to qualify for an official invitation as well.
He hadn't been expecting the quantity of people. They spilled out of the house and into the gardens and driveways. The plentitude of porch swings were very welcome for this occasion and Trowa made his way for one. He had silently wandered from one conversation to the next. Practicing his invisibility and finding that it worked flawlessly. No one was noticing him.
Trowa allowed himself a sigh of relief when he noticed the empty seat. Just as he was about to sit, a hand stopped him.
"Trowa?" the voice was friendly and welcome, "Trowa Barton."
He turned to stare at her, uncertain what to say. Suddenly unable to move his arms.
"Rosalind. Rosalind North." She put one palm against her soft cheek in the sign of distress. "You did forget me."
"No." Trowa's voice was low and purposeful. He was trying very hard to think of something to say. "I couldn't forget you, Rosalind. You made quite an impression."
"I'm sure," Rosalind laughed, not quite believing him. "Oh, don't look so awkward, love. Give me a hug, sit down and let's catch up."
She embraced him quickly enough that Trowa had no time to react, his arms dangling in space around her. Making a hurried decision, he tapped her shoulders lightly and sat down quickly.
Rosalind looked amused and sat down next to him. Pushing against the ground with her feet to start the swing in motion. As regular as a pendulum, Trowa subconsciously continued the same pattern of back and forth that Rosalind had begun. She slipped a small, satisfied smirk on her face and spoke to Trowa directly.
"Where have you been?" she asked, supporting with one hand the head of confined red curls that spilled outward in a style around her face.
"I'm part of a circus troop."
"Oh, yes." She smiled, turning sideways to focus more closely on the pilot. "I remember now. A clown, an acrobat, a lion tamer."
"How about you?"
"I'm sorry?" Rosalind asked, puzzled.
"Where have you been?" Trowa asked, looking past the sea of faces, not looking at her.
"Studying." Rosalind shrugged. "I see Quatre quite a bit, and ask him about you. He says that you don't say much to anyone. That I shouldn't be concerned if I don't hear from you. That you're fine and happy."
"You've thought of me?" Trowa asked.
"Sure have." Rosalind grinned. "First guy I've danced with who didn't step on my feet."
Trowa breathed out a laugh. "Heh."
*end flashback*
And so it goes, all fall down Could this planet hold a place for you? When the tide creeps in all around Take a knee-deep breath or two
"Why are you hiding now?" Catherine settled on her knees next to Trowa.
"Shh." Trowa responded glancing around for Scarlet.
"Goof." Catherine shook her head and crossed her arms. She was wearing her pink costume from the show. The contortionists were monopolizing all three rings, so the rest of the staff was lounging in the back rooms right then.
"You were the one who invited Scarlet." Trowa accused her. "You knew I was hoping she would leave."
"That license thing is really bothering you, isn't it?" Catherine asked. Her eyebrows twitched in an expression between frustration and humor. "Trowa, that's nothing new. She's done that for years. It's that story about the gypsy woman and that Scarlet will be a spinster. She's only joking."
"I know that." Trowa struggled to find words to excuse himself if not provide an explanation. "I don't like it."
"Why forever not?" Catherine pushed. "Don't you like girls?"
Trowa knew how to glare as well as Heero.
"Nevermind." Catherine shrugged. "Why don't you just take her out and then it won't be like she's pressuring you."
Trowa wasn't expecting Catherine to follow with that logic. He paused.
"Oi, oi, oi!" Catherine turned to walk away and shook her finger at him. "There's an idea, isn't it?"
*flashback*
Did your family teach you Everything about the in-betweens of grace and shame?
Daydreaming on the flat room of his trailer, Trowa watched the clouds pass over the sunshine of the day. He imagined the distance from Rosalind being like the veil of the clouds. She was close, her warmth a visible sensation, and yet faded into a memory for that moment.
He was deciding to like her. He was deciding to appreciate her constant amusement and laughter. He was deciding to look at the sun and burn his eyes with only her image. He would rather that Rosalind would be the last thing he would ever see. And he would go blind gladly.
Holding himself with his tactless arms, Trowa wondered if she was even obtainable. As a student and a wealthy man's daughter, Rosalind still showed interest in a circus boy and a warless soldier. Trowa wasn't sure exactly what hope was, but he wanted it.
Catherine asked him about the party. "Kind of unusual for you to be social, Trowa? Now why did you go?"
And he had confessed, in more words than he thought he had and Catherine stood in a stunned silence. Then her eyes lit with gleeful teasing and gladness. "A girl? Trowa? A girl?"
"Why not?" Trowa asked quietly.
"I just thought?" Catherine squeezed his arm to make sure he was the real, solid Trowa she'd known for years. "Wow. A girl for Trowa. Does she like you?"
"Well," Trowa decided to respond honestly, "How can I tell? We've met only a few times. But I like to hear her talk. And she's curious about me. She's very decisive."
"Decisive, eh?" Catherine's face registered incredulity. "Well, with you, Trowa," the tall girl laughed, "She'd have to be!"
"I want to see her again." Trowa admitted.
"A girl?" Catherine shook her head, avoiding the helpful role she could play at that moment to tease the quiet teenage instead. "A girl?"
"Stop it." Trowa warned her with mock sternness.
*end flashback*
Go, run and sound the alarm Because it's wearing off like novocaine
"Ask her first, huh." Trowa leaned back against the crates. He wished he had a gun. Not to shoot himself. Not to shoot Scarlet, or Catherine for that matter. But just to wave it around and look menacing. Like Heero. But, Trowa knew that his talent wasn't intimidation as much as it was invisibility. And somewhere he lost that knack to disappear. That's when one needed a gun. Even Duo knew that.
Duo would never find himself in this situation, or if he did, Duo would have initiated the trouble. And enjoyed the pursuit endlessly. Quatre would have the grace to side step problems and the courage to embrace who he might. And Wufei would not hide, but face each situation as it came in that moment and act decisively.
And who would be least likely to face a confrontation? And who lacked immunity? Trowa sighed. The pipe organs still overlapped the sounds of his exasperation.
"Ano," She spoke over the chords calling the clowns. "Catherine said that you wanted to talk to me behind the boxes?"
Trowa closed his eyes, hoping for a brief moment that if he closed his eyes Scarlet wouldn't really be there.
"How old are you, Trowa?" Scarlet's voice interrupted the content of Trowa's darkness.
He wasn't sure if she was mocking him or serious. "Twenty-three."
"Oh." Scarlet said, but he still didn't open his eyes. "That's unfortunate."
"Why?" Trowa asked flatly, without caring. He didn't care anymore.
"I'm twenty-three too." Scarlet sat down next to Trowa and gave his shoulder a strong bump with her own. "We're both too late. Doomed."
"I guess so."
"Yes," Scarlet nodded, matching Trowa's monotone. "Destined for misery. Destitution. Alas. Woe is us."
Trowa and Scarlet sat silently. When they both spoke at once, "Aren't you supposed to be out there?" "I don't know anything about you."
"Yes."
*flashback*
Awake enough to recognize It's a bore when your heart's vandalized By the ones who smile And say "that's the breaks" and the see-you-later-but-you-know-I-did-love-you-embrace that you've grown used to
He had sent her messages often enough that she learned the schedule of the circus performances and surprised him by arranging to attend when the show was closest to her home. When he heard that she was coming, Trowa sat in his favorite spot behind his trailer. It was shady, but he was nervous about sunlight right then. Rosalind was coming to the hot and dirty, dry and dusty circus that smelled of animals and sweat. Her acceptance of him hinged on her reception of his home.
Catherine peeked around the curtains.
"Is she here?" Trowa asked, something kin to nervousness settling into his fingers. They were numb.
"Red hair, you say?"
"Yes."
"Dazzling in beauty? Fair of skin? Brighter than the sun? With red hair?" Catherine rattled in a strange accent. "No. No, I see none of those."
Impatient with Catherine's joking, Trowa pulled the drape enough that he could see out as well. He scanned the sea of faces for a specific face. A face that he hoped to see.
"She made it." Trowa sighed quietly with relief.
"Sure she did." Catherine brushed her finger along Trowa's cheek affectionately. "Who can resist a clown?"
"Hn." Muttered Trowa, who was looking down at his arms with the nagging hope that they would wake up and realize this moment was real.
"Oh, and," Catherine tugged on his costume suggestively, "Who can resist these suspenders?"
After the show, Trowa remembered that Rosalind had really come. That she had sat about twelve rows up, and that the performance had been quiet exceptional. He hurried around his things backstage, sending sheepish grateful grins to the other cast members.
"Good luck, Trowa," One of the twin elephant trainers slapped the teenager on the back with a loud thud.
"oof." Trowa wheezed, "Thanks, Chip."
"Stan."
"Sorry."
"Trowa?!"
He glanced up at the female voice and then his shoulders settled in anxious relief when he recognized Catherine's after-performance vocal power. "Catherine?"
"Did you see her yet?" She bent over him. "Why are you on the ground?"
"Chi-Stan knocked me over." Trowa stood up. "And no, I haven't seen her yet, I'm trying to put my equipment away and get out of this."
"Oh, silly." Catherine prattled nervously and Trowa relaxed more as she absorbed and reflected his nervousness. "You look fine. Give me your mask and just go. I'll take care of this."
As Trowa slipped out the curtain to re-enter the three-ring stage he heard Catherine bellow, "Stan get Trowa's stuff where it belongs, now!"
The lighting crew was snapping circuit breaker switches as he stepped near the audience seats. The night lighting that stayed on constantly was enough for him to see that she had stayed in her seat. Exactly twelve rows up from the floor.
"Rosalind."
"Trowa Barton." She laughed. "It's been a long time. But, after tonight's performance, I understand how you became such a natural dancer. Brilliant performance."
"I'm glad." Trowa nodded. He'd never seen her so casually dressed. Her hair fell unbound around her shoulders-sunset orange curls in the dark light.
"Nice costume, too."
"You like it?" Trowa grinned in the dark, pulling at the suspenders. Occupying his helpless arms by stretching them.
"Yes." Rosalind stood.
"Are you leaving?" Trowa asked, suddenly concerned. He hadn't considered needing to entertain her. He wanted her to stay longer. Grasping for anything he asked, "Would you like to walk?"
"A tour?" Rosalind was puzzled.
"Sure," Trowa replied coolly, while his strategic abilities tried to pre- route a path that would take them into the fields where they could watch the starlight.
"Will that take long?" Rosalind asked.
"No," Trowa hesitated. "Why?"
"I can stay for a little while." Rosalind reassured him. She looped herself through his arm, and suddenly he knew what his hands had wanted all along. He liked this. "Let's take that tour." She prompted.
Steering clear of Chip and Stan, Trowa took Rosalind backstage to the costume rooms. Then they moved to see the outdoor animal cages. He thought about wrestling with the lion a little, but decided against it since his arm was pleasantly preoccupied. Working with options that included Rosalind's presence made his social dilemma a secret joy.
"And a field?" Rosalind observed. "Catherine really has organized the circus rather well. It runs so smoothly to the beckoning of the organ. Everyone fits in like clockwork."
"Family." Trowa suggested.
"Like a family." Rosalind nodded. "That's really what we're all looking for, isn't it?"
Trowa glanced down at her, but it was too dark now to make out her features. Instead, he turned to where the stars could be visible through the colony ring. "Family." He repeated.
"I've loved seeing your circus, Trowa." Rosalind spoke with finality in her tone. "I should go now. Maybe I'll see you at Quatre's again sometime."
"I'd like to see you sooner." Trowa continued to look at the stars. His emotions hopeful and vulnerably honest.
"I'm sure we'll write each other still." Rosalind murmured unhooking her arm. The warmth of her body disappearing with a cool breeze as replacement.
"I've made a decision."
"Yes?" Rosalind's voice asked distantly as if it were coming from far away.
"I want to love you."
*end flashback*
We haven't forgotten a thing But we won't kid ourselves this time
Trowa made his cue with no time to spare, and Catherine sent him one dirty look before beaming at the audience with her exaggerated grin. She only wore that look when she was missing her genuine happiness.
His heart was heavy with the thought. He never meant to mix others up in his confusion. He never meant to be confused. Cloaking himself with invisibility he took his place in front of the targeting board. "I'm tired. Kill me Catherine." He begged silently.
When Catherine stopped spinning her daggers in the air, to the delight of the crowd, she gave Trowa a hard look. And then she visibly relaxed.
Her eyes spoke as she threw the first dagger. *goof*
The crowd cheered as she followed immediately with another throw.
*you don't want to die*
Catherine paused and examined her handiwork. The crowd encouraged her to continue.
The third blade said *you've grown far past thinking like that*
As another dove deep near Trowa's ear, *use your head*
And his chest, *use your heart*
Now Catherine grinned with devilish glee. One dagger was left. She tossed in up before deftly catching it again. Someone in the audience shouted her name and she tossed a white smile into the dark sea of faces.
Simultaneously, the last knife cut into the board.
*try again*
Trowa and Catherine took their bows and left the stage in a show of acrobatics.
*flashback*
Because love's the show It won't ever fold
Rosalind didn't know. Trowa never told her, and she thought his interest in her was simple and friendship. Gently she explained that she had been visiting academic schools of higher learning in order to become an ambassador on earth. An occupation that would not correspond well with a traveling circus performer.
"I do love you, Trowa." She spoke quickly and earnestly, to console her friend before he stopped listening. "Maybe if I had seen you more often or earlier. Or if you had remembered me better at Quatre's party."
"I knew your name." Trowa choked, but he sounded characteristically collected.
"I didn't know." Rosalind insisted gently. Then she added, "Our mission assignments are so different."
Trowa stood quietly. A thousand arguments buzzed through his head and yet none of them stood out or were able to be spoken. She had no other romantic interests, yet she had no further interest in him. And how could she love him? A mission? Trowa was no longer a soldier. But peacetime, and Rosalind, had abandoned him.
"Don't think of this as a rejection, Trowa." Rosalind might have been holding him again, but his arms were beyond feeling her presence again. "You might have to accept me differently for this to work. I didn't know."
Her logic unnerved him. "I understand." He lied. "I won't keep you longer."
"I love you?" She asked as much as she told. Rosalind knew better than to offer the statement more strongly.
"Yes." His fists were cold. "Always."
*end flashback*
Around town it seems like everyone knows
"What's wrong now?" Catherine asked, pinning Trowa against the wall with one arm. She was smaller, but she knew how to carry her influence. "It's not Scarlet, is it?"
"No." Trowa admitted.
"So why are you moping?"
"I-I," And then he couldn't speak. The words were gone and every thought he had was blurred in a mystery. As much a confusion of pain as a confusion of absence. From whom was he hiding?
"Did you ask her?"
"Huh?" Trowa looked up startled. Confused eyes meeting Catherine's questioning ones at close proximity.
"Did she say 'no'!" Catherine pursed her lips in frustration.
"What?" Trowa asked again.
"You were acting so strangely I asked her to stay and cheer you up." Catherine explained. "We've known her for a while, and she does make you laugh now and again. But I finally had to just tell her where you were hiding!"
Trowa's lips were parted in amazement. "You, Catherine? What about having me sign the authorization forms?"
"Hee hee." Catherine grimaced gleefully. "That was Scarlet's idea of getting you to react to something. She did really get that fortune, but she's not superstitious."
"A reaction, huh?" Trowa frowned.
"Well, yes." Catherine admitted, pulling back her arm and simply standing there.
"Well." Trowa said. He thought back on the memories that resurfaced as result. "How about this?" And his swallowed Catherine in a hug, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
"That's nice."
"I love you, Catherine."
"Good for you."
It'll raise the sky. It'll blow the sky.
Trowa found Scarlet's familiar red kerchief resting on top of the crates behind which he had spent so much time that day. The woman herself was slumped against one. Her mouth slightly open with a peaceful breath of sleep.
It closed a moment before she spoke, "I can sleep just about anywhere. In case you were wondering."
"You didn't watch?"
"No." Scarlet admitted, opening her eyes and stretching. "I've seen your act before."
Trowa paused. Uncertain with what he wanted to say at the moment.
"Are you angry with me?" Scarlet asked, some residue of confusion remained in her voice.
"No." Trowa breathed and shook his head.
"How long have we known each other?" Scarlet mused. Settling the bandana over her straight black hair once again.
"Six years?" Trowa guessed.
"Almost, but close." Scarlet conceded, "Five." Trowa sat down and leaned against the opposite crate. He stretched his legs out in front of him. They both ignored the rush to clean the set. Faint echoes of Catherine's voice directed the traffic around them.
She asked another question, "Is Trowa your real name?"
"No." Trowa shook his head.
"Hmm." Scarlet sat in silence for a moment and then picked up the conversation again. "That's interesting. Scarlet's not my real name either."
"No?" Trowa lifted an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Nope." Scarlet tilted her head to one side. "How long have we known each other and you never saw on the invoice that my real name is Dandelion."
"Dandelion?" Trowa asked skeptically.
"Okay, it's not Dandelion." Scarlet winked. "But isn't that a great name?"
"I suppose . . ."
"So what's your real name?" Scarlet wondered evenly.
"I don't know."
"Dandelion, perhaps?"
"I hope not."
"Too bad." Scarlet smiled at him. "My real name is Kino."
The voices were farther in the distance now. The lighting crew was switching the breakers. And then the two were swallowed in darkness.
"Can I see you tomorrow?"
"Why are you asking?"
"I've made a decision."
"Just like that? So quickly?"
"Why not?" Trowa pondered after a pause. "It's the easiest thing. As easy as choosing to live."
the end
*****
All Fall Down by Harrod and Funck
*****
We haven't forgotten a thing But let's not kid ourselves these days We let years go by once again From moon and monkey shine and masquerades From quietly shedding our youth All the blame and that hawking about truth Finding we've dissatisfied Renouncing the doubts of the night in the clear dawn
There's a far-away look in your eye It's behind the lines of the second page It's like reading some poet sublime And your life until now was just commonplace
Rewrite, rehearse, and repent You've gone over it again and again Aching to march in parades You bump shoulders behind barricades In a sea of faces
And so it goes, all fall down Could this planet hold a place for you? When the tide creeps in all around Take a knee-deep breath or two
Did your family teach you Everything about the in-betweens of grace and shame? Go, run and sound the alarm Because it's wearing off like novocaine
Awake enough to recognize It's a bore when your heart's vandalized By the ones who smile And say "that's the breaks," And the see-you-later-but-you-know-I-did-love-you-embrace that you've grown used to
And so it goes, all fall down Could this planet hold a place for you? When the tide creeps in all around Take a knee-deep breath or two
We haven't forgotten a thing But we won't kid ourselves this time Because love's the show It won't ever fold Around town it seems like everyone knows It'll raise the sky It'll blow the sky.
(Okay-um, well, my fics never end up the way I intended them to once I've started in on them. Let me know how you think this one turned out! Comments, Complaints, Criticism? All is welcome at stormy812@hotmail.com)