Disclaimers- Yola! And welcome Gundam fanatics one and all! Umm, the normal stuff…I dunna own Gundam Wing, because if I did I'd be nothing but Trowa, Trowa, and yet more Trowa! So don't even embarrass yourself by suing me, the judge would laugh at you anyway because everyone knows I'm poor. Thankx, n' happy reading!
~Prolog~
Marine glares at me as I shove clothing into my ragged, yet trustworthy, backpack.
"How can you just pick up and leave like this?"
I glance at her, meaning to look into her eyes in a rare hope to find gentleness towards me even as I abandon her and the others. Instead I find my eyes finding the widening bulge in her stomach, Marine is the farthest along at the halfway house at six months.
My eyes naturally soften as I find her dark ones, "Look, you all know I'm not pregnant. I just lied to get a warm bed to sleep in and some food, I don't deserve to mooch off you guys who really need this." I wave my arms around the wonderful room they gave me in over exaggeration.
Marine comes over to me and clasps my slightly shaking shoulders, then pulls me in as close as possible over her warm bulge and hugs me till my breath runs in spurts. "We knew the moment you walked in here you weren't pregnant Brandilyn."
I cringe as she uses my birth name, even now I don't know why I gave them my real name and not an invented one.
"But," She continues, tears welling in both her dark and my light eyes. "I suppose I can't make you stay. You'll write us though." She quipped, matter of factley.
I nod my head, force a toothy smile, and after slinging on my backpack I walk out the door and shut it gently behind me. I feel every girl's eyes on my back, and the tears fall as though they since them as well.
I hold steady as I trudge along near the highway, pulling stiff as huge floating diesels roar by and threaten to suck my small frame under them. My eyes scan the cars carefully, my life depending on how well I read the car and what person might be driving it. There are certain makes, colors and even sizes of cars that I ignore completely. Fuzzy dice hanging from the mirrors are a definite pass.
Finally a mid sized blue mini van like floating vehicle pulls along slowly next to me, a man with neatly trimmed black hair and a crisp business suit. An affirmative wife is seated in the passenger seat next to him, her hand on his right knee as though defining her property.
"Where you headed to Miss?" He asks as I gratefully scramble in the back seat, my space is next to a car seat containing a small child who stares at me as though he might be able to burn a hole through me with his retinas.
"Umm…the L# colony loading docks." I say politely, I was always raised prim and proper and the lessons never desert me. I chance to peek at the baby from the corner of my eye, it's still staring.
"He likes you!" The wife giggles, watching me with her child protectively.
I force a smile, one that probably shows that I don't like kids. Ever since I was nearly this child's age I sought out older and mature company, never can I remember having a friend my own age or younger. But the dilemma in all of this is that kids love me as much as I fear and dislike them, clinging and staring at me, turning me into the human rock.
By the time we reach the port the child already has his chubby hand firmly attached to my shoulder length blonde hair. My face is strained in a calm, enjoyable expression, and I stick my tongue out threateningly at the boy whenever his mother turns to watch the road.
Of course the father sees this in his mirror and laughs heartily, an honestly nice man.
The car hovers at a stop and I am quick to clamber out, I give them my sincerest gratitude, and to my embarrassment the man gently slips a twenty dollar bill into my small hand as I wave a forced goodbye to the baby.
"For baby-sitting." He explains with a grin. But I know what he's thinking, that I'm a poor runaway needing charity, and I am tempted to shove the three hundred dollars I have in his face.
"One way to L4 please." I chirp pleasantly to the woman at the ticket window, standing on tiptoes to see her. I'm not tall in the slightest, only five foot three in shoes.
She smiles back with her erratic red painted lips; "Here you go hun, going to see family?"
"Umm, yeah. Something like that."
I roll my eyes as soon as I'm out of sight, "Not bloody likely."
Now don't get me wrong, I'm possibly one of the most pleasant and cheerful people you'll ever meet, but the topic of my family turns my mood sour at times.
On the ferry to L4 I sit alone in first class, instantly I curl in towards the window, hugging my legs to my chest, and fall into a dreamless slumber. As I always do.
An attendant shakes me gently awake; I groggily smile my thanks and stagger out the doors slightly. As I step off onto the dock a bright yellow poster catches my eyes, with them narrowed in curiosity I creep closer.
It's an advertisement for an appearing circus, it says nothing about job applications being taken, but an operation like that always needs extra hands. I'm strong, doing odd jobs since I was eleven around neighbor's places and at my own home. I can easily lift twice my own weight for short periods of time, though I'm sure for pay I could do much more.
I snicker to myself, "It's perfect. I ran away to join the circus…how cliché."
And with that I coolly glide towards the end of the street where the main tent looms ahead.
About a mile down the never-ending black top road a small troupe of teenage boys walk opposite me, they check me out as I accent them.
They see a wide-eyed blonde, with long romantic eyelashes, delicate features, and inviting gloss covering my lips. I don't wear extremely provocative clothing, normally consisting of spaghetti strapped shirts and extremely baggy hip hugging jeans.
They make catcalls as we pass each other and I smirk coyly, for I know as soon as they see me fully from the back they'll quickly avert their gaze and speed away.
My intuition doesn't fail me as they see the backsides of my ivory arms, and the slightly dull colored scars that cover the area from wrist to nearly my armpit. They turn quickly and walk now with a purpose, suddenly I find myself sighing wishfully and trudging along with slumped shoulders and hanging head.
~Chapter one~
Trowa nodded his thanks to the elderly driver, who had graciously taken the young ex-pilot to his destination miles further than he intended to go.
"You take care of yourself, ya hear?" The man called to his back, and then pulled away in a small cloud of dust.
The main tent loomed in front of Trowa as a huge welcome mat, the only place he could ever refer to comfortably as home.
He swung the tied bundle of clothing over his shoulder, shoved his hand in his pocket, and trudged to the familiar trailer that he recognized as Cathy's.
Catherine's kind blue eyes instantly began to moisten as the straight lined figure came towards her; the sunset at his back disguised his face but never those unmistakable bangs.
"Trowa," She mewed softly, followed by a sob. Then in a burst of energy she scrambled to her feet and sprinted to him, tears straining out behind her. "Trowa!"
Even Trowa felt the corners of his lips tug into a smile as Cathy, forgetting her usual motherly air, launched herself at Trowa from feet away in a bone-crunching hug. His bag fell to the dirt with a limp thud as he splayed his arms out to allow her the embrace, after what seemed like hours Trowa closed his eyes and gently pulled her in and returned the wonderful human touch.
The two stood and held each other till their arms pained, and were only tempted to break apart by the rough voice of the ringmaster from behind.
"Welcome back Trowa."
Cathy turned back and winked, "I told you he'd be back! Didn't I Jack?"
He nodded solemnly, waiting the precious seconds it took for Trowa to utter a few words if any. "Could you use an extra hand?" He finally breathed out.
"Well," Jack stroked his dark goatee fondly. "Yes and no. The tightrope walker and clown positions are still free, but we hired a spitshine of a girl to care for the animals as her full time position."
"I'll take what I can get…thank you."
Jack was momentarily stunned, one who was once arrogant enough to regularly disappear right before his routine had thanked him? "No problem kid, you can start tomorrow evening. Cathy still has all of your things."
With that and a last parting disbelieving shake of his head, he slid back into the depths of the tent formations to his own trailer for the night.
"Let's get you to bed Trowa, you can sleep in mine till we renovate yours again."
Trowa nodded and followed her side by side, both of them knowing better than to sleep instead of talk about his days in the war. It's not like he would tell anyway, Cathy mused to herself often.
Brandi giggled and buried her face in the lion's mass of brown mane hair as he dragged her closer to him with a dinner plate sized paw, he purred contentedly and rubbed his head against her shoulder to show his affection. She sighed into his engulfing mane and then rolling onto the balls of her toes she bounced slightly at eye level with him, both staring intently into the other's eyes.
"I have to go now," She scolded, still giggling from their play. "G'night Max, sleep tight."
She steadily leaned forward to peck him on his jagged cheekbone, and even as she slid out of his cage and to her trailer he watched her protectively.
Brandi walked to an imaginary beat, carelessly ignoring the uneven ground and picking straw out of her short hair, childlike.
On the way to her own she passed Cathy's trailer, Brandi's delicate eyebrow raised in suspicion, odd that Cathy's lights should be on so late. Then with a devious grin she tiptoed closer to the steel siding and pressed her ear against it. Only catching muffled phrases, but with a chuckle she caught a male voice and, satisfied with her discovery, darted off to her trailer before she was caught spying.
Cathy was skipping out of Jack's trailer, weekly paycheck in hand, as a particularly sneaky looking Brandi slid into her path hands behind her back and rocking on the heels of her shoes.
"And what do you want?" Cathy chuckled, a happy glow in her eyes as she stared at the child before her.
Brandi was barely fifteen though she was well-developed, sturdy and firmed arms, legs, and stomach. Her body was delicate rock from years of lifting excruciating buckets of water and feed, and of course she ran and played with 'her animals'.
Her golden wheat colored hair had been shoulder length when they had first hired her in October, and upon a whim she had it all cut to a few precious inches long, three inches at the most. The new style suited her though, slightly narrowing her cherub like face and making her new age with its natural highlights.
Her eyes were naturally wide but she insisted on enlarging them with a layer of black mascara, her other makeup being light foundation and constant lip-gloss. Cleavage showed from the collar line of her white spaghetti strap shirt, a large blue outlined star was sewed into the shirt's front, as it was the girl's favorite icon. Her jeans were a dark stonewash blue and were so large that they nearly covered her tiny white mountain boots completely, hanging so low as to leave her delicate blue thong straps evident on her hip lines.
"Sooooo, Cathy. Who is he?" Brandi quipped, with the still haunting grin on her face.
Cathy was just about to ask what she meant when Trowa appeared behind Brandi, unnoticed to the plotting blonde.
He looked his usual morbid self as he stared at the scene. "Cathy would you mind sewing up this tare?"
Brandi's eyes grew to saucers and she spun around into Cathy's arms against her frame, uninvitedly her emerald eyes locked on to his.
Trowa appeared emotionless as the small girl before him gawked and blushed furiously at him. But inside he was in a dizzyingly frenzy, this teenager before him surely was Quatre as a female!
She was nearly Quatre's height, if not a few inches shorter. Her short blonde hair was even styled as Quatre's had always been.
But it couldn't have been some abnormality in his fellow pilot, Quatre didn't posses the same smoky emerald eyes this girl had staring back at him with such a glow.
"Trowa, I'd like you to meet Brandilyn Brown. She's the new head animal caretaker."
Cathy suddenly spurted, giving Trowa a mysterious look that wanted to make him cringe.
She continued, looking quickly back between Trowa and the small girl as though she were intently following a tennis match.
"And Brandi, this is my baby brother Trowa."
He nodded his hello then lead the way for Cathy to sew up the article of green colored clothing he held, Cathy hung back to momentarily grin a knowing smile at the still stunned and utterly embarrassed Brandi.
"I can't believe you did that to me!" Brandi wailed, splashing Cathy with a palm full of water from the bucket she was carrying.
Cathy giggled and batted her eyes, "Aww, but you two look so cute!"
They fidgeted and wrestled around the watering hose for a time, but as they're laughter grew insanely happy the animals called out they're need for water.
Brandi shook her head dog like, causing the water to spurt from her blonde hair and spray the nearby Cathy. Who was wringing out her own soaked hair and smiling with her exuberance flushed face.
"I'd better get back to work," Brandi said, regretfully returning to her duties.
Cathy nodded, and then suddenly caught a seemingly brilliant idea. "Why don't you stop by for dinner tonight? Yeah, I'll fix some lobster!"
Brandi hoisted a bucket into each hand and lifted them with minimum effort, "What? No soup?!" She giggled as she scurried away, fearing another playful attack from Cathy.
The sun was setting in steps as Brandi bumped open the coral gate with her hips, entering the horses pen as they were the last to be watered before her shift ended till morning. The circus' small herd of snow white Arabians whinnied their warm greetings to her and swarmed around her. She giggled and clucked her tongue as a few took gentle nibbles at her nearly hay colored hair, while others shoved their heads against her frame, imitating hoofed cats in their fondness.
"Ack! Easy, easy!" She managed to sound out through her laughter.
Trowa sat perched on the hood of a gigantic loading truck, watching the sunset and contemplating the war. As he always seemed to find himself doing.
A distant sound of wonderfully carefree laughter caused him to crook his head in the bell like sound's direction. Squinting his eyes slightly to adjust them to the coming darkness Trowa spotted Brandi in the horses' coral. She was joyfully running from one as he chased her like a faithful dog, the horse tossed it's mane and pranced triumphantly as she attempted to escape it. Then from the other side of the paddock another horse whipped just in front of Brandi in a full gait, her hands only reached up slightly to catch it's mane and hoist herself onto it's moving back after giving a slight bunny hop to assist herself.
She rode as skillfully, if not more so, than the hired riders in the show. She turned her steed this way then that with just a slight nudge of her knees, she left her hands free to raise them to the heavens. Looking angelic as the horse raced along and gave her the illusion of flight.
Trowa had been so intently watching the spirit-lifting scene that he failed to notice the slightly goofy smile that had forced itself to his thin lips. Upon discovering the invading emotion he quickly forced it back into stone-like melancholy and leapt gracefully to the ground without a sound, shuffling away with his hands thrust into his jeans pockets.
Brandi had no purpose during the performance for the locals, so she normally left the circus limits and strolled the city. But now she had a reason to watch.
She had literally begged the announcer to let her sit in the small aloft booth with him, and then blushing and shaking her head silently when he demanded why she wished to see today's show so bad.
With no response in sight, he pointed to the folding chair next to him without another glance on her part. After about an hour of performances that she only half saw came the moment she had been waiting for.
Jack stepped out to center ring as the last act, the lumbering elephants, headed out the exit flaps. After clearing his voice he raised the microphone grandurely to his mouth, "Ladies and gentleman, introducing our lovely and talented knife thrower…Catherine Bloom!"
Cathy appeared out of the darkness with a spotlight fastened on her, radiant in her revealing costume she attracted many an approving stare form the crowd's male population.
"And her assistant, Trowa Barton!" The monotone young man was also targeted by a spotlight, he was in a low crouched bow and only rose after a cross like backboard had been wheeled in by the stagehands. He moved to it with the grace of the lions that Brandi loved so much, and stood with his back to it, arms splayed out along it's crossboard as Christ himself. But Brandi shook the thought from her head, she didn't believe in god.
He was shirtless and Brandi instantly found herself glued to his glass like physic, perfectly solid and without noticeable flaw to her ever-widening green eyes. It was a wonder in itself that she wasn't drooling all over the front of her shirt as she gawked at him.
Brandi gasped and clutched her hands together each time Catherine chucked a well-aimed knife at her brother, Brandi's small knuckles were turning white from the grasp she had on them.
Trowa nearly ignored his sister as she rambled on absently about their brilliant performance only minutes ago; he slid off his half sided mask almost mournfully and set it on a crate near Max's enclosure. He stopped suddenly, frozen in time as a shadow appeared among his and Cathy's.
Instantly he whirled and faced the intruder menacingly, "Who's there?"
Cathy looked slightly startled, but her eyes instantly went to a motherly shine as Brandi stepped out from the darkness of the tent's interior. Brandi smiled and walked with her arms swinging at her sides, feet nearly in front of each other with every step. Giving the illusion of floating on air.
Trowa's protective demeanor instantly disappeared, and unnoticed by the others he removed his hand quickly from his pants pocket. The slight bulge of a revolver where his hand once was. He rolled his eyes and made a hasty exit from the tent.
Brandi and Cathy were left watching him with apprehensive faces, they turned to each other trying to find resolve in their eyes. None was found and Cathy turned back to watch the performance.
"Just let him be. Trowa's been through hell in his life…it's still a little hard for him to deal with sudden surprises after…"
Brandi placed her hand comfortingly on the taller girl's shoulder, "After what Cathy?"
"Trowa was a major 'player' in the war, he's still a little messed up from the things he saw, and the terrible things he went through."
Brandi instantly withdrew when she heard the dreaded word of war, dropping her hand quickly and taking a few well-planned steps backwards. As her backwards movements took her nearly out the tent's back flaps she raised her arms to her eyes, the underneath of her arms evident even in the dark. Every scar that she stared at was war, thirty-six in all on both arms.
As she was freed from the laughter of the crowd Brandi trotted away to the one place she could admit her pain, and receive courteous sympathy.
Trowa leaned down close to the lion's cage, letting Max sniff at the back of his hand for a scent of remembrance. But Max's yellow eyes were beyond Trowa's slim figure, and Trowa found the reason as he heard quick set foot-pounds nearing the cage.
She was crying, small streams of tears flowing steadily down her rosy cheeks and pale throat. But her face had no emotion, expressionless as Trowa always kept his own. She skidded to a stop as she saw him, looking franticly at the lion that was also staring at her.
"Sorry," She sniffled, and then walked calmly away in her usual float.
Trowa, for reasons unknown, was instantly worried that he had caused the flow of tears. "Wait, what's the matter." He didn't question, demanded an answer from her back.
Brandi stopped once again, but as she went to step again two strong arms caught her shoulders from behind and held her fast. "Tell me."
"It's nothing, bad memories."
She forced a smile after what seemed like a pleasant eternity of being held by him, and then turned in a circle on her toes to face him happily. With a face splittingly wide smile, as though nothing had happened.
"So, what did you do in the war?"
Trowa regarded her as suspiciously as he would a murder, "Is that what made you upset? The war?"
Brandi's happy demeanor didn't fail, "Cathy told me you were a major player in it, and I wanted to find out if it really did mess you up…like me."
Trowa knew full and well that half of that was a lie, or rather that there was more to the story. But as though staring into the mirror, he saw all of the pain in the war reflect in her still shining eyes. The screaming innocents, the burning homes, the dying soldiers and their mourning families, all swirling in her emerald orbs.
"We're not 'messed up'," he whispered, then released her and turned to make the walk to the lion's cage. "We're realists, who saw the terror of humanity all of our young lives. It's all we've known to be true, the deceit and the pain. But now we get to see humanities beautiful side, and perhaps it's too much of a change for us to handle willingly."
He looked over his shoulder and nodded towards the lion's cage, and understanding without words, she followed him and the two flopped down in the grass near it. Their backs resting against the cool steel bars, so unexpectedly close together that their hips brushed lightly together with each small movement.
They sat there till long after the stars came up in complete silence, not needing words. Near midnight Brandi's head began to bob near her collar bone, sleep would claim her fiercly.
Trowa forced himself to look at her as she breathed teadily from sleep, her arms were wrapped around her small frame in a vaine effort to keep herself warm. Yet another tug forced his lips into a delicate curve, and again he forced it deep down into himself.
She didn't even mumble nor stir as he gently shifted her into his arm's, he carried her towards her trailor as though she were delicate crystal. One hand was held fast just under her neck, and another under the crooks of her legs.
A week later~
"Brandi! You've got a call kid! Hustle!"
Brandi sprinted towards Jack's office trailer as he stood on the front steps and waved a small vid phone in the air.
As she leapt from the ground cleanly to the third step she made a grab for the phone, mearly to see who the image on the I.D was.
"Jacobb!"
A handsome looking man smiled back at her, with bright red hair and goatee and sparkling Persian blue eyes. "Hey there little one. What's up?"
"Hella-nuttin, working!" They gave each other a smile that was nearly identical from one face to the other.
Trowa had snuck out of practice with Cathy to see what all the commotion was about, it was a one in a million event that a worker would get a call during the touring season. As he watched the happy conversation filled with catching up between Brandi and the male voice on the vid-phone, Trowa felt a deep down tremor. Something unfelt before that made his normally passive eyes narrow menacingly.
"Love you too! Bye!"
The last chirp of happiness on Brandi's part sent Trowa over the edge, or as far as possible for the self proclaimed Silencer.
There he was again, doing his damnedest to avoid her. He had been acting this way ever since her older brother Jacobb had called her. Turning away his head slightly when she dared to look at him, walking with his eyes lowered so as not to see her pass on her way to the animals, and even avoiding bowing to in her direction in the crowd every performance that she came so thrilled to see.
"Cathy, I can't figure out what I did wrong!" Brandi whined as her older friend sat on the couch and clicked through the television stations.
"You probably didn't do anything, don't worry about it. That's just the way Trowa is."
Brandi shook her head defiantly, "No it's not the same, he's different." In frustration she flopped down on the couch, nearly on top of Cathy. She leaned her head on Cathy's boney shoulder and huffed a sigh. "Probably never will figure out why he's mad at me, never talks to me."
"So talk to him."
It was so obvious and simple, why the hell not?
It was barely hours before their Saturday performance when Brandi finally made herself confront the solemn boy. He was nearly walking out of his trailer when she marched to a stop in his path.
He rolled his eyes, and tried to brush past her. It was only when she scooted sideways to be in his path again that he mumbled, "Move."
Not really a demand, that's good. "Nope. You're not going anywhere till you tell me why you're pissed at me."
Brandi watched as Trowa walked away and to his trailer without another sound. She tried to read from his walk if he was disgusted by her, she'd had that kind of reaction before and should be used to it. But for some reason she wanted Trowa to understand her, and even to pity her.