Catherine looks at him expectantly, the fingers of her left hand drum quietly against the table top. Heero shifts on the chair and then crosses his arms over his chest, studying her silently. She looks the same as he remembers her, the same flyaway auburn curls and sparkly nail polish, but there's an amused tilt to her mouth that immediately reminds him of Trowa. She arches one of her eyebrows at him.
"You didn't answer my question," Catherine states at his confused look. "How have you been?"
"Fine," he replies. His lips twitch on their own accord. "No comas."
Catherine smiles genuinely at him. "Thank God for that," she replies. She stretches her legs out and lets her gaze settle on the gun. "Expecting someone?"
"Old habit." He reaches for the gun, pulling it to his side of the table.
"Hm," she hums. Her fingers tap out another rhythm on the table and her nail polish sparkles from the light slanting through the window blinds. Heero resists the urge to shift again. He's been trained to withstand military-grade interrogations, he should be able to answer a few questions from Trowa's surrogate sister. "I'm going to make some tea, would you like any?"
"No, thanks," he replies.
She nods and pushes away from the table, disappearing into the kitchenette. He hesitates a moment before grabbing the gun and heading to the bedroom. He can hear Catherine banging around in the kitchen while he places the gun on the dresser top, making sure the safety is still engaged. He makes his way back to the table and takes a seat. Absently he picks up the apple he'd taken from the kitchen earlier and fiddles with it.
A few moments later, Catherine reemerges with a steaming mug in her hand. She takes her seat across from him once more and gives him an amused smile. "Relax," she laughs. "You look like I'm about to interrogate you."
Heero sets the apple aside. He shrugs and studies Catherine across the table. "The last time I was here you weren't happy about it."
Catherine brushes hair out of her face, pinning it back with a rhinestone-studded clip. "Well, you did convince Trowa to try and blow himself up," she says.
Heero snorts and leans back in his chair. "I told him dying hurt like hell. He was the one who decided that meant he had to try it for himself."
Catherine runs her finger idly around the lip of her mug, fiddles with the string for the teabag. He can smell the strong scent of peppermint as she lifts and dunks the teabag in the hot water. She meets his eyes again. "What have you been doing with yourself?"
Heero studies her carefully, taking in the directness of her stare, the slightly raised eyebrows. "This and that," he says finally. "Mostly security work."
Catherine nods, doesn't press the issue. It's one of the things he remembers from his time spent recovering at the circus. The workers and performers looked out for each other, but they never pushed for more information. She removes the teabag, carefully setting it on a folded napkin. "And Brussels…?"
"There's nothing going on in Brussels," Heero states, voice firm. "The attempted coup was stopped."
Catherine takes a sip of her tea and studies him over the edge of her mug. "What brings you to the circus?"
Heero blinks, momentarily thrown by the change in subject. He picks up the apple, twisting the stem between his fingers. "Trowa invited me."
Catherine tilts her head and her gaze is unwavering. "Why now?" she asks. "I know Trowa invited you after the war, I overheard a couple of your calls."
Heero frowns, pulling the stem free from the apple. "It seemed like a good time." He meets her gaze evenly. "Do you want me to go?"
Her gaze drifts to where the gun had been sitting on the table. "And it has nothing to do with whatever did or didn't happen in Brussels."
"Nothing happened in Brussels," he repeats. "No one's going to come looking for Trowa."
She meets his eyes steadily. "I wasn't referring to that," she says. "You know," she continues, gaze dropping back to the mug she's set on the table, "the first, and well, only time really, I've heard Trowa really laugh was when you were here. You'd only been awake for a couple hours and you got him to laugh harder than any of us here." She lifts her eyes to stare at him.
"Catherine-"
She holds up a hand and Heero falls silent. "Trowa's like a brother to me," she states. "And after the accident you never bothered to call and tell me something had happened. I had to find him by chance, lost and wandering the streets."
Heero fiddles with the apple stem silently and Cathy waits patiently. "I didn't know what to tell you, or where the circus was," he replies finally. He doesn't like the way she's staring at him. Her eyes have a knowing gleam to them that he doesn't know what to do with.
"You didn't want to think he was gone," she says softly.
"There was no proof that he was."
Catherine quietly sips her tea. Heero stares out the window at the trailer facing Trowa's. A woman with bright pink hair is outside hanging laundry on a line and laughing with a man dressed in the midway uniform. Catherine expels a long breath, drawing Heero's attention back to her.
"It doesn't matter now," she says at last. She sets her mug down on the tabletop. "I did mean what I said earlier, I am glad you're alright and it is good to see you again."
Heero glances away from Catherine and up at the clock over the table. It's a half past twelve. "Trowa should be back soon," he says before she can continue her line of thought. "I was going to make lunch, did you want to stay?"
. . ... . .
Trowa spends the late morning hours exercising Leo and Apollo, working on their cues and marks, and watching them roughhouse with each other before he turns them loose into the run they'd set up linking the menagerie to the big tent. They pace around, smelling the new ground, before staking out the best spots and stretching out for a nap in the artificial sunlight. Trowa watches them, arms linked through the steel bars, for a moment before heading back to the trailer.
He sees Sacha speaking with Ariel, one of the aerial acrobats, as he leaves the menagerie. The two acrobats are heading toward the big top and for a moment he thinks they'll pass by without noticing him. His luck doesn't hold and Ariel waves, smiling brightly and Sacha shoots him another amused look. "I didn't know you were back!" Ariel calls cheerfully. She has her fiery red hair pulled back in a ponytail and is dressed in something not glittery for once.
"Yesterday afternoon," Trowa replies, pausing as she jogs over to meet him.
Ariel grins. "Thank God," she says. "Cathy's nice and all, but she is not a morning person. I made Sacha trade shifts with me because I couldn't deal anymore."
Sacha nods seriously. "Catherine is…not herself in the morning."
"Like you really minded," Ariel snorts. Trowa's amused to see Sacha's neck flush and the acrobat mutters darkly in Russian. "Good vacation?"
Trowa can see the amusement return to Sacha's expression, but the acrobat refrains from making any comments. "It was fine," he says after a moment.
"Just fine?" Ariel questions. She shakes her head. "You aren't vacationing right, then," she says primly.
"I am sure whatever Trowa did was enjoyable," Sacha states diplomatically. Ariel shakes her head again, missing the amused glint to Sacha's eye and Trowa inwardly sighs. Sacha nudges Ariel. "We're going to be late to practice. Ant will not be happy."
"Yeah, okay." She offers one last smile to Trowa as Sacha takes her by the arm and tows her toward the big tent. "Glad you're back!" she calls, waving again.
Trowa watches them go for a moment before turning and continuing past the rows of trailers to his own trailer. He's surprised to hear voices when he unlocks the door. He opens the door and sees Cathy seated at the table, foot on one of the chairs as she paints her toes. Heero is conspicuously absent, but he can smell chicken and rice coming from the direction of the stove.
"I'm telling you," Cathy is saying, intent on her painting, "you could definitely help out with the acrobats. You're the right size and stature."
"No," Heero replies firmly, his voice coming from the kitchenette.
"Heero's better at strength than flexibility," Trowa states.
"Trowa!" Cathy exclaims, turning to glare at him. She smears purple nail polish across her toes in the process. "You didn't tell me Heero was coming." Trowa shrugs and she sighs loudly. "I'll never understand either of you." She turns back to her painting and curses, grabs a napkin to try and clean up the mess she made before it drips on the floor. Trowa leaves her to it, heading into the kitchen to see what Heero's doing.
Heero is digging through one of the cabinets for bowls. He looks up when Trowa steps up next to him, reaching in to pull three bowls from the shelf and set them on the counter. "Everything okay?" Trowa asks, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder. Cathy is still distracted by her nail polish fiasco.
"I think so," Heero replies. He begins to spoon the prepared food from the stove into the bowls. Trowa busies himself with clearing away the used dishes and placing them in the nearly-full sink. "How were the cats?"
"The lions were fine," Trowa replies, eyeing Heero. Heero's mouth curves into a smirk as he hands Trowa one of the prepared bowls before grabbing the other two.
He helps Heero carry the food to the table and Cathy sets aside her nail polish. The bowls are filled with rice and chicken, carrots, sweet potatoes, and onions in some kind of gravy. Cathy grins when Trowa sets the dish down in front of her.
"This looks delicious, Heero. Where did you learn to cook?" she asks.
He shrugs, sitting down across from Trowa. "It was part of my training."
Cathy turns to stare accusingly at Trowa. "You've been holding out on me."
Trowa shakes his head. "We were trained differently," he states. The food is good, there's a strong curry flavor to it and Trowa looks at Heero curiously. "All of this was in the trailer?"
Heero focuses on the bowl in front of him, poking absently at the contents with his fork.. "We may need to go shopping sooner rather than later to restock," he replies. Trowa pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth to glance at Heero. Heero meets Trowa's gaze, head tilted curiously. "That okay?"
"Yeah," Trowa replies, nodding. "That's fine."
"Mm, worth it, so good," Cathy says as she digs into the meal. "How long are you staying again?" Heero shrugs in response and Cathy sighs. "Well, feel free to cook as much as you want in the meantime." Heero's head is ducked down and he appears focused on his food, but Trowa can see the smile curling his mouth.
. . ... . .
Cathy returns to painting her toes after they finish eating, and then claims the wet polish precludes her from doing the dishes. Trowa rolls his eyes as he gathers up the dishes and disappears into the kitchenette. Heero joins him after a moment with the remaining stack of bowls and cutlery, leaning around him to add them to the towering stack Trowa's set up next to the sink.
Trowa catches Heero's wrist before he can retreat and Heero looks at him questioningly. "How did it go?" he asks.
"I only spoke with Duo and Wufei before Catherine showed up," Heero replies. "Duo's got a lead on more detonators which appeased Wufei." He pauses. "Wufei says hi."
Trowa raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You told him you were here?"
Heero leans against the fridge while Trowa turns on the faucet and rolls his sleeves up while waiting for the water to reach the correct temperature. "Was it a secret?" he asks.
Trowa shrugs and tosses the dish towel at Heero and begins washing up. "You usually aren't that forthcoming."
"Wufei thinks he knows everything," Heero replies. He takes the pot Trowa's finished scrubbing and begins to dry it. "It's simpler to let him keep assuming."
"Especially when he's right," Trowa says, smiling. Heero elbows him and Trowa laughs. "Any issues with the transport?"
"No, he said it's been smooth. I'll contact Quatre once you head to practice."
Trowa nods, satisfied, and continues handing Heero dishes to dry as he finishes washing them. It's a narrow fit in the kitchen and he's aware of Heero's shoulder pressed against his, and of Heero slipping around behind him to put a pan or dish away when he runs out of counter space. At one point he senses Cathy in the doorway, but she wanders off after a few moments and he hears the television turn on.
Heero pauses, head cocked to the side as he listens to the noise coming from the front of the trailer. Trowa works on washing out the bowls. "Reality television," he says after a moment. "She's addicted."
Heero snorts, shaking his head. "How long will you be practicing?"
Trowa hands the bowl to Heero while he considers the question. "At least a few hours. It depends on how long Cathy reserved the space for."
Heero nods, stretching to put the bowl back on the cabinet shelf. Trowa pauses to watch the lines of Heero's body elongate before returning to dishwashing. He ignores Heero's small, knowing smirk. "Remember, no acrobatics," Heero says, nudging Trowa lightly.
"Yes, doctor," Trowa mocks lightly.
"Isn't that my line?" Heero replies, eyes bright with suppressed laughter.
Trowa shrugs, shutting the water off. He takes the end of the dishtowel Heero's still holding and dries his hands. "Guess we'll just have to switch off as needed," he says, enjoying the way Heero's eyes darken. "It seems to have worked so far."
. . ... . .
Trowa and Cathy head out to work on the new act after the kitchen has been cleaned up from lunch, leaving Heero to touch base with Quatre. The acrobats have vacated the big top, although Trowa can hear them yelling and laughing in the backstage area. Ant's deep voice rising over Ariel's peals of laughter. Cathy lays her knives out on the bleachers, tests each one even though Trowa knows she's meticulous about maintaining them. She warms up by running through a standard target throw, outlining his body against the wooden board with her shining knives.
After the warm-ups, they introduce the tightrope. It stretches from the target board to the center of the ring. Trowa gets up on it, balancing easily on the taut wire. Cathy has more of a struggle and the first knife she throws goes wide and embeds itself near his left ear, which is a few inches north of where she'd been aiming.
"Shoot," she grumbles. She pulls her hair back into a low ponytail and tries to balance again. "You better move this time if the knife comes toward you," she warns. "I don't want to clean blood off the blades again."
"Then don't miss." Her eyes narrow at him and he simply shrugs, holds his arms out, and looks bored. Cathy blows an errant curl out of her face and chooses another knife. "Shift your weight."
"What?" she asks.
"When you throw the knife you're going to shift your weight in the follow-through," he explains patiently. "You should counter it now. Keep your hips forward so that when you release you'll be balanced."
"Good point," she concedes and adjusts accordingly. "I mean it, Trowa. If it goes wild again, dodge."
They spend the better part of three hours practicing, until Nadia and Auguste show up with the horses and kick them out. The pair are in the center of the ring, exercising the four white horses. Trowa watches them while Cathy packs up her knives and finishes rolling the tightrope up. He's never spent much time around horses, but he remembers one of Noventa's relatives had a horse farm in Italy. The relative hadn't been interested in shooting Heero, but had given them bits of cut up apple and carrot to feed to the horses once he'd turned down Heero's offer. Heero had seemed at home with the animals and Trowa had never thought to ask why.
Cathy finishes rolling up the tightrope and Trowa grabs it, carrying it to the storage area in back. He nudges her lightly with his elbow as they leave the big top. "It was a good practice," he comments. "You'll get better at balancing."
"Thanks," Cathy replies, voice dry. She's quieter than usual on the walk back to the trailers and Trowa frowns down at her. "What?" she asks, catching his expression.
"Something's bothering you." He studies her carefully blank expression. "It isn't the new act."
She lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and unties her hair from the ponytail she'd gathered it into. "At first when I saw him in the trailer I thought something else had gone wrong and he'd come to take you away again. Which didn't make sense, you'd just gotten back. But with the explosion on the news and the fire…" She pauses and looks at Trowa expectantly.
"I told you, we're getting rid of the suits," he says finally.
"You did," she agrees. "Did you really invite him here? Or, is he on the run from whatever didn't happen in Brussels?"
Trowa remains silent, resolutely staring at the path in front of them instead of meeting Cathy's searching gaze.
She shakes her head, stopping in front of her trailer and shifting her bundled knives to her other arm. "You seem…" she pauses, eyebrows creased as she searches for the right word. "Lighter," she settles on, "since he's been here." She ignores his confused look. "How long will he be staying?"
"Cathy-"
She holds a hand up, stopping him. "I'm happy he took you up on your offer, whatever the motivation for it was. I know he's only been here a day, but I heard you laugh again. Really laugh, not that chuckle you do when you're amused." She reaches over, presses her finger to the bruise on the side of his neck that's half-hidden by the turtleneck. "You didn't have this yesterday when I picked you up."
"I didn't," he agrees after a moment.
She shakes her head again and then gives him a fond smile. "Do I need to remind him about my knife collection?" she asks, voice teasing. He rolls his eyes and her smile grows into a wide grin. "I don't know what type of training you got…but do we need to have The Talk?" She gives him a truly outlandish wink and Trowa shakes his head at her. "I really should've suspected when you called while in bed with him."
"Goodbye, Catherine."
"You are being safe, right?" she calls cheerfully.
Trowa ignores her, passing the remaining three trailers separating his trailer from Catherine's. He can't shake the fond smile at Cathy's words or the flush he can feel creeping up the back of his neck. He can still hear Cathy's laughter as he unlocks his front door and steps inside.