Jaded

by Midii Une

3xMU songfic: angsty, citrusy, set immediately prior to Endless Waltz Trowa must decide between Midii and his path as a soldier.

1. Part One

Disclaimer:  I own neither Aerosmith or Gundam Wing.  Hey T-t-trowa . . . (grin)

3xMU songfic/lemon But just cuz it's a lemon doesn't mean it's fluffy, actually this transformed itself into a very dark little fic somehow. Includes reference to and inspired by events in the Ground Zero manga (which is not to be confused with Episode Zero). Despite the title you will find lyrics from both Aerosmith's Jaded and I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing in this fic.

Also, The Price of Redemption: Chapter 20 coming very soon!!!  I had writer's block and wrote this in the interim . . .

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                              *~*~*Jaded*~*~*

Part One

By Midii Une

December, After Colony 196

Was this it?  The words scrolled across the computer screen.  Words vague and innocuous enough to anyone who might come across them innocently or inadvertently.

But she was not innocent and nothing she did was inadvertent.

Unbelievable that they would send their Gundams hurtling through space unattended.  Unconscionable really.  Could anyone be that innocent or trusting after the war they'd been through?  But if the Gundam pilots believed that peace had established itself so thoroughly that mobile suits were no longer needed it was easy to see why they assumed it would be safe to casually ship a Gundam to a disposal block as if it were a birthday card or some other unimportant delivery.

They hadn't counted on people like her.

"My God.  You found one," a masculine voice whispered, she felt hot breath on her neck as he took the opportunity to lean close to her and get a better look at the screen.  She didn't flinch as his hand 'accidentally' brushed against her breast although the memory of revulsion long buried squirmed in the pit of her stomach.

"Given enough time I always find what I'm looking for," she whispered, seeming so far away from him, that it was as if they stood across the room from each other, though he could feel the soft brush of her hair against his cheek and the satiny warmth of her skin beneath his hand.  There was no pride in her statement, it was matter-of-fact.  She completed the assignments given to her, so jaded by life that if she died during a mission it would have merely been a welcome change of pace to her.

"There's not much time.  I'll leave immediately," she said, automatically making an excuse to glide away from his unwanted touch.  Was it still so unwanted, he wondered, his eyes following her and as always a sense of guilty but overwhelming desire filled him.  His advances were met with no more emotion than anything she did.  He knew he was caught in his own revenge because now while she felt absolutely nothing, he suffered.  He burned to see something in those mirror-like eyes, mirrors that reflected any emotion required.  But inside she felt nothing.

For a few short years, far too few, she had been at his mercy.  But Midii Une was a helpless child no longer.  She was 17 going on 35 and she had long since found a method of escape deep within herself.

He followed her and stopped her at the door, turned her to face him.  He studied her face, there was only impatience written on her delicate features and she made a tiny, almost indiscernible, pout of irritation as her hand lifted sensually to unbutton her blouse. But there was no desire or passion in her practiced gesture and certainly no fear.  Not like the first time and since that first time what was between them could hardly even be qualified as rape.

She tipped her head to stare impatiently at the ceiling, eager for him to finish, feeling slightly curious that after all this time he should still be so deeply affected by her cold submission.  His breath came heavily and his large sweaty hands clenched her pale shoulders with bruising force as she braced herself against the wall.

"Henri," she muttered huskily, her voice urgent.  He lifted his face from where it was buried in the swell of her breasts to look at her expectantly.  Was she feeling something at last, did she want him?

"Condom," she said, her eyes cold and forbidding and he paused to awkwardly don the barrier she insisted on before resuming his attack.  She circled his waist with her legs to relieve the strain of her position as he pounded into her again and again.

"Jeannette, Jeannette," he groaned as it finished all too quickly, his face buried in the silken length of moonlight-colored hair that smelled faintly, as always, of lavender.  He rested against her for a moment, crushing her slight body between himself and the wall and noticed that her breathing had not even quickened.  Without a word his Jeannette's daughter slipped beneath his arm, quickly buttoning the creamy silk blouse that clung to her body with heart-stopping snugness.  One perfectly-manicured hand smoothed down her skirt and lifted to tuck a stray lock of hair behind one ear.

"You will be careful," he breathed as he watched her tuck her laptop into an Italian leather case.

She didn't answer.

"Answer me Midii," he demanded.

An expression of rare mirth crossed her angelic features, the girl's amused smile lit the features of the lovely woman the Alliance officer had loved and lost so long ago.  Lost to the arms of another man.  But their daughter was his; he'd watched her grow from a pretty child to a stunningly beautiful woman.  Her metamorphoses had turned the tables however and now it was she who had power over him, hers was the whip hand now in this decades old game of revenge.  In his sick, twisted way he loved her now even more than he'd ever loved Jeannette.  But he himself had turned her into what she was, a woman who did not even value her own life.

"You amuse me Henri," she said.  "I go to relieve a Gundam pilot of his Gundam and you ask me to be careful."

Hey j-j-jaded, you got your mama's style

But you're yesterday's child to me

So jaded

You think that's where it's at

But is that where it's supposed to be

You're gettin' it all over me and serrated

The soft glow of the overhead light on the space shuttle turned the Chardonnay in her glass to pale gold. She twisted the stem of the glass in her hand and took a small sip as she stared at the screen.

"Nanashi."

The Gundam 03 belonged to him.  He'd found his way back to the circus, had he?  She forced herself to think of him coldly, it was easy enough.  It had been so long since she'd felt.  Yet her eyes slid sideways to glance at the empty seat beside her, she always purchased two seats in first class whenever she traveled.  She valued her space and her privacy whenever she was lucky enough to escape from Henri's smothering and possessive affection.  In the seat she could see the boy again, the messy fall of reddish-brown hair and one secretive green eye peeking from beneath it.

She could picture a Gundam shrouded in circus canvas.  It would be in an isolated, lonely location.  He could hardly keep it under his bed.  With luck she wouldn't even have to lay eyes on Nanashi again.  Hmmph, she muttered.  He can no longer be the same.  She glanced back at the screen.  Trowa Barton.  He is only Trowa Barton.  Nanashi is gone.  And Trowa Barton means nothing to me.

With nimble fingers she braided her hair and tied a black scarf over it before kneeling to buckle her black combat boots, cursing slightly as one of her nails broke under the pressure.

She found it easily enough and just as she'd imagined, in the dark corner of a warehouse full of circus paraphernalia.  Old animal cages were stacked high and only partially covered with drop cloths.  What she was looking for towered above the rest of the stuff they kept in there.

A vision of suspicious green eyes flashed in her brain as she reached a small hand to tug at the canvas that shrouded the giant mecha.

"He probably has an alarm rigged up," she thought.  She pulled a small flashlight from her army jacket and painstakingly examined the cloth, finding nothing.  Gently she pulled at the material until it cascaded down and pooled on the dark and dirty floor. She caught her breath at the sight of it.  It was beautiful in a way.  And it would be theirs.  She never considered why anymore or the consequences of her actions.  The market for a Gundam was prodigious indeed and even her small share of the profit would be an astounding sum of money.  What happened after that was none of her concern.

Seeing no other way to get up to the cockpit, Midii climbed up a pile of boxes and leapt the few feet of dark space between the box and the Gundam's shoulder with unconscious grace.  She never thought what it would mean to fall.  She didn't admit that she had come here hoping to be caught.  To finish what was started so long ago on that snowy field.

"I don't deserve to live."

She'd never changed her mind.  But there was only one face she wanted to see at the other end of a pistol.  Either way tonight she would win and so she feared nothing.  She'd get the Gundam or Nanashi would finally kill her.  She crouched on the Gundam's shoulder trying to figure a way in and finally decided she would have to open the door first then disable the alarm quickly once she was inside.

The inside of the Gundam was more elaborately wired then she had imagined.  She had to hurry she knew and she hacked away at some wires in the control panel haphazardly.  So much for Nanashi's alarm, she thought, forgetting to call him Trowa Barton in her mind.

My my baby blue

Yeah I been thinkin' about you

My my baby blue

Yeah you're so jaded

And I'm the one that jaded you

At first the beeping sound from the laptop under his bed seemed like part of a dream.  She would have been amused to know that he did keep the alarm for his Gundam, if not the Gundam itself, under his bed.

Trowa came to alert quickly, the year of peace having done little to erase the quick reaction time of a lifelong soldier.  Quickly he emerged from dreams of past triumphs and mistakes to sweep his arm under the bed and find the small laptop computer left over from his days as a Gundam pilot.  The security he'd set up around HeavyArms as tight as that Heero had around Wing Zero.  He and Duo and Quatre had managed to get their hands on it though, so it was barely within the realm of possibility for someone to get close to a Gundam.  But they had meant no harm of course, they had just been curious to find out why Heero was upgrading his Gundam during peacetime.

The answer had been laughable.  He'd made the plans during the war and hadn't wanted to not try them out. [1] Still, that day they'd all decided that there was no longer any need for their Gundams and it had been his own idea to send them to the sun. [2]  A fitting end for their noble weapons of war.  It seemed now that some organization must have intercepted his correspondence with Quatre and Duo on the subject.

Trowa tucked a gun in his jacket and headed out to the warehouse.  Whoever it was had interrupted his dream and he didn't know whether to be angry or relieved about that.  It had been the dream of Midii again, no more really than a vision of incredibly sad, incredibly blue eyes.  But he knew to whom those eyes belonged.  He'd been too hard on her that day.  He wondered what had happened to her.  Now he realized he had ignored her cry for help.  Had she ever changed, gone back to wherever she was from and been happy?  Somehow he doubted that and felt in a way that he was to blame, though he had been no more than a child himself.

What would it have been like if he'd taken her with him, kept her always beside him?   That wouldn't have worked either.  Would she have been any better off as a child mercenary fighting by his side, probably dying in battle? So much had happened since that day, the day they parted almost seven years ago.  If only fate would lead him back to her, he'd find a way to make things right again.

The warehouse was silent and dark but he could see only darkness where his Gundam should be, he didn't see the pale cloud of canvas that usually obscured the gigantic mobile suit from view.  His heart pounded, could it be gone already?  But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw it there, the ambient light gleaming off the Gundanium alloy softly.  The cockpit door hung open, looking for all the world like a shocked and surprised face that someone would dare attempt to steal his Gundam.

As the girl had done before him, Trowa silently, and with more precision and grace, leapt across the void to the open cockpit hatch.  He landed quietly on the balls of his feet, gun in hand already pointed at the intruder.  A pale face gleamed in the darkness of the familiar cockpit and he saw the glimmer of eyes looking at him.

"You might have made more headway if you'd turned on the lights," he said, flipping on the power switch and expecting the familiar illumination to flood HeavyArms' interior.

Nothing happened.  It remained dark.

The dim figure attempted to bolt past him and take a flying leap out the door. He reached out and grabbed at the small form he made out in the darkness, slamming the intruder back into the cockpit and pulling the door shut behind them, efficiently blocking the only escape route.

"You'd have killed yourself if I let you go," Trowa said, the figure still an enigma in the blackness.  With the door shut it was completely dark inside.  "Do you hold your life so cheaply then?"

The thief was silent but he could hear the soft sound of breathing, only slightly quickened by the near brush with death and his less-than-gentle shove.

He turned his attention to getting the lights to work but the systems seemed to have failed and suddenly he realized he had made a potential error.

"What the hell did you do," he muttered to his silent companion, taking out his flashlight and shining it on the face opposite his in the dark . . . and wondered if he was still dreaming.

Her face was expressionless as he stared at her, his hand reaching to pull away the black scarf to reveal the color of her hair.

"Midii . . ."

"Yes.  It's me, Nanashi."

Hey j-j-jaded

In all it's misery

It will always be what I love and hated

And maybe take a ride to the other side

We're thinkin' of

We'll slip into the velvet glove

And be jaded

The atmosphere inside the cockpit was heavy with silence but the quiet almost hummed with their thoughts.

Surprisingly he spoke first.

"The war is over Midii," he said.  "Did you think about what would happen if this mobile suit fell into the wrong hands?"

She made a small sound of disgust and he felt her hostility, real and palpable and somehow he regretted his words, although he believed in what he'd said.  He was handling this all wrong and he wanted to do this right, he was suddenly desperate to  find the little girl imprisoned inside the cold, uncaring woman.

"Midii?"  He could think of nothing else to say.  He wanted her to say something.

"You're still so incredibly naïve Nanashi," she finally whispered.  "And I still hate you."

"Because I left . . .

She cut him off.  "Because of who you are.  Only you could make something out of what you had. You had nothing Nanashi and look at you now.  A hero.  This peace is because of you.  People like me may try to break it but that will never dim your achievement.  You must be so proud."

"You can stop now," he protested.  "Peace is for everyone . . .

"Not for me," she said softly.  "Never for me."

He was uncomfortably close, an unavoidable situation in the tiny cockpit.  The air was getting hot and stale and as Midii turned away from the direction of his voice angrily her elbow clipped his ribs and he grunted.

Tiny beads of sweat popped out on her face, her pretense of fearlessness stretching thinner and thinner in the small, airless space.  Claustrophobia began to overwhelm her.  "I'm trapped.  Trapped in here," she thought, fighting back panic.

She could feel him turn away from her and hear him resume his manipulation of the controls but his effort seemed wasted.

"Hurry up and open that damn door," she said, hearing the tremor in her own voice that made her even more afraid.

My my baby blue

Yeah I'm thinkin about you

My my baby blue

Yeah I'm so jaded

And baby I'm afraid of you

"What makes you so sure that I can open it," Trowa said, letting the wrench he held drop on the floor with a resounding clunk that echoed in the silent aftermath of his words.

"What do you mean," she whispered, her voice breathy and thin in the humid darkness that blanketed them both.  Her soul flooded with fresh hatred for the imperturbable pilot as she heard the beginnings of fear in her own voice.  Why? She had nothing to be afraid of.  Death was only freedom from a life that had never been hers to control despite her veneer of cold self-assurance.  But now, being with him again was waking her up, waking up the sad little girl inside, the little girl who had let herself love someone once with disastrous results.

"I mean that you really did a number on the power connections and there's no possibility of opening this hatch manually," he said, the emotionless tone of his voice failing to hide the seriousness of the situation from her.

His warm breath grazed her cheek and he heard her breath catch and hold before she swallowed several gasping mouthfuls of air and he felt her shake her head as if in denial, soft strands of her hair from her loosening braids brushing against his arm.

"Fix it then.  Can't you fix it," she whispered, her voice so soft that he had to lean closer to hear it.  He leaned closer bracing his hands on either side of her, he inched forward till he swore he could hear or feel her heart pounding so close to his.

Midii's hand closed tightly on the small flashlight she had set beside her and flicked it on, shining it in her companion's face.  She could read nothing, not on his face or in his silence.

Trowa stared into the glassy steel-blue eyes that tried to pierce his armor as they had so long ago.  She was stronger now but so was he . . . but he turned away first.

"Maybe," he muttered.  He heard several more loud intakes of breath from the girl as he turned his back to find his discarded wrench.

"If you're so interested in staying alive," he continued in a louder voice, "take it easy, conserve energy and breathe normally. And hold the flashlight if you wouldn't mind."

He glanced back over his shoulder at her as the wavering light fixed on the shredded wires, it seemed like her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and she refused to meet his gaze.  Trowa shrugged and studied the damage, forgetting the stowaway for a moment as his attention was wholly absorbed by the challenge before him.

Midii's hatred spread inward, she was disgusted with herself as the cockpit walls seemed to close in on her and her mind strained against her sternly imposed control.  In spite of herself terror and panic built up inside as she clung to the slender metal cylinder of the flashlight with shaking fingers, clung as if it were a lifeline.  Sweat trickled down her forehead in the heat and stung her eyes and she licked her lips that felt dry and cracked.

She watched Nanashi work, the skilled and sure movement of his hands like something out of a dream and her eyes misted over . . . his wrench struck discordantly against a metal fitting and she blinked.  She saw his face close to her, the odd look of surprise on his face and the faint gleam of gold in her own hand.

"If you wear this God will protect you."

Those green eyes looking at her, trying to see in her soul . . . she jerked back.  "I-I don't like you," she muttered, her voice childish and unsure.

Trowa scowled as the meager illumination provided by the flashlight wavered crazily again as her hand shook and he heard her efforts to try to control her breathing, ignored her soft words spoken seemingly to herself.  He had been close to making a connection before she started moving the light.  He set down the wrench and stretched, releasing the tension in his shoulders.  He lifted the edge of the cotton T-shirt he slept in to wipe the sweat from his forehead before yanking the shirt completely over his head and rubbing it roughly over his face.  He couldn't think about anything now.  Couldn't think why she was here or what he would do after.  He had to concentrate on getting them out.

"He's giving up," Midii thought, dropping the flashlight, barely hearing the glass of the tiny bulb shatter on the Gundanium floor.  So dark . . . a whimper escaped her throat.  So dark and no air, she couldn't breathe, she choked, her lungs desperate for air.

A shuddering sob filtered through Trowa's annoyance as he searched the dark cockpit for his own flashlight.  They'd never get out of here at this rate, he thought in irritation.  Realistically he knew he was close but he sensed also that once he did open the door the real trouble would begin.

He found the flashlight and shone the light on her face, her eyes were shut tightly and a few tears had squeezed out from beneath her lids and glittered on her pale gray skin.

"Midii," he said wonderingly, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, a strange tenderness in his voice that came from an uncharted place in his heart as he sensed her fear.  He caught a quick glimpse of desperate eyes as her lids flew open as quickly as a startled bird in flight.  Darkness overtook them again as she lunged at him, knocking the flashlight out of his hand.

"Can't breathe," she gasped, her nails digging into his bare arms, her grip surprisingly strong in her panic.  Automatically his arms circled her, catching her in an iron embrace.

She struggled wildly, striking out frantically until one of her blows finally met flesh solidly and he loosened his hold on her.

Midii flung herself against the implacable door and uselessly battered her slender hands against the invincible metal that kept her prisoner . . . no air . . . no light . . . she was being punished.

"Please," she choked.  "I'll do anything . . . please, please let me out . . .

Trowa shrugged off the pain of his bruised jaw and moved it gingerly, amazingly she packed quite a punch.   The strange gasps coming from the darkness were suddenly frightening, her whispered pleas making him wonder all over again what had happened to her in the time they had been apart.   Made him wonder if there had been times she wished for him when his thoughts had been far from her.

The tiny space grew eerily silent and seconds ticked slowly by before he realized she was no longer breathing.

He grabbed her roughly, his voice harsh in the stillness.

"Breathe Midii.  There's air, there's enough air.  BREATHE!"

She gasped in a hesitant breath then shook her head and clutched at her throat, choking, he flashed the light on her face and her lips were tinged blue. Trowa raised his hand and slapped her across the face hard, the print of his open hand rose red and swollen on her pale cheek. She blinked a few times before her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his arms.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, his own breathing racing along with his heart as he held her carefully, stroking her hair and listening to the soft regular sound of her breathing.  He shifted her until her face rested against his and unconsciously he gently pressed his lips to the angry welt on her cheek.

Your thinking's so complicated

I've had it all up to here

But it's so overrated

Love and hated

Wouldn't trade it

Love me jaded

Her face and hands hurt and her body felt sore as if she'd run herself ragged.  Midii kept her eyes carefully closed as she held her body still and kept her breathing even.  She concentrated and listened, trying to discern where she was before she would give the enemy the advantage of knowing she was awake.

The bed was narrow and hard but there was a blanket tucked around her carefully, the disparity confused her.  Irritation roiled in her mind as she struggled to remember where she was and why.

Trowa watched carefully as a tiny frown creased the smooth skin between Midii's eyes.  Once she'd passed out he'd had no trouble repairing HeavyArms to the point that the door could be opened.  It would need a bit more work to operate at total functionality again.  He was starting to regret his odd behavior of the night before, the tenderness inspired by her hysterical behavior fading away and leaving behind only his usual wary watchfulness.

"The Gundam," Midii thought.  Her sudden recollection almost jolted her from her carefully maintained masquerade of sleep.  She couldn't stop the red flush of embarrassment from coloring her face as she remembered everything with sudden, awful clarity.  It was disconcerting that she couldn't recollect how she'd gotten from the cockpit to this place, wherever it was. She peered beneath her long black lashes praying that Nanashi had left her alone and found herself staring at the barrel of an ornate silver pistol.

She wasn't afraid of this.  She had never feared this, despite her panic in the Gundam's cockpit there was little else she actually feared.  Midii ignored the gun and the green-eyed boy who was pointing it at her and sat up, sliding her legs over the side of the bed in a smooth, graceful motion.

She pushed a long silky strand of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear and looked at him over her shoulder, fixing him with a mocking stare.

"Nice weapon Nanashi.  Did you steal it?"

He hadn't.  It was a souvenir of his days as an undercover OZ trainee.  He had of course been the best in his class.

"Don't move," he said softly, rising from the chair at the foot of the bed and prowling along the side to face her.

They met face to face in the light of day for the first time in nearly seven years.  The snide comment that rose to Midii's lips died momentarily as she looked into those emerald eyes, still the same, right down to the lack of emotion.  She must have dreamed the night before, the harsh rasp of feeling in his voice as he begged her to breathe.  Probably just didn't want her corpse in his precious cockpit.

Trowa studied the flurry of emotions in her stormy eyes, they had always fascinated him, so different from the eyes of the soldiers he lived with, so different from his own eyes when he saw them in infrequent glances in the mirror.  She was alive in a way he had never been and the bite of envy she'd always caused in his soul flared.  Her moods had always blown hot and cold sometimes her face had been so gentle and sweet and then it would harden into a mask that could rival his own, she loved, she hated, she felt.  Midii . . .

She was walking away.

"Stop," he said again.  She turned and looked at him, the expression on her face almost puzzled.

"Why," she asked curiously, as if he didn't have a gun directed at her heart.  "Why do you want me to stay?"

He was silent.  Why did he want her to stay?  He still hadn't decided what he would do.  She had tried to steal his Gundam.  Anyone else would have been dead.  But she had always been different.

His silence hurt strangely, he was still the same, the perfect unemotional soldier, untouchable.  She had patterned herself on him, tried to be like him to protect her fragile heart from the inevitable pain of war but in his presence she couldn't do it, her well-practiced act seemed just beyond her grasp and she turned away, desperate to get away before it totally got out of her control.

Trowa aimed the engraved silver pistol at the departing figure, he had deadly aim, the result of a lifetime of honing his skill.  He pulled the trigger.

And missed.

His hand shook visibly although he had left plenty of room for error, meaning only to make her stop, it had never been his intention to wound her.  But the sound of the pistol shot didn't affect her and she kept walking.  Suddenly the flimsy door of the trailer had slammed behind her and he was alone.

"Midii! Wait . . ." unconsciously he echoed her words to him from so long ago.  He had walked away and never looked back, hadn't looked back until it was too late.

The hollow echo of the slamming door activated his response. He caught up to her easily and spun her to face him.  She avoided his eyes and instead reached a small hand to caress the cold silver of the barrel of his pistol.

"You missed.  Why?  I don't deserve to live," she said, raising her eyes to his.  They were empty, devoid of emotion and totally unafraid.

He felt her fingers close around his and felt the increasing pressure on the sensitive trigger of the pistol.  He understood.

"I won't be your self-destruct button," he said, loosening his grip and letting the gun fall between them in the dust.

She saw a familiar look in his eyes, their faces were close and she felt his hand tighten convulsively on her wrist.  He leaned closer and she could hear his breathing slow as if he meant to kiss her. So, Nanashi was like other men after all it seemed.  The thought both disappointed and excited her.

"Come to the circus this afternoon," he heard himself say.  He saw Midii's brows lift in surprise confirming that he had indeed said the words out loud.

"So it was more than nostalgia," she said softly, a remembering look shadowing her face for a second before she tried again to loosen his hold on her wrist.

"No thanks," she said, tugging harder. "If you won't shoot me then you have no way to make me stay here do you Nanashi?"

"You're afraid to stay," he said, attacking her pride since he was unwilling to hurt her physically.

"I'm not afraid of anything! Especially not you Nanashi," she sputtered angrily.

"Except for small, dark spaces, of course," he answered cuttingly, knowing he hadn't missed his target this time when she paled visibly.

"Fine, I'll stay," she huffed.  It was only slightly past noon.  "What do you expect me to do until show time," she asked, scowling.  "Are you going to stand here and hold my hand all afternoon?"

He dropped her wrist and reached out to touch a finger to a dark smudge of grease on the curve of her cheek.

"You could get cleaned up," he offered.

Her stomach rumbled and Midii decided that the tempting offer of a hot shower could wait until more immediate matters had been settled.

"Can I have something to eat first or are you planning to starve me into submission," she asked, slightly aghast when her words seemed to spark devilish inspiration in the green depths that stared down at her.

"I could probably microwave you something," he said thoughtfully.  "But first you'll have to tell me why you came here."

"I can't believe you're trying to bribe me with 'something' from the microwave," she said disdainfully.  "You'll have to do better than that."

She looked around and caught sight of a few food stands just opening up on the fringe of the deserted circus grounds.

"So?"  Trowa prodded impatiently as he watched Midii delicately lick bright red ketchup from the tips of her slender fingers.  She ignored him and reached for the last French fry in the grease-stained paper basket.  He scowled and surprised her by exercising his quicker reflexes and snatching the French fry himself and swiping it through the ketchup.  He popped it into his mouth whole.

"Talk," he mumbled.

Midii shrugged and pouted.  "Fine.  I didn't come here for any particular reason really.  I was doing a routine transmissions scan to see if I could come up with any leads for a job.  I came across some interesting shipping instructions and voila it turned out the message was for a certain pilot 03 and the instructions were concerning a Gundam mobile suit."

"What did you plan to do with it," Trowa asked.

She looked at him as if he were stupid.

"Sell it of course.  Don't tell me you haven't had any offers?"

He thought of Ralph Kurt.  Of course he had had offers, which proved his point that the Gundams should be destroyed.  They were a danger to peace now where as a year ago they had been used to bring peace about.

But if someone had sent Midii after HeavyArms . . .

"Who sent you," he asked urgently.

"It was my own idea.  I needed the money," she said candidly.  "There's definitely a market but I wasn't working for any particular buyer.  Henri would have had no trouble selling it I assure you."

"Henri?" he asked.

She wondered why she had mentioned his name and now that she had she knew he would come after her when she did not return.  He did not like having her out of his reach for long, he became almost frantic.

"I don't want to go back," she thought and a little of the suffocating feeling she had experienced while trapped in the cockpit came back to her and she shook her head trying to forget.  She shivered, feeling as if the sun had gone behind a cloud

"Midii tell me who he is. Don't be afraid.  I told you that the war is over, it's a new world for everyone.  Including you," Trowa said, the tender feelings from the night before seeping back into his heart when he saw the hopelessness written on her face. He believed her assurance that she had been acting alone.  There was nothing to worry about then, not really. They could go ahead and dispose of the Gundams as planned.

She merely shook her head in disbelief and walked ahead of him toward the trailer.

Cathrine jerked her trailer door open when she heard Trowa's knock.  She'd seen him walking outside with the strange girl and wondered where she'd come from.  She had an awful suspicion.

"Trowa," she cried.  "What's going on?  Who is that you were with earlier?"

She looked around and felt relief that the girl seemed to be gone.  The sudden appearance of strangers frightened Cathrine.  It always seemed to foreshadow Trowa going away again.

"Her name is Midii," Trowa said slowly, wondering exactly what to say about her.  "I knew her during the war."

He kept glancing back at his own trailer.  She had ordered him out while she took a shower.

"Oh no! No Trowa, I don't like this," Cathrine protested.  "She's still here isn't she?  Tell her to leave, I don't want any more trouble.  I don't want you to go!"

Trowa shook his head.

"I'm not leaving Cathy.  I promise.  Could I please just borrow a clean shirt for Midii," Trowa said, trying to be soothing but anxious to get back, afraid she'd be gone if he stayed away too long.

"Be careful," Cathrine begged, handing Trowa a thin pink sweater that had grown too small for her.  "I don't want to lose you."

"Don't worry," Trowa said, surprising the older girl by smiling and leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I can't help it," she whispered agonizingly as he turned and hurried back to his own trailer.  He had changed somehow since that other friend of his had come here.  Since then he'd seemed to be forgetting about the war and now that Midii had come he seemed actually happy.  He had smiled and kissed her.

"Why can't I be happy about this too," Cathrine wondered, clasping her hands over her heart.

Midii tugged uncomfortably on the low-cut sweater that clung tightly to her slender figure leaving nothing to the imagination. The girl she had borrowed it from had very questionable taste in clothes.  Clothes should tease a man, not show him everything in the first glance, Midii thought.  She crossed her arms over her chest and sat in a dark, lonely corner of the stands.

The matinee was crowded because it was the final performance before the circus moved to another colony.  Still she felt strangely isolated and so different from the happy people watching the show.  They all seemed so carefree and adjusted to the new world.  For her there seemed to be no peace.  Would she always go on as she was?  Would she be Henri's little plaything forever simply because he had supported her family during the war?  He had trapped her in this life with him until she believed it was all there was left to her.

That was the truth, that was how her life had to be wasn't it?  She buried her head in her hands then lifted it quickly, the darkness sparking a distant, almost-forgotten memory, a threat and a promise.

"I'll do anything.  Oh please . . ."

She took a few deep breaths and slid over on the bench toward an area of the tent that had better lighting.

Trowa caught movement out of the corner of his eye.  He felt strangely nervous and suddenly helpless with his hands attached to Cathrine's board.  Then he relaxed, he saw her there sitting under a soft yellow beam of light, the light made her hair shine like gold satin.  His fingers flexed, he ached to touch it.  The rest of the performance went by as if in a dream.

"Trowa! Pay attention," Cathrine hissed as she watched him twirl the little paper flower absently between his fingers. "You're on!"

He could play his part even if he were unconscious it seemed.  The roar of the audience was nothing, he only looked for one face.  She was in the crowd, but not a part of it.  She sat all alone.  He raised himself on one hand as the lion circled the ring, he felt the play of muscles beneath the shaggy fur, felt the animal's heart beating beneath his hand.  He pushed off on cue and flipped landing on his feet in the center of the circle, taking his customary bow.  Cathrine watched and let her breath out.  She was surprised he'd made it through this afternoon, his mind so obviously somewhere else.

She sighed again in relief and turned to make her own curtsies to the audience, her full tulle skirt floating around her like drifting flower petals.  When she turned back toward Trowa, all she saw was his mask discarded in the circle of sawdust.

Midii pushed through the crowd.  What was she doing here?  She had to go back, back to what had become her normal life.  Back where she felt nothing and could hide her emotions just as well as Nanashi ever had.  The crowd thinned and she started to run, she ran until she was out of breath, until she was sure she had left him behind.  She sank to her knees and tried to catch her breath, jumping when a hand landed softly on her shoulder.  She looked over her shoulder and saw the little yellow paper flower he held out to her.

She smiled uncertainly, she couldn't help it, those shoes and those big green pants.  For some strange reason she suddenly remembered the little clown face he'd painted on his mobile suit when they'd been with the mercenaries but instead of laughing, she found herself crying instead.

"Midii," he whispered, leaning to kiss her finally.  "Don't go."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

to be continued

broken into parts because too long for FF.net's liking :P