Author's Note: Are these Author's Notes getting annoying? Just tell me. Though this chapter I do believe needs them. I'm back to my angst writing or dramatic writing, as I like to call it. After last chapters complete sap I needed to get to some angst. This is a Trowa chapter. I don't know why, but Trowa has become my favorite of the pilots but I find that he doesn't have any pairings. So it doesn't strike me as strange that Trowa would go off and do something like this after the war. I always saw Trowa as a few years older than the rest anyway. And Roddy, well she's a personification of myself (because I want to have Trowa's babies, hee hee). She is African or from the African colony (I wrote a story about her origins and I'll probably post it here soon) and I love her. Well, if I'm compelled to I'll write more after the chapter just enjoy and tell me what you think.

A honeysuckle-tinged breeze rustled the white curtains of the library and floated over the inhabitant of the room. She was huddle on the sofa reading a boring novel and trying not to think about her present situation. Seven years, that was a long time to think, to revise, and decide. She'd done all three of those things and with a simple glance at her past, all revisions of who she was flew out of the curtain-laden window. With a disheartened sigh she closed the book and stretched her arms high over her head.

"What are you reading?" How could he even dare small talk with her after all this time? This went along with all of his other disrespects and insults, a pile that was too large and numerous to count. Annoyance twilled through her mind and she looked at him with narrowed hazel eyes.

"Why do you care?" her reply came in, what she thought sounded like a calm and collected demeanor. But when viewing his physical expressions and responses she realized that maybe her voice carried a bit more bite than she was used to.

"Right." He said under his breath and faked looking for a novel of his own to read. She, in turn, picked up her previously neglected book and started to read again, though she thought it boring as all hell. Quiet fell over the room, the faint breeze doing nothing but adding to the eerie discomfort that the room was carrying at the moment. He found himself a book, almost as thick as hers, and sat on the adjacent sofa and began to read.

With aggravation she looked up from her present hardback and snorted causing him to look up from his. As soon as their eyes met they both, like school children, looked back down into the volumes. Within minutes, when she was sure that he was preoccupied with his own book, she glared back at him. He did the same but she feigned interest in her novel and turned the page loudly. This game continued for almost ten minutes until neither could take it any longer.

"What!" they both said in unison. There was a pause between the sentences.

"What do you mean what?" they both retorted. Another pause, causing them to catch their composure.

"I was just reading," again in unison both beginning be greatly annoyed with one another.

"So, was I," unison.

"No you weren't, you were looking at me." Unison. This continued until they just both quieted down and stared at one another with frustration growing in both of their physical and mental presences. Both, not wanting for this little twist of fate to continue, took three deep breaths. Trowa, being the gentleman, held out his hand in a showy "you first," gesture and Roddy decided that she would speak.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked, her voice gruff and maddened.

"I wanted a book. Besides, I just thought I let you know that dinner is almost ready."

"Since when do you care if I eat or not?" Roddy asked.

"Roddy, don't do this, it's not necessary."

"Not to you, but you weren't the one left the day before your baby was born, now were you?" she said standing from the sofa and for the second time towering over him.

"If you feel like hitting me again, then do it, though it solves nothing."

"It may not but it sure makes me feel a hell of a lot better to see you with a black eye." She threw the book at him and started towards the door.

"Roddy!" he called to her and she stopped with her hand poised on the knob.

"What Trowa?" she asked still staring at the black oak door that was in front of her.

"If this helps any, I'm sorry." He said looking at the back of her head. There was silence rolling over the room, the same silence that brought the discomfort. She turned away from the door and walked back over to the sofa and sat, her hazel eyes never leaving the apologetic gaze of his emerald ones.

"Okay, explain yourself," she said crossing her arms over her chest and sitting straight up on the sofa. The scene was not lost to Trowa; Roddy looked, to him, like a mother telling her child to explain why he'd taken a cookie from the cookie jar before dinner. She was utterly too calm. Her complete demeanor made Trowa squirm uncomfortably on his equally comfortable couch and caused him to be at a loss for words.

Suddenly it was rather stuffy in the breeze-laden room and Trowa tugged at the collar of his green button down linen shirt and cleared his throat. He'd never been a man of many words. Roddy, knowing this fact and having had extreme intimate moments with him, relished in the thought that he wasn't going to be able to fully explain his actions. Her body composure and facial expressions gave that away; she had a completely smug look on her face and golden sparkles in her eyes, which Trowa knew meant that she was victorious. With shaky hands and breaths, he began.

"When we married, you knew that I was afraid. You probably knew that more than I did, but you stayed with me."

"Did you not want to marry me, Trowa?" she asked, a bit of surprise forming in her hazel orbs.

"No, I always wanted to marry you. Ever since I saw you at the circus performance, I wanted you to bear my children."

"Then why did you…" a forefinger to her full lips stopped her speech and she sat back against the green leather.

"I was scared. My whole life I was a mercenary. I've known nothing but war and bitterness, and death, my whole life and when I met you I was so happy. I couldn't handle it, my mind was overloaded and I did the only knew how, I ran." His breaths were shallow and tears threatened his green eyes, but he held them back, Trowa wasn't accustomed to crying.

"You didn't think you deserved me?" she asked, shock laden in her voice.

"How could I? You were so good and loving, and perfect. I remember that day we met. You were wearing this green dress and your hair was up in a ponytail. You were standing waiting for my autograph and the first words you said to me were: "why the circus?" Your smile was winning and I couldn't help but talk to you and I talk to no one." He stopped; a tear had retreated from his eye and slipped down his cheek. She was stunned into silence. Those images of the first time they'd met rolled in her mind like a movie; she couldn't believe that he remembered that so clearly.

"My mind, the day I left was so clouded. I knew that you would be okay without me, you always were. I was afraid that I wouldn't be a good father, a good husband, or a good man. I guess in the end I wasn't. I went back to the circus and Catherine hated me. I was there for a year, and then I thought I'd come back to you. I tracked you down and you'd just started getting involved with the D.R. Party. You were campaign manager for Representative Healy, he lost but you got extreme recognition. I wasn't a part of your life anymore, it was only you and Augustus."

"You came back?"

"Yeah, I stood outside your door and listened to you sing our son to sleep. I wish I could have been there, watching you be a mother. It was then that I took off the ring and left it outside the door. I realized that I couldn't just waltz back into your life, so I decided to always make sure that you two were safe. I was going to be your guardian angel, which was the least I could do. So, I followed you, stalked you, to every city, every colony, every place that you and Gus moved. The white house with the water lilies out front, the loft apartment at the top of the Fenway office building, the small neighborhood on L1 that had a baseball field at the end of the block, and the last place where you live now the white house with the green shutters, with white lace curtains and a small cocker-spaniel that walks Gus to and from school." To any other woman, this information would be cause to run from the room and never look back, but to Roddy, it made her feel secure, safe, enduring. He'd followed her everywhere, he knew every detail but been too scared to ever knock on the door. She was shaking, and tears were washing down her face in shock and utter relief. Part of her mind said stop him from talking and hug him but her sensibilities took over; this was still the man that left her seven years ago, she needed more. So, she wiped her face and composed herself and looked at him with strong eyes.

"You followed me?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the crying and strain.

"Everywhere. I know everything about you. I know the day you cut your hair. I know the last guy you went out on a date with. I know the shower soap and shampoo that you use. I know that Gus's favorite food is Macaroni and Cheese and that the cocker spaniel's name is Ocean named so by Gus because she has one blue eye and one brown eye. I know that you don't like for Gus to stop at that park on his way back from school. I know that you just recently stopped wearing your wedding ring." She couldn't fight the tears, they fell too quickly for her to wipe away.

"Do you know that you're his favorite Gundam Pilot, that he loves the circus and clowns? Do you know that every time I look at him, I see you? He has green eyes and auburn hair and he smiles like you."

"Does he know, about us?"

"No." He gave her a tissue and she took it without hesitation, trying to compose herself again.

"I've talked with him." he said silently and she looked at him with confusion.

"What?" she said in a shocked whisper.

"He was walking from school and decided to play at the playground that you don't like him to play at. He was on the merry-go-round with the dog and I just walked up. He stopped, completely awed by me and I was equally amazed by him. We didn't say much and he told me to not tell you that I was at the playground. I guess I broke my promise." She looked at him with tear-soaked red eyes and an equally red nose. She shook her head and leapt from the couch and sprinted out of the door and down the hall towards her room. Trowa was after her, his long legs catching up to her short strides quickly. She reached her room and tried to slam the door, but his foot was in it before she could close it. He opened the door and was met with a slap to the face.

"Fuck you! How could you? For seven years I waited and waited thinking that you were gone or dead or… and you were right there!" She was screaming, the sound of her voice could be heard all over the house. She walked towards him, her fist flailing at his chest; his face was stoic and he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall.

"Roddy, I'm sorry." He said in a low whisper. She freed her hands and slapped him.

"I hate you!" she yelled, still hitting his chest with all of her will. His grip on her was tight and she struggled in his arms. He grabbed her hands and held them firmly trying to make her stop hitting him and she squirmed violently, hot tears streaming down her face and his.

"I'm sorry." He kept saying over and over again soothingly. These words became his mantra and he watched her struggle to be free of him.

"I hate you," she said in a low whisper, her tears still falling, though slower this time.

"I love you." he said in a shaky breath his hand traced down her face and wiped away some stray tears.

"No, don't say that to me. It means nothing," she moved her face out of the way trying to avoid such an intimate touch.

"I'm sorry." He said again and she stopped struggling against him and laid her head in his chest. Her body became slack and he held her up against him as she cried.

"It was never because of you that I left, Roddy, it was always me. There were things I should have told you before I let it go too far, things about me that you never knew and that I should have told you. I'm so sorry." He stroked her hair and felt the warm wetness of her tears staining his shirt.

"Stop saying that." She said looking up from his chest, " I know you're sorry, but I can't forgive you." she stepped away from him and walked over to the door. He didn't say anything he just nodded and walked towards the door that she stood by.

"For so long, I thought you just didn't want me and that I wasn't good enough. So I tried to make myself the best I could. I don't hate you, Trowa. There is no way I could hate the father of my child. But I never want to see you again. I want you to forget about me and Gus. We are not your family, I am not your wife and he is not your child. We are the family you abandoned. We are dead to you." She stood at the door watching as his eyes turned from saddened to stoic. He closed the emerald orbs and inhaled deeply. When they opened again they were filled with hurt, regret and resolution. He bit back the anger and the pain, turned from Roddy and walked out of the opened door.

She slammed the heavy wooden door behind her and leaned against it. She wrapped her small arms around her chest and slid down the outside of the door, instantly regretting her decision with Trowa.  Truthfully, she'd never stopped loving him, but she'd already made up her mind those years ago. Without him she was fine, without him she'd prospered, and she would keep succeeding without him.

Author's Note: My God this chapter is intense! Out of all the pilot's Trowa has the most skeletons in his closet. I know it seems pretty harsh for her to completely throw him from her life, but she's trying to be strong for herself and for her family. Don't worry, there is love there and ::sighs heavily:: love conquers all ::loves clichés and bats her eyes:: I think I have only a few more chapters until this is over, so enjoy it while it lasts. Besides, we want to see our guys happy.