Disclaimer: okay, I don't own Trowa or any of the other original GW characters, I can't help that.
Copyright: my story, my characters (apart from the originals), so if u wanna use 'em, please just ask… not to scare u or anything… J anyway, just enjoy! (and I know that this title is spelled wrong, but I don't take French!)
Warning: mild swearing here, thus the PG13 rating…
Deja' Vu
The smooth hum of the engine softened as Cala pulled up to an iron-gate that led to a sleek, large building. The dark glass reflected the mid-day sunlight. The manicured landscape, edging the curved building, framed the ideal depiction of the perfect office headquarters for market leading, multibillion dollar-valued companies.
Almost a Quatre Raberba Winner setting.
A stern guard stepped out of the small stone pavilion to the side of the gate, and she readily flashed him her ID. After a quick glance at the picture and her face, the guard immediately admitted her through with a polite nod, the gate opening obligingly. When she'd parked the motorcycle, unbuckled her helmet and settled everything in place, she entered the building. The cool, conditioned air of the lobby, surrounded her. A fair-haired secretary sat at a large, granite-countered front desk, busily answering phones while typing on a computer. When the woman noticed Cala, she smiled warmly and mouthed, 'Go right up', returning her attention to her work immediately after.
She entered an elevator that took her slowly to the top story. The soft melody, with the smooth sounds of the piano, in the elevator car made her curl her lips in a small smile. Cala stepped out of the elevator platform, only shortly viewing the open corridors, lit by the bright sunshine from wide windows here and there.
"Where on Earth have you been?!" called a strained voice from behind. She whirled around to see a stressed looking middle-aged man gone to seed and a handsome, more energetic, younger man rushing towards her.
"Ms. Abassi! You should really stop running off, like that. There's important business you must attend to," scolded the older, shorter man breathlessly, stopping and panting from the run. He had developed new wrinkle lines in his pale face. His hairline was starting to recede and the remaining light brown hair was in slight disarray. His dark brown eyes were worrisome.
"Not only that, but you scared all of us. I thought you'd been hurt or something had happened." The young man with almost black hair was about her age and his astonishing hazel-hinted eyes were genuinely concerned. He had darker skin than the other older man did and he obviously had an Arabian heritage. He lowered his head a fraction to meet Cala's eyes; he was only about an inch or two taller than she was.
"I left you and Azim notes explaining everything, though." Cala raised an eyebrow, but otherwise seemed amused. A middle-aged Arabian man storming through the sun-filled halls interrupted the group with a mighty holler that echoed.
"Calista Abassi! I'd like to hear you give a good explanation for this one!" She flinched and cringed only once, and smiled brightly as she turned to face the looming danger head on.
"Azim, how nice to see you. Fine day, isn't it? How's life?" she said cheerfully, ignoring his shouts of rage, tilting her head upward to look Azim in the face. He was towering over her, well above six feet.
"Fine for me, but in a very short time it's not going to be very pleasant for you." Cala never faltered her sunny smile at his harsh snarl and completely ignored his not-so-subtle threat.
"I explained everything in my note, Azim. Just calm down." She softened her voice into a soothing tone, trying to at least quiet him.
"I will not calm down! And you did not explain anything in your damned note! All you wrote was that you would be absent from our lives for a time. No details of where you were or when you would be back. You could have been hurt and we wouldn't know where to find you!" Through his shouting she could hear that his voice was rough with worry, as if he had been screaming and shouting for quite some time.
"Azim, Azim, I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. I'm just fine." Calista tried to allay Azim, but to no avail. Fortunately, they were interrupted before he could completely blow his top.
"Excuse me, but Ms. Abassi, there is a lot of unfinished business that should be taken care of. What were you thinking, leaving Khan Enterprises all alone, without your supervision? Even if it was only temporary, you still shouldn't have done it. A day to the business world is enough for a stock market crash. The economy could crumble around our ears. Diligence in your obligations and responsibilities is important. Especially since you have recently become the owner, along with your responsibility as CEO. There are many important business deals and obligations that could not be carried out, because your approval was needed and you were not there…" He seemed to have run out of breath and Calista swiftly took advantage of that.
"First of all, Sachs, dear, it's now called Abassi Enterprises like it was originally named, before Uncle Hafiz took over and changed the name. Second of all, I promoted you to vice president and chief supervisor thus allowing you to handle most of the 'important business' that was upheld because of me. I'm sure that my responsibilities did not suffer too much while I was gone for about a day and a half," she pointed out, very diplomatically, as not to hurt Sachs's feelings.
"The change of the company name was something I was not authorized to oversee, so it is one of my many examples of things that only you, as CEO and owner, alone, can supervise," he sniffed sulkily, though it was obvious that he was pleased by her absolute confidence in him. "Also, Quatre Raberba Winner called this morning saying that he will be able to make the scheduled appointment, today, after all," he added as an afterthought.
"And I bet you've been fretting about this ever since then, which has made you totally and undeniably tense right about now." She grinned ironically, before muttering softly to herself, "Dammit, I thought Winner canceled the meeting."
"He did and now he's just changed it." The younger man from before input into the conversation, obviously disliking being excluded.
"Allah help deliver us from indecisive businessmen," said Calista irritably and started striding quickly toward her office, the others following her lead. "I was hoping to make a final check on the company's condition review and maybe tie up some loose ends. I'll have to deal with this now, instead. Okay, here's the game plan. Sachs, you deal with the rest of the company at the moment, handling the condition summary and those lists of complaints that we get everyday. You know the usual. Azim, we'll finish our discussion later. Now is certainly not the time. Please bring the WM file to my office," she said professionally, naturally taking charge.
"I'll need to explain our little… predicament to Master Quatre, after all," she said, the phrase more to herself than to Azim. After she had apparently finished her orders, Sachs and Azim started walking back to the elevator, planning to obey her instructions to the word.
"Hold on. I want you both to meet me back in my office after my meeting with Winner." She dismissed them again with the flick of her wrist and turned to the young man, still at her side.
"Sorry about ignoring you, Cemal. I hate to admit it, but Sachs is right about this. Leaving, if only for a little while, does take its toll on the workload," said Calista, smiling charmingly and Cemal's expression loosened.
"It's okay, Cala. I know you were just taking care of business matters." He bestows a warm smile upon her.
"Well, when I meet with Winner I would like to talk to him in private, so that means you scatter and find something else to do while I chat with him. Okay?" Her transition to a stern business manner stunned him into a moment's stupor. After the statement's meaning sunk in, Cemal began to protest, but she rapidly interrupted him. "This is something private, Cemal. And it's very important to me." Her gaze was serious and he scowled in response.
"Dammit, Cala. Why can't you let me in on this secret?" His frustration was tangible.
"Because, Cemal. Azim is the only one who knows about all of my secrets and it'll stay like that. We've had this conversation before." She sounded overly patient, but the dangerous glitter in her brine-edged eyes contradicted her serene manner.
"You're letting Winner know about this one. Why can't I?!" The suppressed anger in his voice was particularly apparent to the preoccupied CEO beside him.
"Cemal-bhai, please." She twisted her head, letting her intense regal blue eyes gazing into his frustrated hazel ones for a moment. And he conceded, though a shadow crossed over his expression at her use of his 'brotherly' nickname.
"All right, all right," he muttered reluctantly, accepting her choice. "But if anything happens just give a shout and I'll be in there faster than you can imagine." Calista giggled and smiled widely.
"Cemal, I'll be just fine and I can take care of myself. I've done it before," she said, a laugh audible in her voice.
"Well… it's just in case." He seemed to be slightly embarrassed. She just grinned and stopped in front of a pair of wide, thick doors decorated in the Arabian style, deeply engraved with carvings of praises to Allah and swirls and designs symbolizing loyalty, honesty, etc. Swinging it open, she stepped into a small vestibule with sliding, glass paneled French doors that led into the office. Cemal, jokingly, slid one of the doors open for her and performed a formal bow, waiting for her to enter. She chuckled gleefully again and entered with a regal nod.
Calista's office was large and open. Wide and tall windows allowed the beautiful afternoon sun to light the office. A large oak desk sat in the corner of the room; the sun's glare almost completely blocking it from view. It was a corner office with windows on both sides and skylights everywhere. Jewel colors dominated everything and Muslim decorations, as well as European decorations, (of her heritage) were placed everywhere. A few chairs rested before the huge desk, while in the middle of the room two couches and arrangements of armchairs and assortments of divans were centered around a rather large, oval glass and cherry wood coffee table.
Calista sighed wearily and flopped onto one of the comfortable looking couches. Cemal hesitated, trying to decide whether it was proper to sit next to her when the brisk click of the door closing again sounded. Azim had just entered with the 'top secret' files and carrying a silver tea server tray, full of scrumptious cakes and cookies as well as a small pot of tea, in his hands. Azim strode over to Calista and assumed the position beside her, setting down the tray onto the table. Cemal frowned and sighed frustratingly. Azim began to speak to Calista, ignoring Cemal, and Cemal walked resignedly over to a chair across from the couch and sat.
"Cala, I brought those files here. What are you going to do with them?" he said impatiently, tapping the mysterious files in an old brown accordion folder stamped with 'top secret', and marked WM, on the nearby coffee table and Cala poured, thoroughly composed, a cup of tea into a cup, offering it to Cemal.
"Well, Azim you know what's in there. You tell me what you think I'm going to do," she replied flippantly, almost sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Cemal leaned over and accepted the cup from her small hands.
"Calista, it's not the time to fool around. Winner could totally misinterpret you and then the whole company your uncle and father built could go down-" Cemal suddenly ceased his attempt at lecturing when he noticed the look of hurt anguish cross onto Calista's face. She trembled slightly, an inner battle warring inside of her. Azim glared angrily at him.
"Oh, sorry, Cala- I didn't mean…" he trailed off helplessly, looking away ashamed and Azim motioned for him to leave, but Calista glanced up, seeing him, and shook her head. He wasn't purposely insensitive, only careless.
"I'm fine, Azim. Cemal, it's okay. It's just I guess that I'm not totally over Uncle Hafiz's… and my father's passing away has always been a sore spot on me. Anyway, don't mind me, go on." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and she was interrupted. "Come in."
The door slowly slid open and in stepped Quatre Raberba Winner.
~*~*~
"Am I interrupting anything, Ms. Calista, I presume?" Quatre R. Winner asked the staring threesome politely. Calista's eyes lit up, playfully, forgetting all about the previous conversation in her delight of seeing Quatre. Cemal, noting the twinkle in her eyes, began to glare ferociously at Quatre.
"Nope, you're not interrupting a thing, Master Quatre. At least nothing interesting. Come right in. I'll kick these two out. Azim, we'll finish this discussion later. Cemal, you're welcome to stay outside if you'd like, but don't try eavesdropping. The outer doors are soundproof." Azim nodded and trooped out indifferently, dragging an avert Cemal along.
"Now onto business. Do you have any idea why I wanted to meet with you in the first place?" The famously smooth, suave Quatre Winner was immediately taken aback at Calista's bluntness. She smiled, deeply amused at his discomfort.
"Well… Uh- not really, no."
"Ah. Then I'll have to start at the beginning, I guess. I apologize for being so direct. It's a bad habit of mine. Would you like some refreshments or tea?" She grinned mischievously. Quatre relaxed. The woman was well mannered, just very teasing. He had never met a woman like that. Sure, he knew a few brusque businessmen, but he'd never met a businesswoman like that. In fact, there really were no businesswomen, besides this one. The wives of businessmen usually excluded themselves from the business world, or their husbands did. It was considered somewhat improper to have your wife dictate to you decisions of your career. Quatre had never understood that, but then again, he'd never had a wife.
Women were admitted into politics, Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yui being a perfect and living example, but they weren't exactly common. Hafiz Khan was just about the only man Quatre had known that would let a woman run his company. Surprising, since most men wouldn't trust a woman with anything important, and that Hafiz's company was his life. Hafiz must've really loved the girl.
"No, but thank you for the offer. I bet you learned it from your father. Your directness, that is. Hafiz always got right to the point."
"Well, I might have learned it from him, but he's not my father. I'm his niece. He had no children with my aunt, but he still refused to marry another woman just to sire an heir. You know, he always says-" she cut herself off abruptly and looked away. She continued haltingly, attempting to act as if nothing were wrong. "I mean, he always said that why should he marry again when he loved Aunt Sharma, even though the Koran allows it. And that if worst came to worst, he always had me as a 'back up' heir. Saying so, just to get me all riled up, of course." Quatre sat next to her and patted her shoulder, sympathetically.
"Hafiz Khan was a good man. Definitely a shrewd businessman, though, frankly to my family's somewhat disadvantage. My father often told me about the times he beat him at poker." He laughed. "My father always said that Hafiz had to have cheated because no man could have ever had a streak of luck that wide."
"I don't know about that, but I know Uncle Hafiz hated losing." She gave a small laugh too, then cleared her throat and went on to business. "By the way, do you remember the first time that I met you?"
"Hmm. No, sorry. I didn't think I've ever met you before now." Quatre wondered briefly just how a meeting with each other had to do with anything. Though, with Calista's bluntness and 'habit' of being to the point it probably did.
"You're wrong and you have a fairly bad memory, if I may be so bold. I met you when your father and Uncle Hafiz were at a private meeting together. You were playing catch outside with a baseball and I wanted to play."
Flashback to a hot summer day, years ago. Quatre was about eight and Calista was about a year or two younger. It was a hot summer day and because of immense boredom Quatre was playing a game of catch with a baseball and mitt on the grassy lawn of a huge, palace-like mansion. A younger Calista, in desert gypsy clothes, approached him from exiting the mansion, a little shyly.
"Hello. I'm C'lista, what's your name?" Quatre smiled kindly, his eyes sweeping over her plain, worn clothes and replied politely.
"I'm Quatre, Master Quatre."
"Can I play, Mast'a Quat'a?" she said, not able to pronounce his name quite right because of a missing front tooth. He hesitated, not wanting to let a little gypsy girl play with him, afraid of embarrassment. His face suddenly lit up with an idea.
"I'll let you play with me, but only if you can catch this ball." And he throws it high up into the air. Calista gasps, but swiftly runs backward to catch it. Not seeing where she was going, she tripped into an ornamental fountain in the middle of the lawn. An alarmed Quatre quickly ran over to her and helped her out of the water. She spluttered, but came out all right. When she stopped spluttering she held up the baseball clutched in her hand.
Comprehension dawned on Quatre's face and he blushed a little. "Now, I remember. You wanted to play with me and I said that you couldn't."
"Nope, you just tried to avoid playing with an annoying little girl. Of course you failed. The usual occurrence with me." She smirked amusedly. "And of course, I forgave you. But this is all just sidetracking. The whole point is that at the meeting your father and my uncle called they were discussing something important. Guess what that something is."
"I have no idea," said Quatre honestly.
"My uncle told me about it in his will. Right after the lawyer announced me official heir to his half of the company, thus making me president of the company, he announced that I was betrothed. Here's the evidence. Now, guess who I'm betrothed to." She flipped open the accordion folder and set the legal documents into his hands. In it was the marriage agreement with the signatures of witnesses, her uncle and his father. Quatre's eyes widened at the evidence and at the implication of whom Calista was betrothed to.
"It can't… It can't possibly have been me?"
"It was you. It's a good thing Uncle Hafiz is dead or I would have murdered him right then and there."
"But- I can't-" Calista held up her hand to interrupt his nervous babbling.
"I know. You're engaged to Catherine Bloom, the famous dagger thrower. Don't worry. I've got it figured out with my lawyers. The whole point of the betrothal was a consolidation between our two companies. My company does not have an oil industry as part of the enterprise and my uncle wanted to become partners with your father. Therefore, adding a strong oil industry to our company and increasing the strength in your company's weaker assets. A mutual benefit. But your father seemed to be worried about your- welfare, so suggested a blood union." She paused to smirk cynically.
"Since my uncle didn't have any children he suggested me as a likely candidate and your father agreed. I don't have Khan blood since Uncle Hafiz is an uncle-in-law, but my father's sister married my uncle. And anyway the company was originally my father's. But that's not the point. My lawyers found a loophole out of the marriage agreement. Since, the main purpose of the agreement was to integrate our companies and to marry you off; all we have to do is combine the companies. Then, we're all set. That is since you're going to be married soon, I don't have to marry you, just as long as you're married." Quatre, who had been listening quite intently to the woman's professional business talk, sighed with obvious relief.
"Thank Allah. I don't think that it's really all that simple, though." An exasperated raised eyebrow broke Calista's professional mask and Quatre backed off the subject. "Do I have to be married before the actual merging?"
She frowned a little. "I'm not sure. I'll ask my lawyers about it. They haven't drawn up all the papers that need to be signed. After I sign them I'll send them over to your headquarters for your signature. Oh, by the way. You don't mind the name being 'Abassi-Winner Incorporated Enterprises', do you? I've turned the company name back to the original." Quatre stared incredulously into Calista's face, surprised, and saw the humor that had suddenly lit up her dark blue eyes. He grinned and played along.
"Not really. Why are you asking?"
"Oh, nothing really. It's just that your father and Uncle Hafiz had been arguing about the name for a while. You know, about whose name would come first, as a matter of priority and importance? After the lawyers told me this, I started laughing hysterically. I just found it extremely funny. What about you, Master Quatre?" She parodied a solemn manner, cracking another grin from him.
"Well, it does seem very funny. How did they finally agree?" He arched an eyebrow.
"Well, a witness suggested alphabetical order and they finally agreed. But then they started arguing about which type of alphabetical order. Whether to have it backward alphabetical order or to have it proper alphabetical order." She started going into peals of giggles, Quatre following her suit. She tossed her head back and gave a laugh, that twinkling laugh that had intrigued Trowa. Quatre raised his eyebrows and stared at her. Calista shook her hair out of her eyes and stared back at Quatre. The black strands looked alive in the sunlight.
"Is something wrong, Master Quatre?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
"No, it's just you remind me very strongly of someone. But just in a different sort of way. It's hard to explain. And why do you keep calling me 'Master Quatre'? I'm hardly your equal, much less your master." At that Calista smiled appreciatively.
"I'm glad you noticed. It was my nickname for you. At the time when I met you, you thought I was on a much lower class than you and insisted I call you that. So, now I have a habit of doing so." Wrinkling her nose she laughed the laugh again.
"Oh, I don't entirely remember that." He seemed puzzled.
"Of course, you don't. It was a really long time ago and I would hardly remember it, myself. It's just that I've inherited one of those photographic memories, so I do remember back then. I can still remember the look on your face when your father introduced me to you." She chuckled, mischievously. "Oh, by the way, who do I remind you of? I'm just curious."
"Well, you remind me of a woman who was once just a girl. She went by the name of Relena, back then. Of course, now she's all grown up, but you remind me a little of the younger her. And obviously, you're very different. When you laugh, though, the resemblance is quite obvious." Calista's eyes widened and her face paled several shades. She quickly looked anywhere but at Quatre and became stiflingly formal.
"I guess, you'd better be going. There are a lot of things you must need to attend to. I'll escort you out." She stood abruptly, turning and leaving the office, sliding the French doors and swinging the heavy Arabian doors open. But keeping the door wide open for Quatre to walk through. A very perplexed Quatre hesitated before following her. By the time he had walked out of the office, intending to apologize for whatever offense that he had unknowingly committed, Calista was out of sight and Cemal was standing in her stead, waiting for him. Cemal was glaring malevolently at Quatre, seemingly very unhappy about something.
"Master Winner, Ms. Abassi has instructed me to escort you out of the building. Please follow me." It seemed to be very difficult for Cemal not to be hostile. He whirled and started marching away. Quatre raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and followed.
After Quatre had gone down the elevator with Cemal, the outer door to Calista's office swung silently shut again. Calista stood in a tiny alcove in the hallway that had been concealed by the open door. The look on her face was pensive and melancholic. She opened the doors to her office and entered again. Collapsing on a couch, she closes her eyes. It was almost as if she were sleeping but when a knock on the door interrupted the hum of the air conditioning she answered dully.
"Come in." Azim walked in and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Calista and sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"Cala, I know you're not going to tell me what just happened in here, but I'll take a guess. Winner mentioned the Peacecraft woman, didn't he?" Calista couldn't meet his direct gaze, but replied devoid of emotion.
"It's Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yui, now. And anyway, if you must know, he did."
"Oh, Cala. I've known you your whole life and I know you're not a coward. You've always been very brave your entire life. But, now you're afraid of talking to one person. I've seen you face down ten full-grown men and not even blink. Just her name scares you. Why can't you just talk to her? She'll understand the situation." The older man rested a comforting hand on her shoulder in a paternal gesture.
"I know that she will. She'll have to, given the circumstances. It's just… that I'm afraid of her reaction. She might have to believe it, but she doesn't have to accept it." She finally looked at Azim, her eyes begging for understanding and sympathy. Azim sighed sadly and patted Calista's shoulder. A small and only a little forced smile appeared on her face. She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her slacks.
"You're right, Azim. I should talk to her. And I promise I will. That is if I happen to see her around. Which I probably will, since the circus troupe I've joined up with does seem to travel to the city, where she lives, pretty often," she said with a gleam in her eyes. Azim jumped up, horrified, and almost spilling the full cup of tea that he'd been nursing absently in his left hand.
"The circus?! You can't possibly have meant the circus?! In your letter you said you were looking for another job, not the circus?! I thought all your crazy escapades were over with, already! Why do you need a job?! Owning Abassi Enterprises is a job!" A knock on the door interrupted his dumbfounded raving.
"Come in," Calista called demurely and Sachs entered.
"Ms. Abassi, what would you like to discuss with me?"
"I was just explaining that particular subject to Azim. Please sit down, Sachs, this might come as a shock and I certainly wouldn't want to have you fall and hurt yourself." She gestured to a couch and tugged Azim back down beside her.
"Now, kindly, explain what you mean, Calista." Azim struggled to keep his voice down.
"If you really want me to, Azim. The fact of the matter is that I've just accepted a job opening as an acrobat and dagger thrower in a traveling circus troupe. This means that since they move around a bit. You two will have to take charge for a little while. I'll return every now and then to take care of the big things. Don't worry, this is only temporary. You know what it's for, Azim, so don't start complaining again." A genuine, merry glint in her eyes annoyed Azim, and Sachs looked utterly stunned.
"But… but, Ms. Abassi-" His bemused protest was ignored by everyone else in the room.
"Don't you start whining, Sachs," she said absently, standing and dusting off stray lint on her trousers. "This is very important. I'll be back before you know it." She straightened purposefully and strode out; leaving Sachs and Azim still more confounded. After a moment of shock passed, the two men looked at each other: Sachs, opening and closing his mouth speechlessly, and Azim, grimacing unpleasantly. It was the latter of the two that spoke first.
"I'm not going to be the one to tell Cemal this." Sachs made a face at Azim's grim statement. Then, Calista stuck her head back into the doorway.
"By the way, don't tell Cemal until I'm gone. Chances are, he'll do something stupid and hurt himself," she added as an afterthought and disappeared again.
~*~*~
Meanwhile back at the circus…
"What do you mean she had to leave?! It's late! The show's going to start in half an hour! She just can't do that! The only other person with the audacity to leave like that was you and you're the exception!" The ringmaster was blowing his top at Trowa and Catherine, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. Both Trowa and Catherine had had to explain to him why Cala wasn't there and he had not reacted pleasantly in the least. A sudden knock on the door interrupted the outraged ringmaster.
"Come on in, it's open," Catherine called when the ringmaster refused to answer. The door swung open and Cala stepped in.
"Sorry about leaving earlier. Can I speak to Catherine, for a moment? Someone told me that she was here." The ringmaster's eyes widened and he seemed to be about to explode. Cala was unperturbed by the intensity of his stare. She glanced at Catherine and tossed her a wide smile. Catherine smiled automatically in return.
"Since she's here, I'll just borrow her for a second. Be right back." She beckoned to Catherine. "By the way, you don't mind if I add Blizzard as part of the act, do you?"
"What? Why would you do that? We already have horses in the show. We don't need another one." The anger had dissipated from the ringmaster's expression, displaced by confusion.
"You'll see." She winked mischievously, as she and Catherine stepped out, leaving the ringmaster and Trowa were slightly baffled. After a second of silence, Trowa shrugged it off and left with the ringmaster to prepare for the upcoming show.
Catherine and Cala had entered Catherine's trailer when Catherine decided to finally initiate conversation. "What did you need to talk to me about?" she asked, going directly to the point, deciding that Cala wasn't one to adore tact. To her surprise, Cala blushed slightly.
"Well, I have no costume for doing this sort of thing. I've never performed this act in public before, so I have no idea what I should wear. It's slightly embarrassing, but…" she trailed off, looking pleadingly. Catherine smiled.
"It's all right. I grew up here, so when a newcomer arrives I usually help them out with this sort of thing. Don't worry about it. I've got an old costume that could fit you. I'll modify it a bit. Do you like dresses?"
"Not really. It restricts movement altogether too much."
"I see. I figured that you didn't. We'll have to do some re-modifying and quick if you want it before the start of the next show." The two women started getting busy, one finding scissors, the other digging up a sewing machine.
Trowa and the ringmaster waited fretfully outside of the main tent by the performer entrance, watching the seats inside fill up. Or at least the ringmaster was waiting fretfully. He was dressed in his performance attire and pacing around and around in circles. Trowa, in his clown suit and half domino mask, was perfectly poised.
"What's taking them so long? They're supposed to be the stars. We can't start without them. And what exactly was Cala doing this morning. She wasn't supposed to leave. Coming back only half an hour before a show starts isn't exactly the greatest action for a beginner either."
"Calm down. She got here, didn't she? She'll be fine. You saw what she could do before and she's great at it. Cathy's coming soon, so you don't have to worry about her either," stated Trowa in his calm and unemotional way. The return of the typical Trowa was at hand, for the moment in the least. Catherine entered, in her pretty attire of daring dagger thrower and astonishing acrobat, smiling broadly.
"See. Nothing to worry about," Trowa remarked, coolly, still normally, but hiding subtle relief.
"Hello, you two. May I present our newest performer, the Constellation." Cala strolled in. She wore a dark blue tunic with glittering white rhinestones in the shape of a star on the front and back. It was paired with black leggings and soft black ballet shoes. Both of which hugged her slender and just slightly curved form and made Trowa lift an eyebrow, questioningly. He glanced at his sister who was smiling smugly, at some secret victory. Suddenly, the lights went out in the main tent, signaling the ringmaster's cue.
"I've got to go. If you think that's all right Catherine, I'll trust your judgment." He turned and jogged into the tent. Trowa looked toward Cala again, but she was gone. He looked at his sister and she smiled, smugly, again. She shook her head. Trowa sighed and stared back into the main tent.
About five minutes into the beginning of the show, Cala appeared again with Blizzard by her side. She flashed a smile at Catherine, totally ignoring Trowa. Her attitude completely offset Trowa, but his cue, for his shared performance with Catherine, came up before he can question the situation. Trowa's whole performance was excellent, better than usual. It even received a standing ovation from the crowd. It was as if he was trying to impress someone, specifically someone who wasn't in the audience. After his exit, Catherine stayed behind for a moment to introduce Cala.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce our newest member. She is a great acrobat and a wonderful dagger thrower. And here is the Constellation!"
The spotlight glided upward to the high wire. Standing on the thin line up above was Cala. With all black dress she seemed like a shadow, but her glowing blue eyes, that were enhanced by the dark clothing, ensured everyone that she was very real. The excitement of the crowd increased as a hush fell. Cala simply stood there, unmoving, and stared back at the audience. Trowa could feel the panic rising in his throat. When the suspense of it all peaked (and Trowa could feel the ringmaster begin to go into a fit of hysterics), Cala smiled smugly and confidently tossed the hair out of her eyes. She bowed, still smiling, and ostentatiously extracted her three daggers.
Someone had dragged out a target and she flipped, throwing the first dagger onto the bulls-eye of the target. She repeated the act that she had demonstrated to the ringmaster the night before, the crowd oohing and ahhing to her talent and precision. However, this time as she jumped off of the high wire in her grand finale of twists and flips, she whistled loudly. Before the echo of the whistle could disappear, Blizzard entered the arena from the sidelines, where he'd been waiting patiently and cantered towards center of the ring. She landed on his back standing just before he had reached the center. As soon as she had stepped foot on his back, the horse stopped dead, ending up in the center of the arena. The crowd went wild and started whistling and cheering, everyone giving an enthusiastic standing ovation. Her smug smile unchecked, she blew a kiss to the audience, bowed again and the spotlight went out. The crowd kept cheering after, dying down only a little, until the lights came back on.
When the spotlight returned, however, a clown car was parked in her place. Some of the crowd groaned, but soon they were all laughing at the silly stunts the clowns pulled. Back in the side tent, Cala rested her head on Blizzard's neck. Her eyes shut tightly, only opening when Trowa approached her, dressed back in regular attire.
"Hey there, stargazer. What's going on? Did I miss a cue or something?" She gave him a weak smile.
"No, I was just worried if you were tired. You look like you are." His face was the usual bland expression, but his voice revealed concern.
"Well, I must admit that I am exhausted. I think it's worth it though, the exhilaration from the crowd is just…" she trailed off, shaking her head, and looking for the right word.
"Irreplaceable?" He half-smiled, his eyes full of understanding.
"Yep. That's it. I haven't experienced that for a long time." Trowa walked nonchalantly over to Blizzard and began to stroke him.
"So, what do you do when you're not throwing daggers off the high wire?" he asked casually as he scratched behind Blizzard's ear, making the horse toss his head with pleasure.
"Why ask? It's really boring. I can't take it usually. I used to do something really thrilling, but after my uncle passed away…" she trailed off again and stared downward, avoiding eye contact.
"He meant a lot to you." Trowa, completely sympathetic, rested his hands on her thin shoulders. His deep emerald eyes were tender as he stared at Cala's sad face.
"Yes, yes he did mean a lot to me. He was like a second father to me. Well, I had to take his workplace." She acknowledged his comforting gesture by meeting his eyes.
"Ah. Family tradition?" Raising an eyebrow.
"Sort of. I'm a girl, so I sort of broke family tradition. It's usually the eldest boy that takes over, but I'm the only one left so I had to." Cala smirked sardonically.
"Don't feel too bad. I have no real family, only Cathy." His face smoothing into passiveness again.
"Well, Catherine is wonderful. You shouldn't take her for granted." It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, making a subtle implication of an accusation.
"I've realized that's what I've been doing for the past few years. Now that she's leaving the troupe I guess I've realized just how much she means to me." He admitted to the accusation with no obvious shame, but his eyes clouded with guilt.
She saw it and sympathized. "Well, don't worry. That happens to everyone. It even happened to me." Cala tried a self-mocking smile. "Before my uncle died I guess I figured that he'd always be there and I never really paid attention to him. Of course, I spoke to him and visited him a lot, but after I left home the closeness between us got lost somewhere along the way of me growing up. And after my aunt died… It was really all my fault though. I know that he understood that I had to live my own life and be my own person, but I should have tried harder… He was like a second father to me, my world when I was younger, and I just took him for granted. Forgot about him like last year's shoes.
And then when he left… well, it suddenly hit me that I'll never be able to talk to him again or… anything. Anything at all. That's what makes me so upset whenever anyone else or I mention him. Come to think of it, you're the only person that I've been able to talk to about my uncle without me starting to breakdown." Cala looked into Trowa's eyes, wondering just why she was talking to a complete stranger about her life. The things that she never told anyone before, not even Azim…
"Er- hope I'm not interrupting something here." Both Cala and Trowa snapped their heads toward the voice.
Catherine, standing awkwardly to the side of them, was grinning at the uncomfortable looks on their faces. Cala flushed dark red and quickly looked away. Trowa reddened only faintly and mumbled something about nosy sisters. Suddenly, a disgruntled snort exploded in their ears and they all jumped back in surprise. Blizzard was not happy with the focus shift and he showed it. Catherine bursted out laughing, breaking the awkward moment. Cala joined in with her twinkling laugh and Trowa smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles.
All three people and the one horse walked back to Catherine's trailer, talking quietly about that night's performance. As they reached their destination, Cala took Blizzard's halter and hesitantly turned to Catherine.
"Catherine, I should put Blizzard with the other horses. The ringmaster-"
"The manager asked me to take you in and I agreed. Don't you worry, kid. You can bunk with us, right Trowa?"
"Hmm…" His face remained blankly smooth.
"Okay, thanks. I'll be right back." She whirled around and led Blizzard away to the stable tent. Catherine turned to Trowa, gently demanding an explanation.
"Now, Trowa. Tell me what's going on."
"There's nothing going on, Cathy." He gave his normal reply with a sense of distraction in his tone of voice.
"Trowa, don't lie." She frowned deeply. Catherine would never let anyone, much less the people most important to her, tell her an outright lie.
"I'm not lying. There's nothing going on," he replied seriously, giving his sister his full attention.
"Okay, let me rephrase my question, then. What's going on between you and Cala?" Catherine asked, sighing, but remaining patient.
"Absolutely nothing, sis." He made a brief pause before continuing, "I think I'll go to bed now. Good night." Trowa walked to the trailer and quietly entered. Catherine rolled her eyes and followed him, close to disgusted with Trowa.
That night, after everything was settled (Cala being placed in an extra cabin), Catherine called her future husband. Quatre appeared on the screen and seemed distracted, not bothering to even glance at his caller.
"Winner Residence."
"Hello, Quaty." Quatre's head jerked up at the soft saying of his nickname and he smiled boyishly.
"Hey, princess. How was your day?"
"Well, it was okay. The manager's found a replacement for my show spot in the troupe, since I'll be leaving soon. He says that it's only temporary, but he'll find a more permanent one later after the winter season, when there's more time. And that it's better than nothing, with the marriage just around the corner," she said enthusiastically.
"Oh, that's great. I'm glad that we can finally get all the details now. Those wedding coordinators have been bugging me for the longest time. Thank Allah, they're finally going to get off my back now." Catherine smiled at his feigned exasperation. The 'wedding coordinators' were the entire harem of his sisters. She knew that he truly loved them and that they would annoy him for the fun of it. All of the sisters had ganged up on Catherine and pleaded to plan the wedding, even though the ceremony was to be held in the famous Catholic Church, Notre` Dame Cathedral.
Quatre frowned a moment and raked a hand through his golden-colored locks pensively. He knew that Catherine would want to know. She had practically ordered him to inform her of everything that was occurring in his life, including his business and family. So… he'd probably tell her, no matter how reluctant he felt about it. She'd find out sooner or later. Both his company and the Abassi Enterprises were very big businesses and the media would certainly publicize the merge as much as possible, especially with his upcoming wedding. And she would want to hear it from him, not from the local news report.
"I've got the strangest news for you. I met with the owner of the company otherwise known as Khan Enterprises, today. And…" He looked away for a moment, feeling awkward.
"And?" She blinked in confusion.
"Well, my father set up a consolidation with that company and betrothed me to the former owner's niece, who inherited the company," he continued hesitantly.
"Oh, no! What happened?" Her alarm was apparent in both voice and face.
"Well, she said that she found a loophole in the agreement. All I have to do is sign the consolidation contracts and marry you." Quatre gave her a lopsided grin, hoping that she would not take everything the wrong way.
"So everything is settled?" Catherine smiled, giving him a dirty look for scaring her, and sighing with relief.
"Well, almost settled, but the bottom line is that I can definitely marry you. That is if you were worried or something," he replied, still grinning at her obvious scare.
"That's a load off of my back. You had me there for a moment. I could have fainted with fright."
"You- afraid? The one and only fearless Catherine?" He pretended shock, teasing his bride-to-be.
"Hey! Whoever said that I was fearless?" She lifted her chin, tossing her rusty red curls as she issued her challenge.
"Me, of course." He gave her a smug smile and suddenly remembered something. "By the way, I just want to confirm our dinner date tomorrow."
"At seven o' clock sharp. Don't worry, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Oh, and Quatre?" Catherine's bright purple-tinted eyes that had lit up at the thought of a date with her fiancé suddenly darkened with worry.
"Yes?" He stared curiously at his Cathy's sudden concern.
"Trowa's been acting… strangely," she said, struggling for the right words.
"What do you mean, 'strangely'?" Quatre's smooth brow furrowed slightly at the mention of his best friend's 'strange behavior'.
"Well, you know how the ringmaster got a replacement? The replacement makes Trowa act oddly. He's really quiet and then again he's not. I'm not sure how to explain it." The worry lines on her face deepened.
"Isn't Trowa always quiet?" he asked jokingly, trying to ease her worry a bit.
"Well, I mean strangely quiet," she said, slightly irritated by his light-heartedness.
"It's really worrying you, isn't it?" he asked, sounding very concerned. Obviously it was distressing Cathy and she didn't become paranoid over anything that wasn't serious. There had to be something wrong.
"He's my little brother, Quatre. I worry about him." Her face softened at his worried tone.
"I'm sure he's fine, Cathy. Just to stop your worrying I'll talk to him. Okay?" He kept his voice steady and calm to reassure Catherine. But his expression didn't let on that he too was starting to wonder what was happening with Trowa. Trowa was the constant factor in their ever-changing world. He was like a shadow, silent yet always there, quietly watching over everyone. It was a shock to hear that something was happening to Trowa.
But he didn't want Cathy to worry anymore than she was.
"Thank you, Quatre."
"You're welcome. Now, get some beauty rest. I don't want you to fall asleep on our little dinner date." Catherine made a face at him and he grinned.
"All right. Good night, Quaty."
"Sweet dreams, Cathy." She blew a kiss and tuned the communication unit off. Relying on his reassuring attitude to calm herself, she slept well that night.
Quatre stayed awake long after she bid him goodnight. In his hotel suite, he looked out of the balcony's open doors. A cool breeze swept his sun-toned hair into his sky-colored eyes and he absently brushed it away.
There were so many things that flew through his mind. There was the original worry about the odd behavior of his new partner and the new worry about Trowa. Normally, Cathy did not concern herself too much over Trowa. He could take care of himself and she only intervened when she felt that he needed sisterly help. And although he had insisted that whatever she needed to talk about, she could talk to him (like she had to him). He wanted to always be there for her.
To serve and protect her.
He had vowed to himself that he would never again let her be hurt in any shape or form. Even by him. Especially not from him. He had blundered their relationship enough and now that things were finally going smoothly, he needed to ensure that he didn't mess up again. He might not be able to fix it.
He knew that no matter what, Cathy had to come first. She was the priority over any and everything else. The merging of companies could wait until he was sure that Cathy was not hurt.
What is making Cathy so anxious about Trowa? And what does this replacement of hers have to do with anything at all? Maybe Cathy and I worry too much. There are so many things that can go wrong at this moment, so soon before the wedding. I don't want to end up with another fiasco like the last time…
* Author's Notes *
Well, this is the second chapter to my little fic (it's more of an really unedited version), I don't think it's that bad… but hey, I'm not known for being right all the time… anways, tell me what u think. I liked the little twist I put in there and I give so many nice little hints of what's going to come. Boy, do I like playing with their lives… and no I'm not going to hurt them THAT badly…. Maybe… u'll just hafta read and find out.
There are a lot of interesting little conflicts going on all at once, and I know that it can get pretty confusing, but don't worry, I'll put it all together eventually (wink). If u haven't already figured it out, Cala's Muslim. I know that there's the US's attack on terrorists in Muslim Afghanistan, but this has almost nothing to do w/ me making her Muslim. I created my fic LONG before all this started (it wouldn't be so far along if I hadn't), so don't look too deep into that. I made her so, b/c, well u'll see… (u wouldn't want me to ruin the story would u?)
Anyways, read and review please!! If u wanna know what exactly is going on and why Quatre hopes he's not going to mess up AGAIN, then email me (I'll get around to posting my e-address sometime), it's a long story (and I actually didn't write it), so I don't want to explain it all here. I hafta go study now, boy do I hate school work…
-white rabbit
