I do not own Gundam Wing and make no profit off of this story.

He heard her behind him as he left the rehearsal. It was a warm day and he was heading back toward his trailer for a shower and change of clothes and he didn't stop to talk to her. He left the door to his trailer open, knowing she would recognize the invitation to come in. She was always respectful of his wishes and would leave him alone if he so indicated. She followed him wordlessly inside and sat carefully on the small couch. Sometimes she just needed to be with him, someone who didn't need words and whom she could protect somehow. And she gave him somewhere to go, somewhere away from everything else.

He gathered his shower things and pulled off his soiled shirt, tossing it in the hamper. Catherine stood and he felt her cool fingers trace a line on his back.

"How did you get this?" Her tone wasn't the concerned one she usually had when she pointed out his numerous scars. Instead there was a curiosity and a touch of something else he recognized but that remained nameless.

Trowa glanced back over his shoulder at the old burn mark that stretched its way across his back. "I don't know. I've always had it."

"Oh." She looked away for a moment and then looked back. "You need to eat more."

That was more like the Catherine he knew, worrying and fretting over him.

"I eat enough."

"Hmmm." Her tone clearly indicated she didn't agree.

Regardless she returned to the couch and Trowa went to take his shower.

When he emerged she was still there. He sat beside her and they stayed that way for a long while, still silent but comfortable by not being alone.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" she asked after awhile. She knew him and picked up on the little details that normal people would not.

"Some. I have dreams." He was always honest with her. There was a lot they didn't speak of but today he wanted to tell her more. "About the war. Some about other things."

She didn't say anything, just letting him speak.

It was silent for awhile more and he spoke again. "Sometimes I dream of a carriage and flying. And fire." He could feel her tenseness beside him. He wondered if she would say something but she still didn't.

The clock ticked over the little stove in the corner, suddenly sounding much too loud.

"Do you think I'm your brother?" he asked curiously. He knew of the lost child that Catherine had spoken of obliquely once.

Her voice was soft. "I think you might be. The circumstances match up. The burn, the dream, even your appearance is similar to mine."

"What was his name?"

"Triton. Triton Bloom."

"We have the same initials."

"I know."

"If I was?"

"I've already made you my brother Trowa."

"I know." He turned serious eyes to her. "I'm glad."

"Me too."

Then he did something that he rarely did, folding her into a loose hug. Normally she initiated any physical contact between them for his past hadn't been exactly conducive to such soft displays.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Are we a family Trowa?"

"Yes Catherine. We are."

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