A'N- After a lengthy period of time between chapters, I've finally gotten this one up. I hope you all enjoy it. Any suggestions for the plot would be most welcome and definately considered.

Disclaimer: I don't own GW, but Salina, Megan, and Amala are mine. Please ask nicely if you want to play with them.

Small Packages

Chapter 5

Emerald eyes stared in disbelief at the papers in front of him,. He'd been staring at them for the better part of ten minutes. Still, they made no sense. He flipped through them once more. Emily's daughter, no… his daughter now, had been the last Hanahan in a long and once-illustrious line of Hanahans. He paused on the bank records he'd flipped through earlier, having completely disregarded them the first time. The statements went back over five years, to just after the girl's date of birth. Her mother had deposited a certain amount every month, accompanied by a lump sum on every birthday. Trowa frowned as he read the amount. Megan Hanahan had far more money in the account than he had in his own.

He set the statements aside and reached for the cream-colored envelope bearing his name. Without hesitation he ripped it open and pulled out the papers from within. The top pages were a letter, the rest a copy of Emily's will. He set the will aside and began reading the bold script.

Trowa,

I won't call you my 'dear Trowa", because according to the papers in the last few years you are someone else's "dear" now. I suppose I should find it strange that the man I always held a flame for should end up with a happily ever after with another man. Don't get me wrong, Trowa. I'm happy for you, I really am. I can say that in all honesty because although you left me, you were never really gone. I can see your reflected back at me anytime I look into my daughter's eyes. I have had all the love a person could want in my lifetime, and if you are reading this, it means that now you have the chance to experience that same love.

I know you have questions for me, namely why I never told you about Megan and why I've ended my life. Probably more than that even, I'll try to be short and not take up too much of your time. Megan was a surprise for me, an answer to a dream. And she is the embodiment of my heart's desire come to life. She was born premature, and had a rough start, but is right on par for her age. The day I found out I was pregnant is the day you told me you were leaving, Trowa. I knew that if I told you about the baby that you would stay. I didn't want to hold you back from what I knew you were capable of. I knew from the beginning that you could never love me the way I loved you and I was selfish enough to want to hang on to that little part of you that God saw fit to give me. That day changed my life more than words can express. For the first time I knew what love really was. I knew that love in some small way truly was the ability to lose gracefully and still come out ahead.

I was diagnosed 6 months ago with pancreatic cancer, the same thing my father died of just 3 years ago. By the time any symptoms appeared I was too far gone. I tried all the conventional treatments and even some unconventional ones, as I sit writing this I know that I have only a few weeks left, at best. I've decided I would rather go out with a bang than a withered bag of rotting flesh my daughter will find in the bed one morning when she comes to wake me for our "us time".

For the last 3 years, Emily has been all I had. Now, Trowa, you are all she has. I have left the greatest portion of my estate in a trust fund for her to acquire on her eighteenth birthday. The rest goes to her guardian for her education and care. I have named you as her guardian in my will. Trowa, if you do not care for her, no one will. I do not want my daughter to suffer. Please allow her to live with the illusion that Mommy just left for heaven one day until she is old enough to understand.

Do the right thing, Trowa. For Megan's sake as well as your own.

Respectfully,

Emily Hanahan

Trowa lowered the letter, his throat catching as he realized the gravity of what he'd read. Feeling a sudden wetness trailing down his face, he absently scrubbed at his eyes with his casted hand. When had he begun crying? He didn't even feel sad, yet there it was an unmistakable feeling of loss welling up in his chest. And there was something else. Fear. He hadn't felt it in so long that he'd almost not recognized it. Not since he'd confessed his true feelings to Quatre had he felt such a sense of trepidation.

Beyond Catherine, he'd never had a family. Of course Quatre and the other pilots were his family now, but that wasn't the same. Blood family was different no matter what clich's might say. Somewhere in this very house, there was a little girl with half his DNA and blood coursing through her veins. He rose suddenly, pushing the chair back, sending it skittering into the wall behind him. He abandoned the papers on the table and headed for the staircase, spurred on by some unholy need to lay eyes on the girl.

Trowa stopped at the top of the staircase, hesitating at the door that led to Rashid and Salina's quarters. Pushing aside the bubble of apprehension, he knocked softly. The door opened a moment later to reveal Rashid. Amala hung on his arm, giggling happily. "Mr. Trowa!" She beamed and released a hand long enough to wave at him. "Abu is teaching me and Megan how to dance! He looks funny trying to belly dance." She chortled in glee and darted off to the main living area of the apartment.

Rashid graced Trowa with a nod. "Master Trowa. I take it you are here for Megan?"

Trowa opened his mouth to speak and then settled for a nod. Rashid stepped aside to let him enter. From the living room he heard two high-pitched giggles. He cleared his throat. "May I see her?"

"Of course. Please come into the sitting room. You will have some privacy. I will have Salina bring coffee." Trowa nodded gratefully as Rashid led him into the sitting room, across the hall from the living room. The taller man indicated one of the comfortable wingback chairs. "Please make yourself comfortable, Master Trowa."

"Thank you." Trowa spoke softly, watching as Rashid closed the door behind him. He gave a soft exhalation as he dropped unceremoniously into one of the chairs. The door opened a few moments later.

Salina entered, bearing a wooden tray with a coffee carafe and stoneware mug. She set the items on the side table and bowed her head lightly to him. She spoke softly, haltingly. "Master Trowa, may I speak freely?"

Trowa blinked in surprise. Salina had barely ever spoken to him beyond the necessary comments about dinner or some other household matter, and never without being spoken to first. He nodded mutely. She raised cinnamon eyes to regard him seriously. "My husband is helping Megan wash up. She was playing in the garden earlier and got quite dirty. She and Amala are getting along famously, I do believe it is the first time the girl has interacted with a child her own age. She's quite a precocious little thing. She's also very fragile right now, much like Master Quatre was when my husband first met him. Do you understand what I mean?"

Her eyes flashed warningly, though she waited for him to answer. Trowa nodded again, more slowly this time. She responded in a softer tone. "If I have ever seen a child more in need of someone to cling to, I could not tell you. I beg of you, Master Trowa. Be gentle with her."

Trowa bit his lower lip, wondering vaguely how he could be anything but gentle with a child he hadn't even known existed half an hour before. "Of course, I will Salina. And I promise, that whatever I decide, I will make sure she is happy and well-cared for. Whether or not I'm the one to give her that… well I just can't say right now."

"Of course, Master Trowa. Ultimately, that decision rests with you, Sir. I have only one more thing to say and that is, Rashid and I regard Master Quatre with great affection and respect. That also extends to you as well as all his friends. Should you decide to retain custody of the child, Rashid and myself will be here to help you and Master Quatre along the way. Our commitment does not stop at attending to him and his needs. You are family as well." With those final words she bowed her head one more time and quietly exited the room.

Trowa released a breath he had not realized he'd been holding and wearily prepared himself a cup of coffee. He took a long drought of the cream-cooled liquid and set the cup aside. A quiet knock sounded at the door. Trowa heart suddenly ended up somewhere in his throat as he made a vague grunt. The door swung inward, revealing Rashid's hulking form. The robust man towered over the smaller form next to him. He entered, guiding the child by the hand. Trowa's eyes lingered on Rashid's stern expression. The Arab spoke in low tones, yet his voice held was threaded with steel. "Master Trowa, may I introduce Miss Megan Noelle Hanahan."

The younger man let his eyes drift to the tiny form of the child that was so obviously Emily's. She was dirty beyond belief, though her face shone bright pink from scrubbing, Rashid's obviously vain attempt to tidy her up to presentable standards. His heart, which was still seemingly permanently lodged in his throat, hammered loudly in his ears. She was Emily's, there was no doubt about it. Grey eyes that could storm as angrily as the sea when provoked stared back at him, alert and alive with curiosity. Damp curls had been smoothed into a wild ponytail high on the back of her head, it was auburn, not a shade different than his own. Her nose was his as well, down to the little bump on the bridge, barely discernible to anyone who wasn't looking for it.

He did the only thing he could think of. He scooted forward in his chair and extended his hand to his daughter. His daughter… the words rang in his head, tightening his chest with the sudden weight of responsibility. He was accountable for the gangly girl in front of him. She accepted his hand calmly then broke into a smile. Rashid released his grasp on her and slipped quietly from the room.

Trowa regarded her intently, as though she were a precious piece of art to be studied and memorized. He could see traces of Catherine in her smile, the dimple that showed just a bit when her smile broadened into a grin. "Mama and Nanny said you'd come. So did Mister Wufei and Msiter Quatre."

She stated this with such a perfunctory tone that he couldn't help but smile a little. "My name is Trowa." He paused. "Trowa Barton."

"I'm Megan. What do I call you?" She stepped closer and rested her elbows on his knees, dropping her chin into her cupped hands. "Mama always called you my Papa."

He swallowed hard, then spoke quietly. "Will Papa do? Do you feel… comfortable calling me that?"

She puzzled over this for a moment. "Papa… " She shrugged lightly. "Works for me." He chuckled softly, the nonchalance seemed a bit out of character. She grinned in response. "Amala says that. She has a camel named Duo. She says that one of your friends gave it to her. But I have Leo."

"Leo?" Trowa echoed, suddenly feeling quite lost. "Who is Leo? You have a pet?"

"No. Leo is my friend. He's a lion that Mama gave me when I was a little girl."

Trowa did not point out that she was still quite a little thing. Evidently five and a half was very grown up. Instead he questioned softly. "Is he a real lion?"

"No, he's stuffed. Miss Salina took him to wash. She said she could put his tail back on and fix his leak." She nodded resolutely.

"He has a leak?"

"Yes." The matter of fact tone took on a lecturing quality. "His stuffing was leaking out from where I chewed his bum. That's why his tail came off. Nanny safety-pinned it on and he pokes me sometimes. But he doesn't mean to."

"He sounds like a very wise lion." Trowa's words were halting. "I used to work in a circus… with real lions. Do those scare you?"

Megan frowned, tapping her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. I've never met a real one before. Will you take me? Amala says her father took her to see a real camel once at the zoo. Mama didn't like the zoo, so we never went. She said that real aminals were never meant to be put in cages."

"Animals." He corrected gently.

"That's what I said." She spoke sternly. "So if Mama said it, then it must be right."

Trowa snorted in laughter. "I guess she was."

Megan pointed to his wedding ring. "Mama didn't have one of those. It's pretty. Can I have one?"

"I think you're a little young for jewelry aren't you?" Trowa furrowed his brows. The girl seemed to have the attention span of a gnat on acid.

"I don't know. Why do you wear that?"

"It's my wedding band. Quatre and I wear them to show that we are married. You Mama didn't have one because she wasn't married." He hoped his explanation would suffice.

She nodded. "Oh. When I get married I'll get one."

He nodded. "Yeah, probably."

Grey eyes lit up. "Will you marry me?"

Trowa licked his lips then shook his head. "Uh… I can't. I'm already married to Quatre and you wouldn't want to marry me anyway."

"Why not?"

"Um…" He scrambled for an answer. "Well, umm… I snore. And uh… Papas don't marry their daughters. You'r future husband… " he paused, searching for words. "or wife, would be jealous. Wouldn't they?"

She stared at him pensively. "I guess I'll just have to marry Mister Wufei. He's handsome."

Trowa frowned slightly. "I guess… I don't know." A thought crossed him mind. "Why don't you ask him when you see him again?"

Her grin returned. "I will. You're smart."

"Thanks."

"Can I go play with Amala now?" She flashed him a hopeful glance.

"Um… did Amala's mother say it was all right?" He licked his lips uncertainly.

Megan nodded. "She said I could as much as I wanted if it was alright with you."

"Well, I guess that's fine."

"Okay." She turned and scampered towards the door, then paused and darted back. Trowa sat, stunned as she clambered clumsily into his lap and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "I like you, Papa."

He watched her go, his hand reflexively coming to touch his face where she'd kissed him. She flew out of the room, calling out to her friend as she went. Trowa rose from the chair, following her to the door. She giggled as she rounded the corner into the living room. "Amala! I met my Papa! He's as nice as yours and he said Mister Wufei would marry me!"

Trowa felt his chest relax as laughter, genuine laughter bubbled out of him. He made his way to the door, his heart strangely lifted, though the weight of his coming decision weighed heavily on his mind.

Abu- Arabic for "Father"; formal