Chapter Fourteen

1/

Trowa lay in his cell, deep in thought. The only light now came from outside, in the hallway; he could hear whispered transactions and propositions from other cells, but he ignored these.

He hoped Cathrine had found the circus somewhere, and was safe with the people she cared about. It had been a real pain to get all that information to Heero. The rope binding his hands together had been unusually thick, and it had taken him the better part of an hour to free himself from the chair; first he'd maneuvered until his arms were behind his back instead of wrapped around the back of the chair. Then he'd pushed himself to the floor, twisting so that the chair was under him, propping up his legs. The bonds securing his ankles to the chair legs had been looser than they should have been, and after a while he'd had first one, then both feet free. He'd listened to make sure that there was no one on the other side of the closed door, and then had approached the communications center, which was really just a desk with three computers (one of them an incredibly old model, the other two relatively new); he'd awkwardly opened the drawers to the desk with his back to them, and then shuffled through the contents until he found what turned out to be a pocket-knife. He used this to cut his hands loose.

He'd silently thanked his captors for being so careless before reaching into the cuff of his right sleeve, where one of the surveilance cameras that the men had installed at his and Cathrine's trailer was concealed. Of course it was impossible for the recording to show the faces of his captors, but he basically had proof that he wasn't involved with the assassination attempt; quickly he hooked the camera up to the old computer model (whose interface he could manipulate more easily) and uploaded the recording to the internet, where he sent it as an attachment to Heero Yuy, along with a quick message instructing him what to do with the file and how to contact his sister at the appropriate time.

By now the vid-disc Heero should have burned would have arrived at the Winner Estate; if all went well, he would be cleared of all charges within a month and Cathrine would be out of danger, in the company of her circus-family. And then he'd make sure that those men were tracked down, and made them answer for their crimes. A series of events, indeed.

For now, he could only wait.

2/

Somewhere in the universe, Wu Fei was sure, things were going well.

He'd never expected to find himself anywhere in the vacinity of a courtroom, let alone waiting just outside one along with about twelve eager reporters, who were practically drooling with anticipation. Dogs, the Chinese boy thought scathingly, leaning back against the wall. His black eyes never left the door dividing the courtroom from the rest of the building.

Presently the door opened and dark-suited individuals filed out, men and women murmuring among themselves as the reporters pounced on the most notable among them, questions running from their mouths like water from a chalice. Wu Fei watched all of this warily, until his eyes settled on a familiar form. Quatre Winner waved cheerfully, though he seemed a little paler than usual.

"Acquitted," the boy said breathlessly when he'd reached his bodyguard. "He--he is all right!" Quatre's slender arms went about Wu Fei's neck in a fit of sudden affection and relief; he was trembling slightly.

Wu Fei held him for a moment, then gently laid a hand on his back and directed him out of the building into the sunlight. There they waited together until the crowd had abated a little and, at last, the lone figure of Trowa Barton appeared. His skin had taken on a grayish tinge--from repressed fear or lack of proper nutrition, Wu Fei wasn't sure. Nimbly he dodged the few remaining reporters and nodded a hello to his two former comrades.

"I owe you my life," he said sincerely. The faint breeze blew his brown hair awry for a moment; his gaze was more watchful than it had been, even during the wars.

"Not at all," Quatre was laughing. "I'm amazed that you thought to do all that--what you explained in there," he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the courthouse. "I'm so glad that you . . ." Words gave way to a bright smile that Trowa responded to with a tiny one of his own.

"Me too," he said.

"Where are you going now?"

Trowa cocked his head to one side. "Home," he finally said.

3/

The sun had not yet gone down, casting blood-red rays upon the already wilting shrubbery outside the window-sill that Quatre was perched upon. Soon the false colonial summer would be coming to an end. The men who had desired his life were being pursued (thanks to information from Trowa and, surprisingly, Heero Yuy, who had apparently known of Trowa's innocence all along).

God was in his heaven, as the saying went.

Slowly Quatre studied the photographs in the book on his lap. They were wedding pictures, of his father and mother (strange to think of that woman in that way); baby pictures of his sisters--he even found Hana, bald and monkey-like, her eyes twisted closed. Many photos of a young Iria sitting in Father's lap, hair in lop-sided pig-tails. His family. They looked so happy. The only one missing from this book was him.

He shut the book carefully, laying it aside and shifting his position so that he could rest against the wall behind him. Idly he tapped his fingers against his bent knees, gazing into the relative gloom of the room. Wu Fei was sitting in a chair before the dead fireplace, a novel open against his stomach but unread, judging by the soft snores emanating from him. Wispy locks of hair had escaped from the tie that usually held them in neat submission, and framed his smooth Oriental face. Even in sleep a little frown was upon his lips.

I don't know where you will go now that our adventure is finished, Wu Fei, Quatre thought, smiling a little. I only hope it won't be so far that I can't follow. I'm sure we can find more adventures together.

4/

Cathrine felt her heart go into her throat, catching her breath. The sweat from that morning's practice dripped into her eyes, and she impatiently wiped it away. He was there. Coming off the main road, approaching the circus grounds, exhausted but calmly making his way inexorably closer. When he caught sight of her, he allowed himself an honest smile, and waved.

She waved back. Trowa was home.