The writing on the paper in her hand blurred into incoherent nonsense for the hundredth time. Dorothy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. She needed to finish looking over the proposed contracts for the current season's hottest new looks but her mind refused to focus! The invitation for the wedding arrived earlier that day and ever since then it had been a chore to concentrate on anything! She had too much work to do to allow something so trivial to bother her!

After the war and the Barton Foundation fiasco, Dorothy used her wealth and influence to create the universe's largest fashion consulting agency which had not yet failed to choose and predict the most popular trends in the fashion world. From retro to catour, her signature had become synonymous with fashion success. The newest line's deadline was the end of the day and she had to get it done!

A knock on the door frame broke that rather sensual train of thought. She looked up to see her secretary staring at her. The young woman was no older than she, but already seemed to have a few gray hairs. She was plain, but in a pleasing sort of way and had the presence of maternity about her that would put anyone at ease.

"Ms. Catalonia."

"Yes, Margaret?"

"Here are the last few forms you requested."

"Thank you. Put them over here on the pile." She gestured with her pen to the appropriate stack.

"Is there anything else you need before I go?" Dorothy paused and looked at the clock. It was early for her to be leaving.

"Go?" Dorothy asked.

"Yes, ma'am. You said I could leave early today to catch the circus with my children."

"The circus… right." Dorothy blinked back the vision of green eyes that flashed through her mind. "Is this the circus touring from the L3 cluster?"

"Yes! It's owned by a pair of siblings! They remade it into quite the spectacle!" Dorothy had heard something about that from one of her random conversations with Quatre back before Sylvia had stolen him away. She frowned at the thought.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm sorry, Margaret. No, that will be all for the day. Enjoy your time with your children."

"Thank you, Ms. Catalonia." And Margaret left.

"So… his circus is here…" Dorothy rolled her pen between her fingers absentmindedly. "Perhaps if I get the paperwork done…"

In truth, she had been so busy with work that she hadn't had any time to… indulge in pleasurable company and, though finding an escort fir the black tie affair would not be difficult, this was an opportunity she couldn't pass up. Trowa was, if nothing else, an exceptional lover: handsome, strong and with greater stamina than any of her previous partners. It seemed as though fate were offering her a convenient stress relief in the form of the green-eyed, carnal carnie. And the invitation did say 'plus one'. Of course, Trowa would already be in attendance. His status as Best Man made such an appearance mandatory. Relena, if she recalled, was the Maid of Honor, meaning the woman who held his heart would be right next to him for the majority of the event. It would, most likely, not be easy for him, especially knowing where the Foreign Minister's heart was. Given that fact, he might appreciate company...

"I don't see what the harm would be." She smirked and fixed her mind. She would ask him to be her 'plus one'. She determinedly made quick work of her final documents and left at a quarter of five. Her driver took her to the address where the circus was set to perform.

The smells of fresh, buttery popcorn and sickly sweet confections greeted her as she walked across the grassy way. Admittedly, she was not dressed for the circus. The thin heels of her shoes threatened to sink into the soft earth. She sighed in irritation knowing full well that the dirt would make a terrible mess of her navy blue suede high heels. As she passed a mirror, she took a moment to check her appearance. She frowned.

"It will have to do."

Deciding on a treat, she purchased a small bag of popcorn, lightly salted and made her way to the big top, paid for her ticket and walked onto the bleachers. They were surprisingly cold: fold-out steel benches textured for grip. As the crowd began to file in, she began to feel a bit of the thrill of attending something like this. She had always wanted to go to the circus as a child. She could still remember the disapproving frown on her grandfather's face.

"Places such as those are meant for simple people with simple minds." His lips curled into a condescending smile. "You are a Catalonia. You must remember that people will always expect more from you."

In hind sight, she probably still could have found ways to go, but it never ranked high enough on her priority list. Sitting there, now, in the tent to await to performance, she felt the tiniest bit of something she hadn't felt in a long time:

Childish anticipation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages," boomed a voice over the intercoms. "We welcome you all to the show to end all shows. We'd like to take a moment to remind you…" the announcer continued with the usual disclaimers and warnings until finally they finished with: "Now, on with the show!"

The lights dimmed, smoke began to pool around the stage floor as a soft, haunting melody began to play. Acrobats in colorful costumes jumped out and disappeared. Animals were brought in interchangeably with different lighting schemes, musical scores and sound effects. And, in between some of the more intricate acts, clowns of various shapes and sizes came out with their ridiculous props to amuse the younger crowd. It was, indeed, quite a spectacle. The way the practical effects of the animals and actors blended with the literal smoke and mirrors was a visual treat. She found herself enjoying it all immensely.

Finally, he appeared. It was toward the end, in the climax of the show. His costume was simple but she would not be one to complain. Criss-crossed suspenders attached to green pants, neither leaving anything to the imagination… The lions and tigers surrounded him, but Trowa stood, fearless and determined. When it seemed as though he would surely be their dinner, he leapt up into the air, twirled several times and landed, standing, on the back of the largest lion. The crowd cheered as he leapt in a similar fashion onto the backs of the large cars until, finally, vaulting into the air where he was caught by someone; a woman, whom Dorothy knew to be his elder sister. As the music swelled, they tumbled, tossed, and switched positions over the net-less ground. The grace and raw beauty of the acrobatics routine was almost hypnotic. She could not take her eyes off him. As he landed, perfectly balanced on the tightrope, his sister flew through the air. He caught her, without flinching and the lights and smoke signified the end. The crowd cheered as a standing ovation greeted the performers who came out to take their bows.

She waited until the aisles cleared up a bit before making her own way out. It wasn't too hard to locate him standing outside the tent surrounded by eager, female fans. To the untrained eye, one would think he enjoyed the attention. He smiled and laughed and gave each girl a grin to make any woman swoon. He didn't fool her and neither did his adoring fans. More than one positively screamed of desperation and clearly wanted more than just his autograph. She smirked.

"Amateurs." She fluffed her hair and sauntered over to him, pushing past the other women. His eyes widened, brows raised when he saw her. Without warning, she wrapped arm around him and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. Though clearly surprised, he returned the kiss, snaking his tongue into her mouth and wrapping an arm around her. She pulled back, leaving him breathless and smiled.

"There you, lover! I've missed you!" He stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Wonderful performance!" She saw- much to her satisfaction-out of the corner of her eyes, the various girls jealously glaring as they all walked away.

"I'm… glad you enjoyed it." The look in his eyes was of confusion and surprise.

"Shall we go to dinner? I was thinking of a nice French bistro?" Dorothy did not release her hold on his arm, still waiting for the last few pathetic girls to drift away.

"Sounds... good." His eyes glanced at the bevy of disappointed females. "Let me get washed up and changed."

"Of course." He began to lead her past the main line of attractions where the cast and crew trailers waited. His was a simple grey-sided wagon with two windows on either side and a sloped, dark green roof. The door squeaked open and he led the way in. The trailer was sparsely furnished: a kitchenette with a sink, minifridge, small stove, and microwave, a foldout bed and a tiny bathroom/shower combination in the back. Trowa tossed his mask onto the bed.

"What a… quaint living arrangement." She said. He frowned.

"You were expecting Buckingham Palace?"

"Of course not." In truth, this was about exactly what she expected.

"Help yourself to whatever there is to drink in the fridge if you want. I'll be out in a bit. Then you can tell me what you're really doing here."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, but he ignored her, pulled down his suspenders and began to remove the pants as he stepped into the shower.

Though a bit frustrated by his avoidance, she decided to get more comfortable. She pulled off her blazer and placed it over the back of a chair. Deciding a drink couldn't hurt; she grabbed a cold bottle of water and took a long drink. The only sounds in the trailer were the air conditioning unit and the water from the shower. Any other time she might have thought to join him, but given the cool reception, she hardly thought it would be welcome.

He seemed rather hard to read at times, but men like him often were. Then again, she didn't really know what kind of man he was. There was a lot she didn't know about him, actually, but the same could be said about him with her. Dorothy took a sip of the cold water and let her mind wander. It wasn't long until the shower shut off and the handsome clown exited the shower with a dark green towel wrapped tempting below his waist. Water droplets trickled down his toned, muscular chest drawing her attention to the well-defined 'V'. Her eyes moved slowly back up his form to his wet hair where she met his eyes. They were narrowed, his brow raised and he lifted a second towel to dry his neck and hair.

"So," he began, "what are you doing here, Dorothy?" His voice was neither cold nor welcoming but it was hardly the greeting she expected. Then again, she really had no idea what she expected.

"I heard your circus was in town. I thought I'd see it for myself."

"Uh huh." He was clearly unconvinced as he tossed the towel for his hair into the hamper. He took a beer out of the fridge and popped the top before taking a quick drink.

"You don't believe me?"

"Hn." He sat down unceremoniously. He took another long drink and then looked at her. "Dorothy Catalonia wanting to go to the circus? Yeah. It's a bit hard to picture." She felt her ire rise. How could he get to her so easily?

"It just so happens that I have never been to the circus! I heard it was in town and I wanted to see for myself what it was like." He raised a brow. A small smirk on the corner of his lips.

"And the fact that I'm here had nothing to do with it at all?"

"Contrary to what you may think, Trowa Barton, the world does not revolve around you." He smirked, though there seemed to be no humor in the simple expression.

"So, you coming to see me after the act was what? A perk of proximity?" He frowned. "Just be honest, Dorothy. You found out I was I town and you came by hoping for a good and easy fuck." She felt her cheeks heat at the brazen comment!

No one ever dared speak to her this way. Everyone either walked on eggshells with her or treated her as a helpless female. Neither was necessary. She knew she could be a bit much at times and suckups and pompous jerks seemed to be regular occurrences in her life. Trowa was the only person who didn't seem to care what he said or who he said it to. It was as refreshing as it was irritating. He was unlike anyone she had ever associated herself with.

And it thrilled her.

"Of course I wouldn't be against such a pleasurable occurrence, but that was not my reason for coming."

"Ok?" Still clearly unconvinced, he continued to stare at her.

"With the wedding coming up, I find myself in need of a plus one. I know, of course, that you will already be there, but I thought we could keep one another company."

"Meaning you want me to be your designated wedding sex?"

"That could be one possible outcome of the day, yes, but I thought we could be of help to one another. After all, it won't be an easy day for either of us." He tensed, eyes darkening.

"Speak for yourself." He stood and placed the beer on the counter. "Get over it, Dorothy. Quatre fell in love with Sylvia. They're getting married. It hurts? That's life. It will go on." How dare he? Presuming to know why she was upset and then telling her to get over it in such an unfeeling manner? She stood up.

"Oh, and I suppose you tell yourself the same thing about Relena?" He turned his gaze to her, eyes flashing. She realized she had made a mistake. The amount of emotion she saw there was staggering.

"Yes. Every damn day since he came back. Satisfied?" He turned his back to her and she felt something... strange… in the pit of her stomach from the pain she saw in his eyes. Guilt? Yes. She felt guilty for bringing up such a painful subject. She frowned and made her way over to him, unsure what to say or do to make him feel better.

"I didn't mean to… upset you." She touched just her fingertips to his shoulder and he flinched away. "I only came to ask you to attend the wedding with me." He looked at her again, eyes cold.

"I'll pass." He turned away once more. "I have to get dressed. You know where the door is." She stood there for a moment, stunned by his rejection. No one had ever rejected her before. Let alone in such a way! He was a nobody from nowhere! How dare he think himself good enough to refuse her! For some reason, her throat tightened and her eyes burned. She turned away, picked up her blazer and left his trailer without another word.