Chapter 3
L3 is a pretty decent colony, I guess. I mean, it's certainly heaps better than the crappy L2 colony I grew up on, but there's lots of places like that. I guess what I mean is that the people here are decent – they wouldn't begrudge a street rat an apple or two if he really needed them. Or at least, that's what it seems like; I could be dead wrong. It's happened before.
Like being trapped on the Lunar Base with Wufei. After Deathscythe got destroyed I went a bit loopy and managed to get my ass hauled into the cells on the Lunar Base, an OZ stronghold. To my surprise Wufei was already there, shackled and meditating as if nothing was wrong in his world. It was creepy to say the least. Seriously, it just seems wrong for a person to be so quiet. It didn't matter in the bigger scheme of things though, because it turns out he has a wicked sense of humour. I know, totally unexpected, right? When we escaped, our new suits were only at half fighting capacity, but he didn't let it worry him - he wanted to pay OZ back before we left and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was awesome.
Anyway, I was on L3 because I had no reason to want to hurry back to Earth. After that incident I had avoided Sanq like the plague, and was now trying my best to stay in space. Yeah, I know, I'm a coward. But I'm betting not many people belt Heero Yuy and live to tell about it, so call it self-preservation.
I was walking around the colony streets with nothing much to do when I suddenly heard a drumroll and the sounds of excited children. It was something I hadn't heard in a long time – people just weren't happy anymore with the war going on – so I stopped and listened, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. After a couple of minutes I felt sure I knew where I was going and strolled casually towards the source, only to see a large circus tent pitched on the artificial grass square. Children were chasing each other round the caravans and animal cages gleefully while their parents looked on fondly, apparently waiting for the show to start. I had to admit, it looked like fun. I hadn't been to a circus ever, so I lined up at the ticket stall just like all the good colony citizens and waited.
About twenty minutes later we were all packed into the big top, squished together on the tiered wooden benches and thoroughly excited. I had managed to get myself wedged between two families with three enthusiastic children each, so I found myself the recipient of more than a few apologies from their embarrassed parents. I laughed, waving the apologies away. It wasn't like the children were annoying me, they were just excited. I could understand that.
I was almost bouncing on the seat along with the children by the time the show started. Excitement is contagious, and the anticipation of a good time was an almost tangible presence throughout the audience. When the ringmaster stepped through an entrance at the back of the ring, everyone cheered, including me. We clapped when he bowed around to the audience, and stamped our feet when he introduced the first act. All the performers smiled widely as they stepped into the ring, and we cheered louder each time than the last.
The last act before half time consisted of a young man dressed in a clown costume who was, apparently, also a lion tamer. The huge cat padded around the ring, snarling at the people in the front row who predictably shrank back and stifled squeals. The man flung up his hand and called the lion; it trotted back to him obediently and sat in front of him. To gasps of awe the man began to guide the lion through tricks, each new one harder than the last. I was dumbfounded as I watched the man's relationship with the cat; it seemed that the man trusted the lion to an unimaginable degree and didn't use a whip or anything to control it, merely asked it to perform. The final touch came when the man set the lion to running around the ring again, then jumped, flipped in the air and landed one-handed on its back.
The audience surged to its feet with a roar, cheering wildly. I stayed sitting, confused. As the pair trotted around the ring again, I narrowed my eyes, trying to see through the bright light. Was that – no, couldn't be – but what if... There was only one person I'd seen move like that in my life – could it possibly, against all odds, be Trowa?
With a final flip and a bow that encompassed the entire audience the man led the lion out of the ring, disappearing from view. The ringmaster announced that it was time for intermission, bowing and exiting as we got to our feet and filed out of the tent. Amidst the press of people I thought hard to myself, trying to decide what to do. Finally, when the crowd thinned around me, I shrugged and headed back towards the caravans behind the tent. Couldn't hurt to check it out, right?
I snuck through the forest of caravans quietly, hoping for a sign that would show me which was Trowa's. As I waited in the shadow of the biggest, I saw the clown hurrying towards the big top, a box in his hands. Props, maybe? I followed him quietly, trying not to draw attention. I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be here.
As I pushed through the folds of heavy canvass, I caught sight of movement. I ducked down, then, realising that it was just the clown and he had his back to me, I straightened up and walked closer. His movements were incredibly familiar.
"...Trowa?" I said it hesitantly, quietly, but when he whirled to face me I was overjoyed. "Trowa! It is you! What you been up to? Everyone's been worried sick about you!" I would have said more but an angry voice from behind me made me stop in my tracks.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Trowa's eyes were wide and stared over my shoulder as a young woman with curly brown hair walked past me. She glared at me as she put an arm around Trowa's shoulders.
"Go away! We don't want you here! I'm going to keep him safe, so just leave!" Sheesh. Anyone would think I was trying to kidnap him or similar. I have to admit, I was a bit confused though. Why hadn't Trowa said anything yet? I took a closer look at his face, around the woman's arm. His eyes were wide and frightened, his breathing shallow, and his body was poised to run away. I frowned; that wasn't like the Trowa I knew.
I managed to keep my cool, but it was a close thing. I let her chase me out of the tent, instinctively sliding through the camp like a shadow again. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour. Besides, if I got arrested I wouldn't be able to go and see Quatre, and I had a feeling he'd want to know about all this. But how was I going to tell him that Trowa was crazy? I didn't have the faintest idea.