December 7, 2000
Sequel to 'Have You Ever...'
The circus was no longer on tour and despite the Oz rebel disturbance of a few weeks before, the ringmaster had decided to stay where they were. The space fortress Libra had moved out of orbit several hours after the attack on Earth. However, if it had stayed, it would have been a good bet he would have moved his circus far, far away from the area. Mobile suits *inside* the colony was bad enough. Having a huge chuck of metal just *outside* it that was threatening to annihilate the entire Earth was just a little bit too much for his already stressed out nerves.
"Catherine! Can you help get these animals moved to the--"
"I can do that," a quiet voice spoke up from behind him.
The ringmaster whirled around, surprise and barely repressed delight clouding his features. "Trowa!" he called before a pink and purple blur whisked past him, hurtling itself into the young man's arms.
"Trowa! Trowa! You're all right! You're safe! Why didn't you call sooner! I would have come picked you up from the spaceport! Oh, Trowa! When did you get in! How long are you staying for? Where have you been? And why didn't you call sooner? What? Were you trying to scare me silly? Worrying about you like that and not even calling to let me know if you were still alive or not!"
The tall young man held the girl close for a second, and then released her the minute she pulled away and started laying into him with her barrage of verbal abuse. When the girl playfully punched him in the arm, the Ringmaster saw the telltale whisper of a smile ghost the boy's lips--more reaction then he could remember ever seeing from the boy in the little less then a year he'd been with his circus.
The Ringmaster smiled. The boy was better, better then the last time he'd been with them. That was good. He was stronger now; more prepared for the horrors he had to face. The Ringmaster wasn't a fool. He knew the war wasn't over, and he knew that before it was, this slip of a young man might lose his life, and that scared him more than he cared to admit, because, quite frankly, in the little time he'd spent with his circus, the boy had become like a little brother to most of its members. Polite, courteous, helpful, great with the animals, a natural acrobat, even if he was a little bit on the quiet side. But more than that--the Ringmaster had come to think of the boy as a son almost, as he thought of Cathy as a daughter. In fact, the boy reminded him of another young man he had accepted into his circus some many years ago. Strong. Proud. Willing to work.
"Catherine, that's enough," the Ringmaster called, pulling the girl's attention away from the young man. "I'm sure Trowa's been very busy--" the young man flushed faintly--"and we should be happy that he remembered us at all. Now why don't you go get those animals settled down before you head off for the night, hmmm?"
"I'll do it, boss," Trowa said, swinging the single bag he had with him to a shoulder, Catherine falling to his other side. "It's no problem."
"See!" Catherine beamed. "Trowa's here, now. Those beasts will quiet down like kittens and lambs in no time!"
The Ringmaster turned away to hide the amused expression on his lips when he saw the boys somewhat bemused expression as the girl looked up at him adoringly. 'The boy can do no wrong in her eyes,' he mused. 'And if he does, she'll merely brown beat him until he does good!' "Whatever," he called over his shoulder. "Just see to it it's done!"
"Oh, Trowa! I'm so happy you're back!" Catherine glossed. "Here, let me take your things and I'll go warm up some food for you!"
"No!" Trowa said a little bit more passionately than normal. "I mean, really, Cathy, it's all right. I had a little something to eat on the shuttle. I'm not hungry."
"Don't be silly, Trowa! You're a growing boy! You need to eat!" She slapped his cheek affectionately and turned away, heading off to her trailer.
He stared after her a moment, and then smiled. It felt good to be back amongst this. It felt good and safe--but he knew he couldn't stay here too long. There was still a war going on, after all. He pulled out the little slip of paper in his pocket, studying the address code.
Folding it back up, he slipped it back into his pocket. Duo would probably be asleep at this hour--'or out partying,' his mind quipped. He could wait till morning to contact the boy.
He sat at is desk, seething. He didn't know what to do. He had pressure breathing down him from all sides. White Fang. Romafeller. Oz. The Barton Foundation. Yeah, he dealt with all of them. And right now, they were breathing down his neck 'cause he'd promised to deliver a gundam pilot.
And one week ago he'd *had* a gundam pilot to give them.
But not now. Nope. Not now. And all because of that BITCH!
Who the hell did she think she was? Always second-guessing him. Always making snide comments. Criticizing his actions.
And no matter what she did to put her in her place, she kept doing it.
And the others. The others respected her more then him. He knew it. He saw it. He saw it in their eyes when the looked at her. The way they jumped to action when she barked out orders. The way they asked 'how high' when she said 'jump'.
AND SHE WAS FUCKING YOUNGER THAN THEM!!! FUCKING YOUNGER!!! AND THEY ALL LISTENED TO HER LIKE SHE WAS THEIR FUCKING GOD OR SOMETHING!!!
He hated her. He hated all his siblings, but her especially.
It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He, as the oldest living family member should be respected, should be obeyed, should be worshiped. Not that slut. Not that conniving, deceiving bitch!
He hated her. He hated her and he made sure she knew it. They all knew it.
He hated her, but she didn't fear him--and that made him hate her more.
No matter what he did to her, she still didn't fear him.
And he wanted that, needed that. Needed to feel her fear of him, needed to feel her submit to him.
Even when she submitted to him physically, it was only a shell--leaving him more livid. Nothing he could do made her fear him.
Fear and respect him, like what was his right.
As last living son, it was his right. He controlled their lives. They were in *his* hands--and they should fear and respect him…
Like they feared and respected Cordell and Peron. His brothers were dead, but he didn't care. Let them rot, the bunch of faggots. It was his now. All his. The family. The business. The power. The respect.
Except for his fucking bitch sisters!
Especially the youngest one--the one that looked so much like their father. The fucking asshole.
He hated her the most, despite how much he hated the other.
Yes. He hated her the most. Carina.
End of Part 9: The Haunted Clown
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com