Chapter 1: Awakening

WHOOSH! Another young woman thrusts open her window, smirking with pride as she purposely lets the cool morning air rush on an unexpectant late sleeper.

Snore. Snore. Snore.

"Okay, Step 2," little (certainly not as in "young". Hildegard Rose Schbeiker would take great offense of being thought of a little girl anymore, she now at the mature age of 17) as in "short". Hilde struts across the pig sty of the room belonging to her housemate, deftly avoiding clothes and barbells and little metal "knick knacks" strewn about the floor. Her family's junk shop amply provided this full of ideas young man on how to "make" things from junk.

"You're sure full of something, Duo." Hilde grumbles under her breath as she nearly trips on the cord of some power tool or the other tucked not-so-neatly away under his bed. "This oughta wake you up." She smiles devilishly, pressing on the switch of Duo's antique CD player he insisted was far better than the computerized disc sounds of the day.

Some ancient pop group that Duo usually played over and over endlessly as he "worked" tinkering outdoors suddenly blasts on nearly full volume as Hilde lets is rip, increasing the already deafening level when the lump on the bed doesn't show a wink of coming into consciousness. The player at maximum output, Hilde's about to give up on "Step 2" and kick into "Step 3" when "it" on the bed begins to stir.

"Well, finally, Mister Sleepyhead, don't you know what--?" Hilde turns back around from turning down the disco ballad from playing just to find herself much in the same predicament as earlier. Her best friend who she thought was stirring to consciousness somehow turned back into a deep and loud snore.

"...day it...is...?" Hilde lets her sentence trail off in frustration at her impossible housemate. She had had enough this morning. "DUO MAXWELL!!!!!!!!!!!" In a voice ten decibels louder than the lungs her small framed body could seem to carry, Hilde screeches out in anger the name of the boy who had caused her so much torment, and extra work and frustration and---

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!" Duo Maxwell's well toned body leaps to life, and like every well trained soldier takes evasive action against any incoming threat that could be so dangerously loud and nearby. That meant, in one swiftly mind numbed moment, grabbing the enemy and throwing her down hard to get a better assessment of the situation....

"...I never really looked before, but no you take my breath away..."

Hilde Schbeiker hears the low level music lyrics in the background ringing in her ears. She was still in shock, not registering anything---except Duo's strong hands gripping her shoulders, his breath in her face.

"Hildey! It's you!" Duo's coarse voice comes out half-relieved, half-angry at himself for being so rough on his best friend. I mighta hurt you, you fool girl. He shakes his head as he pulls away from Hilde's wide-eyed lock with him.

"'Course it's me, Duo!" Hilde quickly forces the red flush on her cheeks away. I've gotten used to this nowadays. It just...wouldn't be right. He's my best friend and that's that. She jumps up from the bed and fixes her mussed hair and clothing back into place in the dressing mirror. "Who'd you think it was waking you up? A raid of enemy soldiers pulling you out of your bed?" As soon as the sharp remark was out of her mouth, Hilde wishes it back. The sad look crossing Duo's already-beginning-to-smile face was enough for her to recall that Duo's generally, almost always, absolutely happy cheerful self held a past pain hidden deep from her--from everyone. Everyone except "The God of Death."

He blinks at her from behind, in the mirror. And in those large, beautiful indigo eyes, Hilde sees the little seven-year old boy she first met once again. But this time instead of herself as the lost and frightened little girl that needed consoling, he was there in her place. A young man who, through years of war and ruin around him, had come to believe himself the "Great Destroyer", leaving people dead around him in his midst.

"Duo, I...." Hilde swirls around, but by the time that second ticks by and she's facing her partner, that signature smile of his had already replaced the gloom. It made the whole room glow with his radiant shine.

"You, Hildegard Rose Schbeiker, have got the loudest set o' lungs on you that could scare the pants off any poor hardworking man trying only to get a few, well-deserved winks of sleep." Duo Maxwell's legendary unhinged tongue begins it's daily rattle.

Hilde rolls her eyes with a relieved smile, but that was the best thing about Duo, wasn't it? He could pull himself out from even the darkest doldrums, really mean it---and then carry you up along with him.

"Well-deserved, hard working man, huh?" Hilde spots some not so wholesome magazines on his nightstand and waves them in his face.

"A man needs some diversion once in a while, right?" Duo smiles angelically, grabbing the girly magazines and chucking them under the ever growing pile under the bed. "See? No pants." The devil in him smirks, knowing this would make Hilde blush again as she suddenly realizes after all the confusion of the morning that Duo was standing before her with nothing but his cute little briefs on.

"Get dressed on the double, Mister! We're way late because of you, lazy bones!" She pelts at him, retreating out the door.

"Yes, Ma'am." Duo salutes, his braid flying as he watches her leave with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RRRoarrrrrr. Squawkkkk. Cclannnggggg!

The clatter of metal bars

Scrapings of pails and cement

Monkeys squealing in delight

Elephants trumpet their approval

Lions purring a soft growl

And amidst the clutter and cacophony of sound, a singular man stands silently. Contemplatively, he strokes the ferocious king of beasts as easily and fearlessly as a small child would tickle a pet kitten. But the lion was, by far, not a kitten and the man was certainly not a child any longer.

Was I ever a child? Inside the beautiful mind that matched the beautiful face of man, a saddening thought strings its way through the bright, flawless day. Trowa Barton was his name now, but Trowa Barton was not who he was. As the eyes of a nameless young man gaze over from where he was feeding and putting up the animals to their cages, the line of traffic of cars and buses slowly make their way back home from the sights and spectacles they had just seen.

"Go on, eat your dinner, Girl." Trowa smiles the genuine smile he gave to those he called "dear." This sweetly tamed lion was no different. To Trowa, he was the noble beast that had become a cherished friend to a man of almost noble gentility.

Walking back into the center of the now darkened circus tent, he stands, stock-still.

A multi-colored balloon floats past

The scents of cotton candy and popcorn wafting

The hustle and bustle of an expectant crowd

The circus manager's booming voice on the bullhorn

Animals performing magically, delighting the crowd

The little eyes of children sparkling down innocence from above

A dance of purple

The whiff of French perfume

The glint of a steel blade as a flutter of yellow chiffon in his face

The spotlight gleams it's blinding light in his face

The show must go on...

I have always been a clown.

"Trowa? Trowa are you in there?" A voice, so lilting and melodic sings it's concern out to the ears of he who had never imagined for the first sixteen years of his lonely life, that someone's voice could ever hold such genuine concern and care for him. For the childhood that never was, he never knew such kindness until he became a man. Until she entered his life, entered his heart, and entered his soul.

"I'm here, Cathrine." And from the darkness comes a voice that was so pure, so gentle, so magnificent--all of time seemed to stand still in his presence. And so, neither can she help but feel the flutter of her heart in her chest at the small thing of hearing his soft voice, though for the thousandth time, though for the millionth time, Cathrine Bloom would never tire of it. She would never tire of its warmth and sweetness, just as it had been that first time they met, which seemed so long ago.

No, it's only been two years, hasn't it? Silly...but it seems I've known you all my life, my beloved boy.

"Trowa! Manager and I have been looking everywhere for you!" Cathrine shields the bright, bold flashlight she was searching the now pitch-dark circus grounds for one missing circus clown. Even in the blackness of the big top inside, illuminated only by her small torch and a faint hint of moonlight outside, Cathrine could so easily trace the lines of Trowa's slim and tall manly form. For in his suspendered pantsuit only, it was so obvious to see this seventeen year old was the perfectly made man. The type all girls dream of--the perfect body, the perfect face, the perfect hair, the perfect eyes, perfect voice, the perfect...

Cathrine could go on and on, as nowadays she would let her mind often do, so enamored of her circus partner this knife-thrower had become.

"Oh?" A soft smile comes to his lips and his vague eyes light up at the sight of her. In his mind, she was the perfect woman--lady, too. Cathrine had acted so much the older sister to a lost and wayward boy, and yet...though Trowa did try to bury his unworthy adoration of her, he couldn't help but ride on the wings of aspiration. He kept this secret inside a beautiful heart, that perhaps, maybe, one day, this creature of pureness, innocence and splendor would maybe, if he dare think he could be so luck, love him---even if it was only for a small, tiny moment of how he loved her. He had come to adore her more and more each day, it was enough to last him his entire life.

"Yes. We've been looking for you everywhere, Trowa." Cathrine lets Trowa lead her by the arm out underneath the moonlit night as she explains. "A message has come for you. He said that is was, let me see--"Because peace is so precious for all of us, it's absolutely imperative that Trowa be there to see it happen at long last." Those were his exact words." Cathrine looks up to the tall man beside her with a slightly wicked grin. "Can you guess who it was?"

"Guess? Well, it does sound like something important is happening on Earth so that means that---" Trowa begins to say.

"That means that you and I are going on a little trip to visit Quatre Raberba Winner then, right?" Cathrine leans an overpowering arm into Trowa's--one that would not take "no" for an answer tonight.

"Right, Cathy." Trowa smiles that smile he gave only to her.