Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Hokkyokusei: The North Star ❯ Deja Vu ( Chapter 2 )

Dejà Vu

The smooth purr of the engine softened as the shiny blue Yamaha motorbike pulled up to an wrought iron-gate guarding a large, sleek building. The dark glass reflected the mid-day sunlight and the landscape edging the curved building was perfectly manicured. The cool steel contrasting the burgeoning heat of the early summer sun.

A stern guard stepped out of the small stone pavilion to the side of the gate, and Cala readily flashed him her ID. After a quick glance at the picture and her face, the guard immediately admitted her through with a polite nod, the gate opening obligingly. When she'd parked the motorcycle by the curb, unbuckled her helmet and settled everything in place, she entered the building with a quick efficient pace.

The cool conditioned air of the lobby rushed at her with a silent whoosh. And a fair-haired secretary sat at a large oak and granite-countered front desk, busily answering phones while typing frantically on a computer keyboard in front of her. The woman barely glanced up at Cala's smooth and silent entrance before returning to her work, merely acknowledging her with a quick warm smile that she returned before she slipped by.

A few uniformed or suited people passed her, nodding or smiling accordingly, but as it was a Saturday, she didn't expect more than a handful of people in the building. Her heels clicking and echoing softly on the marble-tiled floor, she reached the end of the hall and stepped into an elevator to the top story. The soft melody, with the smooth sounds of the piano, in the elevator car made her curl her lips in a small smile. She stepped out of the elevator platform onto the hard tiled floor, getting only a brief view of the open corridors, lit by the bright sunshine from consecutive wide windows before a sharp exclamation behind her made her turn.

"Where the hell have you been?!" The voice was young with a light timbre to it and sounded strained from worry. She quickly caught sight of a young man in his early twenties fairly bursting with suppressed energy, accompanied by a meticulously dressed middle-aged man gone to seed, both rushing towards her.

"Ms. Abassi! You should really stop running off, like that. There's important business you must attend to," scolded the older, shorter man breathlessly, stopping and panting from the run. He had developed new wrinkle lines in his pale face. His hairline was starting to recede and the remaining light brown hair was in disarray, mussed and frizzy, and almost completely out of character for him. His warm brown eyes were worrisome.

"Sachs, you make it sound as if the company was falling down around your ears without me. And it's nice to see you too."

The first voice piped up again, "You also scared the living daylights out of us. We thought that something had happened to you." The young man with almost black hair was about her age and his hazel-hinted eyes were genuinely concerned. He had darker skin than the other older man did, showing off an Arabian heritage. He lowered his head a fraction to meet Cala's eyes; he was only about an inch or two taller than she was and of firm build, not too thin and not too buff. At the scoffing look that she sent him, he coughed and tried to shrug off his obvious worry. "Well, at least Azim thought that."

"And I'm sure you thought I was just peachy, eh?"

"I knew you could take care of yourself," he replied, trying to pull off nonchalant and failing miserably.

"Cemal, if you're going to lie, try to do it right every now and then."

He grimaced and came up with a lopsided smile that she knew too well. "Yeah, well, at least I wasn't raging like Azim was." The loud slamming of a door echoed from somewhere down the corridor and he winced at the sound, correcting himself. "Is."

An angry holler belonging to a large thirty-ish Arabian man storming through the sun-filled halls burst over to them. "Calista Abassi! I'd like to hear you give a good explanation for this one!" The doomed one mentioned flinched and cringed, but smiled brightly as she turned to face the looming danger head on.

"Speaking of the devil. If it isn't our dear friend Azim. How nice to see you. Fine day, isn't it? How's life?" Her voice was incorrigibly cheerful and she seemed to be ignoring his shouts of rage, merely tilting her head upward to look the incoming man in the eye. He was towering over her, well above six feet.

"Fine for me, but in a very short time it's not going to be all that nice for you."

Cala didn't falter her sunny smile at his harsh snarl and completely ignored his not-so-subtle threat. "I explained everything in my note to you, Azim. Try a breath once in a while and calm down." She softened her voice into a soothing tone, trying to at least quiet him.

"I will not calm down! And you did not explain anything in your damned note! All you wrote was that you would be absent from our lives for a time. No details of where you were or when you would be back. You could have been hurt and we wouldn't know where to find you!" Through his shouting she could hear that his voice was rough with worry, as if he had been screaming and shouting for quite some time.

"Azim, I'm a big girl. I can tie my own shoes and dress myself, so I'm sure that I can take perfect care of myself out in the big wide world. And see, I'm just fine." That didn't seem to calm him at all and just as the older man seemed to be about to completely blow his top, they were interrupted by Sachs, who had been patiently waiting on the sidelines for the personal business to air sufficiently enough.

"Excuse me, but Ms. Abassi, there is a lot of unfinished business that should be taken care of. What were you thinking, leaving Khan Enterprises all alone, without your supervision? Even if it was only temporary, you still shouldn't have done it. A day to the business world is enough for a stock market crash. The economy could fall to our very feet. Diligence in your obligations and responsibilities is important. Especially since you have recently become the owner, along with your responsibility as CEO. There are many important business deals and obligations that could not be carried out, because your approval was needed and you were not there…"

The small man seemed to have run out of breath and Calista swiftly took advantage of that.

"First, Sachs, dear, the name of our wonderful company is Abassi Enterprises like it was originally named, before Uncle Hafiz took over and changed it. Second, I promoted you to vice president and chief supervisor thus allowing you to handle most of the 'important business' that was upheld because of me. I'm sure that my responsibilities did not suffer too much while I was gone for about a day and a half. Third, you really should teach me how to do that whole speech without taking a breath. You never know when it can come in handy."

"Hmph. The change of the company name was something I was not authorized to oversee, one of my many examples of things that only you, as CEO and owner, alone, can supervise," he sniffed sulkily, though it was obvious that he was pleased by her absolute confidence in him. "Also, Quatre Raberba Winner called this morning saying that he will be able to make the scheduled appointment, today, after all," he added as an afterthought.

"And I bet you've been fretting about this ever since then, which has made you totally and undeniably tense right about now." She grinned ironically, before muttering softly to herself, "Dammit, I thought Winner canceled the meeting."

"He did and now he's just changed it." The younger man from before input into the conversation, obviously disliking his exclusion from the business lingo.

"Allah help deliver us from indecisive businessmen," muttered Calista irritably as she started striding quickly toward her office, the others following her lead. "I was hoping to make a final check on the company's condition review and maybe tie up some loose ends. I'll have to deal with this now, instead. Okay, here's the game plan. Sachs, you deal with the rest of the company at the moment, handling the condition summary and those lists of complaints that we get everyday. You know the usual. Remember to keep me informed on that strike that's going on in Section 12C, I need to know when we're gonna get back in business there. Azim, we'll finish our discussion later. Now is certainly not the time. Please bring the WM file to my office." Her voice had taken on a professional tone, taking charge of the situation.

"I'll need to explain our little… predicament to Master Quatre, after all," she said more to herself than to her escort. After she had apparently finished her orders, Sachs and Azim started to head back to the elevator.

"Hold your horses. I need you both to meet me back in my office after my meeting with Winner, okay? Good." Then, she dismissed them again with the flick of her wrist and turned to the young man, still at her side. "Sorry about ignoring you, Cemal. I hate to admit it, but Sachs is right about one thing. Leaving, if only for a little while, does take its toll on the workload." She smiled charmingly and Cemal's expression immediately forgave her.

"It's okay, Cala. I know you were just taking care of business matters." His sensuous brown lips curled in a warm smile.

"Well, when I meet with Winner I would like to talk to him in private, so that means you scatter and find something else to do while I chat with him. Okay?" Her transition to a stern business manner stunned him into a moment's stupor. After the statement's meaning sunk in, Cemal began to protest, but she rapidly interrupted him. "This is something private, Cemal. And it's very important to me."

Her gaze was piercing and he scowled in response, his frustration tangible. "For Allah's sake, Cala. Why can't you let me in on this secret?"

"Because, Cemal. Azim is the only one who's in on all of my secrets and it'll stay like that. We've had this conversation before and I haven't changed my mind." She sounded overly patient, but the dangerous glitter in her brine-edged eyes contradicted her serene manner.

"You're letting Winner know about this one. Why can't I know?!"

"Cemal-bhai, please." She twisted her head, letting her regal blue eyes gaze intensely into his frustrated hazel ones for a moment. And he conceded, though a dark shadow crossed over his expression at her use of his 'brotherly' nickname.

"All right, all right," he muttered reluctantly, accepting her choice. "But if anything happens in there, while you're alone and defenseless, just give a shout and I'll be in there faster than you can say Bob's your uncle." Calista giggled and smiled widely.

"Cemal, I'll be just fine and I can take care of myself. Both you and Azim need to stop worrying so much about me. I've done all of this before." There was a laughing quality to her voice that seemed to mock her overprotective friends.

"Well… it's just in case." He seemed to be slightly embarrassed. She just grinned and stopped in front of a pair of wide, thick doors decorated in the Arabian style, deeply engraved with carvings of praises to Allah and swirls and designs symbolizing loyalty, honesty, etc. Swinging it open, she stepped into a small vestibule with sliding, glass paneled French doors that led into the office. Cemal, jokingly, slid one of the doors open for her and performed a formal bow, waiting for her to enter. She chuckled gleefully again and entered with a regal nod.

Calista's office was large and open. Wide and tall windows allowed the beautiful afternoon sun to light the office. A large oak desk sat in the corner of the room; the sun's glare almost completely blocking it from view. It was a corner office with windows on both sides and skylights everywhere. Jewel colors dominated everything and Muslim decorations, as well as European decorations, (of her heritage) were placed everywhere. A few chairs rested before the huge desk, while in the middle of the room two couches and arrangements of armchairs and assortments of divans were centered around a rather large, oval glass and cherry wood coffee table.

Calista sighed wearily and flopped onto one of the comfortable looking couches. Cemal hesitated, trying to decide whether it was proper to sit next to her when the brisk click of the door closing again sounded. Azim had just entered with the 'top secret' files and carrying a silver tea server tray, full of scrumptious cakes and cookies as well as a small pot of tea, in his hands. Azim strode over to Calista and assumed the position beside her, setting down the tray onto the table. Cemal frowned and sighed frustratingly. Azim began to speak to Calista, ignoring Cemal, and Cemal walked resignedly over to a chair across from the couch and sat.

"Cala, I brought those files here. What are you going to do with them?" he said impatiently, tapping the mysterious files in an old brown accordion folder stamped with 'top secret', and marked WM, on the nearby coffee table and Cala poured, thoroughly composed, a cup of tea into a cup, offering it to Cemal.

"Well, Azim, you know what's in there. You tell me what you think I'm going to do," she replied flippantly, almost sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Cemal leaned over to accept the cup from her small hands.

"Calista, it's not the time to fool around. Winner could totally misinterpret you and then the whole company your uncle and father built could go down-" Cemal suddenly ceased his attempt at lecturing when he noticed the look of hurt anguish cross onto Calista's face. She trembled slightly, an inner battle warring inside of her. Azim glared angrily at him.

"Oh, sorry, Cala- I didn't mean…" he trailed off helplessly, looking away ashamed and Azim motioned for him to leave, but Calista glanced up, seeing him, and shook her head. He wasn't purposely insensitive, only careless.

"I'm fine, Azim. Cemal, it's okay. It's just I guess that I'm not totally over Uncle Hafiz's… and my father's passing away has always been a sore spot on me. Anyway, don't mind me, go on." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and she was interrupted. "Come in."

The door slowly swung open and in stepped Quatre Raberba Winner.

The ethereal gleam from his magnificent crown of golden hair made him look like a little girl's idea of the ideal fairy tale prince. The sensitive sky blue eyes were bright and intelligent. His perfectly tailored Italian suit accented his slim build. "I hope that I'm not interrupting anything, Ms. Calista, I presume?" Quatre R. Winner asked the staring threesome politely. Calista's eyes lit up, playfully, conveniently forgetting all about the previous conversation in her delight of seeing Quatre. Cemal, noting the twinkle in her eyes, began to glare territorially at Quatre.

"Nope, you're not interrupting a thing, Master Quatre. At least nothing interesting. Come right in. I'll kick these two out. Azim, we'll finish this discussion later. Cemal, you're welcome to stay outside if you'd like, but don't try eavesdropping. The outer doors are soundproof." Azim nodded and trooped out indifferently, dragging an avert Cemal along.

"Now onto business. Do you have any idea why I wanted to meet with you in the first place?" The famously smooth, suave Quatre Winner was immediately taken aback at Calista's bluntness. She smiled, deeply amused at his discomfort.

"Well… Uh- not really, no."

"Ah. Then I'll have to start at the beginning, I guess. I apologize for being so direct. It's a bad habit of mine. Would you like some refreshments or tea?" She grinned mischievously. Quatre relaxed. The woman was well mannered, just very teasing. He had never met a woman like that. Sure, he knew a few brusque businessmen, but he'd never met a businesswoman like that. In fact, there really were no businesswomen, besides this one. The wives of businessmen usually excluded themselves from the business world, or their husbands did. It was considered somewhat improper to have your wife dictate to you decisions of your career. Quatre had never understood that, but then again, he'd never had a wife.

Women were admitted into politics, Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yui being a perfect and living example, but they weren't exactly common. Hafiz Khan was just about the only man Quatre had known that would let a woman run his company. Surprising, since most men wouldn't trust a woman with anything important, and that Hafiz's company was his life. Hafiz must've really loved the girl.

"No, but thank you for the offer. I bet you learned it from your father. Your directness, that is. Hafiz always got right to the point."

"Well, I might have learned it from him, but he's not my father. I'm his niece. He had no children with my aunt, but he still refused to marry another woman just to sire an heir. You know, he always says-" she cut herself off abruptly and looked away. She continued haltingly, attempting to act as if nothing were wrong. "I mean, he always said that why should he marry again when he loved Aunt Sharma, even though the Koran allows it. And that if worst came to worst, he always had me as a 'back up' heir. Saying so, just to get me all riled up, of course." The ever-empathetic Quatre sat next to her and patted her shoulder, sympathetically.

"Hafiz Khan was a good man. Definitely a shrewd businessman, though, frankly to my family's somewhat disadvantage. My father often told me about the times he beat him at poker." He laughed. "My father always said that Hafiz had to have cheated because no man could have ever had a streak of luck that wide."

"I don't know about that, but I know Uncle Hafiz hated losing." She gave a small laugh too, then cleared her throat and went on to business. "By the way, do you remember the first time that I met you?"

"Hmm. No, sorry. I didn't think I've ever met you before now." Quatre wondered briefly just how a meeting with each other had to do with anything. Though, with Calista's bluntness and 'habit' of being to the point it probably did.

"You're wrong and you have a fairly bad memory, if I may be so bold. I met you when your father and Uncle Hafiz were at a private meeting together. You were playing catch outside with a baseball and I wanted to play."

Flashback to a hot summer day, years ago. Quatre was about eight and Calista about a year or two younger. It was a hot summer day and because of immense boredom Quatre was playing a game of catch with a baseball and mitt on the grassy lawn of a huge, palace-like mansion. A younger Calista, in the sandy, worn clothes of a desert gypsy, approached him from an immediate exit from the mansion.

"Hello." She smiled shyly. "I'm C'lista, what's your name?" Quatre smiled kindly, his eyes sweeping over her plain, worn clothes and replied politely.

"I'm Quatre, Master Quatre."

"Can I play, Mast'a Quat'a?" she said, not able to pronounce his name quite right because of a missing front tooth. He hesitated, not wanting to let a little gypsy girl play with him, afraid of embarrassment. Then an all too brilliant idea struck him.

"I'll let you play with me, but only if you can catch this ball." And then he threw it high into the air, an impossible fly ball straight into the blinding glare of the bright sun. The little Calista gasped at its height, but swiftly ran backwards trying to catch it. Not seeing where she was going, she tripped into an ornamental fountain in the middle of the lawn. An alarmed Quatre quickly ran over to her and helped her out of the water. She spluttered, but came out all right. When she stopped coughing up liquid, she held up her hand the baseball clutched tightly in her grip.

Comprehension dawned on Quatre's face and he blushed a little. "Now, I remember. You wanted to play with me and I said that you couldn't."

"Nope, you just tried to avoid playing with an annoying little girl. Of course you failed. The usual occurrence with me." She smirked amusedly. "And of course, I forgave you. But this is all just sidetracking. The whole point is that at the meeting your father and my uncle called, they were discussing something important. Guess what that something is."

"I have no idea," said Quatre honestly.

"My uncle told me about it in his will. Right after the lawyer announced me official heir to his half of the company, thus making me president of the company. My favorite uncle's attorney announced that I was betrothed. Here's the evidence. Now, guess who I'm betrothed to." She flipped open the accordion folder and set the legal documents into his hands. In it was the marriage agreement with the signatures of witnesses, her uncle and his father. Quatre's eyes widened at the evidence and at the implication of whom Calista's betrothed was.

"No. It can't… It can't possibly have been me?"

"Sorry, it was you. It's a good thing Uncle Hafiz is dead or I would have murdered him right then and there."

"But- I can't-" Calista held up her hand to interrupt his nervous babbling.

"I know. You're engaged to Catherine Bloom, the famous dagger thrower. Don't worry. I've got it figured out with my lawyers. The whole point of the betrothal was a consolidation between our two companies. My company does not have an oil industry as part of the enterprise and my uncle wanted to become partners with your father. Therefore, adding a strong oil industry to our company and increasing the strength in your company's weaker assets. A mutual benefit. But your father seemed to be worried about your- welfare, so suggested a blood union." She paused to smirk cynically.

"Since my uncle didn't have any children he suggested me as a likely candidate and your father agreed. I don't have Khan blood since Uncle Hafiz is an uncle-in-law, but my father's sister married my uncle. And anyway the company was originally my father's. But that's not the point. My lawyers found a loophole out of the marriage agreement. Since, the main purpose of the agreement was to integrate our companies and to marry you off; all we have to do is combine the companies. Then, we're all set. That is since you're going to be married soon, I don't have to marry you, just as long as you're married." Quatre, who had been listening quite intently to the woman's professional business talk, sighed with obvious relief.

"Thank Allah. I don't think that it's really all that simple, though." An exasperated raised eyebrow broke Calista's professional mask, as if she were telling him that he really didn't want to know, so Quatre backed off the subject. "Do I have to be married before the actual merging?"

That made her pause a moment to think. "I'm not sure. I'll ask my lawyers about it. They haven't drawn up all the papers that need to be signed yet, so I've got an appointment pretty much after this meeting. After I sign them I'll send them over to your headquarters for your signature. Oh, by the way. You don't mind the name being 'Abassi-Winner Incorporated Enterprises', do you? I've turned the company name back to the original." Quatre stared incredulously into Calista's face, surprised, and saw the humor that had suddenly lit up her dark blue eyes. He grinned and played along.

"Not in particular. But that really depends on why you're asking."

"Oh, no real reason. It's just that your father and Uncle Hafiz had been arguing about the name for a while. You know, about whose name would come first, as a matter of priority and importance? After the lawyers told me this, I started laughing hysterically. I just found it extremely funny. What about you, Master Quatre?" She parodied a solemn manner, cracking another grin from him.

"Well, it does seem very funny. How did they finally agree?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Well, a witness suggested alphabetical order and they finally agreed. But then they started arguing about which type of alphabetical order. Whether to have it backward alphabetical order or to have it proper alphabetical order." She started going into peals of giggles, Quatre following her suit. She tossed her head back and gave a laugh, her eyes lighting up. Quatre raised his eyebrows and stared at her. Calista shook her hair out of her eyes and stared back at Quatre. The black strands looked alive in the sunlight. The image caught his memory and made him think.

"Is something wrong, Master Quatre?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned, staring at his pensive expression.

"No, of course not, it's just you remind me very strongly of someone. But just in a different sort of way. It's hard to explain. And why do you keep calling me 'Master Quatre'? I'm hardly your equal, much less your master." At that Calista smiled appreciatively.

"I'm glad you noticed. It was my nickname for you. At the time when I met you, you thought I was on a much lower class than you and insisted I call you that. So, now I have a habit of doing so." Wrinkling her nose she laughed the laugh again.

"Oh, I don't entirely remember that." He seemed puzzled.

"Of course, you don't. It was a really long time ago and I would hardly remember it, myself. It's just that I've inherited one of those photographic memories, so I do remember back then. I can still remember the look on your face when your father introduced me to you." She chuckled, mischievously. "Oh, by the way, who do I remind you of? I'm just curious."

"Well, you remind me of a woman who was once just a girl. She went by the name of Relena, back then. Of course, now she's all grown up, but you remind me a little of the younger her. And obviously, you're very different. When you laugh, though, the resemblance is quite obvious." Calista's eyes widened and her face paled several shades. She quickly looked anywhere but at Quatre and became stiflingly formal.

"I guess, you'd better be going. There are a lot of things you must need to attend to. I'll escort you out." She stood abruptly, turning and leaving the office, sliding the French doors and swinging the heavy Arabian doors open. But keeping the door wide open for Quatre to walk through. A very perplexed Quatre hesitated before following her. By the time he had walked out of the office, intending to apologize for whatever offense that he had unknowingly committed, Calista was out of sight and a very sulky Cemal was standing in her stead, apparently waiting for him. His malevolent glare was definitely directed at Quatre, and he seemed very unhappy about something.

"Mr. Winner, Ms. Abassi has instructed me to escort you out of the building. Please follow me." It seemed to be very difficult for Cemal not to be hostile. He whirled and started marching away. Quatre raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and followed.

After Quatre had gone down the elevator with Cemal, the outer door to Calista's office swung silently shut again. Calista stood in a tiny alcove in the hallway that had been concealed by the open door. The look on her face was pensive and melancholic. She opened the doors to her office and entered again. Collapsing on a couch, she closes her eyes. It was almost as if she were sleeping but when a knock on the door interrupted the hum of the air conditioning she answered dully.

"Come in." Azim walked in and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Calista and sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Cala, I know you're not going to tell me what just happened in here, but I'll take a guess. Winner mentioned the Peacecraft woman, didn't he?" Calista couldn't meet his direct gaze, but replied devoid of emotion.

"It's Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yui, now. And anyway, if you must know, he did."

"Oh, Cala. I've known you your whole life and I know you're not a coward. You've always been very brave your entire life. But, now you're afraid of talking to one person. I've seen you face down ten full-grown men and not even blink. Just her name scares you. Why can't you just talk to her? She'll understand the situation." The older man rested a comforting hand on her shoulder in a paternal gesture.

"I know that she will. She'll have to, given the circumstances. It's just… that I'm afraid of her reaction. She might have to believe it, but she doesn't have to accept it." She finally looked at Azim, her eyes begging for understanding and sympathy. Azim sighed sadly and patted Calista's shoulder. A small and only a little forced smile appeared on her face. She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her slacks.

"You're right, Azim. I should talk to her. And I promise I will. That is if I happen to see her around. Which I probably will, since the circus troupe I've joined up with does seem to travel to the city, where she lives, pretty often," she said with a gleam in her eyes. Azim jumped up, horrified, and almost spilling the full cup of tea that he'd been nursing absently in his left hand.

"The circus?! You can't possibly have meant the circus?! In your letter you said you were looking for another job, not the circus?! I thought all your crazy escapades were over with, already! Why do you need a job?! Owning Abassi Enterprises is a job!" A knock on the door interrupted his dumbfounded raving.

"Come in," Calista called demurely and Sachs entered.

"Ms. Abassi, what would you like to discuss with me?"

"I was just explaining that particular subject to Azim. Please sit down, Sachs, this might come as a shock and I certainly wouldn't want to have you fall and hurt yourself." She gestured to a couch and tugged Azim back down beside her.

"Now, kindly, explain what you mean, Calista." Azim struggled to keep his voice down.

"If you really want me to, Azim. The fact of the matter is that I've just accepted a job opening as an acrobat and dagger thrower in a traveling circus troupe. This means that since they move around a bit. You two will have to take charge for a little while. I'll return every now and then to take care of the big things. Don't worry, this is only temporary. You know what it's for, Azim, so don't start complaining again." A genuine, merry glint in her eyes annoyed Azim, and Sachs looked utterly stunned.

"But… but, Ms. Abassi-" His bemused protest was ignored by everyone else in the room.

"Don't you start whining, Sachs," she said absently, standing and dusting off stray lint on her trousers. "This is very important. I'll be back before you know it." She straightened purposefully and strode out; leaving Sachs and Azim still more confounded. After a moment of shock passed, the two men looked at each other: Sachs, opening and closing his mouth speechlessly, and Azim, grimacing unpleasantly. It was the latter of the two that spoke first.

"I'm not going to be the one to tell Cemal this." Sachs made a face at Azim's grim statement. Then, Calista stuck her head back into the doorway.

"By the way, don't tell Cemal until I'm gone. Chances are, he'll do something stupid and hurt himself," she added as an afterthought and disappeared again.

~*~*~

Meanwhile back at the circus…

"What do you mean she had to leave?! It's late! The show's going to start in half an hour! She just can't do that! The only other person with the audacity to leave like that was you and you're the exception!" The ringmaster was blowing his top at Trowa and Catherine, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. Both Trowa and Catherine had had to explain to him why Cala wasn't there and he had not reacted pleasantly in the least. A sudden knock on the door interrupted the outraged ringmaster.

"Come on in, it's open," Catherine called when the ringmaster refused to answer. The door swung open and Cala stepped in.

"Sorry about leaving earlier. Can I speak to Catherine, for a moment? Someone told me that she was here." The ringmaster's eyes widened and he seemed to be about to explode. Cala was unperturbed by the intensity of his stare. She glanced at Catherine and tossed her a wide smile. Catherine smiled automatically in return.

"Since she's here, I'll just borrow her for a second. Be right back." She beckoned to Catherine. "By the way, you don't mind if I add Blizzard as part of the act, do you?"

"What? Why would you do that? We already have horses in the show. We don't need another one." The anger had dissipated from the ringmaster's expression, displaced by confusion.

"You'll see." She winked mischievously, as she and Catherine stepped out, leaving the ringmaster and Trowa were slightly baffled. After a second of silence, Trowa shrugged it off and left with the ringmaster to prepare for the upcoming show.

Catherine and Cala had entered Catherine's trailer when Catherine decided to finally initiate conversation. "What did you need to talk to me about?" she asked, going directly to the point, deciding that Cala wasn't one to adore tact. To her surprise, Cala blushed slightly.

"Well, I have no costume for doing this sort of thing. I've never performed this act in public before, so I have no idea what I should wear. It's slightly embarrassing, but…" she trailed off, looking pleadingly. Catherine smiled.

"It's all right. I grew up here, so when a newcomer arrives I usually help them out with this sort of thing. Don't worry about it. I've got an old costume that could fit you. I'll modify it a bit. Do you like dresses?"

"Not really. It restricts movement altogether too much."

"I see. I figured that you didn't. We'll have to do some re-modifying and quick if you want it before the start of the next show." The two women started getting busy, one finding scissors, the other digging up a sewing machine.

Trowa and the ringmaster waited fretfully outside of the main tent by the performer entrance, watching the seats inside fill up. Or at least the ringmaster was waiting fretfully. He was dressed in his performance attire and pacing around and around in circles. Trowa, in his clown suit and half domino mask, was perfectly poised.

"What's taking them so long? They're supposed to be the stars. We can't start without them. And what exactly was Cala doing this morning. She wasn't supposed to leave. Coming back only half an hour before a show starts isn't exactly the greatest action for a beginner either."

"Calm down. She got here, didn't she? She'll be fine. You saw what she could do before and she's great at it. Cathy's coming soon, so you don't have to worry about her either," stated Trowa in his calm and unemotional way. The return of the typical Trowa was at hand, for the moment in the least. Catherine entered, in her pretty attire of daring dagger thrower and astonishing acrobat, smiling broadly.

"See. Nothing to worry about," Trowa remarked, coolly, still normally, but hiding subtle relief.

"Hello, you two. May I present our newest performer, the Constellation." Cala strolled in. She wore a dark blue tunic with glittering white very shiny crystals embroidered in the shape of a star on the front and back. It was paired with black leggings and soft black ballet shoes. Both of which hugged her slender and just slightly curved form and made Trowa lift an eyebrow, questioningly. He glanced at his sister who was smiling smugly, at some secret victory. It was then that the lights went out in the main tent, signaling the ringmaster's cue.

"I've got to go. If you think that's all right, Catherine, I'll trust your judgment." He turned and jogged into the tent. Trowa looked toward Cala again, but she was gone. He looked at his sister and she smiled, smugly, again. She shook her head. Trowa sighed and stared back into the main tent.

About five minutes into the beginning of the show, Cala disappeared and appeared again with Blizzard by her side. She flashed a smile at Catherine, totally ignoring Trowa. Her attitude completely offset Trowa, but his cue, for his shared performance with Catherine, came up before he can question the situation. Trowa's whole performance was excellent, better than usual. It even received a standing ovation from the crowd. It was as if he was trying to impress someone, specifically someone who wasn't in the audience. After his exit, Catherine stayed behind for a moment to introduce Cala.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce our newest member. She is a great acrobat and a wonderful dagger thrower. And here is the Constellation!"

The spotlight glided upward to the high wire. Standing on the thin line up above was Cala. With all black dress she seemed like a shadow, but her glowing blue eyes, that were enhanced by the dark clothing, ensured everyone that she was very real. The excitement of the crowd increased as a hush fell. Cala simply stood there, unmoving, and stared back at the audience. Trowa could feel the panic rising in his throat. When the suspense of it all peaked (and Trowa could feel the ringmaster begin to go into a fit of hysterics), Cala smiled smugly and confidently tossed the hair out of her eyes. She bowed, still smiling, and ostentatiously extracted her three daggers.

Someone had dragged out a target and she flipped, throwing the first dagger onto the bulls-eye of the target. She repeated the act that she had demonstrated to the ringmaster the night before, the crowd oohing and ahhing to her talent and precision. However, this time as she jumped off of the high wire in her grand finale of twists and flips, she whistled loudly. Before the echo of the whistle could disappear, Blizzard entered the arena from the sidelines, where he'd been waiting patiently and cantered towards center of the ring. She landed on his back standing just before he had reached the center. As soon as she had stepped foot on his back, the horse stopped dead, ending up in the center of the arena. The crowd went wild and started whistling and cheering, everyone giving an enthusiastic standing ovation. Her smug smile unchecked, she blew a kiss to the audience, bowed again and the spotlight went out. The crowd kept cheering after, dying down only a little, until the lights came back on.

When the spotlight returned, however, a clown car was parked in her place. Some of the crowd groaned, but soon they were all laughing at the silly stunts the clowns pulled. Back in the side tent, Cala rested her head on Blizzard's neck. Her eyes shut tightly, only opening when Trowa approached her, dressed back in regular attire.

"Hey there, stargazer. What's going on? Did I miss a cue or something?" She gave him a weak smile.

"No, I was just worried if you were tired. You look like you are." His face was the usual bland expression, but his voice revealed concern.

"Well, I must admit that I am exhausted. I think it's worth it though, the exhilaration from the crowd is just…" she trailed off, shaking her head, and looking for the right word.

"Irreplaceable?" He half-smiled, his eyes full of understanding.

"Yep. That's it. I haven't experienced that for a long time." Trowa walked nonchalantly over to Blizzard and began to stroke him.

"So, what do you do when you're not throwing daggers off the high wire?" he asked casually as he scratched behind Blizzard's ear, making the horse toss his head with pleasure.

"Why ask? It's really boring. I can't take it usually. I used to do something really thrilling, but after my uncle passed away…" she trailed off again and stared downward, avoiding eye contact.

"He meant a lot to you." Trowa, completely sympathetic, rested his hands on her thin shoulders. His deep emerald eyes were tender as he stared at Cala's sad face.

"Yes, yes he did mean a lot to me. He was like a second father to me. Well, I had to take his workplace." She acknowledged his comforting gesture by meeting his eyes.

"Ah. Family tradition?" Raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of. I'm a girl, so I sort of broke family tradition. It's usually the eldest boy that takes over, but I'm the only one left so I had to." Cala smirked sardonically.

"Don't feel too bad. I have no real family, only Cathy." His face smoothing into passiveness again.

"Well, Catherine is wonderful. You shouldn't take her for granted." It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, making a subtle implication of an accusation.

"I've realized that's what I've been doing for the past few years. Now that she's leaving the troupe I guess I've realized just how much she means to me." He admitted to the accusation with no obvious shame, but his eyes clouded with guilt.

She saw it and sympathized. "Well, don't worry. That happens to everyone. It even happened to me." Cala tried a self-mocking smile. "Before my uncle died I guess I figured that he'd always be there and I never really paid attention to him. Of course, I spoke to him and visited him a lot, but after I left home the closeness between us got lost somewhere along the way of me growing up. And after my aunt died… It was really all my fault though. I know that he understood that I had to live my own life and be my own person, but I should have tried harder… He was like a second father to me, my world when I was younger, and I just took him for granted. Forgot about him like last year's shoes.

And then when he left… well, it suddenly hit me that I'll never be able to talk to him again or… anything. Anything at all. That's what makes me so upset whenever anyone else or I mention him. Come to think of it, you're the only person that I've been able to talk to about my uncle without me starting to breakdown." Cala looked into Trowa's eyes, wondering just why she was talking to a complete stranger about her life. The things that she never told anyone before, not even Azim…

"Er- hope I'm not interrupting something here." Both Cala and Trowa snapped their heads toward the voice.

Catherine, standing awkwardly to the side of them, was grinning at the uncomfortable looks on their faces. Cala flushed dark red and quickly looked away. Trowa reddened only faintly and mumbled something about nosy sisters. Suddenly, a disgruntled snort exploded in their ears and they all jumped back in surprise. Blizzard was not happy with the focus shift and he showed it. Catherine bursted out laughing, breaking the awkward moment. Cala joined in with her twinkling laugh and Trowa smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles.

All three people and the one horse walked back to Catherine's trailer, talking quietly about that night's performance. As they reached their destination, Cala took Blizzard's halter and hesitantly turned to Catherine.

"Catherine, I should put Blizzard with the other horses. The ringmaster-"

"The manager asked me to take you in and I agreed. Don't you worry, kid. You can bunk with us, right Trowa?"

"Hmm…" His face remained blankly smooth.

"Okay, thanks. I'll be right back." She whirled around and led Blizzard away to the stable tent. Catherine turned to Trowa, gently demanding an explanation.

"Now, Trowa. Tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing going on, Cathy." He gave his normal reply with a sense of distraction in his tone of voice.

"Trowa, don't lie." She frowned deeply. Catherine would never let anyone, much less the people most important to her, tell her an outright lie.

"I'm not lying. There's nothing going on," he replied seriously, giving his sister his full attention.

"Okay, let me rephrase my question, then. What's going on between you and Cala?" Catherine asked, sighing, but remaining patient.

"Absolutely nothing, sis." He made a brief pause before continuing, "I think I'll go to bed now. Good night." Trowa walked to the trailer and quietly entered. Catherine rolled her eyes and followed him, close to disgusted with Trowa.

That night, after everything was settled (Cala being placed in an extra cabin), Catherine called her future husband. Quatre appeared on the screen and seemed distracted, not bothering to even glance at his caller.

"Winner Residence."

"Hello, Quaty." Quatre's head jerked up at the soft sound of his nickname and he smiled boyishly.

"Hey, princess. How was your day?"

"Well, it was okay. The manager's found a replacement for my show spot in the troupe, since I'll be leaving soon. He says that it's only temporary, but he'll find a more permanent one later after the winter season, when there's more time. And that it's better than nothing, with the marriage just around the corner," she said enthusiastically.

"Oh, that's great. I'm glad that we can finally get all the details now. Those wedding coordinators have been bugging me for the longest time. Thank Allah, they're finally going to get off my back now." Catherine smiled at his feigned exasperation. The 'wedding coordinators' were the entire harem of his sisters. She knew that he truly loved them and that they would annoy him for the fun of it. All of the sisters had ganged up on Catherine and pleaded to plan the wedding, even though the ceremony was to be held in the famous Catholic Church, Notre` Dame Cathedral.

Quatre frowned a moment and raked a hand through his golden-colored locks pensively. He knew that Catherine would want to know. She had practically ordered him to inform her of everything that was occurring in his life, including his business and family. So… he'd probably tell her, no matter how reluctant he felt about it. She'd find out sooner or later. Both his company and the Abassi Enterprises were very big businesses and the media would certainly publicize the merge as much as possible, especially with his upcoming wedding. And she would want to hear it from him, not from the local news report.

"I've got the strangest news for you. I met with the owner of the company otherwise known as Khan Enterprises, today. And…" He looked away for a moment, feeling awkward.

"And?" She blinked in confusion.

"Well, my father set up a consolidation with that company and betrothed me to the former owner's niece, who inherited the company," he continued hesitantly.

"Oh, no! What happened?" Her alarm was apparent in both voice and face.

"Well, she said that she found a loophole in the agreement. All I have to do is sign the consolidation contracts and marry you." Quatre gave her a lopsided grin, hoping that she would not take everything the wrong way.

"So everything is settled?" Catherine smiled, giving him a dirty look for scaring her, and sighing with relief.

"Well, almost settled, but the bottom line is that I can definitely marry you. That is if you were worried or something," he replied, still grinning at her obvious scare.

"That's a load off of my back. You had me there for a moment. I could have fainted with fright."

"You- afraid? The one and only fearless Catherine?" He pretended shock, teasing his bride-to-be.

"Hey! Whoever said that I was fearless?" She lifted her chin, tossing her rusty red curls as she issued her challenge.

"Me, of course." He gave her a smug smile and suddenly remembered something. "By the way, I just want to confirm our dinner date tomorrow."

"At seven o' clock sharp. Don't worry, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Oh, and Quatre?" Catherine's bright purple-tinted eyes that had lit up at the thought of a date with her fiancé suddenly darkened with worry.

"Yes?" He stared curiously at his Cathy's sudden concern.

"Trowa's been acting… strangely," she said, struggling for the right words.

"What do you mean, 'strangely'?" Quatre's smooth brow furrowed slightly at the mention of his best friend's 'strange behavior'.

"Well, you know how the ringmaster got a replacement? The replacement makes Trowa act oddly. He's really quiet and then again he's not. I'm not sure how to explain it." The worry lines on her face deepened.

"Isn't Trowa always quiet?" he asked jokingly, trying to ease her worry a bit.

"Well, I mean strangely quiet," she said, slightly irritated by his light-heartedness.

"It's really worrying you, isn't it?" he asked, sounding very concerned. Obviously it was distressing Cathy and she didn't become paranoid over anything that wasn't serious. There had to be something wrong.

"He's my little brother, Quatre. I worry about him." Her face softened at his worried tone.

"I'm sure he's fine, Cathy. Just to stop your worrying I'll talk to him. Okay?" He kept his voice steady and calm to reassure Catherine. But his expression didn't let on that he too was starting to wonder what was happening with Trowa. Trowa was the constant factor in their ever-changing world. He was like a shadow, silent yet always there, quietly watching over everyone. It was a shock to hear that something was happening to Trowa.

But he didn't want Cathy to worry anymore than she was.

"Thank you, Quatre."

"You're welcome. Now, get some beauty rest. I don't want you to fall asleep on our little dinner date." Catherine made a face at him and he grinned.

"All right. Good night, Quaty."

"Sweet dreams, Cathy." She blew a kiss and tuned the communication unit off. Relying on his reassuring attitude to calm herself, she slept well that night.

Quatre stayed awake long after she bid him goodnight. In his hotel suite, he looked out of the balcony's open doors. A cool breeze swept his sun-toned hair into his sky-colored eyes and he absently brushed it away.

There were so many things that flew through his mind. There was the original worry about the odd behavior of his new partner and the new worry about Trowa. Normally, Cathy did not concern herself too much over Trowa. He could take care of himself and she only intervened when she felt that he needed sisterly help. And although he had insisted that whatever she needed to talk about, she could talk to him (like she had to him). He wanted to always be there for her.

To serve and protect her.

He had vowed to himself that he would never again let her be hurt in any shape or form. Even by him. Especially not from him. He had blundered their relationship enough and now that things were finally going smoothly, he needed to ensure that he didn't mess up again. He might not be able to fix it.

He knew that no matter what, Cathy had to come first. She was the priority over any and everything else. The merging of companies could wait until he was sure that Cathy was not hurt.

What is making Cathy so anxious about Trowa? And what does this replacement of hers have to do with anything at all? Maybe Cathy and I worry too much. There are so many things that can go wrong at this moment, so soon before the wedding. I don't want to end up with another fiasco like the last time…