Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Hokkyokusei: The North Star ❯ Soap Operas ( Chapter 8 )

Soap Operas?

Slight pain pounded his head and shot through the hinges on his jaw from the pressure that he was putting on his teeth. Luckily for him, the grounding sound was muted by the society chatter and tinkling of crystal in the background.

Too bad it doesn't block out the babblings of my date, he thought, painfully pulling his lips into a polite smile as the idiot blonde debutante made a seemingly funny comment and her drooling admirers laughed. Trowa couldn't help but wonder why anyone would find his escort even in the slightest bit interesting and he doubted that any of the young men surrounding him thought that she was. Her money, classic good looks, and good name were probably the more interesting matter to them, he thought, sneering cynically.

That was when he was forced frowned at himself. He didn't have to be cruel even when he was irritable. His empty headed escort wasn't a horrible person so he really shouldn't think cruel thoughts, even if he never planned to say any of them out loud. Not that he ever planned to say anything out loud, but he wasn't thinking the most charitable thoughts towards anyone right then and if pushed, he would probably end up screaming them in someone's face if he wasn't careful.

Then, like a column of bright sunlight on a cloudy day, a miracle happened. His scapegoat for escaping the dull conversation appeared. Quatre, looking grave, parted the sea of people like Moses, his faithful servant, Rashid, trailing him. Trowa quickly made his polite excuses and slipped out to meet them.

"Did you find anything?"

Quatre didn't seem surprised at the less than friendly greeting and absently ran a hand through his shiny golden locks. "On the person that you wanted us to investigate? Nothing significant. And it's not important right now. I've just received a warning from someone, saying that we are in danger?" The key word 'danger' caught his attention immediately and Trowa's bottle green eyes narrowed.

"Who's 'someone' and who's 'we'?"

The questions weren't unexpected, though Trowa knew that at least one of them wouldn't be answered. His best friend wasn't given to revealing his sources, especially when they wanted to remain anonymous. Quatre seemed to be in a certain state of confusion, frowning deeply and hesitating before answering.

"I'm not really sure who's 'we'. My 'informant', as we can loosely call her, wasn't very explicit in answering that. From what I remember, she said something about all those who had protected the world from chaos and destruction and the everyone doing so now."

Immediately, his mind clicked in recognition to that.

"The Gundam pilots and the people that helped them end the wars." Trowa saw Quatre's eyes flash as he, too, made the connection.

"Got it. She also said something about warning my friends. Should I-" He cut in, reading his friend's though follow-up.

"No, too dangerous. The transmission might be intercepted and this is too risky for that. Whoever it is that is endangering us, would strike then, the element of surprise, having been lost."

"But we don't even know when they're going to strike, anyway," Quatre argued. "It might be right now, for all we know."

"Don't worry about it. We can't do anything right now. I'm due for the L2 colony soon, so I'll give the heads up to Duo. See if you can talk to Wu-Fei sometime soon, maybe through the Preventors. It'd probably be better for us to do this in person, so there definitely won't be any unknown leaks. Our last stop before the New Year is the Capital, so I'll warn Heero and set him on his guard with Relena, as well as the Preventers." Quatre nodded in understanding, looking at Rashid, who nodded in affirmation. Trowa swallowed, hesitating, knowing he was entering thin ice territory, but continued anyway. "So if your informant didn't know when the strike is going to happen, then we can eliminate the possibility that she is sided with the enemy." His fair-haired friend looked startled by the idea of a double agent, but then sighed in agreement.

"Yes. I didn't think of that before."

Trowa didn't say anything, but thought that if the brilliant strategist hadn't thought of that possibility than he must have known the informant quite well, perhaps intimately, therefore never considering betrayal. Quatre's weakness had always been a habit of easy trust, though it was well hidden. The CEO noticed the predatory green glint in his friend and soon to be brother-in-law's eyes and shook his head.

"It wasn't an ex-lover or anything like that, Trowa. I'm very sure she's trustworthy." He didn't bother explaining and Trowa knew better than to ask twice. "Where's Cathy? I don't feel safe with her out of my sight." Trowa mutely agreed.

"She's over there," he pointed to their left, "talking to a bunch of artsy people about ballet."

"Good, I'll go join her." He noted the overt glance at Rashid, who had backed quietly out of the conversation earlier and was standing to the side, brushing his gaze over the entire party of people, keeping his eyes out and alert for safety reasons. "Rashid didn't find anything pertinent. The woman you saw wasn't a criminal or anything. I know her quite well, because she's my new business associate. The consolidation was legalized last month and is getting in order as of now. Her name is Calista Abassi."

He recognized the name as a young CEO of a powerful company that had its finger in just about every industry possible. Except oil. Thus the consolidation between the Winner Oil Company and the Khan Enterprises, recently renamed Abassi Enterprises. The result had been surprisingly good. He knew because his the majority of his stock had been invested in the Winner Oil and he had followed in the newspapers as well, as having been informed officially by the company.

"Yes, heard about her in the papers. I just thought she was someone else."

Quatre nodded, understanding, as usual. "Something about her that looks so familiar. I could've sworn she was Relena, with black hair and if I hadn't known otherwise."

Trowa raised his eyebrows in question. He hadn't thought of that, but it didn't really matter. He didn't really see Relena Peacecraft Yuy in anyone. She was an individual unto herself and no matter how much he admired her, he thought of her as a little bit crazy. Who, in her right mind, would chase after a guy like Heero Yuy? Then again, he never understood why women would want to chase after him, the quiet Trowa Barton, either and they still did. To add to that, he never understood women at all. Trowa just didn't bother like Quatre did. It wasn't worth the effort. The women he knew and respected, like Relena and Sally Po Chang, were worth knowing, but, to him, the rest of them were just there to keep the human race alive and going.

Instinctively, he flinched, knowing that he would be seriously injured if he ever let any woman, especially the women he lived with, find out about his thoughts on that particular subject. Blinking, he looked around. Quatre had left to seek out Catherine, knowing that Trowa wasn't going to give him any more of a response.

And with a polite nod to Rashid, he made his way over to the group that Quatre and Catherine were conversing with. His sharp ears couldn't help but pick up a snatch of their current chat as he got into earshot.

"-so she had to leave? How disappointing, I wanted to meet her." His fickle sister's voice drifted through the crowd of people.

"Sorry, Cath. She had to leave a little suddenly. Urgent business. But she gave me her apologies to give to you." At the stiff quality of Quatre's voice, covered heavily with honey, Trowa guessed automatically that the new associate of the Abassi-Winner Corporation was Quatre's informant. Quatre had been a very bad liar and no matter how hard he tried, he could never fool Trowa if he had to talk directly about a sensitive subject.

Catherine, however, soaked it up. She obviously didn't care all that much about meeting his new associate or she would have commented about the odd sound of her fiancé's voice. "Calista. That's such a pretty name. It sounds so familiar to my friend Cala's too. Cala, Calista." She laughed lightly. "But I'm sure that Ms. Calista is much older than my new friend, Cala. And they probably don't look anything alike. Cala is so funny and sweet, I should introduce her to you sometime."

Cala.

Calista.

A rush of cold water seemed to hit him in the face, stopping him in his tracks, as the idea struck him. The similarity between names was incredible. Only one syllable and the loss of a couple letters. His eyes widened as his mind flashed back to the glance he had gotten of the woman in the balcony box before.

Was it possible that…?

No! Of course not, a part of him screamed in reply. But then, in a quiet confident voice, the logical side of him said that the coincidences were too many and close together. Similar names, and familiar facial features. Calista Abassi had been at the opera tonight, while Cala had disappeared from the circus. The chances were too high. And he had to investigate.

Before he knew it he was out the door and driving like a maniac down the highway on a car he had taken the liberty of 'borrowing' from Quatre. He had to see whether or not Cala was back.

Breathing hard, he skidded to a stop as he approached the trailer that he, his sister, and Cala shared. He pounded up the steps and burst through the door, his eyes darting desperately around. The kitchen and hall were empty. And the whole place was silent.

Cala wasn't there.

He had his proof. No matter what she said in answer to his interrogation. He knew that she had been to the opera. She had been lying. He should've felt like celebrating, but for some reason he didn't. A bottomless pit seemed to have formed in his stomach and he turned to the living room, thinking of turning on the news to wait for his sister to return from the reception party. And there sat Cala, staring confusedly at him.

"You looking for someone, Trowa?"

What could've been elation made him smile, but he wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. Much less why. All he knew for certain was suddenly the pit in his stomach had disappeared and he was smiling for almost no apparent reason.

"What're you doing here?"

The immediate stupid question leapt from his mouth before he could stop it, but he didn't care as he walked to the couch she sat on and dropped himself in the place beside her. Cala smiled beautifully and unmuted the silent television in front of her. "Oh, just watching my favorite soap opera."

"You watch soap operas?"

"Yep. And this one's my favorite. It's called Sunset Horizons and I've been watching it forever."

"You're kidding me."

"No, of course not." She met his incredulous stare and grinned sheepishly. "I had some pretty boring vacations and it's not my fault that there's nothing besides soap operas on the television during the daytime. And this one's really great. Guess what?"

"What?"

Her face sobered and alligator tears formed in her eyes. "Hope died, today." Trowa couldn't help the instinctive urge to cuddle her, though when her words got through, his eyes widened and he gulped.

"Repeat that, please."

"Hope died, today," she reiterated slowly.

"Wait, whose? Yours or mine?" And then it hit him and he groaned, exasperatedly smacking his palm against his forehead. "Oh, my god. You mean Hope as in Sunset Horizons."

"Hey! It wasn't her fault! Sure, the idiot was driving recklessly, but she wouldn't have taken off in such an emotional mess if it hadn't been for her finding her boyfriend, Devon, cheating on her. So, it's his fault. Not to mention, her lying, backstabbing best friend, Faith, who is really her twin sister separated at birth by their evil now deceased grandfather, who is really Devon's illegitimate father. Faith was the one Devon was cheating on Hope with. I swear that Hope is such an idiot for not seeing it before now. And the worst thing is that Faith is now carrying Devon's baby and he has to marry her. Isn't that just horrible?"

Trowa didn't bother with a reply as he was still groaning from the oddity of it all. His day and everything that was happening. Actually sticking out the first date he'd had in five years (he usually just ditched the date and the idea once he found out what was really going on). Then, rushing home to find someone, or not find someone. And to add to it all, soap operas! As if his life wasn't a soap opera already. And if Cala was going to stick around, recovery from it all was going to be like a distant memory.

But it didn't seem all that bad, really.

That was, Cala sticking around for a while. She was starting to grow on him. No matter how annoying she was at times. He looked at her, staring cheerfully at him, glancing every now and then at the noisy commercials on the color box ahead of them.

"But what were you in such a hurry for?" she asked half-absently as she plucked some popcorn out of a large container in front of her and crackled it in her mouth. "I mean, I've been here for about forty-five minutes, just pigging out on popcorn and watching the ol' telly, waiting for Cathy and her fiancé to stop making cow-eyes at one another and come back, with you in tow, of course." Trowa's eyes glinted slyly as he snagged some popcorn away from her, though she tried in vain to keep it all to herself. He triumphantly shoveled it up and reached for more as she made a face at him and let him have it.

"What do you mean, wait for us? Thought you were out visiting some friends."

"Yeah, I was. But there's only so much I can take of couples flirting with each other. After about an hour and a half of it, I thought I would gag so made my goodbye's and came back here to rot my brains out."

"So there were brains to rot out in the first place?"

"That doesn't deserve an answer." She sniffed automatically and pulled the popcorn away from him.

"Which means you didn't have any."

"Hmph!" She sniffed again and smartly pulled his wrinkled and untied black necktie. "You better change out of that tux before we can start fighting over more popcorn and you get grease all over it."

He couldn't help a grin. "But that was the plan."

"Oh, so you wouldn't have to keep going on those little set up blind-dates that your conniving sister makes?"

"I'm not surprised that you knew."

"Hah! I know everything!"

"Sure, you do."

"Yes, I do. Which means that I know that Cathy would just get the thing dry-cleaned if you did get it all dirty and greasy, so shoo. Off with you, to help save us from the soon-to-be huge dry-cleaning bill."

"You just want me gone, so you can finish all that by yourself," he grumbled as he stood up from his comfortable seat on the couch and started heading to his room. "Too bad, because I'm bringing out the big guns when I get back. Sour cream and onion chips, here I come!"

The look on her face was priceless.

"What?! I knew that someone had stolen those from the pantry! You better let me have some of those, or you're deader than a doornail, Trowa Barton," Cala threatened emptily as she heard his snort and the door slam behind him. A smile twitched at her mouth as she set down the bowl of popcorn and pulled out from the folds of the couch, beneath her, a wad of indigo silk that she had been sitting on. "Now, I'm gonna hafta dry-clean this," she muttered absently to herself, quickly shaking out the wrinkled dress. "What a pain."

Standing from the couch, her thigh muscles burned a little, but she ignored it. Running around like she had, in order to make herself look like she'd been there for a longer time than really, was more than a little tiring. She headed for her small room, tossed the balled up silk into the mess there, along with her beaded high-heeled sandals that were still on her feet, and shut the still open microwave door before proceeding back to the couch to fill her face with the buttered yellow stuff there.

Sometimes men were so blind, she thought, grinning to herself, as she took the remote and jacked up the volume to her favorite soap.