Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Statue ❯ Another Dance ( Chapter 6 )

To: Alisa Grimm, staff writer
Colony House Books, Inc
From: T. T. Bloom, Producer
The Greatest Show in the Universe
Date: February 22, A.C.213
Re: Biography

I spent all day in the grip of the emotions of writing last night. I find myself reluctant to continue, but I realize we are under a deadline. So I will force myself. Thank you for your second note of encouragement Ms. Grimm. And once again, I'm glad I don't have to tell you this story face-to-face.

I went to afternoon rehearsal. I didn't have to; I was the producer after all. But it was something I should do so I did it. The only thing that touched me in my fog of automatic pilot was hearing the ringmaster announce 'Missy Panzini', she wasn't there of course, but that didn't mean the script changes. And the Panzinis paused for the time it would take to do her stunts. Timing was important in the circus.

Afterward I ate dinner in the cafeteria, and went to find Cathy for our evening rehearsal. I couldn't find her, but I knew where she was. So I took a shower to wash off the sweat of the day and get the stiffener out of my hair so I could pull it back into its standard ponytail. I lingered in the rehearsal room, messing with our perfectly well-maintained motorcycle. Cathy was sitting at the kitchen table when finally I got back.

"There you are," I said. "We were scheduled to rehearse tonight."

She looked at me like I'd just slapped her. "But what about Missy?" She gestured to the door of Missy's room.

"Middie can take care of herself, besides she's asleep and not likely to get up now is she?"

"What logic is that based on? As I recall, she needed a whole circus to help her last time, and I don't want her to wake up alone. What is your problem?"

"I don't think she'd appreciate us dwelling on it."

"Is that what Quatre told you?"

"He said nothing helps like keeping life normal." I left out the fact that he said that in a phone call a few days ago.

"Really?" Cathy frowned. "Well I still don't think we should be as cold as to leave her alone on the first day."

"Cathy, she's a grown woman. We don't help her by overprotecting her." I was worried that she'd want to keep Missy with us after Winter Quarters.

"He's right," came a soft-spoken voice behind me.

All my nerve endings came alive in her direction as soon as I realized she was behind me. I was frozen in place, and I did not want to turn around and look at her.

"Missy!" Cathy looked at her. "Or should I call you..."

"No," Missy interrupted. "Keep calling me Missy. I'm comfortable with it. 'Middie' is a name from another time."

For some reason it relieved me she chose the name Missy. Perhaps I wasn't looking forward to hearing the name Middie for the rest of this season.

"Trowa is right, Cathy." Missy said, "I don't want you two to worry about me. It all happened so long ago to a person I'm not anymore."

"Missy..." Cathy trailed off at a loss for words.

Missy walked past me to take Cathy's hand. "I'm okay, and I'm glad. Really. It's better than not having memories, it really is." Missy smiled at Cathy. "I have just as many good memories as bad. Life, love, family, home-I didn't have that before and I was half a person."

Cathy pulled Missy into a hug. "I'm so glad!"

"Thank you," Missy said, then looked at me, "both of you."

I looked at her face. She didn't look like Middie. Not any more. She looked like the woman who danced with me. Who laughed at my jokes and watch me perform with awe. Who talked with me every morning. She looked like the woman who became the trapeze artist I wanted her to be. She looked like the woman I loved.

How could I reconcile this marvelous woman with the girl who destroyed my life? Who stripped me of a purpose and sent me running to the colonies? Who killed the only man who treated me as a son?

How could they be one and the same? I could not forgive her. I could not forgive Missy for being Middie. That was something I could not do.

As I look back on it now, Ms Grimm, I realize that it made no sense for me to be angry. No sense at all. I felt as angry as I had that day, the last time I saw her. Standing over the body of my father. Only this time I had no gun to shoot. No war to fight. No enemy to kill or let live.

So I did the only thing I could do. I left. Without a word. I know it must have confused Missy and my sister. But, I was still capable of hiding every last emotion. I went to my room, closed the door and barely pulled the covers over me before I was asleep.

The great escape, only no one applauded.

By the next morning I was completely decided on the fact that I would endure this season. She would be like a nobody to me. Just another performer. I would look into moving her to another trapeze troupe with one of the other shows. I would keep my anger in check. She would never know how I loved her once, nor how I hated her now.

By the time I was dressed to go to breakfast, everything was perfectly decided, planned and controlled.

I opened the door and walked into the kitchen area. Missy was cooking breakfast in an oversized shirt. Logically, I knew she had shorts on under the shirt, but I couldn't see them. I was overwhelmed with a desire to run my hands up her long legs and check. I imagined what it would feel like to run my hands up those long muscular legs. Smooth, firm, and warm. And what if the shorts weren't there? I almost groaned.

It was that moment when I realized exactly what I did and did not have control of. I controlled my emotions and my mind completely, but my body fought them both. My eyes memorized the entire curve of each leg, my hands wanted to touch her, and I again yearned to feel her lips on mine. I wanted her, with a force that hit me square in the center of my body.

I could not control that. I wanted the person I hated. This really pissed me off, mostly at myself, and my embarrassing lack of control.

She turned around and saw me. "Good morning Trowa, breakfast is almost ready." She looked at my face and a look of curiosity flickered through her eyes.

Seeing her beautiful face didn't help my control either. I got angrier at myself, but I took it out on her. "You should really dress before you wander around this suite."

She looked down at herself. "But I am dressed."

"You looked like you just rolled out of bed. It's October, you should be more covered!" The instant I said it I pictured her uncovered. Completely uncovered. Great, I couldn't control my thoughts either. How dare Middie do this to me!

A hurt look crossed her face. "But I always wear this to morning calisthenics."

A bleary-eyed Cathy walked out of her room and straight passed me to the coffee maker. She was wearing the identical outfit to Missy's.

Missy raised her eyebrows at me.

Still angry I said nothing and sat down at the table. I glared at Cathy for not backing me up, but she wasn't awake enough to notice me.

Missy turned back to the stove. "How do you want your eggs?"

I said, "Over hard" without thinking. Then I kicked myself for my one-track mind. Whoever came up with double-entendre names for egg styles should be shot. 'Over' and 'hard' describe exactly where my body wanted to be at that moment.

We ate breakfast in silence. My angry tone whenever questioned kept the talking to a minimum. But silence, I found, does very little to distract thoughts. And she was sitting right next to me! I finished quickly and fled to my early morning meeting.

Every Friday I met with my management team. These were, for lack of a better description the non-artistic directors of each group. There was the boss clown, the lead dancer, the boss stuntman, the head animal trainer, the business manager and the marketing manager. Tension was high. The show wasn't shaping up to Fouhy's liking.

We had only two days to do it before the first show. I used to get worked up over these things too, but I'd learned over the years that this was always the case on the last few days. People would panic. What they needed right now was the voice of reason and that was my forte.

I said all the right words in the meeting, and would continue to repeat them through out the next few days. It would keep me busy. And it would keep my mind off a certain hated creature.

The only flaw in that plan was the finale.

Fouhy had finally decided that as much as we clashed, Missy and I must ride Friendly together. This was very bad.

Certain things I could hide. The gooseflesh on my arm when I took her hand could be explained as a chill in the air. My sudden shortness of breath as she settled onto the elephant in front of me could be due to the previous performance winding me. But one thing I could not hide. Nor could I control it, no matter what horrible thing I forced myself to think about. No matter how my mind screamed that she was Middie. And if she leaned back just a little, or if Friendly moved forward too quickly, she would feel it. I didn't know what to do, so I took my feelings out on her.

"Move forward, your hair is in my face," I snapped.

She did what I asked, but the set of her jaw and her stiffness almost made me feel as if I'd kicked her.

Fouhy was wandering down the line giving annoying little pointers. When he came to Friendly, he looked up at us and frowned. "Mr. Bloom, do you think that you and Miss Panzini can come up with something funny to do up there? I mean so many people will be watching this elephant, I can't have you just sitting there."

"What I planned for won't work with another person here, Mr. Fouhy," I told him, silently adding that Missy wouldn't be staying the whole season anyway. Not if I could help it.

Missy turned around in front of me, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Oh Trowa, what if we do that courting routine Bello used to do?"

"On an elephant?" I asked.

"Oh sure, it would be a new twist!" she said.

"But you can't do a handstand on an elephant, Missy," I said.

"Sure I can, you taught me."

"I did not!"

"Well, you taught me to do one on a high wire while it was moving. Come on, Trowa, I know I can do this." She seemed so eager--and beautiful. "Watch me." She grabbed my shoulder and used it to climb over me onto the back of Friendly, having absolutely no idea what the feel of her body moving around mine did to me.

She stood up on Friendly's back and nodded to the trainer. "Walk him please?"

As the elephant moved, she balanced herself with her eyes closed, getting the feel for Friendly's walk. Then, after about a minute and a half, she lowered her body and planted her hands. First one foot, then the other lifted off into the air. She stayed that way for the whole circuit the trainer walked us in.

Mr. Fouhy crowed, "Fabulous, Miss Panzini, but how is that a sketch between you and Mr. Bloom?"

I tore my eyes away from her to look at him. "I'll show you Mr. Fouhy." I slid down off of Friendly, and went to the prop room for two props, which I brought back.

As Mr. Fouhy watched from the seats, we performed the whole sketch, on no rehearsals other than us both having watched Bello do this on the ground.

It went like this. I am late to the parade and missed my elephant, so I have to run to catch up, I bounce on a small trampoline and land on Friendly's back. Missy already had my elephant so she makes shooing gestures to try to get me to vacate her elephant. I notice that she's good looking, so I try to woo her. I offer her a clown flower that collapses--she's not impressed. So I try to impress her. I make two rather unsuccessful attempts at a handstand on Friendly's back. Finally I get up into a handstand. She claps and I get flustered and fall in a messy heap drawing a loud knap off the side of my leg.

She decides to show me how it's done so she sets me in her place, wags a teacherly finger at me and does her handstand. This handstand goes on for a long time. Too long. I check my watch and look at in surprise. I pout and get huffy, crossing my arms and turning away. I sulkily look back at her still in the handstand, finally I get an evil thought and rub my hands together with glee. I pull a long feather from my coat pocket and snicker about it for a minute letting the audience figure out exactly what I'm going to do.

Then I tickle her armpits until she falls, also with a loud knap. She looks up shocked and angry. I grab her head and plant a sloppy kiss on her nose before sliding off the elephant to get away and laughing to myself.

It wasn't until it was all over that I realized: I'd just given Missy a kiss. A clown kiss on her nose! Not the most romantic thing in the world but it still made me happy, for no reason I could fathom or control. Happy and irritated!

Fouhy liked it and everyone clapped. Missy slid down off of Friendly and stood next to me as we watched Fouhy come down from the stands to talk to us. She'd done it. Perfectly. With a confidence of someone who'd studied Bello's routines. Missy studied my favorite historical performer. My role model. Not a trapeze artist.

"Thank you," she whispered.

There were a million conflicting things I wanted to say to her. 'I love you for doing that' was at the top of the list, followed by 'How could you do that to me?'. She cared about me enough to study my hero to get to know me. Suddenly, things moved from the realm of what I was feeling to what we were feeling. She liked me, probably loved me. She didn't know anything about our past together. I was Trowa to her, not Noname.

What had I done? Had I already successfully won this woman's love? And now what was I to do, now that I didn't want it? I felt like I was falling from a great height. I was going to hit ground soon. Feelings would get hurt. This was going to get ugly. Damn!

I had to say something. So I simply played the part of the producer and gave her the correct response. "You did that very well." God, that sounded cold! I looked at her and forced a smile. "I'm sure Fouhy's happy with it, and the crowd will love it."

She looked up at me. "As long as you love it. That's enough for me."

Thank goodness that Fouhy arrived just then, because I didn't know the proper producer response for that one. Middie, I reminded myself, she is Middie.

Fouhy had to change it, of course. He super-sized the feather and put it in Friendly's hat. Then, he had the trainer get Friendly to 'capture' me with his trunk when I slid down. Then for the rest of the finale, Missy gets to tickle me to her heart's content from the top of the elephant as I try to get away.

We ran through the finale once more before lunch. Missy was perfect and the addition Fouhy made worked well. Friendly really liked to grab onto my collar. The trainer had to stay near to make sure the elephant wouldn't do it too soon or too tight. As for the feather-let's just say it's a good thing I'm not really ticklish.

I had to work though lunch and was nearly late for my first part of the afternoon run through. Everything ran smoothly that afternoon. Fouhy did not stop the show, not even once. The cast was excited about this becoming our first official complete run through, and spirits were high as we started into the finale.

Being our third time through, Missy and I were due for a screw-up in our skit, but it didn't happen by accident. The thing I dreaded just a few hours before happened much quicker than I thought it would--and way before I was ready to deal with it.

I don't know if it was her fault our mine. Did she lift her head up at the last second or did I? Either way, the kiss was not mouth to nose but mouth to mouth. It stunned me, and I finished the rest of the finale on auto-pilot.

I wasn't quite sure that I hadn't just imagined the whole thing. Not until I looked at her as we walked away from the elephant and saw that she was flushed and smiling. Then I knew that it really happened and she had done it. I saw red.

I grabbed her arm and steered her in the direction of my office. When we got there I pushed her in and let go. I closed the door with a thud.

"Just what do you think you are doing, Middie?"

"What?" she asked.

"This isn't a game. This is work. You can't play games like that at work, with your boss!"

"I didn't play anything, you lifted my head!" She placed her hands on her hips.

"You know very well I did not, nor was I the one with the smug look on my face afterward!" I glared at her.

"Smug! I did not look smug I looked happy!" She looked shocked at what she just said. At the risk she had just taken. I saw her decide to keep going. "Because I...I wanted it to happen."

"You wanted it to happen so you made it happen." I folded my arms, but my heart skipped beats in my chest.

"You wanted it too!"

"Now you go too far." I had to end her infatuation with me right then. Before it got us both in trouble.

"Do I? Do you want that list again? Or just the things you've done recently which make people believe you're in love with me?"

There was evenness in my voice. "Whatever new things you've imagined or hoped for does not interest me. I am not..."

"Did I imagine you're tone this morning when you said I was half dressed? Do I imagine the way you suck in your breath every time we touch? Or the way you looked at me when I did Bello's skit with you? Tell me, did I imagine all those things?" She stepped towards me with the determination she always shows when she tries anything new. She would keep trying until she got it right.

I crossed the room to my desk. I did not face her. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I can assure you Miss Middie Une, that I do not love you."

"I don't believe you."

I threw my hands up in the air and turned around. "What can I do to convince you? Obviously the truth isn't working."

She flinched, and placed her hand on her chest, which heaved with pent up emotions. "No, I know that's not the truth." She paused. "I've known it since that day you taught me to dance. When you looked at me, and for the first time in my life I felt beautiful. But it wasn't right...I thought...I felt...well I just couldn't love you in return. Not then. Not when I wasn't a whole person. But yesterday I remembered. I remembered who I am and I still love you!"

Every fiber in my being wanted to go to her, to hold her in my arms and never let her go. My mind however, knew her for what she was. I could never forgive her. "These emotions are all yours. Not mine."

"Prove it. Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me like that day. Then, I'll know for sure. If it's true, I'll never bother you again." She held out her arms to me.

I looked at her, and I knew. Knew I could never get through a dance with her. She shimmered in that body-hugging costume. It left nothing to the imagination. Not the curve of her breasts nor the flatness of her stomach. She was a vision that had haunted my sleepless nights. If I held her in my arms-I wouldn't dance. I turned away again, trying control my breathing.

"See, you can't do it. Please tell me why are you fighting this?" Her voice flowed over me like a warm wind.

I had to do it. I had to get through it. I turned my laptop toward me. "Which song?"

There was a pause. "'Lady in Red'" I heard a tremor in her voice. She feared my getting through the dance. If I got through this, I would win. She would forget about loving me.

I punched it up and turned up the volume so the sounds filled the room. I turned toward her, determined to end this.

I took her hand and pulled her toward me. It was every thing I could do not to give the telltale intake of breath as her hand slid up my arm to my shoulder.

I started the dance. Her costume floated around her as she danced. My costume forced me to either hold her way too close, or turn my head slightly to the side. I was reminded of the skit she came up with last time we danced. Perhaps the persona of Trowa the clown would protect me from her? But there was no audience. I couldn't see myself; I could only see her.

I avoided her eyes as much as I could, but I still had to look at her to dance with her. No place was good: lips, chin, neck, chest--every place was a spot I wanted to touch.

Mostly, I remember the feel of her during that dance: Her hands gliding over me as I turned her. Her eyes caressing me, because she wasn't trying to hold back. She gave in to the very thing I refused to let myself do. It wasn't the admiring look of the adoring fan I'd come to know, it was love. Complete, open, and honest.

I was in agony. I had to get through this dance, but part of me wanted to dance with her forever. To be looked at like that forever. I wanted her. Her love. All of her.

I don't know how it happened.

But her lips felt just how I'd imagined them, smooth and warm like satin. I couldn't stop with just a light brush of lips. I had to have more. I pressed in until I could taste her. Feel the part between her lips and finally the sweet tip of her tongue.

As I wrapped my arms around her, I marveled at how perfectly she fit against my tall frame. She smelled of flowers and she tasted of the sweet lemon water we served at rehearsal. I had to taste her, all of her. I moved my kiss to her jaw, then her neck then the soft skin behind her ear.

She moaned and whispered, "I love you."

And realization hit me. Reality swirled back around me like a storm. The music still played on my desk, I hadn't even made it through the song. I plucked her arms off me.

"It means nothing," I said in a husky voice. I placed her arms at her sides and turned to walk away from her.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm a man, you're a beautiful woman. I want you, it's a normal reaction."

"Why do you deny your love? What is so bad about loving me? If it's about being my boss, I'll quit."

"You can't quit with out my consent. You signed a contract."

"Then consent! Love me," she pleaded.

"No," I said.

"But why?" she cried.

"Don't you know? Middie Une! Haven't you figured it out yet?" I snarled.

"Why do you keep using that name?" she asked.

I walked to my desk and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. I pulled up the playbill. The first circus playbill I was ever on, back during the Eve War. It was a picture of Cathy and me. I stared down at myself for a second, I'd been young, wide-eyed and stupid. I didn't look like my father then. I didn't have to shave. A baby-faced boy.

I swung the screen around so she could see it.

"Now do you get it, Middie Une?"

She walked toward the desk and looked at the screen. "But that's..."

"It's me." I told her bitterly.

"Noname?"

"Yes," I hissed.

"It all makes sense now."

"Good," I said.

"That's why you took me out of that shelter. I couldn't figure it out before. You must've recognized me!"

"You are mistaken, I didn't know who you were before you told me yesterday."

"Then why..."

This would do it. If I told her the truth, she'd hated me. "Quatre. That's why."

"You took me in because he asked you too?"

"I took you in because he bet me. He bet me I couldn't make a trapeze artist out of you."

She rocked back on her heels. I could almost see the image of me shattering in her eyes.

"If I won, he'd finance a new shuttle for the circus." I had her. She'd find herself safe from me and wiser after tonight. How would I find myself?

"And if he won?" Her voice sounded distant, small.

"If he won, I'd sign the contract the Panzinis wanted."

"But you signed that contract."

"The shuttle was more important. I got them to train you."

She almost fell into the chair behind her. Shock written clearly on her face. I'd gotten what I wanted. Now she would hate me. Now I wouldn't have to see her anymore than necessary, she would beg me for that transfer, and I would grant it.

"I don't believe it. Not you..."

"Call Quatre then or would you like me to?"

"No." It was her turn to fix me with a deadly glare.

"Good. Now our feelings are mirror images. You dislike me as much as I dislike you, because if I'd have known it was you in that shelter, I'd have left you there to rot."

There was no emotion in her voice. "Why didn't you shoot me?"

I deliberately misunderstood her. "Because I'd rather not spend the rest of my life in jail."

"I mean then. Why didn't you kill me then, if you hated me so much?"

"I wanted to. I've wanted to go back to that moment and kill you many times."

"Why didn't you? Why did you leave me there? It was my right to die by the rules of war. I was a spy and you caught me. A quick clean death!"

I didn't know what to say to this.

"A death I wished for many times. You say you wanted to go back to that moment?" Her eyes seemed to burn holes through me. "Well, I wanted to go back too. When I found my father's body, I wanted to go back and die." She stood up and planted her hands hard on the desk with a bang. "Why didn't you kill me?"

I was stunned, and I still couldn't think what to say. She'd wanted to die! She'd hated me for not killing her!

"Why!" she shouted making the room echo.

"I don't know!" I spat.

"You don't know." An ironic smile twisted the corner of her mouth. "Well, I died that day anyway. But you dug me up. You brought me back to life. You took me out of that shelter and breathed life back into me. You made me want to live again. But I understand now! I know why you did it! You dug me up to torture me!" She had power in that soft voice that rolled over me in waves.

I said nothing.

A single sob choked free from her throat. But she controlled it and suppressed it with anger. She turned and headed for the door.

"Miss Une," I said.

She spun around.

"I expect to see you at rehearsal tomorrow."

Anger flared in her eyes. "Oh yes--Mr. Bloom, your beloved contract and shuttle. I signed that contract and I assure you that I am a woman of my word. You will have your one season and your shuttle."

I nodded. "I'm glad we understand each other."

She stared at me, then shook her head. "You went from empty soldier to empty businessman. How fitting." She slammed the door as she left.

I was alone.

I looked around me and somehow the room seemed smaller without her in it.

I should be happy now. I'd gotten what I wanted. Middie Une knew I hated her, she knew exactly where we stood. I'd wanted that. Now I had control back. Complete control.

But if I had control, how come my body was shaking? How come I could still taste her on my lips? Feel her slender form fitting perfectly against mine...hear her whispered love ring in my ear.

I looked at my desk, at the exact place she's put her hands in anger. I placed mine where hers had been. Then I realized what I was doing.

I stepped back. As if she'd cursed me, I felt hollow, empty.

I sank down into my desk chair. I pulled my laptop toward me, I had work to do.

Another master escape, but still no applause.

Cathy came to get me at ten. I'd seen that look on her face before.

"What did Missy tell you?" I asked.

"Nothing." Cathy leaned on the doorframe. "But she was very upset."

I said nothing.

"She moved out, if you care."

"Where?"

She raised her eyebrows at me. "So you do care."

"Where?" My voice didn't change.

"To the women's floor. One of the spare rooms." She folded her arms. "I'm not going to ask you what's going on, or try to tell you what to do, you'll do what ever you want to anyway."

"Thanks."

"Uh-huh," she said. She walked over to my desk and put something on it. It sounded metal. "Whatever you do, no matter how you frustrate me, you are my brother. I love you." She removed her hand and walked away.

"Thanks." I said again.

She paused at the door. "The way I see it, you need all the love you can get." Then she was gone.

On the desk, she'd left a small silver ring with a red garnet in it.

I don't usually remember my dreams. Even if I do remember then, I rarely think anything of them. But that night, I dreamed a different dream.

I was standing in a graveyard, looking at a new headstone. The name it bore was 'Middie Une'. So I dug into the ground, pulling at the earth with determination. It sunk away from me, as if someone was holding me back and I could only reach the earth one handful at a time. Still I dug.

Finally, I came to the casket. I opened it. Inside was a small boy with hair hiding his face, a scarf around his neck and a cross necklace on his chest. He was sitting in the cockpit of a Leo, and he moved the controls with no emotion on his face. I had a stake and hammer in my hand, like the dream was a vampire horror movie and I was the hunter. I placed the stake on his chest and hammered and hammered and hammered. His face never changed, there was no blood. He closed his eyes and died, falling back into the casket that was a cockpit moments before.

I looked up at the headstone. Instead of a headstone, Missy sat there in her white Air costume. She smiled at me and reached down. She pulled me into her arms. We shared a kiss that woke me up and left me longing.

I'm sorry, Ms. Grimm, I must stop here. I'm afraid there are very few good stopping points left in this story. And I continue to have difficulty reliving these events. I don't envy you your task of sorting the real story out of my heart-felt memories. I will continue as soon as I feel up to it.

Yours truly,

T. T. Bloom

"I won't dance, how could I?
I won't dance, merçi beacoup
I know that music lead the way to romance
So if I hold you in arms I won't dance" -Love's Labor's Lost -- A Musical