Disclaimers: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise. Any songs or quotes belong to their respective authors listed with them.

//_-

"So," Averil said, as they sat in the shuttle headed towards Earth. "What exactly are we doing on this trip?"

"You mean you don’t know?" he asked, confused and suspicious.

She shook her head, realizing that in the rush of things, Catherine had forgotten to tell her what Trowa had planned on doing in the first place.

A little exasperated, he answered, "I’m getting some supplies for the circus." Then he handed her the list that he had been studying.

Averil looked over the items on the list, wondering how they were going to carry this stuff with them. "We’re just making orders, right?"

"Yeah, we won’t actually get this stuff for another month. I’m just ordering it and making plans for shipment. Usually, I’m not the one who does this, but Catherine knew it would be a great way for me to visit my friends again by buying supplies near where they live."

"When you say ‘your friends,’ do you mean the other Gundam pilots?"

"Yeah," he said, then looked at her suspiciously, "So is that why you wanted to come with me, to find out where they live now?"

She turned in her seat in order to look him in the eye, feeling the anger rise in her at his persistent distrust. "Trowa, I didn’t even know that we were going to see them. I’m not a spy or anything, okay?" His look didn’t soften. "How could I be a spy if I’m such a bad liar, huh? I’m not even cut out for that sort of thing."

"All right," he said grudgingly, "I can’t argue with that, so I’ll let you off the hook, for now."

"Good," she said, smiling sweetly and leaning back in her seat again. After a silent moment had passed, Averil spoke up again, "Trowa? Do you consider me a friend?"

He sighed inwardly. How was he supposed to answer that when he couldn’t sort out half of his feelings for her? He settled on his harder feelings, considering that safer. "It’s not easy to be friends with someone you can’t trust."

Somehow she knew he would say that. "But I don’t trust you totally, yet I still want to be friends with you," she paused, considering her next words, "I want to tell you everything about my past, but I’m afraid."

Trowa was surprised by her answer. He had expected her to be upset or mad or try to change his mind. Instead, she just admitted that she wanted to be friends. He suddenly felt guilty about the cold shoulder that he had been giving her. He had no right to judge her so quickly.

"Well, aren’t you going to say anything?" she asked tentatively.

He realized that he had left her hanging because he was so absorbed in his own thoughts. He seemed to do that a lot with people. He spoke hesitantly, something he didn’t do very often, "I-uh-I think I owe you an apology." Averil’s eyes widened in amazement. He was apologizing to her? "I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I was from the moment we met. Yes, some of your actions have been suspicious, but I have ignored what has been trustworthy. And I never even stopped to think that you might have trouble trusting me. I said once that actions can show friendship more than words, and I have ignored those actions, automatically assuming you were wearing some mask of friendliness. I’m sorry."

Averil sat in shock at his long, apologetic speech. Finally, she managed to say, "Do you want to be friends?"

"I’m not sure. I feel the same way you do—wanting to be friends, but still unable to trust you."

"Then let’s be friends, and let the trust come afterwards. I know I have something to build on—and that’s my feelings. Even though my mind tells me not to trust you, I feel, well, safe when I’m with you," she said honestly, realizing that she hadn’t worried about her pursuers since she’d met up with Trowa at the hotel. "But I don’t know what you feel when you’re with me. Do you always get bad vibes when I’m around?"

No, never, he thought, I’ve felt everything but distrust when I’m with you. It’s only my mind that’s holding me back. Out loud, he surprised himself with his honesty, "I like being with you." He said nothing else, feeling a little awkward after what he had just blurted out.

Whoa, thought Averil, first he’s sorry, then he says he likes being with me! I would have never guessed! This guy’s totally unreadable. Okay, so say something, girl! "Sooo, is that a yes?"

"Yeah, let’s see how it goes," he answered, avoiding her gaze.

He looked up though when she touched his arm. "Thanks, Trowa," she said softly, smiling genuinely. Trowa smiled back, and they shared their first smile of friendship—however illogical their fragile trust may have been. All they knew was that it felt right. And as a bonus, Averil was pleased to find out that Trowa had a gorgeous smile.

//_-

They stood in the high-ceilinged entrance of the Winner estate, waiting while one of the Maguanacs went to fetch Quatre. Averil fidgeted nervously at Trowa’s side. When she noticed his eyes on her, she said, "Look at me! I’m going to meet the Quatre Raberba Winner, and I look like I’ve been sleeping in my clothes."

"You have been sleeping in your clothes. You slept nearly the whole trip here."

She glared at him. "I knew you wouldn’t be sympathetic."

He sighed. "You look fine, and besides, Quatre won’t care. He’s not some stuck-up, rich snob."

"I know," she said, smiling a little dreamily, "He always looks so sweet and caring on the news, and I can tell he’s not faking it. But I do want to look decent for him." Trowa rolled his eyes, and felt a small twinge of jealousy. Why did all the girls think Quatre was so cute? Then he laughed inwardly at himself, knowing that he would hate that kind of attention anyway. What he didn’t realize was that several female coworkers and hundreds of girls who had seen him in the circus had been insanely jealous of Catherine’s act with him. What girl wouldn’t want to be caught in his arms like that?

His thoughts were interrupted as a tall, burly man—Rashid—came in, followed by the bright-eyed blonde, still small, but noticeably taller, stronger, and much more confident. Trowa felt a sense of pride in his friend, who had proved himself an excellent heir to the Winner fortunes in the last few years.

Quatre’s eyes immediately fixed on Trowa, and he quickly crossed the room to give him a hug. He pulled back, a huge smile on his face. "Gosh, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, Trowa! I’m so glad you came to visit."

Trowa smiled back. "It’s only been a year, Quatre."

"Only, it seems like forever. I’m all holed up in this huge house alone and none of my friends ever come to visit! I have 12 guestrooms and they never get used." Averil laughed, finding his differences from Trowa funny, but immediately liking his down-to-earth character. Quatre turned to her and smiled. "And who’s this, Trowa?"

"This is my friend Averil O’Hare. She just joined the circus a couple weeks ago." Has it only been two weeks? he thought, and caught Averil smiling at him. She must be thanking me for calling her a friend. His eyes smiled back. No problem, Averil.

Meanwhile, the intuitive Quatre didn’t miss the small exchange between the two. He was delighted to see that his friend had met someone. But knowing Trowa, it would be awhile before they called themselves anything more than friends. Suddenly, Averil found herself enveloped in a warm, welcoming hug from Quatre. She hugged him back, pleasantly surprised, and for the first time not revolted by a man’s affections.

"Thank you. No one’s ever made me feel so welcome before. Do you mind if I call you Quatre, too?"

"Not at all. ‘Mr. Winner’ sounds like my father, not me. Now I’m sure you guys want to go freshen up after your trip, right? So I’ll have Rashid and Jazmin show you to your rooms, and then you can come down for dinner."

Soon Averil found herself whisked upstairs by a gorgeous brunette—Jazmin—and taken to a huge guestroom in the west wing. It was all decorated in shades of purple and gold, with ornate designs on the dark woodwork and walls. The bed’s style was traditional Arabian with dozens of velvety pillows and a transparent drape surrounding it. As if that weren’t luxurious enough, there was even a balcony, with its door opened so that its gauzy lavender curtains ruffled in the breeze. She gasped in delight and exclaimed, "A balcony! This is unbelievable."

"Quatre’s very generous. He gave you one of his best guestrooms," Jazmin said, her voice smooth and her manner graceful. Averil immediately liked her, glad to have a girl to talk to again.

"If you have a simple dress, that would be nice, but only for the sake of looking pretty. Otherwise, you can wear whatever’s comfortable."

Jazmin laughed, and even that sounded lovely, "Oh you don’t have to try to look pretty, you are!"

Averil laughed, "Is everyone around here this nice? I need a good ego boost every now and then."

"Yes, I think you’ll like it here. I hope you guys can stay for awhile. I really want to get to know Quatre’s friends. And I’m sure he’ll want to get to know you, since you’re Trowa’s friend."

When was the last time she’d felt this happy, or accepted? It was definitely going to be nice here.

//_-

Averil emerged from her room for dinner, decked out in a lovely, sleeveless peach dress. The inner material was a coral color that fell to her feet. This was covered by sheer peach chiffon that lightened up the outfit. The waistline was high up at her ribcage, but not quite an empire waist, and the neckline was up at her throat. Her favorite part of the dress was the thin, red silk ribbons that formed vertical stripes for the top half, and under the waistline, they traveled freely down the length of her dress beneath the chiffon layer. Averil decided that she didn’t look too dressed up, though, because she had left her hair down, and she wore no jewelry.

When she looked up, she saw Trowa standing and watching her from the top of the stairway. She nervously smoothed her dress and tried to walk over to him gracefully, the way Jazmin walked. He waited for her patiently. It seemed only natural for him to offer his arm and for her to allow him to escort her to dinner. They walked down the stairs silently, absorbed in their own thoughts, and both keenly aware of their closeness and touching skin. When they arrived in the dining room, Quatre and Jazmin were already seated and waiting for them. Trowa was surprised to see that Quatre’s hands were clasped around Jazmin’s and they were talking in hushed, earnest tones. They both looked up as Trowa and Averil came in, and Quatre released her hands. A sincere smile appeared on his face as he welcomed them to dinner, leaving whatever problem was between Jazmin and him until later.

"You look lovely, Averil," Quatre remarked as Trowa pulled out her chair for her. She felt a little overwhelmed. One guy was complimenting her and the other was being a perfect gentleman; this was too much.

"Thank you, Quatre. Jazmin suggested that I dress up." She then looked up and smiled her thanks to Trowa.

The meal went on uneventfully. However, Trowa did take note that Averil seemed very familiar with the etiquette for the fancy dinner, for she never once faltered. Once again, he wondered about her past.

After dessert, Quatre and Trowa decided that they wanted to indulge in a little music, and they headed off to the music room to fiddle around on Quatre’s collection of instruments. Jazmin and Averil followed them slowly, chatting about hair and clothes. Finally, Averil’s curiosity overcame her and she asked abruptly, "Are you and Quatre a couple? Because Quatre never formally introduced you."

Jazmin blushed and lowered her eyes, answering, "No, we’re only friends. I’ve been working as Quatre’s personal assistant for a while now. He’s too polite to ever overstep his boundaries as my employer. What he doesn’t realize is that I wouldn’t mind at all. But we are friends, and anyway, I doubt he even feels anything more for me than friendship."

Averil stopped walking, so that they could stay in the privacy of the hallway. "I hope I’m not prying, but what were you guys talking about when Trowa and I came in?"

"Well, Quatre was asking me what was bothering me so much lately, because, of course, he can always tell when someone’s upset. I told him that I didn’t know how to tell him, and to please just give me time. He’s very concerned, and totally clueless. The thing is, I think I should tell him that . . . I see him as more than an employer or friend, but I’m afraid that everything will be awkward."

"So do you think maybe you’re in love with him?" Averil asked, eyebrows raised.

Jazmin smiled. "I’m not sure. But what I do know is that he’s everything that any girl could want."

"Certainly one-in-a-million. There’s not very many men out there like him." Averil smiled sadly.

"Well, there’s one man that I can think of who, from what little I’ve seen and all that Quatre’s told me, is like him."

Averil already knew the answer, and she mouthed "Trowa" as Jazmin said it.

//_-

Jealousy is the great exaggerator.

-Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

Author’s Notes: I hope you’re enjoying the story so far. If you know of any Trowa sites or good Gundam Wing fanfiction sites where I can post this fic, then please email me with your ideas. If you have any comments or flames, review/email me. I can take criticism and I love compliments. Thanks for reading, and God bless!

To Be Continued