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

//_-

Although Jazmin meant well, she couldn’t have realized the effect her suggestion would have on Averil. It ruined her whole evening. She was very silent as she tried to keep her eyes and thoughts off Trowa. Needless to say, she wasn’t very successful. All she could think about was how great he was, and how much he would hate her when he found out the truth about her past. Throughout the night, he would occasionally look over at her. She wasn’t sure why, but she figured it was because she was so quiet. Finally, she became fed up with her torturous thoughts, and she excused herself, claiming exhaustion.

Averil slowly climbed the steps up to her room, letting the soft strands of the flute and violin that floated from the music room calm her. In her room, she closed the door behind her and pulled off her shoes as she walked over to the dresser. She slipped out of her dress and hung it in the closet. Then she eagerly pulled out her favorite silk nightgown and let it slip over her head. After she had combed her hair, she walked over to the balcony and stepped out into the moonlight. She noticed that the balcony was connected to another room . . . Trowa’s. The green curtains of his room were ruffling in the breeze. She turned and leaned on the balcony, resting her head on her hand and closing her eyes as the wind played with her curls.

She wished she had someone who she could talk to, pour out all of her worries and frustrations on, but there was no one. Her father was dead, and her mother, miles away from here, was practically imprisoned in her own home, just because her stepfather was a possessive, paranoid jerk. The tears came first because of the rage she felt towards her stepfather, and then she couldn’t stop them as all the tension of the past few weeks caught up with her. "There’s nothing I could do," she told her conscience in a shaky whisper, "I could only run away." Then she gripped the sides of her head as guilt washed over her, full-force.

Averil was unaware that Trowa stood only a few steps away, and he had heard what she said. His heart ached for the hunched-over form. He was unsure of what to do. How could he help this woman who he knew so little about? Instinctively, he reached out and pulled her to his chest, where she stiffened in surprise. Then he wrapped both arms protectively around her and gently rubbed her back. He breathed her name with a great depth of emotion for only one word. The way he said it so completely erased any fear from Averil’s heart that she found it easy to allow him to touch her. Her shoulders began to shake with sobs and her hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. He held her patiently as she cried and cried, soaking his shirt with her tears, but he didn’t care. It felt good to hold her, and he hoped that he could help her somehow. Finally, she calmed down and closed her eyes, still resting against him. She slipped her arms up around his back and held him tightly, listening to his rapid heartbeat.

"What are you running from, Averil?" he asked quietly, and she thought it splendidly intimate how the sound vibrated through his chest into her ear.

"It’s not important," she said quietly.

"Anything that has you this upset is important to me," he answered gently.

She raised watery eyes to meet his and asked incredulously, "I’m important to you?"

He gave a short laugh, "Yeah, I guess you grow on me after awhile." He brushed some strands of hair away that had caught in her eyelashes, amazed at how right it felt to hold her. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then Trowa said, "You still haven’t answered my question."

She lowered her gaze. "I’m not ready to tell you yet."

He suppressed an urge to groan, yet his words still came out forceful, "We’re going to have to start talking to each other sometime, Averil."

She turned her head and looked down on the grounds of the estate. She stepped out of his arms and murmured, "I know. Just give me time."

Trowa felt himself being shut out, as she raised up her walls of secrecy once again. He didn’t like that feeling at all, he thought as he prepared to give her a scathing glance. But when his eyes swept over her body, he was forced to suck in a breath. He hadn’t realized that she had changed into that—a clingy silk nightgown revealing long, smooth legs. He suddenly wanted to pull her back into his arms again, and this time he would really relish the feeling. Averil cleared her throat and looked at him strangely. He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts, and, embarrassingly, a blush crept up his cheeks. He desperately tried to form a coherent sentence. "Uh, that’s fine. Take your time."

Had he been checking her out? And was that a blush just now? She blinked in surprise, but, sure enough, his blush stubbornly remained. Oh, she really needed to make her escape, before she did something rash. She probably just imagined that anyway. Uncertainly, she said, "Well, I guess that’s ‘goodnight’ then?" No! her mind argued, I still want to be with him! She instantly felt guilty. He had been kind enough to let her cry all over him—she grimaced at the large tearstains on his shirt—and now she was trying to make a quick exit. What she really wanted to do was throw herself back against his solid warmth, but then she’d end up telling him everything.

"Yeah," he said absently, his thoughts seeming to be elsewhere.

He wouldn’t even look at her! Oh, of course, he was probably bored with her by now. Ugh! She was so confused! "Um, I just want to say ‘thanks’ again. I’m sorry I got your shirt all wet." She smiled ruefully.

"Oh, no problem," he answered, finally looking at her. "Goodnight, Averil." And then he quickly retreated to his room.

She stood still, stunned by his strange behavior. She looked wistfully at his closed doors, more confused than ever. Then she thought determinedly, I won’t even think about it now. Tonight, I’m going to get a good night’s sleep in that heavenly bed, and tomorrow I can analyze my screwed-up life. Fortunately, Averil was born with the natural ability that enabled someone to push their worries aside until a later time and take on an unaffected attitude instead. She turned and ran playfully to her bed, throwing herself on the mountain of pillows as if she was a kid again jumping into a pile of leaves. She giggled girlishly and slipped peacefully into sleep. Crying had really helped.

//_-

Stupid, stupid, stupid! thought Trowa as he closed his doors to the balcony, relieved that she was no longer in his sight. He had stood there, barely registering what she was saying because he had been trying so hard to keep his eyes . . . and hands . . . off of her. He rested his forehead against the cool glass on the doors and sighed, wondering why his life had taken this turn of events. He had accepted the responsibility of gathering supplies in order to escape Averil, but now here they were, just the two of them . . . alone . . . together. He grimaced. It was worse than before, because now no one was around to keep him from thinking about her, holding her, or . . . kiss—no! . . . doing anything else his crazy heart told him to do. And to top it all off, the mystery of her identity was even greater.

Well, for starters, she was running away from something . . . his hand traveled up to the dampness on his shirt . . . and she was hurting. At first, he had only cared about knowing who she was, but now he was more concerned about what had hurt her, and what she was running from, and how to help her. And he was determined to do anything to find out. I will find out. Go ahead and take your time, Averil, but I will eventually find out, even if I have to kiss you senseless to do so. No! Stop thinking that way, Trowa! Uugghh! This girl is driving me crazy. He beat his head against the door a few times, but it didn’t help. Finally, he turned and slipped out of his clothes, heedlessly throwing them on the floor—something he only did when he was distracted.

After lying on his bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, he suddenly remembered something. A light switched on in his head, along with a resounding duh! He felt like an idiot. It wasn’t something that had hurt her; it was someone. He clenched his fists, wanting to strangle whoever it was. He recalled that when she woke up after passing out, she had said "they’re here." Who were "they?" Why didn’t he ask her at the time? He had been so keen on running away from her that he was too selfish to find out. He mentally kicked himself for being a jerk and a coward. He'd left when she may have needed him the most. What am I so afraid of? Even if she is lying about who she is, it’s not like she’s dangerous. I can handle assassins and con artists. I can handle people lying to me. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. But the truth is, I don’t want that coming from her. I want her to be real with me. The last thing I need is to fall in love with a liar.

//_-

"Now come on, little lady. Don’t lie to us. We know she’s around here somewhere," said Boris in a fake, saccharine voice.

"I’m afraid you are mistaken. No one has seen that girl. I must request that you leave now," she answered coolly, motioning towards the door.

"Come on, Boris," Morgan said angrily. "We’ll find her soon."

Catherine sighed in relief as she watched the two men cross the lawn. She turned back to her TV and once again became absorbed in the news.

Morgan and Boris strode across the yard, glaring at anyone who dared look them in the eye. Kraten would not be happy, so they weren’t happy. Suddenly, Boris halted and reached to the side to place a restraining hand on Morgan’s chest.

"What?!" Morgan exclaimed irritably.

"Look," said Boris, pointing to a white purebred Arabian that was being led to the stables not far away.

"Hey! You there, stop!" commanded Morgan, running towards the horse and the girl who led him. She turned and watched as the two men approached. Abruptly, Miles reared and tried to bolt. The girl, surprised, let go of the reigns.

They stopped in front her. "Don’t worry about the horse, Boris. It’s Miles, all right—never would let us near him," said Morgan, watching without concern as Miles ran for the safety of the stables.

Boris extended a strong hand and latched roughly onto the girl’s arm. "Where did you get that horse?"

She looked up with frightened eyes. "Some girl named Averil brought him when she came here."

Boris grinned grotesquely in triumph. "Did this girl have red hair?"

"Y-yes."

"Where is she now?" asked Morgan eagerly.

"I was told that she left last night."

"Where to?"

"I-I don’t know," she answered, truly terrified as she tried to remove herself from Boris’s bruising grasp, but he didn’t let go. Instead he dragged her towards Catherine’s trailer, eager to finally use force to get their answers. Morgan followed closely behind, smiling evilly. This is what they did best.

//_-

"So Trowa, do you mind if I come with you today on your errands? That is," Quatre said slyly, "If I won’t be in the way. I would understand if you want Averil all to yourself the whole day." Trowa and Quatre sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and eating a light breakfast of fruit and toast.

Trowa nearly choked on his toast. Geez! What was it with people being all suggestive about him and Averil? He almost slammed his coffee mug down that he held in his other hand, but contained himself before he sloshed coffee all over the table. Quatre watched him curiously. It was definitely unlike Trowa to be so on edge. Finally, Trowa answered through gritted teeth, "It’s fine if you want to come, Quatre." He refused to verbally acknowledge Quatre’s presumption, although his behavior had been answer enough for the blonde’s curiosity.

At that moment Averil appeared in the doorway with her hair tossed into a sloppy ponytail, still looking bleary-eyed from sleep. All in all, she looked quite adorable. She yawned and stretched luxuriously. Trowa tried to ignore the effect she had on him and averted his gaze to his coffee. Quatre smiled brightly. "Did you have a good night’s sleep?" he asked.

She smiled back and sat next to him at the table, avoiding eye contact with the silent Trowa. "Yeah, I could really get used to a bed like that. Thanks for all your hospitality, Quatre."

"It’s my pleasure. I love having guests." He glanced over at Trowa, who still sat brooding silently. "So are you coming with Trowa and I to arrange the shipments?"

"I—I don’t know. I’m sure you guys want some time to catch up. Would it be alright if I stayed here?" She felt a little unsure about Trowa. Maybe he was mad at her about last night. Besides, she wanted to stay out of the public eye as much as possible, just in case someone might recognize her. When she felt Trowa’s eyes on her, she turned to him and said a little brusquely, "Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. You can have Quatre keep a guard on me if you’re that concerned."

Trowa raised his brows a little in bewilderment. He really hadn’t been worrying about that. He realized that he trusted her not to run away when he wasn’t around. What he had been concerned about was why she didn’t want to spend the day with him. Maybe she was mad at him about last night. "No, that’s fine."

Quatre eyes traveled back and forth between the two. Now he was really confused! What was that about a guard? Why would she need a guard? "Averil, are you in some kind of danger? I can have one of the Maguanacs look after you," he said fretfully.

"Uh—no, I’m in no kind of danger," she lied, "It’s just your friend here is Mr. Paranoid."

The blonde looked at her blankly. "What’s he so paranoid about?"

Averil was about to answer, but Trowa cut her off. "Nothing. She’s overreacting again. Redheads do that. I may be paranoid, but at least I’m not Little Miss Drama Queen." He couldn’t believe he’d just said that! He never insulted women, but for some reason she could so easily make him mad. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to explain to Quatre why she was even with him in the first place. Heck! He didn’t even know.

"Again?! Drama queen?!" she nearly screeched, turning a bright shade of red. "I am not a drama queen! Just because I’m a redhead does not mean I overreact all the time."

Quatre, although still confused, quickly changed the subject. "Oh, Averil, I forgot. Help yourself to breakfast. I’m sorry I didn’t offer it before. There I go talking about loving to have guests, and then I’m a terrible host."

"Quatre, you are the perfect host." She smiled at him sweetly, before saying, "At least someone around here has some manners."

Trowa again felt a twinge of jealousy towards Quatre. He unconsciously clenched his coffee mug before saying, "Well, while you’re lounging around all day, Quatre and I have some errands to run." He ignored Averil’s angry sputtering, and turned to speak to Quatre, "Are you ready?"

What was going on here?! Quatre couldn’t believe his ears. Trowa was never this rude to anyone, especially a woman. He frowned in bewilderment. These two were obviously getting their feelings bruised. He sighed and decided to let them be until he figured out exactly what was going on. "Yes, I’m ready," he said calmly, as if the tension crackling in the air did not exist. He stood up from his chair and turned to Averil. "Feel free to roam around the estate. Maybe you and Jazmin could go swimming. There’s a pool on the west side. She’ll be in the gardens if you need her."

"Okay, thanks a ton. I’ll keep a dip in the pool in mind," she answered, trying to ignore the tall, rude man that stood waiting behind Quatre. "Good riddance," she muttered once they had left. She quickly finished her breakfast and went out into the gardens to find Jazmin. She desperately needed to indulge in some serious girl talk.

She found her weeding on the south side of the estate, near the largest of the fountains. She was singing in a low, velvety alto, and Averil wasn’t surprised that her singing was so lovely because her voice was so nice when she spoke. She came up softly behind her and let her finish before saying, "You have a terrific voice."

Jazmin squinted up at her and smiled. "Thanks. Quatre likes to have me sing at some of his functions, and sometimes he backs me up on the piano or violin."

Averil knelt down beside her and began to help her pull out the stubborn weeds. "That sounds nice, but don’t you get nervous? I love to sing, but I’d be afraid to in front of people."

"Yes, but I just think of it like this: if God has gifted me with a voice, then why shouldn’t I use my talent? So many people waste their time doing things that they have no passion for and aren’t gifted in, instead of doing what comes naturally to them. If you love to sing, then you should let it have a place in your life. Not to sound corny, but that’s what enriches your life—doing the things you’re passionate about, even if you’re scared."

"I guess you’re right. It’s just that I haven’t had a lot of encouragement to be myself." At this, Averil’s eyes smoldered and she turned her head down. "I’ve been forced to be someone I’m not—" Her voice broke a little at the end, and she swallowed the guilt and held in the burning at the backs of her eyes.

Jazmin placed her hand on her shoulder and guided her over to the fountain’s bench. "I don’t know what your life has been like, but just know that now you are free to be yourself. Trowa, Quatre, and I are your friends."

"Thank you, Jazmin, you’re a sweetheart, but that’s not what I came to you to talk about."

"Then what is it?" she asked in concern.

"It’s Trowa. Jazmin, what you said last night—well, I can’t get him off my mind. He wants me to tell him about my past and who I really am, but I’m afraid if he knows, then he won’t want anything to do with me. Yet I need him to protect me . . . and I want to be with him. He’s the first man I’ve ever felt safe with besides my father." Her voice had begun to rise in desperation.

"Now what makes you think that he won’t want to be with you if he knows about your past?" she questioned rationally.

"I did things that I didn’t want to do, and that I knew I shouldn’t have. And then I ran away from it. I didn’t try to make things right, and I’m still running."

"Averil, have you ever thought that maybe Trowa doesn’t have the most innocent of pasts, either? Sure, he did what he did for a just cause, but he made mistakes, too. He has blood on his hands, just as all the Gundam pilots do."

Averil paused. She knew that this was true, but she hadn’t connected it to her own predicament. She had automatically placed it aside, because it didn’t matter to her what he had done. "No, I guess I didn’t think about it because it didn’t matter to me. Who he is now is what matters."

"Then he probably feels the same way about you, right?" she pointed out.

"But he’s always so paranoid about me. He still doesn’t trust me."

"Do you trust him?"

Averil thought for a moment and realized that yes, she did trust him. She knew that he had a good heart, and that he would never hurt or take advantage of her. "Yes, I trust him completely," she said confidently, "He has a good heart."

"Then you’ve got to believe that he will care for you because of who you are now, and not what you were then. You should tell him, if you really want to be friends with him."

Averil looked down at her hands, which she had twisted in her lap. "But I—" her voice broke and tears began to run slowly down her cheeks. Jazmin placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "I’m still guilty. I’m a coward . . ."

"The only way to remedy that is to right your wrongs, no matter how scary that is. Maybe if you tell Trowa, he can help you."

Averil buried her face in her hands and let out a hopeless moan. "I just don’t know if I can do that—if I have the strength to make things right. The consequences of it are overwhelming."

"Averil, I don’t know what it is that happened to you, but what’s the worst that could happen?"

She looked up at Jazmin with wide eyes and trembling lips. "He—he’d kill me, or worse, my mom. I’d have to have protection, and I’d have to get my mom someplace safe."

Jazmin’s eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, Averil! Whatever it is, you’ve got to tell Trowa. He’s the one that can help you, and Quatre can, too."

Averil nodded miserably in agreement. Jazmin was right. It was like some unseen force had led her to Trowa for a reason, and she wasn’t going to back out now. She stood and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Thank you, Jazmin. You’ve been a great help—a godsend."

Jazmin stood and enveloped Averil in a hug. She whispered in her ear, "God bless, Lacy."

Averil’s eyes widened and she quickly backed away to look Jazmin in the eyes. The brunette calmly smiled at her. She stuttered, "Wh-what are you talking about?"

Jazmin laughed. "Don’t play dumb with me; I recognized you from the start. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell your secret. Somehow I just knew that you were a kindred spirit—if you want to call it that. Don’t be afraid, everything will work out. I just know it—the same way I knew that you were a good person."

The tears came to Averil’s eyes again—they came so easily now. "Oh thank you again. I’ve never met people like you—so open and real."

They shared a smile of understanding. Then Jazmin said, "Okay, girl, let’s go relax in the pool. It’ll be our stress reliever."

"Quatre suggested that, too! Speaking of which, you can tell me all about your love life!" exclaimed Averil, easily changing moods.

Jazmin laughed, "Or my lack thereof!"

//_-

For you I’ll take

The last flight out

//_-

It is very difficult to maintain a relationship based solely on mistrust.

-Pierce Brosnan

Anything will give up its secrets if you love it enough.

-George Washington Carver

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