'Lo!  'Tis me again!  This is my third story in my six part Gundam series where the pilots get girls their ages (cause their were only two in the series) and cause I'm not a Relena fan, as you can tell from Heero's screen name.  Anyway, these girls, including Nola, are all made up and are NOT based on me.  They could be based on or named after some of my friends, but this is not my way of making people read about a perfect version of me getting it on with the pilots.  I just don't do that.

WARNINGS:  As I said above, this fic does have one main made up character (Nola), Trowa and Catherine are from Gundam Wing.

This is a LEMON, or at least, part 4 is...  I'm just warning you now is case you don't like LEMONS but you start reading my story and *gasp* like it or something... I don't think my sex scenes are very detailed... more like Nora Roberts'... she leaves just enough to the imagination most of the time.

Also, this has to be the most serious of the six stories... but then, Trowa's such a sexy, serious guy.

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Nola

Part One:  Nola

Nola took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She was nervous; her heart pounding against her chest until she thought it might burst through.  The butterflies in her stomach felt as if they were taking a tap-dancing class in stilettos.

“Calm down,” she whispered to herself.  It was just an interview, your ordinary, run of the mill job interview.  What was there to be nervous about?

“Can you walk on your hands?” called a voice from below.

Nola glanced down, smiling, “Child’s play.”

Balancing on the two-inch wide taunt rope, she put one hand down while lifting her leg strait up for leverage.  Her other hand gripped the rope and finally her other leg swung up.  She checked the rope for wobbliness and proceeded to move down the rope on her hands.  Just an ordinary interview.

“Wonderful,” the Ringmaster called up to her, “anything else?”

“Nothing special,” she said, allowing her weight to shift so that she swung around, dangling beneath the rope.  Nola hooked one knee over the tightrope and let go with her hands, smiling and waving to the empty seats from her upside down position.  Then she arched her back, looking upright at the other side.

His clapping echoed around the large tent, “You’re hired young lady.  I like your stage presence and you are definitely an attention getter.”

Nola swung back up, walked down the rope easily, and descended the ladder.

She jumped the last two rungs to the ground and ran to the Ringmaster, “Thank you Sir, you won’t regret it.  And thank you for seeing me so late…”

He had been rather hesitant to interview her, but her persistence and energy had convinced him to at least see what she could do.

The Ringmaster pulled out a pocket watch and studied it, “Yes, it is rather late.  We pack up tomorrow morning; perhaps it would be best to find you a bunk so that you can rest up.”

He led her through the partition leading back into the tent section the audience never saw.  Tables and mirrors for last minute makeup and costume changes, or for those with more than one job in the circus.  Another, smaller tent was connected to this section, animal cages littering the grounds.

Nola smiled nervously as all the animals turned to look at their entrance.

“Don’t let them intimidate you,” the Ringmaster said, gesturing to the lions’ cages, “They’re just waiting to be fed.”

She walked wide around the large felines though they merely looked at her.  The dominant male licked his lips, his eyes were a piercing green so pale they looked yellow and his mane was such a deep red it looked brown.

Nola ripped her eyes away from his as if coming from a trance and had to jog to catch up to the Ringmaster who had already exited the tent and was walking toward dozens of caravan wagons.

The night air was warm but Nola shivered.  She wore only a tank top and a pair of spandex shorts for easy movement on the ropes.  But now outside… she felt silly.  Everyone she saw walking into wagons or into the mess tent was wearing regular, comfortable clothes with the exception of the Ringmaster.

“Ahh Catherine, just the girl I needed to see,” the Ringmaster said as Nola caught up with him.  A tall girl was putting a pot of water over a campfire.

Catherine’s hair was bobbed above her shoulders and curly beyond all belief.  She wore tight blue jeans and a white polo shirt.  She looked up as they joined her, “Yes?”

The Ringmaster motioned to Nola, “This is a new performer, I want to you show her around a little, find an empty bunk, and I’ll see you girls in the morning.”

He nodded and walked off briskly, red coattails flapping.

Catherine shook her head muttering, “He always gives the new ones to me for instruction… ah well.”

She smiled absently before turning to the quiet girl, “What do you do?  Go ahead and sit.  You’re skinny enough for the magician to saw in half, don’t tell me you’re his new assistant!”

Nola sat on one of the stumps surrounding the fire, “I walked the rope for him… I assume that is what I’ll be doing.”

Catherine nodded, “Oh, tightrope, now that’s one thing I’ve never tried.  Then again, it took me ages to master throwing knives, and Trowa can tell you that even now I sometimes miss.”

Nola looked at her questioningly.

Catherine took the tea off the fire, “Oh!  Trowa’s my target; you’ll run into him sooner or later.  He’s very hard to miss.”

“Nice to know I stand out,” a voice said behind Nola and she jumped.

“Trowa!” Catherine exclaimed, putting a hand out to comfort her, “The poor girl is nervous enough without you scaring her to death.  Look how big her eyes are!”

Nola looked up, eyes still wide from the initial scare.  Staring down at her was a tall, lean young man wearing red and white striped pants and a blue button down shirt.  The top few buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of smooth pale muscles.  His brown hair curved over his eyes, the pale green slits staring at her.

He watched her much like the lion had before, with an almost bored curiosity.

Curious of what?

“I don’t taste good,” she blurted out.

Trowa’s eyes widened a little and he stared blankly at her.

Catherine laughed, “She’s right Trowa, you were kind of looking at her as if you were wondering what she’d taste like.  Don’t worry; he looks at a lot of people that way.  Trowa, are you going cannibal on me?”

Nola dropped her eyes, “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about the dominant male lion.  Your eyes are amazingly like his.”

Trowa stared down at the girl, yes, definitely a girl, perhaps 17.  She was too timid to be a woman; her early experiences must have been hard however.

Nola stared at the ground, huddled in her tank top and spandex.

‘She dresses like Heero,’ Trowa thought with mild amusement.

Her dark tresses were held back in a complicated braid and Trowa guessed that when loose it fell to her waist.  Her skin was deeply tan in color and flawless.  Something in her bloodline had lightened her eyes to a deep purple.

Though she was slim in appearance, her arms sang with toned muscles, and strength needed for gymnastics.

She was very lean by way of a figure, only the slightest curve of hips and small, high breasts.

‘I don’t taste good?’ he thought.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he forced anything resembling a smile deep inside.

He sat across the fire from Nola as Catherine poured the nearly forgotten tea.

Nola took the offered cup and took a polite sip.  Trowa accepted one as well but set it beside him, untouched.

Catherine leaned back on her heels and looked up, “Clear night.  You can see every star.”

Nola nodded and in spite of the warm night, shivered.

“Are you cold…oh!  I just realized that you never told me your name!” Catherine turned to her expectantly.

She looked down at her hands, “Nola.”

Catherine nodded, “Well Nola, I think we should say goodnight to Trowa and go find you an empty bunk, what do you think?”

Nola stood, eager to get away from the uncomfortable quietness.

“The fliers have two empty bunks,” Trowa said.

“I’m not going to put her in a trailer with four strange guys, especially weirdoes like the Amazing Laurell Brothers,” Catherine scolded.

“Their sister is in there too.”

“And she’s just as weird,” Catherine insisted.  “Besides, your trailer is empty except for you, why didn’t you suggest that?”

Trowa gazed at Nola across the fire, “I didn’t think she’d want to be in my trailer, in case I wanted a midnight snack.”

Nola turned away, hiding her crimson face.

Catherine shook her head, “Your sense of humor, Trowa, honestly.  Behave for an hour, I’ll be back.”

She kissed his cheek lightly and led Nola toward the brightly painted wagons.  When they were decently out of Trowa’s hearing, she hooked an arm through Nola’s, “Sorry about that, he didn’t mean anything by it.  Trowa is just… different; he takes some getting used to.”

Nola blushed again, “If only I hadn’t said that thing about the lion.”

“Don’t let it bother you.  Here, this is my trailer, but it’s also the costume trailer.  I don’t get any privacy, and now, neither will you.” Catherine laughed a little, leading Nola up three steep steps, “Most people knock, but sometimes they’ll just walk right in, so change quickly when you have to.”

Inside it was small, cramped, and full of costumes.  At the far end under a small window was a bunk, neatly made, with a pink and black costume laid out on top.

“You wear that?”

Catherine laughed, “Hey, you should see what Trowa wore then he was 15 and joined up, it was so cute!”

Nola smiled, “What?”

Catherine rummaged around a rack of costumes for a moment, “It’s been about a year since he fit it… he buffed up and just couldn’t get into it anymore—here it is!”

She held up a red and white checked shirt and baggy green clown pants, her eyes twinkling.

Nola laughed out loud for the first time in a week, “That is cute!  What does he wear now?”

“Much less,” Trowa answered from the doorway.

Both girls jumped.

“Do you have to show that costume to everyone?”

Catherine put it back on the rack, “I think it’s adorable!  He looked really sweet in it, Nola, though you’d never guess it by the way he turned out.”

Trowa huffed softly, “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

“Then why did you come here, Dear,” Catherine smiled, hands on her hips.

He lifted a small carpet bag, “Nola left this in the center ring.”

Nola took it from him, “Thank you…”

Catherine was cleaning off a bunk that was raised into the wall under a larger window, “Here you go.”

Nola smiled, “You guys really want a laugh?  These are my costumes.”

She pulled them from the bag and laid them on her bunk.  One was yellow and blue, the other black and green.  Both were body leotards with diagonal stripes in alternating colors and generous amounts of glitter down the arms and legs.

Catherine picked up the blue one, “This one is nice, you should wear it for your first performance.  Wherever did you get these?”

Nola folded them and placed them back in her bag, “I made them myself… just a couple days ago.  They probably aren’t sewn very well in my rush… I hadn’t expected to join the circus again.”

”Again?” Catherine asked, sitting on her bunk.

Nola looked from her to Trowa, “If you really want to know…”

Trowa closed the door and leaned against it, hands behind his back, making more of his muscular chest show as the shirt stretched.

Nola wondered if he was aware of the affect simply moving had on how his muscles showed.  Probably.

He caught her staring and arched an eyebrow.

She shook her head, “Sorry.  Anyway… I was in an orphanage when I was a baby.  My parents died and I didn’t have any relatives.  I didn’t stay at the orphanage long, though; I was adopted by a woman when I was about three or four.  She didn’t just adopt me though; she adopted four other girls as well.  All of them blonde and very pretty, I was the only dark one, she said I was going to be her exotic center.”

Catherine smiled, “You realize that’s the most you’ve said at one time since you got here, right?”

Nola nodded absently, “I’ve been trying to figure out why I’ve been so quiet, I’m normally a chatterbox.  I think being back in a circus is bringing up old habits.”

“Why didn’t you talk when you were in the circus back then?” Trowa asked, walking from the door to sit next to Catherine.

Nola smile dryly, “Madame Leona forbid talking.  We could only answer when directly spoken to.  She took five scared little girls and guarded over them jealously.  We learned gymnastics and had our own spot in the show.  If we missed a step in a performance, we’d get spanked with her brush.  We were beaten for speaking out of turn, being late to supper, when she broke a nail.”

“Madame Leona was the woman who ‘adopted’ you?” Catherine asked quietly, “Did she beat you often?”

Nola shook her head, “Not after the first year, we learned fast.  None of us had any lasting, visible scars, either.  No one else in the show noticed much.  Her favorite punishment was to lock us in an old chest she owned, even during meal times.  Sometimes she’d forget about us till morning…”

“How horrible!  Oh!  I’m sorry for that joke about you being the magician’s assistant in a trunk.”

Nola waved her hand in dismissal, “She didn’t realize it was an old trick box with a secret escape hatch.  We never stayed in it the whole time.”

“So you were sent into a box for punishment?” Trowa asked softly.

Nola smiled and leaned against the wall, “That was the worst thing of all; she put me in there all the time, the other girls rarely went in.  I honestly think she was meaner to me than the others.”

She sighed, “I was her exotic center; she trained me hardest, and always put me up front, or on top of the pyramid.  That’s why I came back; I had always loved being the center of attention, when I was performing.  She was the only horrible thing about the circus.”

Catherine smiled, “Of course, but did you ever get away from her?”

“Oh yeah, we ran away when we were about ten.  We’d had an awful performance—two of our girls were sick and we’d barely practiced the routine—and she flew into a rage, smacking us, screaming, then she just stopped.  Her eyes went wide and she collapsed.  I think it was her heart, or her ulcer, both of which she had problems with and blamed us.  She was yelling how we’d be the death of her… and she died.”

Nola hugged her knees to her chest, “We didn’t tell anyone she was dead, just closed the door to her trailer and snuck off the grounds.  We lived on the streets, but the police caught on to us and began snatching us up, hauling two of the other girls off to an orphanage one day.  Then one day it was down to just me and one other girl, and then she never came back to the alley we lived in.  I found a family looking for a kitchen girl soon after.  I never saw the other girls again.”

“That’s so sad… I could never imagine not seeing Trowa ever again.  He leaves for a while sometimes… but he always comes back to me,” Catherine leaned against him.

Trowa put an arm around her, “I always try, Sis.”

Nola recoiled, “Sis?  But I thought you were—”

“Together?” Catherine finished for her.

Nola nodded, embarrassed.

Catherine laughed, “Everyone did, but no, we’re the best of friends, more like brother and sister.  He was… sick for a while, and I took care of him, he started calling me Sis, and it stuck.”

“Oh,” Nola said softly, “sorry for the assumption.”

“Quite alright,” Catherine assured her, “But go on about the family you worked for.  Were they nice?”

Nola nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, they were wonderful and very rich.  They had six children, five boys, and one girl.  I worked for them up until last week when I was fired.”

“Why?” Catherine asked.

Nola flushed, “The oldest son is nineteen… he and I tried not to have feelings for each other, but he blurted out one day that he loved me.  We kept it quiet, but his mother got wind of it.  I’d always been her favorite maid, but the thought of her precious oldest with the hired help made her skin crawl.  So I was kicked out.”

“Didn’t your guy protest at all?”

“Of course he did,” Nola said, “but his mother is not a very tolerant person.  He said he was going to work on her and then come find me.  I’m not holding my breath though; she’ll have roped him into marrying some prissy little girl now that I’m out of the picture.”

“But… if you love him, won’t you be hurt if he doesn’t…”

She looked away, “I don’t know much about love… it’ll hurt, I’ll heal.  There isn’t much else I can do.”

“I’m sorry Nola; I think his mother needs to open her eyes to what a nice person you obviously are.  Don’t you think so Trowa?”

Trowa turned to look Nola directly in the face, sending a shiver down her spine, “I think your boyfriend is henpecked.  His mother is suffering from some sort of narcissistic personality disorder, adding to her already narrow-minded idiosyncrasy.”

Nola and Catherine burst out laughing.  Trowa stood slowly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He left quietly, Catherine’s giggles following him out the door.

“He’s right though, time to sleep,” Catherine turned off the lamp and Nola climbed under her covers.

Hours later, a hand clamped down on Nola’s shoulder, jostling her awake.

“What!”  Nola rolled onto her back but couldn’t manage to open her eyes.

She scrubbed a hand across her face and pulled the covers over her head, “Go away.”

“Get up and I will,” Trowa said softly.

Nola peered over the blanket and squinted at him in the low light and found his face startlingly close.

He sat back on his heels, “It’s time to hitch the trailers up and start moving out.”

Nola blinked at him, “But the sun isn’t up yet.”

“You were a maid and you didn’t get up early?”

“No I didn’t, the woman with the narcissistic personality disorder liked to sleep late and I never had to help her dress until after brunch.  Go away,” she mumbled, pulling the covers back up.

“Everyone else has been up for hours and you’re not even going to help a little?”

Nola sat up and stared at him for a moment, “I’m getting up.”

Trowa stood and left without a word.

“Man, why didn’t anyone wake me hours ago when everyone else got up, why didn’t Catherine…” Nola mumbled to herself, pulling on a pair of pants and running her hands through her hair to get rid of the remnants of her braid, “Now everyone’s going to think I’m lazy and can’t do my share of the work!”

Catherine’s bed was hospital corners neat but Nola simply threw her blanket over the end of hers and ran from the trailer.

The sun was peeking over distant hills making everything a soft orange.

People were rushing to and fro, shouting orders and calling out to other people.  Nola stood next to a long cold fire pit wondering what she should do when a familiar set of red coat tails fluttered by and then back, “Nola, just the girl I was looking for.”

The Ringmaster skimmed down his clipboard without glancing at her, “We’re almost loaded up; Trowa is feeding the animals, if you could help him.”

He disappeared without another word and Nola was left gaping after him.

“But where are the animal trucks?”

“Over there!” someone yelled, pointing behind her and went about his way.

“Thanks?”

Trowa was carrying buckets of water toward the trick horse trailers when Nola jogged up, “Hello again!”

He handed her a bucket and she almost sloshed it down her front, “I’m behind, the lions need to be fed.  Water the horses.”

He set the other bucket on the ground and headed for another truck.

“Well, geez, it’s not like I can’t feed lions.”

“Not the way he does,” Catherine said behind her.

Nola jumped, soaking her front, “Hey!  Who are you trying to be, Trowa?”

“I just meant that perhaps he was being polite, feeding the lions.  If he didn’t like you, he would have made you do it.  He knows you’re afraid of them.”

Nola picked up the other bucket, “I’m not afraid of them… just the dominant male.  He was looking at me like I was food last night.”

Catherine laughed, “Like Trowa!”

Nola nodded and headed toward the horses.

Trowa combed his fingers through the dominant male’s thick mane.  His face mirrored the large feline’s; calm, eyes closed, peaceful, and serene.

Contentment was rare for Trowa.

The lion lifted his head, nose twitching.  Trowa stood and exited the cage, locking it behind him.  He lifted the bucket of meat and began tossing it into the lion cages as if that was what he’d been doing the whole time.

Nola climbed into the truck and stood behind him, “Almost done?”

Only Catherine knew of his gift with the lions.  There was no sense in pointing out more then what was obviously different about Trowa.

The male turned to look at Nola and licked blood off his lips before cleaning his paws.

“He’s teasing you,” Trowa said absently.

“No, he’s testing me.  Trying to see how long before I run screaming away from him.”

Trowa turned and stared at her, how did she know that?

Nola’s eyes met his, “Now you’re testing me.”

He dropped his gaze, “I… apologize.  I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She watched him empty the bucket into the male’s cage and turned away, “Well, everyone’s coming together for the roll call and then we’re on the road.”

She hopped down from the truck and ran off.

Trowa put his hand through the bars and the lion came to him so he could stroke the velvety ears, “What do you think?”

The cat made a low purring noise in his throat and closed his eyes.

“Different… she’s different.”

He looked down at the big feline and received a lick on his hand, “Fine, you don’t care.”

Trowa left the cats to eat in peace.

Trowa dropped a pile of wood next to Nola.

She jumped and fell backward off her log, “Ahh!”

He stood over her, “Have you always been this jumpy, or is it just me?”

Nola glared up at him, “I’m never this jumpy, it is just you.”

“Should I feel honored?”

“You shouldn’t feel anything, if you weren’t so damn cat-like, you wouldn’t be able to sneak up on me!”

He stared down at her.

She smiled.

He held out his hand and helped her stand.

“Thanks,” she kissed his cheek lightly and started building a fire in the pit.

It had been a week since she’d joined the circus and had moved out.  Nola had helped where she could to set up, but in the end she’d been left much on her own to worry over her first performance.

Trowa rested on a stump and watched her, “Nervous about tomorrow?”

“Why?  Can you taste my pulse on the air like a lion?”

“Yes.”

Nola stopped and stared at him.

Trowa raised his eyebrow the tiniest bit and looked away.

“A joke?  Trowa!  It’s no fair messing with me when you’re so serious.”

He shrugged slightly, it meant everything and nothing.

“Yes, I am nervous.”

“We’ve practiced and you’ve been out there before.”

“…not…ow…the point…ow…at all...”  Nola was trying to light the fire but the wood wasn’t taking and she kept singeing her fingers with her shaking hands.

Trowa took the box from her and lit the wood in several places, sending ghostly shadows over them both.

Nola sighed and gazed at the dark sky.  Much to Catherine’s surprise, Trowa and Nola had become fast friends.  Only she noticed how much of a change in Trowa it was.  Truth be told, aside from Catherine and the Ringmaster, most of the circus people didn’t talk to Trowa… he made them uncomfortable.

He had been added to Nola’s act and she helped out with Catherine’s.

“I’m told it’s just like riding a bike, you never forget.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “You’ve never ridden a bike?”

Trowa looked up at her, “I’m more a motorcycle kind of guy.”

“You have a motorcycle?”

“I borrow one of the trick riders’ bikes occasionally.”

“Really?  I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, would you take me for a ride on one sometime?”

“If you like.”

“Oh!”  She pressed her lips to his cheek and rushed off, “Thank you!  I’m gonna go tell Catherine!”

Trowa poked the fire with a long stick as silence settled and murmured to himself, “Different, weird but very different.”

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Onward to Part 2!

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