Author’s Notes: I’ve had this songfic on the backburner for years. I think it first started when we first got a look at Catherine in the series and now, since I own Episode Zero (*does lil happy fangirl dance*), I’ve become even more inspired to write it. “Spanish Doll” (c) Poe. Go look it up. Or better yet – go buy her CD, “Haunted.” You won’t be disappointed. ^_^*
“Spanish Doll”
Her shoes scuffed the cobble stone promenade as she walked, her heals clacking. She walked past the cafés, past the shops full of elegant clothing, past the bakeries…looking for something…
This place feels so
unfamiliar
And yet I know it
well
I think I used to
belong here
But the only way I can tell…
As vagabonds and boys called to her from the streets and the store clerks called to her from their shops, she walked on, searching.
…Is that I miss you
still
And I cannot find you
here
Gently pulling at the star earring, her thoughts drifted back to a earlier time…
You left me tattered
and torn
Just like that sweet
Spanish doll
Explosions shook the ground as debris struck the carriage on all sides. Her brother cried in her father’s arms. Her mother clung to her, stroking the auburn hair. She looked up at the older woman. “Mommy, how come you cry? We’ll be okay,” she stated, confident, as she played with her mother’s star earring. The mother hushed the child while terror tore at her heart. She doesn’t know the danger…
Moments later one blast hit home, fire and shrapnel striking the carriage. The driver was torn to pieces from the discharge. The wagon veered out of control. The little girl screamed as she was thrown from the car. Her mother reached out for her…
Sweet…Spanish…Sweet…Spanish…
Doll
Shaking her head, auburn locks swishing against her shoulders, she brushed away a tear, fighting back the memories, but failing as the dam burst.
I went down to the
alleyway
(Sierra la
bonita)
The little girl wandered, filthy, stained, tear-streaked…Down the streets of the obliterated city looking for home, looking for a sign. She found it back at the smoldering remains of the circus camp. The once great and bright and beautiful tents and carts were now merely ashes. “Dim’tri!” she called out, running to a face she could never misplace, despite the grime and red blood that painted it. “Momma, Papa – they’re! –”
And found that you
were…
Gone
(Si munca tes
fueres)
Scooping her up in his arms, his murmured, “I know, child…I know…they’re gone.”
You left no
word
No
message
I still don’t
know
Exactly what
went…
Wrong
(La
grima)
Shock struck the little body with the vengeance of a demon. Pulling away, she looked into his brown eyes. “Gone…?”
But now no matter
where I go
I always seem to return
(Búsca
me)
Where could she go? She had to stay. The circus was her family. Years of practice and determination taught her to put on a smile and play the part that was expected of her.
(Estoy rompido me
muneca)
But…every time I look in the mirror…all I can see…The woman blinked her eyes, fighting more tears. Reaching up, her fingers brushed against the star earring once again.
Just like that sweet
Spanish doll
Sweet, Spanish
Doll
She halted suddenly in front of a toy shop, it’s windows brimming with trains and planes and dolls and tea sets. Standing there alone, she gazed into another world, a young world, which had abandoned her so early in life. Giving the contents of the display a final once-over, one doll in particular caught her eye.
A memory gilded in red
and gold
(Del
Oro)
The little Flamenco porcelain doll had such sad eyes. She looked to have been sitting there, alone with her acoustic guitar, for an eternity, overshadowed by the new, brighter toys.
(Cuída
me)
She stroked the polished glass, smearing the window pane, smudging the clear image of the doll…smudging the proof…deafening the pain…Perhaps that’s what the doll wanted, for through the blotted glass, the doll seemed happier. Perhaps to disappear from the world would be a good thing…
I keep it with
me
Wherever I go
I know how she feels…the woman thought.
(Requérda
me)
With a sigh, she abandoned the toy shop and continued on her quest through the city.
No matter
how
The story will
unfold
“Catherine!” A voice called out above the din. Looking about her, she spotted a pair of emerald eyes.
No I always
will
Have part of you
here
In this
souvenir…
“Trowa…what are you doing here?” she asked, glancing about her, worried. What if someone recognizes him? What if he’s captured? What if…?
Spanish
doll…
Doll…
A stranger in this
world without you is all
What if I’m alone again…? She didn’t want to think of it. She blinked, fighting back tears which threatened to fall once again. She was sick of crying for the day. He offered him her arm with a coy smile.
All I know that’s pure
and clear
You left it with me
here
In this
souvenir…
She took the young man’s offered arm and they pushed their way through the people, crowded about the entrances to shops and cafés. Perhaps I’m not really all that alone… she thought, tightening her hold on her brother. Lost and found…
Spanish, Spanish,
Spanish…
Doll
