Title: Desert Rose

By: Moonkitty Liafle

Rating: PG-13

A/N: a 4xCB drama/romance. This is the first of two parts…enjoy!

Part I- Ignorance

I dream of rain

I dream of gardens in the desert sand

I wake in pain

I dream of love as time runs through my hand

Sweet desert rose

Each of her veils, a secret promise

This desert flower

No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

Sweet desert rose

This memory of Eden haunts us all

This desert flower, this rare perfume

Is the sweet intoxication of the fall

-"Desert Rose" (lyrics by 'Sting')

He didn’t know why he was sitting on the ridge, overlooking the overly bright circus tent. He didn’t know why he would want to wallow in self-hate or dejection.

He didn’t know why he wanted to be reminded of-

He couldn’t think about it. It was too horrible.

Quatre Winner owned everything any person could ever want. He had power, fame, fortune… and more blood on his hands than most weathered soldiers.

Quatre’s face- sweet, innocent, and pure, had seen death many times- but he was different than most soldiers.

Why?

Because he had hope. Because he believed in his friends.

But now that this happened, it was as if his world had been torn apart. It was as if someone had taken his dreams and had torn them to shreds before his eyes.

No, not ‘someone.’ That someone had a name.

Trowa Barton.

That wasn't his real name, but it was close enough.

"Are you breaking in your new replacement well, Cath?" The manager asked his best knife thrower carefully, well aware of the temper that accompanied the red-headed woman.

She turned upon him, cold gray eyes centering on his with fiery anger, "He flinched. Twice." She spat, her tones almost acidic, "Another screw up like that and I’ll end up spilling blood on your precious tent."

The manager bit his lip hesitantly, "Maybe if you didn’t throw your daggers quite so close to-"

That had done it. Catherine stepped back and shoved the man up against the nearest trailer wall, forcing him to devote her his fullest attention, "It’s MY act that keeps you in business, old man. It’s MY daredevil stunts that make us one of the best circus acts in the ESUN!" she was almost spitting in his face, "Don’t you DARE tell me how to act, or I swear on every lion in that tent that I will tear you apart."

She let him go and turned away, shuddering.

The older man understood perfectly, "We can’t tell people how to lead their lives, Cathy. Trowa had to move on. This will always be his home. You’ve always been a touch too possessive of-"

She stormed off and slammed the door to her trailer.

Inside she lay curled on the thin brown carpet, breathing in the smell of old cigarettes and mold and feeling her tears run her black theatrical mascara down her cheeks, dripping black stains onto the floor.

Black tears for a heart black with jealousy.

Catherine wondered vaguely where her life went wrong.

"How is Cathy?" A soft voiced young man said carefully over the video link.

The circus owner shook his head, "Not a good subject to speak about. She took your disappearance rather hard."

Trowa smiled carefully, "How badly?"

"Very."

He shrugged, a small glint flickering in cold green eyes, "I suppose she’ll deal with it."

"She loved you."

"So many people do, but none of them ever accept me for who I am."

The manager creased his brow, "And who are you?"

"No one. No one at all."

"What will you do? What do you plan on doing?"

"Start over."

The ringmaster shook his head, "Cath loved you for everything. You could have least said goodbye."

"I wanted to spare her the pain. She didn't know of our relation, I only knew when we got the DNA tests. She's been an amnesiac since before I reentered her life and-"

"She has the right to know!" the man took a deep breath, thick mustache tickling the edges of his mouth. Before him sat a boy with hair that hid one eye, but the other was a deep, dark green…

But Trowa's past was far darker.

"You and I have been the only two people she can consistently remember. She needs you! She loves you. By telling her, you can keep it a sibling love- you can help her move on."

But Trowa shook his head.

"I need things too. I love her, but I just can't take it any longer. I've been waiting seven years for her memory to improve so I could find my own path. Seven years. I'm twenty-three, manager. What if she never gets better?"

"It's purely psychological, Trowa. Ever single doctor we've gone to agrees."

Trowa shook his head cruelly, "And I have painfully discovered that I can never be any help to her. She loves me. If I tell her of our relation-"

"You think she's hate you?"

The acrobat chose not to respond to the very accurate probe. His hand wavered over the disconnect switch, "I'll be travelling through deep space, to one of the outer colonies with Dorothy Catalonia. You don't know her, but she's a really good person deep down."

His uncertain eyes met the manager's loyal brown, "I'm doing the right thing."

But that statement of reassurance was more to himself than the thick waisted man he had been speaking to.

And the screen turned black like the vacuum of space.

Catherine seated herself on a bale of hay and leaned back, watching the elephant that plodded around beside her. This was Freedom. Catherine knew that if she were caught in his pen, she would be yelled at. Animals, especially the travelling variety in circus acts, were considered very prized. Disturbing them or harming them in any way was not allowed. They were just too precious.

The girl closed her eyes slowly and breathed in the not-too-pleasant smell of elephant and the clean scent of the hay digging into her back. She tried to recount every event in her lifetime, slowly cycling back from the present to the past.

Catherine had a perfect memory for everything. If you asked her the name of the poem she recited on March 5, A.C. 182, she would have gladly said it word for word. No, there were no problems with her retention of facts, only faces. For one month, she would know someone. For one month, she would recognize the sound of their voice and their favorite foods.

But after day thirty, she recalled nothing. Nada. Zip. It was as if they hadn't existed. Except for Trowa and her manager- she could remember everything there was to know about them. But for every other person who affected her life daily…their faces and their personalities all faded away into a blur of unfamiliarity. She could not explain it. Over time, she had come to accept it.

Perhaps she had only loved Trowa because she knew she wouldn't forget his face. Had she? Had she? Had she?

She put her hands over her eyes, blocking out the images that flashed through her mind. Green eyes, brown hair, and a gentle smile.

It hurt! It hurt! It hurt!

When he had had amnesia, she had sympathized.

And, best of all, she had remembered.

There was a stirring in the tent beyond, and she jerked up abruptly. No one must find her! She peered over to the darkness of the corner, catching a glimmer of blond hair, the flash of a disturbed face.

She had met this person before, but she had forgotten him. He had been reintroduced to her recently, when she had found him in bed with Trowa. That, perhaps, was the one event that she could pinpoint as the cause for all her distress.

"Quatre Winner."

She spat his name as if it were venom from a poisonous cobra.

She had finished her doctor's appointment early. She wanted to rush home to surprise Trowa with an excellent dinner. She had been feeling very settled and comfortable, much like a wife who rejoiced in being able to please others.

Of course, Catherine scorned such a sexist viewpoint, but she couldn't really help it. She decided that she was allowed to feel that in a marginal amount. Trowa was with her, the war had ended, and he wasn't going to ever leave her again.

She remembered opening the door to the trailer vividly, but then, it had only been a week ago.

And she found Trowa sleeping beside another person.

At first she thought it was a girl, but the sheet moved, and she realized she was facing a very lithe man.

Trowa, her Trowa, was in bed with a man.

And it was quite obvious what they had been doing before sleep had overtaken their senses.

She dropped her keys and run off.

When she had returned, Trowa was gone.

"A Frigid Meeting"

Quatre smiled hesitantly at her, "Catherine Bloom? I remember you."

"Funny," she said spitefully, "I don't remember you."

The multi-millionaire looked down at the woman before him with surprise. Her steely gray eyes were accusing, her hair red and flaming. He was only slightly taller than her, but her proud demeanor made the difference in height unimportant.

He could see her resemblance to Trowa quite easily, and quelled the stirrings of attraction she provoked. He didn't believe himself gay or bisexual, just someone who had been looking for love. He had found it in Trowa. Their gender hadn't really mattered.

But Quatre had been betrayed, and that hurt more than anything. Thinking such thoughts caused his heart to go cold with a familiar ache.

"It's nice to see you again." He said softly, remembering very well what had taken place just a week before.

"Indeed."

"I was wondering…I was wondering if you had any contact with Trowa recently."

"Trowa," she rolled the name around on her tongue as if it were alien and unfamiliar. Her eyes blazed, "Why would have any contact with him? You were his lover, didn't he leave to be closer to you?"

Quatre shook his head, "He said nothing at all to me. Just a letter of apology."

"Apology for what?" Catherine hissed, but she instantly regretted her words. He looked so lost, and even though she hated him, she couldn't bring herself to be spiteful, "I'm sorry, I have no right to intrude-"

Quatre shrugged, "I don't mind. Perhaps a talk would do us both good."

They seated themselves on bales of hay in an almost friendly way, but it could not be interpreted as such, for he was too reserved, and she was still angry.

The blond boy sighed, "Trowa's letter was an apology for our relationship. He told me that, while he considered us good friends, he only used me because I reminded him of a girl he once knew. He thought that he could learn to love me as I loved him over time, but it didn't work out. He said that his feelings still hadn't changed, and he was only hurting you by pursuing our relationship. He said he would be leaving."

Catherine nodded, absorbing every word and placing them close to her heart.

He sucked in a breath, "So, what happened between you and Trowa?"

She stood up, "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

He placed a strong hand on her arm. She was surprised that his hands were callused and that his grip was firm considering his upbringing, but she remembered that Quatre had been a Gundam pilot, "Unless my sign-reading skills have failed me, neither of us is supposed to be in this pen right now. I could always alert the elephant trainer with a quick yell…"

She looked down at him, a wry smile twisting upon her lips, "You don't play fair, do you?"

"No. I'm a businessman."

She plopped back down on the hay bale, "Well, I'm nothing to Trowa apparently. When I came back last week, he was gone," she choked back tears, "I thought that I at least deserved a message of some kind…"

"Yes, " Quatre said softly, "I'd suppose siblings should keep in contact…"

"Siblings?"

His eyes were wide as he regarded her shocked face, "Yeah, siblings. Didn't you know? Trowa showed me the DNA tests when I thought he was….When I thought he…" Quatre rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, "was having an affair with you."

Catherine's eyes had become colder than before, pouring into him like frigid rain, "That cannot be."

"He convinced me."

Catherine stood up, "No…that can't be…." Catherine clutched her arms and looked away, her thin frame angular and full of despair, "He had no reason to lie…why would he hide such an important thing from me?"

Quatre stood up and put an arm on her shoulder, "I'm sorry…I thought you knew…."

She batted his hand away, "Well, I didn't, okay? Stay away from me!"

Quatre's eyes met hers hesitantly, "It seems that we were both deceived by Trowa. It makes you wonder under how many layers of lies and falseness lies a true person. It is strange that even I could fall prey to it."

Catherine turned to look at him angrily, jutting out her pointed chin, "'Even you could fall prey to it?' What are you, some kind of Superman?"

He grinned boyishly and shook his head, "No, I'm just what you call…overly-sensitive."

"I'm sorry, I forgot you were a pansy."

He laughed again, "I'm not gay, just looking for love."

Catherine stopped clutching her arms and crossed them instead, one eyebrow arched, "So, how are you 'overly-sensitive?'"

His smiling widened, "Let me show you," he lifted a hand to her, his eyes so open, so innocent, that she could not resist, "I can touch your mind, and you will touch mine. Perhaps this will give you understanding of what I'm feeling."

His hand rested on her shoulder, and Catherine felt the most profound sensation. It was as if her skin was a mere membrane of a cell, and she could feel someone -something- reaching into her mind, pressing his emotions against hers and leaving an imprint, a mental fingerprint that she easily identified as Quatre. She felt the gentleness of him, his openness to hurt, and the painful burden he felt as his thoughts weighed upon him.

Catherine was unsatisfied. She pushed deeper. She wanted to know more. She couldn't say it was exactly for measuring up the competition, but for curiosity in his character.

As she pushed in more against him, she felt something deeper, something darker.

Horror! Torment! Incredible Guilt!

The vast saber of a Gundam known as Zero slicing into a colony, the screams of innocents dying an untimely death!

On his hands!

On his hands!

IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT!

Catherine felt fearful that such a loving person could carry such darkness, such pain, all alone.

And she could understand why he wanted someone to tell of these things, someone to whom he could bring up these horrible things he felt and not be scorned. He was not sweet, he was not pure.

He was just as human as she.

And then the black cleared away, and she was surrounded by warmth, by sincerity, by a fierce protective feeling that took her breath away.

And then she was back in reality, in a stable with a man she had once despised and an elephant munching hay in a corner.

Both of them were gasping for breath, but Quatre manage to speak first, "What did you just do?"

She frowned as she wheezed in air, trying not to blush at the scene: both of them exhausted, in an excluded spot, with her clothes covered in hay, "I don't know what I just did…it just…happened."

He nodded and released her shoulder. She had forgotten it was there. But then, she forgot many things.

"So, all that stuff you said about falling prey to emotions about Trowa, what did that mean?" she asked suddenly.

He drew his eyebrows together

She scrutinized him carefully, the confusion on his boyish face, the way his hair fell into his eyes…and laughed.

"What's so funny?!"

She pointed at him and bent over, giggling away and trying very hard not to snort, "You look so silly!"

He frowned, "I do not."

"You do too!" she leaned on his arm and pulled herself up, suddenly sober, "I hated you five minutes ago, but now-"

He smiled softly and moved a step closer to her, "What?"

"I don't think you're a threat at all."

He looked angry, but then smiled.

She did too, somewhat, and considering her emotional state, that was quite an achievement.