We all gathered around waiting for the ringmaster to make his announcement; it made no difference to me--this circus is just a cover, I’m no one…nothing. I surveyed the others, reading their faces; they too seemed indifferent about the location of the next show--all but one. She looked at the ringmaster, almost like he had struck her across the face. What could be in that name of the town that scared her? Her face turned pallid and a look of terror came to her eyes. She hid the shock quickly and diverted her gaze. It hadn’t escaped my attention…I can see everything…read others perfectly…but my own face will never betray any emotions.

The words almost knocked me over, I felt so weak…so helpless. I can’t go back there… Oh, I hope nobody saw, they’re all so kind, they’ll want to know what’s wrong…I can’t tell them…I can’t tell anyone.

“Laila, are you all right?”

“Did anybody see? I don’t think I can do this.”

“You’re stronger than you think.” Cathy wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I don’t know how Catherine heard me; I could barely whisper my fears. I’m so glad I have her, since I came to the circus we shared a sisterly bond, she was the first one to try to make friends with me. Cathy knew a little about it, but I couldn’t tell her everything…it was too much for her to hear. She always gave me confidence when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore.

Nothing in the way she acted or what people said about her would suggest that she had something to fear. As one of the trapeze performers, Laila spent her free time reading, drawing or writing in her notebooks. Even I found it entertaining to watch her slender figure flying gracefully through the air. She and Catherine had a special friendship…an unbreakable bond. The other performers took all their troubles to them; Laila listened with a sympathetic ear and Catherine gave advice.

“Hey Trowa, come join us.” Cathy called to me, interrupting my thoughts about what happened earlier. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, but I was going to decline anyway.

“Yes, please come sit with us.” If Laila is still scared none of it was exposed in her smile; she carried on like nothing was wrong. I could turn down the invitations separately, but they both asked and without an excuse I don't think anyone in the entire circus could refuse the two of them. We sat in silence…I felt comfortable with them… it seemed so natural.

Trowa ate with us and spent the twilight hours lying in the grass next to Cathy. Strange, I don’t think he has ever spent this much time with us; he always disappears after the shows. I sketched him lying there, trying to prevent the memories; I succeeded in pushing them back by thinking of Catherine and Trowa. I remember their first performance; Catherine cut his ear, he didn’t dodge the knife…he showed no fear. Trowa was always quiet but there is something different about him…Who was that Chinese boy he was with a couple of weeks ago? I had almost forgotten about that but something made me think about them sitting around the fire in eerie silence.

“How do you like it?” I handed Cathy my sketchbook.

Catherine smiled and laughed, “Sorry about that Trowa.”

She handed me the book. I glanced at the most recent drawing--me lying in the grass. Above that was a very accurate portrayal of Catherine’s and my first performance. Laila was the first one to ask if I was okay; she stood there behind the curtain holding a tissue to wipe off the blood. Catherine apologized after the show, and still occasionally said she was sorry. I told her it was nothing, what is a small cut to me…? I’ve seen worse…I’ve received worse…I’ve done worse. I don’t deserve this, their friendship; I can’t let them get close to me… I can’t get close to them. Laila took back her papers. I said nothing…revealed nothing.

Not again, this is the third night in a row…Why can’t I stop this nightmare? Why can’t I close my eyes without seeing them, the faces…So many faces? Why can’t they leave? Why do they have to be there? I stepped outside into the cold night, an unknown force driving me, pushing me…pushing me back…back to them…back to it. I had to go…I needed to go…to go back to what I had tried to push away for so long. What was that? I turned to see where the noise came from. A mobile suit, I don’t remember there being any army bases near here…It’s huge, it can’t be an OZ suit…Red, white, gold points on the head, a red chest…It’s a gundam. What’s it doing here?

“Battle log. Battle number…Mission completed.” I shut off the recorder, “Now to head back.”

I hid Heavyarms in the woods, not far from the circus; the trees supplied the perfect cover. The walk was long and cold, but why should I care? Why should I be warm in bed like everyone else…? I’m not like anyone else. There it is, almost a welcome sight…it could be if I wasn’t…wasn’t what I am…I’ll never be one of them. Is that Laila? What is she doing out here? It’s freezing! She ran back to her trailer. Why would she run? Laila is one of the few people that don’t avoid me. She saw me and ran… She saw it; Laila saw my gundam…I know what I have to do. Damn it, why does it have to be this way? It’s always the same.

Why did I stand there so long…Why did I freeze…? I’m dead...I know it, no one sees a gundam and lives. I stepped into the trailer silently, trying not to wake Catherine, she was still sleeping soundly. I fell into my bed and covered my face with my hands. Why am I panicking? I’m not afraid of death…I know it to well…or do I. I don’t know anything any more, my worlds been a jumble since the ringmaster made his announcement. Why…why did we have to come here...? Why do I have to be here…why do I have eyes? I wish I couldn’t see anything, then or now. Everything I see becomes tainted. I wish the memories of everything I’ve seen could be erased.

I watched Laila fall from the trapeze, her long raven colored hair trailing after her body; she never falls. I could see Catherine was concerned; the other performers also looked shocked.

I overheard someone ask, “What’s wrong with her?”

Catherine slowly answered, staring into space like she wasn’t talking to him, “We all wear our masks--she’s just having a hard time holding hers.”

If everyone who heard that only knew half of what I know they still would never see the truth in those words. Everyone I have ever known wore their mask but I could see through them…I could see through the lies. I too wear a mask, one with no emotions. My mask is heavy but I can never let it fall…I can never let anyone see behind it…no one will ever see behind the mask…they can never know…never understand what is there.

I avoided everyone, smiling, fooling some, but never kidding myself. They could all see I wasn’t myself, especially after I fell…I wasn’t the person they knew…I didn’t know who I was…am I that little frightened girl again…or am I someone stronger? Trowa watched me; watched and waited. I unbraided my hair, pretending to be busy when anyone approached me.

Late in the evening I left, I had to get away… I needed to go back. I know Trowa will follow me…I know I can’t run from death…not this time. There is no escape, but I don’t want to be near them…It would be better if I ran off into the woods and disappeared. So I ran without thinking of where to run, I let me feet carry me back…back there…instinctively back to where my dreams kept taking me. I couldn’t hide from it anymore.

I watched Laila walk away, mindlessly like it didn’t matter where she went. Cathy came up behind me, “Trowa can you, please, go after her, make sure she’s all right.”

I followed; Laila started to run, I started to run, staying far enough behind her so she couldn’t see me. Why would Catherine ask me to do this? I’m not the kind of person you send after someone to make sure they’re okay. What does she see in me or am I just the first person she could find? What is it that makes her trust me? Laila stopped abruptly; I stayed unseen, watching her. She leaned against a tree, staring into a valley; I couldn’t see what she was looking at… What is down there that made her stop…? Did she know where she was going…did she come here on purpose?

There it is right in front of me…but why does it seem so far away? My mind played with my vision, I could see the ghosts of my childhood, I wanted to run to them…but they weren’t real. I could see myself up in the tree eating plums, the juice dripping down my arms, my mother hanging sheets to dry, because she believed it made you sleep better if the sun dried them, my father picking me up and spinning with me. Then came the other memories…the invaders…the ones I wanted to push back. I could see their scared faces, hear their gruff voices…I couldn’t keep them from coming. They came and did their damage, without feelings, without regret…like it was nothing.

I stepped forward to get a better view; I made no noise but she knew I was there. I saw Laila wipe her face with her wrist. She turned and faced me.

“Hello, Trowa.”

Her voice was steady and low and calm…too calm. Maybe she hadn’t seen Heavyarms, it was at a distance and in the dark, blocked by trees…maybe she wasn’t out there long enough to see it…maybe it wasn’t her I saw…I couldn’t be sure she ran back to her trailer because she saw my gundam.

“Did you see?”

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation, but I asked another question…I had killed so many…I didn’t want to kill again unless I was sure.

“Do you know?” Please say no, I don’t want to do this, she doesn’t deserve this…Why did it have to be her?

“You’re a gundam pilot.”

Why did he ask me if I knew? He saw me there…Why did I tell him I knew? He pulled out his gun and pointed it at me. I couldn’t see any emotion in his emerald eyes and now I know why. Trowa is a trained soldier, a gundam pilot, stripped of his humanity. I wonder if he has a reason to fight. He is so young, but he doesn’t have the fiery spirit of most young soldiers. I’ve seen them, proud strong young men, willing to fight, ready to defend home and country. The lucky ones come back broken and empty; the others die at the hands of old soldiers who kill because it’s all they know. It seemed fitting I should die this way; to end my life the way my childhood ended…at the hands of an empty soldier. Trowa came and stood next to me; still holding the gun aimed deliberately at me.

“You didn’t tell Catherine.”

“No, I could never put Cathy in danger.” I responded not sure if it was a question.

It was more of a statement then a question; I knew Catherine would never let me go near Laila if she knew who I was…If she knew what I was. When Laila answered her eyes shifted to the valley, I followed her gaze. Bellow was a small cottage, long abandoned, the walls covered with ivy. A well situated house, close enough to the town, but cut off, hidden between the hills and trees. While I looked into the valley she continued to talk. “Don’t let her be sad for me. I should have died a long time ago.” How could I stop Cathy from being sad…? Why do these girls think so much of me, even after one knew my secret? I turned to face her; she was staring at me, not at the gun but my face. I expected to see a questioning or pleading look in her eyes…Laila’s eyes showed neither, she seemed ready to die…I never noticed how beautiful they are...dark violet orbs with long black eyelashes.

I’m not going to be a coward…not this time…not like I was then… Why hasn’t he pulled the trigger? Does he get enjoyment from this? His arm slackened, he still held the gun pointed at me, but I saw his arm relax. A chilly wind blew the hair into my face, when I pulled it away, I saw Trowa put his arm down...He doesn’t want to shoot me…why? I feel uncomfortable just standing here; I need to do something. I said the first thing that came to my mouth.

“It’s going to rain,” I don’t know why I said that; neither of us care if we get wet. I walked down the hill toward the house Trowa followed. I ducked under the overhang as a light rain started to fall. “Come stand over here, you’re going to get wet.”

It’s only a light mist; it doesn’t matter…so what if I get a little wet. I watched her try to open the door; holding the knob turned and ramming her shoulder into it. Lightning flashed, followed immediately by a low rumble that shook the windows and a sudden downpour that drenched my shirt. I helped Laila with the door; the door was unlocked but the years made it stick. We both gave it our shoulders and it flung open with a loud crack, Laila lost her balance and stumbled through the doorway. I went in; it was dark and musty; overturned and broken furniture strewn across the floor. I’ve seen places like this before, it didn’t bother me, but Laila shuddered and covered her face.

It looked the same as I remembered…but still it is unsettling to see my once beautiful home like this. I found some old candles and lit them, the rain still coming down in torrents, the windows shaking every time the lightning flashed. Trowa took off his wet shirt…he must be so cold, I wish I had something to give him…there might still be one; I went to my old room, opened the cedar chest at the foot of the bed frame and hunted through my dolls to find it. I remember the names I gave them, how I took care of them, how my mother laughed as I fixed their pretend boo-boos. I used to get mad when she laughed at me...I want to hear it again…I would let her laugh all she wanted if I could just have them back.

I glanced through the other doors; all the rooms were like the first: overturned furniture, the beds stripped of everything even the mattresses. At first I thought the house had been robbed, but why would thieves take mattresses. I looked through the door Laila had entered; she was kneeling on the floor emptying a trunk, a pile of stuffed animals gently placed at her side. She slowly stood with a folded blanket in her hands; she lovingly fingered the stitching before handing it to me. She’s been here before, I could see it now…the sorrow in her face…the pain in her eyes…I wonder why…why she hid this part of her?…Is this why Laila’s been acting strange… What happened?

“Here this should keep you warm, it’s the only one left…They took everything else.”

“They?”

“The soldiers. A group of mercenaries--guerillas.” I don’t know who they were or why they came here; those evil men, with no other purpose but to destroy…It must have been the area, a fairly large clearing between the hills, hidden by trees. They took everything, anything they could sell or make use of; they stole all of my mother’s handsome quilts, the blankets she had made by hand. Those monsters could never know the love she put into them…I don’t know where they are now…or if they ever think about what they did…They probably don’t remember…but I do. You’re not like them, Trowa, you can’t be like them.

Soldiers…Soldiers like me--they did this…to the house…to her. How does she look at me…without fear…without hate…knowing who I am? I unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around myself. It smelled musty, but it kept me warm. I looked at the home made quilt: patches of white, pink, white and pink checks, and little red rose buds, tied with pink yarn. I imagined the little girl this blanket used to keep warm, I could see her being tucked in at night by doting parents…It must be nice.

Trowa looked funny wrapped in the pink blanket…The blanket we got out every fall when the weather turned cold. Mom said the color would remind me of spring so when I slept I’d be extra comfy and I wouldn’t feel the cold. I went back to the living room. The lightning lit the room; I looked around in that brief flash and noticed the curio cabinet, one of the few things left standing. The glass in front was broken, cracks extending from the bullet hole, but nothing in it was broken.

She stared into the display case for several minutes, as if she was taking inventory: carvings of animals and people done with different types of wood, sculptures of clay and metal, vases and baubles in all colors of glass. I noticed one sculpture…something about it caught my attention. A little girl with jet black hair carrying a large orange cat, her creamy arms folded around the cats belly, its hind paws hanging to her knees…her face was familiar…I studied Laila’s countenance…she’s that little girl.

“My mother made most of them, she loved to make stuff. She used to trade with other people because she wanted to be surrounded by beautiful things.” I heard her voice falter several times and as she spoke. Laila closed her eyes. I saw her pull something from her pocket…a gold key on a thin blue ribbon. She unlocked the glass side panel and opened it.

I still had the key; father slipped it into my pocket that morning…the last day I saw him. I think it made me feel better to have it, when my parents let me have the key I was allowed to unlock the door and hold one of the many treasures. I would carefully trace the lines with my fingers; feel the smooth edges turning them over to examine every aspect of what I chose. I guess I kept the key because it reminded me of my parents; my father built the cabinet and my mother filled it. Trowa watched as I took out my cherished gift…my music box.

I watched her pull out a box, she opened it, and I saw her name etched in the mirror on the back of the lid. Where is she going…? I followed…She picked up a faded doll from the floor in the room where she found the quilt. I thought I saw her smile as she pulled something from its dress, but when she stood up Laila still had a look of sorrow. I started to miss her smile…I’ve never missed anything before…I never missed the home I didn’t have…I never missed the family I didn’t know…or maybe I did but I never let myself dwell on it…maybe I did want all those things.

The wind-up key was in the apron of my favorite doll; I had always kept it there. I put it in and wound up the music box; I watched the figures of the man and woman spin, dancing to the familiar melody. A simple tune that ended on the same note it began. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t know this song, mother made the box for me while she was still pregnant…My first gift ever…I could never forget it. It stopped but I didn’t wind it up again. I looked out the window…it’s dark…very dark…and it is still pouring. I didn’t realize how late it was; we would have to stay here all night. A ferocious wind started to blow… I kept staring at the tree blowing in the harsh gale…I tried to stop but I couldn’t.

The cold white glow of the lightning filled the room, a gust of wind made the house creek, I tried to wrap the blanket around Laila, she was shaking, but she stepped forward.

“I’m not cold. You need it more than me.”

“You’re shaking.” I held out the quilt for her to take.

“It’s not because I’m cold.” She turned from the window and faced me; even in the dim candlelight I could see the tears streaming down her face, silver drops cascading down her pale cheeks and dripping off her chin.

“It was windy like this.” She shut her eyes, sniffed and took a sharp breath, her lips quivered as she went on, “The soldiers came and took my father, mother and me out of bed. They dragged us outside, my father tried to protect us; he held us close, using his body to shield us against the wind. He told them they could take what they needed if they would let my mother and me go.” Laila slide-down the wall and sat on the floor near the window.

“They beat him as my mother and I watched. I screamed for them to stop but they wouldn’t. I tried to go to him but they held me back. The commander tied him to the tree, he told us if we did what he said they’d let my father live. We did what they said. That day we carried their supplies, cooked their meals, bandaged their wounds while they mocked and jeered at my mother and me.” I felt rather than saw Trowa sit next to me, our shoulders touched; he wrapped the blanket around the both of us. I don’t know why but I continued telling my story, everything I hid from the world. “I slipped away and tried to untie my father, they caught me, and they brought my mother over and shot him in front of us. I did everything they said, why did they have to do that? It’s my fault, if I hadn’t been with him they wouldn’t have done it.” I stopped for a moment, he didn’t say anything…I didn’t want him to say anything. “That night my mother and I tried to leave, they shot at us and hit my mother…I’m such a coward, I watched as both my parents were killed and I couldn’t do anything.” I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my arms on the tops of them, I hid my face with my forehead on my wrists, sobbing, trembling and trying to sniff back the tears. I felt Trowa touch my back but he quickly retracted…he didn’t know what to do…I don’t want him to feel sorry for me, that’s not why a told him…I just needed to tell someone.

Laila picked up her head after I touched her…My touch was so light I barely reached her, I didn’t think she could feel it. I dried her tears with the corner of the blanket, I wanted to say something…but what do I say…would she believe me if I said anything…everything I am is a lie. There was a long silence, the only noises coming from the fierce weather outside.

“Trowa,” she bit her bottom lip and whispered softly, “why did you become a soldier?”

I could see she wanted to know, and for some reason I wanted to tell her, I never really talked to anyone about my past.

“I’m not Trowa; I have no name. I’ve been a soldier as long as I can remember. I don’t know who my parents are.” I stopped for a minute, Laila was watching me, she didn’t ask any more questions, but I went on, I stared at the opposite wall and started talking again, “A mercenary corps found me as a child, they called me Nanashi, no-name. In a surprise attack our position was betrayed, I was the only survivor.” I hadn’t thought about that for a long time; the men who raised me died at my hands…because I thought they had betrayed us…but it was me…the girl I saved caused it.

I couldn’t hear any emotion in his voice, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, and I couldn’t really see his face, but I think he was telling the truth. Something inside me told me he cared about those men. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“No.” He didn’t open his eyes when he answered.

I rested my head on the wall, the rain had slowed to drizzle and the wind wasn’t blowing…it was quiet…I felt safe there with him. My eyelids grew heavy and I let myself sleep.

I don’t know when I fell asleep or when I pulled her closer to me. But when I woke up that morning the sun was shining and there she was: my arms folded around her waist, her arm draped over my stomach, her forehead against my neck, my cheek resting on her hair. Her skin is so soft, her face is so calm. I pulled her still a little closer to me, she move slightly and nestled her head into my chest. Laila’s ebony hair fell over the side of her face; I brushed it away, accidentally waking her. She opened and closed her eyes; her eyelashes tickled.

Something touched my face I tried several times to open my eyes; it was difficult, I didn’t want to wake up…it was so warm. I realized where I was, my head resting on his bare chest. I quickly slid away from him.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.” I’m so embarrassed…Why did I let myself fall asleep? I could feel my face turning red. I have never done anything like that…I hope he doesn’t mind?

“Don’t apologize. It was nothing.” It wasn’t nothing, for the first time I felt…good. I didn’t want to wake her...did I think I could protect her in that embrace? Laila was so frail and yet brave. We couldn’t stay here forever but I wanted it to last a little longer… I’ve never seen her color like that…. Don’t feel ashamed…I was the one who pulled you to me. I stood up and held out my hand to help her; “We should go back. Everyone will miss you, Laila.”

People would miss you too, if you would let them get close to you; I want to tell you but can’t. He helped me up and put on his shirt then we left. I shut the door behind me…why did I shut the door…I can’t answer that…habit, maybe? I ran to catch up with Trowa…Nanashi…No-name…no, he is still Trowa. I caught his hand and held it as we walked, he didn’t pull away but he didn’t react to my touch. We cleared the woods and could see the circus tent and trailers; Cathy was coming toward us. Trowa rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand and let go.

“You’re safe,” Catherine hugged Laila, “welcome home--I was so worried about you guys.” The knife-throwing star said it to both of us…she was worried about me…she called this home…home that word is so wonderful…could this ever be my home…Cathy’s grin is so big…maybe it could be. The ringmaster came, not too far behind Catherine; he wasn’t as enthusiastic about our return.

“Where have you been?” he directed the question to me, I quickly came up with something to say, but before I could say it Laila answered.

“I saw something in the woods and followed it…”

“I sent Trowa after her.”

“I got lost and we were caught in the storm.” Laila continued.

He looked at us with a doubtful expression, but since both of them gave him the same story, he couldn’t argue.

“Laila, change and do something with your hair, you need to practice with the others.” He glared at me and left.

Cathy and I went to the trailer we shared, I changed and she brushed and braided my hair. “Ringmaster was concerned too; he’s really pleased to see you back.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that, but I had to go.” She turned me around to look into my face, I think she knew I had to see my childhood home…to say good bye.

“See I knew you were strong enough, I knew you could do it.”

“As long as you believe in me I think I can.”

“Well, I believe you can do the new act without falling.” She pushed me out the trailer door and I went to the tent. I climbed the rigging, grabbed the bar and swung out, flying flawlessly through the air. What a great turnout for the evening show, the audience gave a standing ovation to Catherine and Trowa’s knife-throwing act. They left laughing and talking. I sat in front of the fire, notebook in my lap. I wrote everything that happened in the past few days, everything I thought…everything I felt…I didn’t think about what I was writing, I always wrote everything I couldn’t tell others in my book. Trowa was watching me, the look in his eyes changed ever so slightly; why…?

I watched the trapeze act from back stage, her brightly colored costume moved as if enchanted. She flew like before; on invisible wings. She’s back to normal…no something’s still not right…what could it be…? She hasn’t smiled, not since the day the ringmaster made the announcement…well she did smile but it wasn’t real. She sat down near the fire and ferociously wrote in her notebook. Laila looked at me; maybe she could see or feel that I didn’t want her to write about me in her book…if anyone saw it they would know too much. She ripped out the pages she had written folded them and wrote something down…What is she doing? Laila threw the pages into the fire and watch them burn. She walked up to me notebook folded open and pressed up against her chest so I could see what was there. On the first page of the fresh book she had written the words: ‘I have seen my home; I have seen my life, And I have seen my friends…They are beautiful.’

My home, the circus, I will always belong here. My life, I have overcome my biggest difficulty to become more than that little frightened girl. My friends Cathy, Trowa, and the others, they cared for me…they worried about me. I watched Trowa as he read, I think he can understand what I mean…I think the only ones who can understand are Cathy and Trowa…they know me…and they would know me even if I hadn’t told them my past. You’re searching too, aren’t you Trowa…not for the past…but for a home. I want to tell you they care for you too, this could be a home for you as well…but not yet…you’re not ready. I smiled at him…I know he will see it soon…very soon.

Laila’s smile is so exquisite…so bright, inviting and warm. She found her home…would I find mine? She knows something I don’t…her and Catherine. I think they both know something I don’t. I’ll find out soon, I can feel it…They don’t want to hide it from me…but they’re not ready to tell. I held out my hand the music box sitting on my palm.

“What’s that for?”

“A bribe for your silence.” I don’t know why I went back to get her box.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

“I know”…I always knew you wouldn’t tell…you showed me when you burned the pages from your book.

She took the box from me and whispered, “Thank you, Trowa.”

Her voice is so sweet…so honest…she said the name like it belonged to me…that smile; any other man would melt, but I couldn’t…maybe someday I will have a name…maybe someday…maybe then I will be able to smile back.