After Images
By
Captain Anonymous


The sun was warm that morning, it seemed even warmer than it had been before they had they left.
Sylvia and Mitchell walked together down the path of the cemetery that they walked many times before. In her hands, Sylvia carried a small bundle of red roses that they had purchased that morning on the way there, from one of the small florists in two.
She couldn't help but notice the pleasant smell they had.
The cemetery remained just as she remembered seeing it last, the trees were all green, and the thick grass had been recently cut, with special care being taken around the stones, making sure the edges were well kept.
They both walked slowly, towards the grave of Sylvia's grandfather, Field Marshal Noventa.
They slowly came upon the grave that Sylvia had visited countless times, the headstone still perfectly in place, the same as it had looked when it was laid only a few years earlier. Mitchell stood back and stared at the grave, taking a deep breathe. Sylvia slowly walked towards the grave, and laid down the flowers at the foot, taking great to place properly.
She took a step back and stood silently beside her husband.
For a moment, she felt at peace.
She opened her eyes, there was a familiar smell in the air, she couldn't place what it was. Maybe it was from the trees, or carried by the light breeze.
She remembered that day, during the war, when she had brought the boy who called himself Heero Yuy to this same spot.

She remembered just how unusual it was for him to have that name.

The look on his face, when told her who he was, everything about the way he acted and how it was all so cold and clear cut.

It seemed so long ago.

She didn't want to hate Heero Yuy for what she did. She hoped that she would never see him again.
Sylvia remembered just how plain it all had seemed on that day, the way he handed her the gun, and how he told that he was the one who had killed her grandfather.
She couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. The feelings of anger and bitterness had coursed through her. But she couldn't the trigger, she wouldn't pull the trigger.
The path he was taking, the cowardly path that he had chosen, to place his life in her hands,  if she would have fired, his blood would have been on her hands. Her grandfather would still be gone. It wouldn't have changed anything.

She knew deep down she had acted the way her grandfather would have wanted her to.

She remembered the time after the meeting, when she returned back to town. Mitchell was trying to rally up the remaining forces in the town, to prepare for the eventual second OZ strike that they were all sure would follow.

Even when she had the chance, she didn't mention to him about her meeting with Heero Yuy.

Even years later, she still hadn't been able to bring herself to finally tell him about the meeting they had here.

She had though about telling him about the encounter, so many times she had thought about it, thought about the wording and the timing. But it never seemed right.
It was a secret from him, even now.

She wanted to tell him.

But every time she did try, she thought about what his reaction would be. Since the war ended, he seemed so unstable, so haunted by those horrible memories. She didn't to see him in any more pain like that, not ever again.

There times, after the war, when she wondered. She wondered just what Joel Mitchell would have done if he was placed in the same position that she was in that day.
Facing Heero Yuy, gun in hand, hearing the truth that he had killed the Field Marshal.

There were times, when she knew, that he would have instantly pulled the trigger and shot down Heero in cold blood without hesitation.

The image in her mind of it seemed so clear.

The thought of him holding a pistol in his hand, firing a shot at him, ending it in a shower of blood. She didn't want it to happen like that, not now.

She knew what Mitchell had gone through, all those feelings, she had experienced the same ones. The pain, the anger and the confusion.
Those times during the war, they both seen the world they knew come apart around them.

She prayed deep down, that they would never cross paths with that boy who called himself Heero Yuy ever again.

She never wanted Mitchell to come face to face with him. She didn't either of them die, not now, after everything that they had gone through.

Her grandfather had been an advocate of pacifism. She didn't want his memory honored in a banquet of crimson.

Sylvia stood silently, looking at her grandfather's grave. She prayed, she prayed for him to guide her. To do what she knew would have to be the right thing.

They stood for a few minutes, after a time, Sylvia turned to Mitchell and looked at him.
With a deep breathe she said, "Okay." Mitchell nodded, and they slowly turned away, walking back to the car, waiting for them outside of the cemetery.

She touched his hand, letting him hold hers in his own, their fingers bound together.

Sylvia took one look back at her grandfather's grave, before finally turning away.

-----------

The small clock in her bed room chimed as the time reached ten. She paid almost no attention to the sound, she had become so accustom to the sound of the chime, after having it for so many years now.
It was a lovely antique clock, with silver trim, and decorated in small angels and floral patterns.

Her husband had purchased it for her a short time after they had been married. She had seen it in a small european shop window, and fell in love with it instantly, to which her newfound husband at the time, quickly bought, for the sheer joy and seeing the smile light up on her face. For every night since he had given it to her, she had kept it in her room, never far from her.

The chime was noticeable enough for her to look up towards the clock and check the time.

She sat alone at her desk, doing her best to work on some correspondences that she had fallen behind on, but had unable to make any progress.
Her mind kept wandering back to her daughter.
She took a deep breathe, things had not gone well with Relena since she had returned.
She could tell that Relena was still upset about the news she had given her.
The way she acted, and the look in her eyes, she could tell that the news had bothered her greatly.
Even if she would say that nothing was wrong, she could tell, she knew Relena, she knew she was upset.
She didn't want her to be like this, to be upset about this. She wanted her, just to understand.
She didn't want Relena to be upset about this.

Relena had been so close to her father, and his death, she had changed so much about herself. She matured, and changed so much and so quickly.
Maybe it brought some distance between them.

She thought what Relena had said when they talked again, about wanting the opportunity to meet Count Townsend.
She wasn't sure just how Relena would react to meeting him. She wasn't sure now if she wanted the meeting to even take place.

It felt heavy inside of her.

She knew Relena would force to choose, but still, she didn't want to lose Relena anymore than she already did.

Maybe a meeting with them together would be good for them all, to reassure everyone, maybe it all be all right.

She thought so much about it, going through it in her mind over and over again.

She looked down at the half finished letter that was placed at the center of the desk.

She hadn't spoken to Count Townsend, it seemed like it had been so long since she had last seen him.
Perhaps tomorrow she would write him, or send him a message.
As she sat, she tried to picture him, but couldn't bring the image of him into her mind.
She had no photographs of him, or any other memento.
She wanted to see him again, to speak with him.
He seemed like a very kind man, she just wanted to have him with her.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard a knock on the door, she turned slowly as Pagan entered with her tea. He poured the hot liquid into a china tea cup, the steam dancing in the air.
She looked at the cup.
"Thank you, Pagan. Is Relena still awake?"
"She has retired for the evening. She said that she was still very tired from her trip," Pagan dutifully reported.
"Very well, thank you Pagan, that will be all for this evening."
Pagan bowed and left the room, carefully closing the door behind him, making sure not to make any noise.

------

The sky had turned grey that afternoon. It appeared as if a front was moving in, and that there would be some rain.
Midii sat on the edge of Catherine's bed, looking at her reflection in the large mirror mounted on the wall.

In the reflection behind her, she could see Catherine as she went through drawer looking for a certain article of clothing.

Catherine was going to be leaving soon, going on tour with the circus troupe.

Midii said, "Are you sure that there is nothing else I can do to help?"

Catherine held the red sweat shirt she had been looking for, refolding it, "No, its all right, I've got everything in hand."

Midii nodded, she looked back onto the bed, where the small stacks of cloths had been assembled.

One pile caught her eye, the group of the outfits Catherine wore during her performances.
They stood out from everything else, the bright colors, and satin material. Each outfit was brand new for this season, each custom made for Catherine. Each one had been checked hemmed and carefully folded again, ready to be packed away.

None of them really liked the time when Catherine left. No one said anything to her about it; they all knew she was doing what she loved.
But still, she was leaving, and it really wouldn't change the fact that she would be gone for a span of weeks.

They all would miss her in that time.

"Are you still coming to the show?"

They have one show in the city here, before they would leave the next day.

Midii nodded, "Yes, to be honest with you, I don't think my brothers would forgive me if they missed it. I'm sure that Trowa's looking forward to it as well."
Catherine smiled, "I promise you that you will not be disappointed."

Midii had wanted to go to the show; they would all go to see Catherine and rest of the circus troupe.
There were still thoughts heavy in her mind. She had wanted Johnnie to come home before Catherine had left. She thought the last time they had spoke, over the video phone.
She wanted to talk to him again, to try and help him.
She closed her eyes for a moment.

Catherine had always liked the blonde haired girl, as excited as she was to go, she really didn't want to have to leave her behind. She had thought of her as being almost as sister. Between Midii and Trowa, along with Marie and Midii's younger brothers, she felt like she had family at home.
The circus for years had been her only family, but it with the people from the circus, and them, for the first time since the loss of her parents years ago, that she was nearly complete.
But still there was something, or rather someone missing from her life.

Midii as she looked over the items placed on the bed, caught site of a pile of photographs that had been placed aside.
Midii picked up the pile of photographs, and slow went through each one.
Most were copies of photographs that she had been familiar with.
She said as she flipped passed photographs, "I'll send you some new ones of Marie while you're away."

Catherine stood, still organizing the piles; she chimed "I'd like that. Don't be shy about sending them either. She grew so much while I was away last time, I really don't miss anything."

Midii got to some photographs that seemed less familiar. Older photographs, she looked at them. One was a portrait, of a man and woman. Midii stared at them, before she realized just who they were.

It was one the few images Catherine had of her parents. Midii admired how they looked, she could definitely see the resemblance between Catherine and her mother.

Midii moved on to next ones, most were of her and Trowa, taken during and after the war, from their performances.
Trowa's face was covered in a mask. Midii had seen some pictures of Trowa from his performance in the circus, but still even now they seemed amusing to her, if not a little strange.
She had always thought it odd that someone like Trowa would fit in at the circus of all places. The image of the steel cold young soldier surrounded by lights and the atmosphere just never seemed to fit in her mind.

Catherine leaned over the bed to see just what pictures Midii was looking at.
"It's really too bad Trowa isn't coming with us on this tour. I'm sure he'll want to see the animals before we leave. The lion misses him when he isn't around."
Catherine turned away, to continue packing.

Midii continued, stopping at one particular image that didn't to fit with any of the others.
A chill went up her spine as she stopped on a picture of Major Ordway.
It was a wartime photograph of him, in his OZ uniform.
There was something about the way he looked. The picture had been taken before Midii had met him.
She thought about the Major for a moment, about how much she missed him.
He had been the one who had brought her and Trowa together after the war. She often wondered, if he hadn't helped bring them together, if she would be still looking Trowa even now.
It made her feel uneasy.
She closed her eyes. She wished she could have talked to him again, to see him with Catherine, back when they were all together with Captain Mitchell and Sylvia. All together again.

Midii didn't go on to the next photograph in the stack.
It was probably better that she didn't see the image hiding on the next photograph, another one of the wartime images of Ordway and a group of OZ officers.

Midii rearranged the photographs and placed them in the spot where she had found them.

Catherine looked at the clock beside the bed.
Catherine put down the stacks of clothing. "I'll finish this up later, I'd better get dinner started before it gets too late. I'm making some soup."

Midii smiled, and followed Catherine out of the room.


To be continued………..