His whole body was too hot. He groaned, trying to wake up, the fever that was eating his skin pounding in his head. The covers were wet with his sweat. He tried to open his eyes as he gripped the covers tighter.

"Take it easy," the girl's voice came to him from the darkness. "Please rest. You have a very high fever and you need to sleep."

He opened his eyes, her figure taking shape before him nothing more than blur. His head hurt too much so he stopped trying to make the shape focus. The girl's face came closer, reaching with her hands to brush back the hair over his face. He groaned as her hands touched him. She seemed vaguely familiar, but the colours had begun to swim again, the ceiling threatening to fall down on him.

The girl smiled, her eyes full of sadness. She took his hand, taking it softly from his tight grip on the bed sheets.

"Katherine...?"

"No."

Trowa's eyes narrowed, the girl's shape finally coming together before him. The young girl smiled sadly, the name he had called hurting her. She felt her cheeks colour as he sat up looking at her, relaxing his head backwards into the soft pillow.

"You walked off into the field in the night rain," she said.

Trowa looked at her, his green eyes searching for the reason for the way her voice took the strange tone it did.

"Father found you lying in the wet ground, soaked and shivering."

She drew his hands up from the bed sheets, not caring for the look he was giving her. She grasped both hands in hers, squeezing them for comfort. She looked at his face and noticed his green eyes looking at her hollowly. The fever ran up his nerves, but her hot hands drew him back out of the pain. She smiled kindly, getting up and leaving his side.

"You seem intent in dying."

Trowa watched as her yellow hair moved sideways when she turned away from him. She walked towards the bathroom, a small room to the right of the bedroom. He let his head fall back wearily into the pillow and stared at his sweaty palms, bringing them up to his face. He moved his fingers slowly.

He closed his eyes, tight, as his feverish skin was invaded by shills, the scream in his head returning. He gritted his teeth, snarling as the flashing light returned. Hot. Dizzy.

He opened his eyes, listening to the sound of the girl in the bathroom. The sound of the water lapping quietly at the edges of the sink, of her searching for something in the drawers. The sound became a thousand times louder, her movements seeming to become more intense.

His eyes grow wider, as his mind became crazy again, the fever hot, spilling from his eyes. He whimpered, his sweaty palms clenching. His mind began to twist the sounds, her voice, the room. It was too hot.

Trowa's eyes narrowed as the sound of her voice, twisted and much louder, came to his ears. She was talking to someone. He gritted his teeth as he caught some of the conversation. The girl was talking to an officer. Hushed. Quiet, so he wouldn't be able to listen. Trowa's eyes widened. That was the reason why she'd brought him to her house. To set a trap for him, to deliver him to the OZ like a captured animal.

He drew the covers off from himself, his head spinning as he stood on his feet. He steadied his body with the bed. His insane mind brought the sound of her plotting to his ears, twisting what she was talking into a hushed conversation. He frowned. He wasn't going to let her deliver him to those men. He wasn't living that hell again.

He wasn't going to let her take him to those evil men again. He would take his life, but first. He was taking hers.

She was bending over the tub, her back towards him. He bit his lip, watching her back move as she turned the water faucet on, filling the tub. Where was the soldier? Trowa's eyes narrowed as he slipped into the small room silently, like a whisper.

Dos' ran a hand over her hair, unaware of the young boy who sneaked into the bathroom silently, his body moving lethally. She turned the water tap to "hot."

Trowa came closer, his eyes taking in the contents of the sink's cabinet, eyeing the small shaving knife on top.

Dos screamed as the young man grabbed her, coming in from behind, his strong grip on her chin. Her eyes widened as his other hand covered her mouth. She heard Trowa laugh, her heart racing. Why was he doing this?

She gripped his arms, trying to get him to release her, her mind screaming, but he was too strong. She moved her body backwards, feeling his naked skin against her head. She closed her eyes, willing this to be a nightmare. The boy was delirious.

Trowa turned her around, forcing her to look at him. His green eyes bore a terrible, mad look, the pupils dilated, his face sweaty, his red hair caked with sweat to his forehead. The steam rose around them as the tub filled with the hot water.

Dos' eyebrow's twisted in pain, her blue eyes wet with tears, as she watched the boy's tormented face. She felt the boy's hand trail down her chin and her breath became faster. He frowned deeper, his mind possessed by the nightmare that kept repeating itself in his mind. She struggled to raise her hand and touched his arm. He stared at her, tightening his grip.

"I'm going to kill you."

She felt her heart beat madly in her chest, and her eyes widened as they became full of tears. Her body became weak, shaking with her sobs, her eyes becoming frightened. She tried to break free from his grip, but he held tighter.

Trowa snarled, dragging her closer to the sink. She screamed, her voice muffled by his hand as he reached for the shaving knife. He pulled her roughly, closer to the sink, feeling her legs trash beneath her in the wet tiles. She kicked him weakly, one of her small shoes coming off.

"Then, I'm going to kill myself."

Trowa laughed, picking up the knife, twisting it in his fingers and freeing her neck. She whimpered louder, her tears falling on his fingers, her legs kicking him harder. She bit his fingers, but he didn't seem to even notice. He only became angrier and dragged her nearer.

He raised the blade over her face, his eyes narrowing wickedly. His hand trembled softly, but he shook his head, drawing back the feelings that emerged from his mind. He was possessed by some evil spirit, it seemed, making him act like a demon. Dos looked at his crazed eyes, wanting to understand why the boy had suddenly gone crazy. His green eyes were not his own.

The little girl screamed as his hands shook suddenly, watching him convulse strangely. She gasped, her breath becoming still in her lungs. He was crying.

Her eyes widened as he seem to struggle against himself, but whatever force had possessed him won. He smashed the blade against the sink, its loud sound making the little girl jump. She began to sob like a lost animal as he drew the blade closer to her face. All her strength had gone away, her body just lay limp under his own. He put the blade to her face, ready to push it into her flesh, to puncture her skin. He gasped for air, his eyes becoming human again, and looked at her.

His green eyes found her fear, her sorrow. Her scared, innocent, blue eyes. Eyes like so many he had seen, just before they had died.

His breath quickened, his grip loosening. His hand quivered, his mouth open and gasping for air. The steam of the hot water made it hard to breath. He closed his eyes tightly, his body wracking with his agonizing sob. Dos whimpered louder as he twisted in pain, his face red.

Dos gasped as he released her, his hand wrapping itself around his small shoulders, as he rocked slowly from side to side whimpering. The knife fall from his hand to the tiled floor. She fell exhausted to her knees as he released her and felt her throat about to scream horribly as she raised her head slowly to look at him, but her scream froze in her mouth.

She couldn't scream, but just looked at his pitiful body rocking sideways like a poor lost soul. Tears ran down the boy's red face. The blade fell from his hand, clanking loudly on the tiled floor. The small girl gasped as it hit the floor, harsh reality cutting her like that knife would have done. She stared at the boy in silence, her heart aching as it beat madly in her chest.

She brushed away her tears absentmindedly watching the boy's body become still, his head falling slowly between his legs. He was mumbling weakly something she could not understand. She reached out her hand, scared a little that he would return to the madness, but her soul daring to help him. She touched his shoulder, gasping as his skin tightened. He lifted his small head, his green eyes finding her. The old quiet sadness had returned to them.

She reached with her left hand, drawing in her ragged breath and her fear, and brushed the small tears on his face, her small fingers caressing him warmly. She blew in her nose, willing her own tears and her runny nose. The sound echoed in the steamed bathroom. She opened her dry mouth, fighting to be able to talk.

"Don't cry, little clown," she said.

Trowa drew away from her ashamed of his actions, of his lack of control. The memories were returning. The face of a lovely boy watching over him, taking his hands and kissing them. The young blond pilot had been willing to die for him. Trowa closed his eyes tightly. The memories were driving him mad and he wasn't their master. Not anymore. He gasped, his eyes widening and focusing on her. He needed to grasp reality, or he will end up nuts. He'd been almost about to kill this little, innocent girl who had been so kind to him. He reached out and gripped her leg, wishing to let her flesh draw him from the nightmares.

"I am not... a clown... Dos," he said.

He looked up at her, fighting with himself to stop shaking and talk. To say the truth and be afraid of himself anymore. She stared at him silently, her red face sad, but her body regaining control.

"I am not a clown... I am a killer. A mindless, ruthless, evil, demented young butchered."

Dos swallowed the new, silent tears that ran down her cheeks. Her childhood pride fell with them, her chest hurt terribly. She reached and touched his hair, drawing it away from his face. He bent down, letting himself surrender to the pain and sorrow. he was tired of fighting against he senseless memories. She bit her lip as he buried his face on her lap, and closed her eyes. She did not want to believe him.

"Don't cry anymore... clown."

Trowa raised his head, his eyes full of a sadness that she would never be able to understand. She gasped as he touched her face softly, sadly.

"When you found me, Dos, I had been shot by the enemy," he said. "I lay dying after taking countless of human lives. I have killed mercilessly with these hands. My own hands." He held them out to her, almost imploring for forgiveness.

"Dos, I drive one of those horrible machines that destroyed your peace, that separated your family, that forced your father and mother to work so hard... and forced you to live in poverty and misery..."

Trowa lowered his eyes, ashamed of himself and ashamed of the war he was part of. He felt her body tense, her chest breathing faster. Dos closed her eyes, her hot tears falling into her lips. Her soul hurt, but she opened her eyes, reaching down to touch his hair. He gasped softly as she drew him closer, enfolding him softly in a tender embrace.

Her face held a soft, sad smile. She bend down and held him close, willing his words to wash away. They would never be able to.

He felt his heart beat slow down, the bloody memories lifting away from his soul, hammering against his insides before they left him, but her small arms drew them out gently. They demanded to return and drive him mad, feeding off from his lonely soul, from his pained bones, but she stood in their way, small and beautiful, like an angel. The memories had drawn back into the darkness of his mind.

Trowa looked at her again. The small girl looked at him without any shame, letting go of her own pride and sorrow. She smiled at him forgetting that he had just been about to kill her. he wanted to run away, to stand and draw back into the quiet, hollow loneliness that he had built for himself, but he couldn't move. He could only stare at her and feel her soft embrace, feeling that he didn't disturb all her kindness. A strange feeling ran inside his veins.

The little girl closed her eyes, brushing the nightmares away from her head. She opened her eyes again, reaching to comb Trowa's red hair.

"Egao, clown..."

The young man closed his eyes, his arms falling softly by his sides. He sighed heavily, his aching heart beating stronger, and drew away from her, looking at her soft, courageous smile, and smiled.