Author's Note: This was one of a number of challenge fics that I did with a friend. Requirements were the word of the day on dictionary dot com, a song of your choice, and other requirements chosen differently for each story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable from Ashita no Nadja.

Word: 'explicate'

Song: Well, the story played itself out in my mind while I was listening to Passion on the second Nadja BGM Soundtrack, if that counts…

Requirements: A story about Keith, Francis, and Maryann when they were children; each of the three must speak to each of the other two at some point; they must be under ten (Keith ran away when they were ten, so any other childhood age would have to be AU).

Genre: General/Angst

Rating: PG

Watching and Reflecting

Keith sat on a tree branch, watching. Who was he watching? Why, Nadja of course. He always watched her when she was nearby. She knew that he watched her sometimes, and commented about it crossly at times, but generally didn't seem to mind very much. At that particular moment, she had just separated with Francis, and Maryann had stayed behind to say something. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but it was certainly angering Nadja—her emotions were very easy to read. He, personally, had always found arguing with Maryann to be a waste of time and energy.

"Stop it, Francis!" Maryann shouted from somewhere behind him. Keith turned just in time to see the branch that his twin was on crack, and Francis fell in a heap on the ground. Keith made a move to go over to him, but Maryann got there first. He stopped a few steps away as Maryann knelt beside Francis looked at him worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said Francis with a forced smile. Keith could see that he was struggling to hold back tears, and sighed. Honestly, it was only a scratch on the knee. He had suffered far worse in his tree climbing. Then again, Francis was always more cautious than he was and was rarely hurt, so he supposed that it would be harder to bare the pain for him.

"I told you that branch looked too thin," Maryann said worriedly, pulling out her handkerchief and wiping the bleeding scrape on Francis's knee. Keith rolled his eyes. Maryann babied Francis too much. It was honestly no wonder that his twin was more spoiled than he was. When Francis was hurt, Maryann was there to help him. When Francis climbed on a branch that was too thin, Maryann was there to tell him that it was too thin and would break if he didn't move to another branch. When Francis was upset, Maryann was there to comfort him. Keith fully expected them to marry as soon as they were of marriageable age.

"Thanks, Maryann," Francis said, sitting up and looking more cheerful. Apparently, the pain was fading. Keith furrowed his brow and reconsidered his thought about Francis and Maryann marrying. The way that Francis had thanked Maryann was sincere, but not quite as sincere as it probably ought to have been, considering she worried for him more than she worried for herself. Keith had a feeling that Francis was taking Maryann for granted…

"You should go inside and get something to put on that," Maryann told him, helping him up.

"I will," Francis replied. Once he was standing, he walked back towards the manor on his own (with a little limp, but he was still walking). Keith was surprised when Maryann did not follow. Once Francis was out of hearing range, she spun around to face him, and he knew that she was going to scold him. She knew well enough not to scold Keith in front of Francis, for Francis always stopped them. She never argued with him—she only scolded. In arguing, two people throw their opposing thoughts at one another. Maryann never liked him to say anything; she expected to yell at him for whatever she felt he had done wrong, and then him to obey. Naturally, it never worked out that way.

"Your brother just fell out of a tree and was bleeding!" Maryann scolded him angrily. Keith folded his arms and glared at her. Normally he would walk away, but that did not work with Maryann. She simply followed, and got even more obnoxious. He had discovered that the best way to deal with Maryann was to pretend to listen, and then to walk away when she was finished. "And you just stood there, doing nothing and saying nothing, as if you didn't care! I'm amazed that your mother never managed to teach you anything! I just can't believe that a kind, caring woman like her would manage to bring up someone as uncaring as you!" There was an underlying accusation that instantly brought smoking anger into Keith's chest—she had hinted at it every opportunity she got. He had not cried at his mother's funeral, and Maryann simply could not understand that. Not that he had ever tried to explain it to her. "You cold-hearted-"

"Look!" he found himself shouting, cutting her off. "Don't bring Mother into this! For your information, I did cry. I spend every night crying for Mother, and I simply don't like crying in public. I was worried about Francis when he fell, but seeing as how you were babying him like you always do…"

Keith trailed off, appalled at what he had just admitted. Usually, he could handle Maryann's angry remarks in silence, simply fuming on the inside, but this time it had burst forth. He had never seen the need to explicate himself to her before. Spinning around, he stomped off. Appalled at himself though he was, he was satisfied to hear no movement behind him, indicating that Maryann was standing rooted to the ground in shock. He stomped back up to the manor angrily, and headed straight to Francis's room.

Opening the door, he saw Francis lying on his back in bed. His twin smiled up at him sheepishly when he entered, closing the door behind him.

"Father said that I'm to rest here a while before I start moving around again," Francis said. Keith rolled his eyes. Father always said that when he found out that someone was hurt. But it was just like Francis to actually listen and do as he was told. Keith never did. But looking at Francis, he saw that his brother was hiding pain.

"Are you all right?" Keith asked, concern stirring in his chest. Perhaps that scrape had not been as shallow as it had looked…

"I'm fine," Francis said with a smile that erased the look of pain from his face. "I just don't like the idea of lying here for an hour. Mother-" He suddenly cut himself off, his expression saddening. Keith knew what he had been about to say. Mother always had sat at their bedside and told them stories or read to them when Father sent them to bed in the day.

"I know," Keith said quietly. They remained in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, then Keith spoke. "Should I-" Just then, the door opened and Maryann entered, cutting him off.

"Francis, I met your father on my way here—he told me that you were to rest. Would you like me to read you a story?"

"That would be nice," Francis agreed with a smile. "Keith, why don't you stay and listen, too?" he added, noticing Keith heading for the doorway.

"No thanks," Keith replied stiffly. Not only did he not want to be near Maryann after what he had just said to her, but Maryann had just offered exactly what he had been planning on offering. He was beginning to feel out of place in this manor. Francis didn't need him—he had Maryann. Father was too caught up in matters of the house, and Aunt Emma was too proper and always looking out for Father. Mother had made him feel wanted—needed—but now that she was gone, was there really any reason for him to be staying in this house? And further, in this very world that had killed Mother?

All he knew for sure was that he did not want to remain—not in the least.

Keith looked back on the past with a small, sad smile on his face. It had been shortly after that incident that Father had decided to send him off to boarding school in Switzerland as the heir to the House of Harcourt, and appalled, he had run away at the first chance he got. Looking down from the tree, he looked at Nadja—the first single person to make him feel remotely wanted or needed since his mother's death. Suddenly, he caught a few of the words that Maryann was saying to Nadja, and then a few of the words that Nadja yelled angrily back. His eyes widened in surprise. Had Maryann just been insulting him to Nadja? And was Nadja seriously defending him? He watched and listened, and found that he had not heard wrong—Nadja was, indeed, defending him to Maryann.

Keith grinned, and made a mental note to tease her about it next time he went to see her. It was always fun to fluster Nadja.