I do not own Shaman King.
I think I made a mistake about the age.
If Marco is 39, this takes place 12 years into the future (2012). Similarly that means that Jeanne is 22 and Lyserg is 26. Meene is 31. (arg… numbers are killing me)
I am aiming for humor and some occasional bittersweet angst.
Similarly… (read Patch Archives and BBS) There are some details of the manga that completely undermine this fic entirely. In fact I went to a BBS and discovered a lot things wrong with this fic. I'm almost tempted to completely delete this fic in fact. But since this AU technically...
AU fic set twelve years in the future.
Exaudi nos et misrere: latin for 'Hear us, the wretched'
Marco dreamed that night. The darkness that claimed him in the beginning, quickly brightened to reveal blue skies and golden fields of wheat. The countryside he had been born to as a child, was swaying around him in the warm early fall breeze. He stood in the sea of wheat and stared across the distance where he could barely make out the farmers reaping in the harvest. The smell of crushed grass and last blooms of the seasons were in the air. He was barefoot, he couldn't remember when he had removed his shoes but he did not care at this point. He was content with staring at the sky and it's slow moving white clouds. He vaguely recalled trying to see patterns in the various clouds formations as he laid there when he was child. He felt utterly at peace, though he was just usually skipping out on his work on the crops when he did this.
Marco stretched his adult body on the grass and listened to the silence. The sun was going to set soon and the hints of the darkening sky could be seen as could the red tint coloring the clouds. The purple of the skyline was starting spread.
He had always imagined that this was what heaven looked like as a child. An Elysium of unparallel beauty, where there was no hurt or hate. The farmers in their fields tilling the land by hand and the sound of running water from the river to lull him to sleep. Clean air and the warm dying rays of the sun upon his skin.
"Marco! Where the hell are you!" An ugly shout echoed from the fields. It was a deep, powerful voice used to shouting and arguing. Marco could not help but cringe and try to bolt. Every time he heard his step father's voice, he couldn't help but feel helpless. He couldn't help but cringe and hide behind something to try and avoid the heavy fist smashing downwards towards his head. But Marco was an adult now, much taller and much stronger than his step-father. He would simply smash in the man's face if tried anything. With that thought in mind, Marco rose up from his place.
"There you are, you little runt!"
Powerful calloused hands grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and picked him off the ground like a puppy. Marco winced in pain and looked at the familiar red face of his step-father. Marco found that he was suddenly the weak, short four year old he once was. Thin arms and legs and an even thinner body, as his step-father described him 'a filthy German runt' or some such effect. Marco was the only one in the entire village with blonde hair and blue eyes. He never recalled seeing anyone else with similar features as his. But that was lost upon Marco as he stared his step-father. Unable to break the powerful hold on the scruff of his neck and feeling the exhaustion in his limbs from overwork and lack of food. His clothing were no longer the suit and tie he usually wore, but were the old hand me down clothing of Signora Aguilera's children. A detached feeling of rage and terror gripped Marco as he soon quickly found that he wasn't in control any more.
Adamos Testarossa was not a big man compared to Marco, in his prime adult years, but he was a broad man who terrified him as a child. His dark hair and eyes were of a healthy luster and his mouth was open showing yellow teeth. The man's entire body was tanned brown by the sun and hard work in the field made his body hard and strong. A man that Marco could never hope to hurt or fight back when he was four years old.
"Where the hell were you boy! I thought I told you to not wander off, can't you even understand that! You're as useless as you are stupid!" Adamos snarled and threw Marco on to the ground.
"I'm sorry, I was just…" the child Marco began desperately trying to find a way to ward off his step-father's fists.
"Why can't we just send you to Rome now," Adamos muttered and gave Marco a death glare that he would copy latter in life.
"They… They have to find someone to take me in," the child Marco said as he tried to stand up.
"Like anyone would take in something like you. Why God must you inflict me such a sin?" Adamos asked the sky above him plaintively. The child Marco kept silent and tried not to cry at his step-father's harsh words. Was it his fault that he could see things that no one else could see? That he could hear the spirits of the golden wheat play in the light breeze or the river dancing and running? That he could talk to the old Roman soldier ghost Longinus Gaius Marcelus?
'This is a bad, dream I am going to wake up soon. I am going to wake up,' the adult Marco chanted to himself. He hated his nightmares, they were almost always about Ronamorium and his childhood. Sometimes he would have nightmares about how Hao easily killed Meene, Venstar and Cebin or when Luchist nearly killed Porf, Denbat and Larch but those were rare. And may they and God forgive him when he says this, but he almost preferred watching his fellow teammates get killed in a nightmare than dream about Ronamorium. Almost.
"I hate you," the child Marco said venomously. His hands were tightened into little shaking fists.
"And everyone hates you, what of it you ugly runt?" Adamos said contemptuously. With that the massive man turned his back on the child Marco and walked away. It suddenly became very dark and cold. Adamos was immediately swallowed up. The sun, the sky, and the fields of golden wheat were gone without a trace. They were replaced by the crowding dark walls of the cellar that Marco slept in as a child, he was never allowed to sleep inside the house. The darkness and silence Marco could handle easily but the sudden loss of the familiar feeling of life, of nature spirits, drove him to despair. Here his senses were muted by the dark. The creaking of wood above him was only the indication that there was indeed life outside the darkness. His mother and step-father was moving about their house but there was a third unknown pair of feet moving about above.
Marco strained his ears to listen but all he could hear was the creaking of wood from walking feet and not words. Then all three people above him exited the house and Marco could hear no more above him. The darkness became terrifying now that the pathetic comforting sounds of feet were gone. It was as though he was the only one who existed in this dark and cold world.
The creaking of the wooden cellar door shot through the darkness. Marco remembered the glare of light and welcomed it. The light was good, it was warm. And there amidst the glare of the rising sun was the tallest man he had ever seen before. His eyes were dazzled by the light but he could see who stood at the top of the cellar stairs. Dressed in the black cloth of the clergy and wearing a wide brim black hat with the Bible in hand stood a powerfully built man with a tattooed cross on his chin. The priest's dark eyes cast a pained and pitying gaze upon Marco, so frail and small.
Marco never forgot that day. He thought as a child that this was his deliverer from darkness, this man had finally come at long last to show him the way out and into the light.
"Here is the devil, Father Rasso…"
His own mother said those words. But Marco didn't hear them. His eyes were on Father Luchist Rasso.
"ARGH!" Marco yelled and awoke from his dream. The bright morning light filtered through a large window and just happened to land across where his eyes were. The sudden intrusion of bright light caused his throbbing head to protest, a sharp jab of pain reminded Marco of last night's overindulgence. He sat straight up to get his head out of the lights and found that his stomach protested to his sudden movements. He felt sick and he had a headache he never wanted for a worst enemy. He took a few seconds to let his head stop pounding and then looked around his surroundings and saw that he was on a coach with his clothes still on though his tie and shirt were loosened. The blanket on him fell to the ground when he woke up suddenly and his feet hit the cold wooden floor. He was in a bare living room that made him wonder if he was in an abandoned house but the sight of the crucifix hanging on the mantle of the fireplace assured him of otherwise. Not many people casually abandoned religious articles when they moved out in Italy. But there was almost nothing in the living room to tell him otherwise there were residents except for a small folding table with a chair. The table had his glasses resting on it and a small windup alarm clock with the hands reading the time as five fifty six a.m.
"A good morning to you to sunshine. You must have woken up the neighbors with that scream…" Meene said sarcastically. Her voice seemed to come out of nowhere and Marco sat on the coach confused. He took a quick look around the room again to see where she was and found that she was not in sight. Which left only one place left to look. Marco took in a deep breath and looked behind the coach, his blind spot, where Meene's voice seemed to come from. He was not surprised to see a disgruntled Meene sleeping on the floor in a white shirt and blue slacks. Her soft green eyes were narrowed in annoyance. Marco just blinked and stared. Meene was a bit fuzzy looking because his glasses weren't on him at the moment.
"It's been fifteen years since you've been kicked out of the order and yet you still sleep on the floor," Marco managed to say in his dry hoarse voice. He was in desperate need of something to drink and felt mildly guilty that a woman was sleeping on the floor and not him, not that he wanted to, but the principle of his conduct demanded that she should be made comfortable and not him.
"Old habits die hard. Would you have preferred it if I slept in the coach with you? There's not that much space you know," Meene asked jokingly, as Marco made a scandalized face, and sat up from where she slept. She stretched out her back as soon as she sat up. "I'm joking Marco… relax will you? I know you like waking up with the sun on you."
Marco wanted to collapse into the coach again but the sunlight was steadily becoming stronger and spread to different parts of the room. Sunlight normally would not bother him but it was making his headache worse.
"I feel terrible…" Marco said in his hoarse voice and tried to make sure his nauseous state would not cause an accident to happen on Meene's beaten up coach. He looked around for his glasses and found them carefully folded on the table which seemed too far away for him to bother with.
"I didn't see that coming… I'll get something for you, wait okay?" With that Meene got up and walked into her kitchen. The sound of cabinet doors, squeaking open, caused small vibes of agony in Marco's head. He could only imagine what a louder sound would do to him in his state. He didn't usually overindulge in anything. Last night was an exception to the rule that he gladly made before and now regretted.
'Last night… Something happened last night,' Marco's brain began to make the painful trip down memory lane to remember the events of last night. Something about being a 'justice freak' or some such thing.
"Here."
A glass of water was presented to him. Marco was so caught up in thoughts that he hadn't heard or seen Meene coming. He gratefully took the glass and drank the water but the buzzing ache in his head barely lessened.
"You were the first one asleep last night. Then you thrashed for a good two hours and making me lose sleep. Then you have the nerve of waking up first. I suppose I should be thankful you don't snore or anything," Meene said in a psuedo-annoyed voice. The mild grin on her face would tell most people she was joking but Marco knew that every expression of hers held another meaning. There was a trace of nervousness, well hidden, in her eyes but Marco could barely see it. He would more easily read her face if he had his glasses on.
"What?" Marco asked dumbly as he played around with his empty glass. He wanted more water and more time to gather his thoughts, Meene sensed this and took the glass to refill it. She always had been great at picking up subtleties and reading them.
"Never mind," Meene said as she left Marco to get some more water. It was then that Marco forced himself onto his feet and walked towards the chair and table to get his glasses. Every time his feet hit the ground, the vibrations raced up his body and into his skull where pain greeted each step. But he did finally reach the table without incidence and picked up his glasses. The world became much sharper and in focus now that he had them on.
"Have you ever thought of getting contacts Marco?" Meene asked conversationally as she returned with a filled glass.
"Hm? Not at all, my glasses work just fine. Why?" Marco asked. He drank the water Meene had given him quickly.
"No particular reason. I just keep on remembering the number of times you would break your glasses, lose them in combat, have them accidentally destroyed, throw them at the wall in frustration, etcetera, etcetera. I did lose count of how many spares you had on you during my time as a member of the X-Laws. Oh, that and you look better without them on in my humble opinion," Meene answered, she shrugged lightly and sat on her coach.
"Opinion noted and completely ignored," Marco muttered quietly. He set down the empty glass on the table after he drank it, his hangover was somewhat abating. He felt much better. Meene was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and Marco gave her a 'what is it?' look.
"You know Marco I think you are a lot more calmer now than you ever were before… or as calm as you can ever be," Meene smiled.
Marco frowned and was about to ask what she meant by that exactly when an awful racket sent explosions of pain through his thoroughly abused brain.
RING! RING! RING! RING! RING! RING! RING! RING! RING! RING!
The clock read 6 a.m. Meene had forgotten that she had set her alarm clock at this time. She jumped in surprise and watched Marco go from a sort of calm grumpy man with a hangover to a maniacal psychotic one in pain before she could say 'oh shit'.
"ARGH!!!" Marco never had much patience when it came to pain. If he could stop the source of his discomfort, he would stop it immediately. Besides he felt terrible and he wanted sleep. He did not want to suffer through this torture.
SMASH!!!
Ting… ting… ting…
SMASH!!!
………
Marco breathed a sigh relief at the blessed silence until he heard the clock a foolhardy but valiant attempt to continue.
Ting…
SMASH!!!
……….
Needless to say the clock wasn't going to continue on with it's suicidal mission any more.
"I can always rely on you to make me eat my words. I thought you were a morning person," Meene stated dryly, she looked at her deceased alarm clock and then shifted her gaze on Marco.
"Oh no… (pant) don't get the wrong idea… (pant) I like getting up in the morning… (pant) but not when I have a damn hangover," Marco was sweating badly and his headache had now blossomed to excruciating new levels of pain.
While Marco winced in pain, Meene strained her ears to listen to the faint sounds of approaching feet from outside. She sighed.
"Marco, you woke up the neighbors," Meene observed and prepared herself for the worst.
DING-DONG! DING-DONG!
The doorbell rang. Marco cursed it because it was unusually loud. The ringing bounced around in his skull, giving ample pain.
"ARGH!" Marco stomped towards the front door ignoring Meene's frantic voice to make him stop.
"Marco. Don't open it, damn it. I'll get it." Meene said as she chased after the irate man.
Marco was, however, far too hell-bent on his mission. He was going to give Meene's neighbor a piece of his mind, never mind the fact he made excessive noise destroying the alarm clock and probably woke everyone up in a one block radius. He was in pain!
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!" Marco roared as he threw open the door and got in the face of the individual who had unwittingly incurred his wrath. What he expected to see was an irate man dressed in pajamas, perhaps with a stubbly chin and thin lips pressed together in annoyance. Marco was fully expecting to see someone angry. He did not expect to see one of the most beautiful women he ever laid eyes stand before him with a surprised look. Marco shut his mouth and stared at her. She was somewhat short, brown haired with dark eyes. The skin was flawless and her lips were red. Even though she was dressed in a simple blue sleeping gown and sandals, she was beautiful. And she was completely startled, staring at Marco like a deer staring at headlights.
She looked at Marco shocked and then panicked. Having an angry unknown man who towered over you and shout at you was not conductive to a wonderful first impression. Additionally, given the rather loud noises of things breaking and shouts of agonizing pain, it makes a person wonder. Her next door neighbor, Meene, was nowhere in sight and this blonde haired stranger was in Meene's house. Unable to say anything coherent Triela Posani reacted instead.
"EEP!"
SMACK!
Triela punched Marco in the face, which was far too close for her comfort. The little woman had quite a mean right punch. For a moment, he was dazed and then the world went black on him again.
Bang.
Marco hit the ground and Meene stood in her hallway watching the entire exchange. She buried her face in her hands trying to hide her embarrassment and annoyance.
"Who… what happened?" Triela asked surprised how easily she knocked out the large blonde haired man that shouted at her. She was relieved that Meene seemed to be unharmed and her heart was lighter with the knowledge.
"You hit his glassjaw…" Meene answered.
*****
The sun was about to rise in fifteen minutes and Lyserg Diethyl mourned his loss of sleep for the entire night. Jeanne slept in the bed and her even rhythmic breathing soothed him. Yet it was not enough, he was up and about, standing in a fairly chilly room with only his pants on. The hardwood floor froze his feet and he barely restrained himself from pacing about like a maniac. His feet would become blue and cold if he walked too much on the floor and slipping back into bed would wake up Jeanne. So he stood in the honeymoon suite of the Mecenate Palace and stared out the window to look at Rome's skyline.
Lyserg had a hard time reconciling the fact he was angry at someone he held in high regards. Lyserg thought he was ready for anything. He had duly prepared himself for anything that his friends could throw at him and from doing anything rash. Be it weird wedding jokes (read: morbid) from Faust; Ryu crying and doing a full throttle hug; the Yoh and Horo Horo giving him a ribbing about his sex life with running commentary from Ren; Marco trying to kill him during the wedding. He had even mentally prepared himself not to try and kill Hao who had attended the wedding. Though Hao's commentary about 'godly virginal Catholic girls' and how they were 'not really so godly and virginal' pushed him a bit too far, Lyserg was proud to say that he only said less than the standard amount of death threats to Hao whenever they met, which thankfully, were so rare he could the number of times they met after the Shaman Fight with one hand.
What he had not prepared for was Meene. Meene was supposed to be 'safe'. Meaning he didn't have to expect anything from her to upset him. In fact out of all the X-Laws excluding Marco and Jeanne, Lyserg kept a fairly close friendship with her. She was a lifesaver in the turbulent waters of his relationship with Jeanne. Mostly because she gave him practical advice and found ways to keep Marco 'occupied'. How she did 'that' was not something Lyserg ever bothered to ask. There were lots of things he had never asked Meene. Even when she briefly lived in Diethyl mansion for a year after getting resurrected because she had no other place to go. Lyserg never asked questions like why she had no place to go when the other X-Laws had, at least, family or friends to live with and such. Or why she was so unfamiliar with certain modern utilities (her attempts at cooking were to never be repeated… ever, so help him God) and other strange quirks that showed over that time. The thought never occurred to him to ask because he could see sometimes the shadowed pain and loss that flickered on her face when she thought no one was looking. As though she was always questioning why she had been brought back from death. None of the other X-Laws seemed to regret their new lease on life but her.
Lyserg never quite grasped how little he knew of Meene until now. Like what was her last name or what happened to her family. Other than some very basic facts he learned about her during his stint as a member of the X-Laws and the brief year at his mansion, he learned very little about her past and personal life. He did however know that Meene was an orphan but he learned that piece of information from Marco, of all people. She kept her secrets close.
And now, apparently, some of those secrets she held close to her chest were deadly or damning. It made him wonder what other secrets she was hiding.
"Lyserg…" Jeanne soft voice made Lyserg jump almost a foot into the air in surprise.
"Jeanne! You're awake! I mean…err… argh! You should be asleep," Lyserg babbled and spun around to see a pair of red eyes watching him.
"I know but the moment you got out of bed, I was awake," Jeanne said quietly. She pushed herself upright and looked at her husband. He had not gotten that much sleep, spending his time brooding and staring out the window. They should be in bed together, savoring each others warmth and closeness but it wasn't to be. Neither of them were in the mood to make love that night, so they slept together in bed. Lyserg made every valiant attempt to ignore Meene's words last night and show he wasn't affected by them. But the truth of his actions bled through easily. He could not rest easy.
Lyserg was afraid and resentful that someone, anything really, was telling him his happiness was going to be stolen away again. Jeanne did not blame him, he had always been so bitterly alone even in the company of friends but he was always striving for his ideals. She had loved him for that and she was not surprised by Meene's words as much as should have been. There had always been something hidden from her by the shamans associated with the church when they gave her Iron Maiden to use. She guessed that it was fairly dire but never as dire as Meene had described.
'Death is never far off for those who enter the Iron Maiden… Hao got it right the first time when he described it as the Iron Coffin,' Meene solemnly intoned.
Apparently, none who entered the Iron Maiden lived past the age of thirty. In fact, most died in their early twenties, often crippled with pain by this time as Meene explained. Jeanne had always wondered why she was never allowed to visit the previous occupants of the Iron Maiden the year before Jeanne was given possession of it. But now things were starting to make sense, her body's stiffness, her sleepiness in the morning when she used to rise at dawn, the shadow pangs of pain as though she was still in the Iron Maiden when she hadn't been in the bloody contraption for years. She had abused her body to a point that it was now breaking down.
Jeanne had meant to ask Meene if it was still possible to even have children. Jeanne doubted Meene knew the answer.
"I'm sorry Jeanne. I suppose I shouldn't be like this. We just need to ask Yoh to fix this problem up for us, after all he is the Shaman King," Lyserg said with a pained smile. Jeanne noted with sadness, that Lyserg didn't quite believe his own words. It was a tightly kept secret that Yoh had regretted his earlier charitable actions of resurrecting the X-Laws and other unfortunate victims of Hao plus Faust's wife, Eliza. Was it because he was swamped with thousands of similar requests from other people? No, it was because Yoh realized that he had broken one of the constants of this world.
The constant of death.
Hao had initially voiced his objections to outright resurrection of any of the unfortunate souls that the Spirit of Fire had devoured. At first, Jeanne believed that Hao simply did not want to deal with additional burden and guilt of dealing with his victims. That belief was quickly cast aside by Hao's explanation when Lyserg got angry at his objections.
'You can bend rules like I have but you cannot break them. Is it because death is unfair? No, quite the opposite in fact, death is ultimately fair. It affects young and old, rich and poor, the strong and weak. All are equal death and all are capable of taking life away from another. The capability of granting death is always going to be different. Death governs our lives, gives us drive to achieve our purpose and ends it. Only those who surpass death can avoid death but even then they are not completely immune to it. Go ahead and celebrate Lyserg-kun, it is possible to actually kill me permanently. But to bring so many of the dead back to life? Especially after four years from their time of death without prior preparation on their part? It is a request that none should grant… Please put down the scythe Dr. Faust, I rather like my arms.'
In the end Yoh felt that it was for the best if the people who were killed were brought back.
The resurrections changed Yoh profoundly and yet subtly. Jeanne wasn't sure what it was that had changed but amongst friends there was just something different about Yoh. Anna was tightlipped about what had changed.
It was enough to give Jeanne headaches.
"Come to bed Lyserg, please? I rather miss you," Jeanne said suggestively. She smiled impishly as Lyserg was startled out of his bad mood. She made the decision that her honeymoon would not end up like this. This was the beginning of her marriage and she would damned if it ended up this way.
"Er, yeah…" Lyserg said as he slipped into the soft blankets of the bed besides Jeanne. She could feel his cold feet brush against her bare legs and freeze her feet. But there was a warmth that they both felt that was beyond the physical and they came closer together.
"Jeanne?"
"Yes."
"I love you."
Instead of speaking Jeanne pulled closer to Lyserg and kissed him fiercely.
*****
"Stop laughing at me, it is not funny," Marco said as he held the ice pack to his much abused head. The blessed cold relieved the worst of his pain but the dull throbbing of his jaw bothered him immensely.
"Sorry but the sight of Triela punching you unconscious is too much. You're what? 6' and she's barely even 5'2"," Meene said trying not to snicker. Triela looked completely mortified and gave worried looks to Marco.
"I'm incredibly sorry Signor, but when I heard loud crashing noises from Signora Meene's home, I couldn't help but investigate," Triela said as she soaked a towel in cold water. She wringed the towel and pressed the wet cloth lightly on Marco's chin. The attention that Triela was giving to Marco made him feel very self conscious. It didn't help that Meene was giving him grins that made him want to say something rude but because Triela was present he stopped himself. His eyes quickly caught a flash of gold on one of Triela's fingers. It was a gold ring of particular fine make with a single diamond in it.
"Well now you know he's not a burglar or anything. I'm just really thankful you're not Signora Henrietta, if she saw him and all, she'd tell everyone that I was having an illicit affair or something," Meene said sarcastically and rolled her eyes expressively. Marco looked mildly paranoid.
"Who is Signora Henrietta?" Marco asked quietly.
"An old woman who lives next door and has too much time on her hands since her son moved out," Meene answered.
"She's just bored Meene. Ever since you've moved in she's had something to talk about," Triela said as dipped the towel in a bowel of water again.
"You mean she's been gossiping about me," Meene noted annoyed. She sat next to Marco on the sofa and rested her chin lightly on flat of her palms thinking.
"Um, are you sure your husband won't mind that you're here?" Marco asked Triela as she wringed out the towel in her hands. She froze at Marco's question and smiled painfully.
"He would never of cared in the first place," Triela answered so softly that Marco almost didn't hear it. Meene elbowed Marco in the ribs swiftly and changed the subject immediately before he said something stupid.
"How is Donata? Complaining about anything?" Meene asked conversationally as Marco bowed over with pain. Triela smiled happily when she spoke up.
"Oh, she's doing wonderfully since you've been tutoring her. But she had a hard time sleeping last night. She it was because another er… what did you call them? 'Shaman' was close by," Triela answered Meene. Marco's pain was temporarily forgotten and his curiosity piqued.
"Your daughter is a shaman too?" Marco asked suddenly.
"Yes. Meene has been teaching her to control her abilities so doesn't feel so overwhelmed. I owe her a lot," Triela answered startled by Marco and looked at him closely.
"Are you the Shaman that my daughter detected?" Triela asked earnestly.
"If your daughter can detect Shamans then she must have detected me last night," Marco answered. His jaw began to ache again and he pressed the ice pack closer.
"Try not to use your jaw so much Signor…" Triela trailed off as she quickly noted that she did not know the blond man's name.
"I am Marco Innocenzo Testarossa, Signora Posani."
He held Triela's hand and brushed his lips on the back of her hand like a gentlemen. At this Triela blushed while Meene looked on amused. Meene decided to let the conversation flow since Marco was obviously taken by Triela. He had even introduced his full name to her, which was down and out rare. Depending on how Marco liked the individual, if he liked the individual he would introduce himself as Marco Testarossa. If he mildly disliked the individual it was just Marco. If he really hated the individual, it was just Testarossa and nothing else. If he introduced himself by his full name, it meant he liked the individual… a lot. Meene wondered why she would know this little bit of trivia.
"Signor Testarossa, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to knock you out…"
A stifled giggle came from Meene as she promptly concentrated at the situation on hand. Triela gave Meene a quick glance before turning her attention to Marco.
"Er, think nothing of it. I did startle you. Please call me Marco, everyone does."
Marco flashed a comforting smile but in truth his pride was a bit bruised by the reminder. Not many people knew but if someone hit him the face just right, he would drop like a sack of potatoes. He never would have expected such a slight delicate looking woman to knock him out. She had just hit the right spot to bring unconsciousness to him.
"I'm so sorry though. I really didn't mean to. I want to apologize to you properly but my daughter must be waiting for me back at home and I have to go look for a job…" Triela trailed off and stood up.
"What? No. Mea culpa," Marco said as he stood up too quickly and felt nausea rush to his head. He wanted to guide Triela out the door. However his hangover made itself known again.
"Whoa there Marco… Can't have you fall over again," Meene said as she forced Marco to sit on the couch. An amused smile twitched at the edges of Triela's mouth.
"As an apology Signor Marco, I will take you to lunch today at the café 'Gianosa'. My treat, I would very much like to talk to you further," Triela said with a smile. A mixture of curiosity and fascination in her voice. Marco had no time to discuss it further since his head ached terribly. Triela left Marco and Meene alone in the room and went home. The fading footsteps informed Marco that she was gone.
"To lunch! But she's married!" Marco said in an outburst. It startled Meene and she wanted to sigh.
"The way you were acting around her didn't tell me that you minded… Love at first sight, eh?"
"I'm too old for things like that."
With that Marco crossed his arms and gave into deep thought of what had just happened. Apparently he had been invited for lunch… that was a good thing. However, Triela was married… that was a very bad thing.
"She did invite you to lunch as an apology… I must say, I haven't seen her so alive until she met you."
"… Stop giving those looks. She's a married woman! I'm not going to do anything with another man's wife."
Marco looked indignant and looked at Meene closely. Meene simply shrugged and decided to relieve Marco's conscience.
"Marco, she was a married woman. Her husband died just recently, I think about a month ago. I don't recall them ever getting along." Meene scowled darkly as she spoke. Marco caught the dark look as it quickly faded from her face but he was more enraptured by the fact that Triela was single… and recently widowed.
"Are you encouraging me to take advantage of a widow's grief? What kind of woman are you?"
"I'm not telling you take advantage of her! Sheesh! I'm the type of woman who encourages love, peace and happiness… and maybe a bit revenge on the side. Besides you're the one who said last night that you've never been on a date before. Here's your chance, don't screw up. Triela needs someone who can support her other than me, her daughter and the old biddy next door."
"But… But…"
"But what? Signor Marco Innocenzo Testarossa? It's not nice to skip out on a woman's invitation," Meene teased and gave him a sharp smile that told him, Meene would make his life a living hell if he skipped out on Triela's invitation. He shuddered at the thought of what Meene had planned if he skipped out on the invitation and hoped that it had nothing to do with laxatives.
"… I just can't win against women… Why is that?" Marco asked sounding amused and resigned himself to his first unexpected date. He sat down on the couch and found that his headache was almost completely gone… to only be replaced with a throbbing jaw.
"It's because have such an old fashioned sense of propriety Marco… It's outdated. Do you want me to call a cab for you?"
"Yes please. I have to call the Mother Superior also."
With that the taxi had been called. Marco quickly dialed the phone number of the Mission house.
"This is the Order of the Brigidine Sisters, who might this be?" Mother Superior Charlotte Beatrice Lancing asked in Italian as she answered the phone. Currently she was quite frankly a bit underwhelmed at the lack of presence filling the air of the mission house. Jeanne and Marco would be here by now and their spiritual strength would lighten the air and set the souls of people at peace. But Jeanne was not coming back and Marco was late. Which made her wonder if she should call the police just in case something did happen to him because Marco was never late. Ever, period.
The wedding had been beautiful and she hoped that Jeanne's mother, Catherine was looking upon it from heaven with pride. It was such a shame that Jeanne's older sister Christina was not alive to see it either. Lyserg Diethyl was no different also, his parents had perished long ago in a fire. Fuck it all, it was a shame that there was no blood relation whatsoever to see the damn wedding.
The Mother Superior knew using such foul language was unbecoming of a nun… but fuck that. She lived through the rebuilding of London, the Troubles and all that shit. She could swear mentally in her head where the only people who could hear it was herself and God… usually. She met a Shaman who could inadvertently read minds once and nearly gave the said Shaman a heart attack when he mentally heard the grandmotherly Mother Superior swearing up a mental storm that would make a sailor blush. But that was just once over ten years ago, so she assumed it was pretty safe to swear mentally in her head.
"Mother Superior, it's me. Marco."
Now there was a voice that Charlotte did not expect. He would usually be in the chapel offering a brief morning prayer before looking over the accounts of the Order and other such sundry things.
"Marco? Are you hurt? In trouble?" Charlotte began, sounding very worried.
"What?! I'm fine, I just wanted to request a day off for today… I won't be working with the Sisters for the day," Marco said baffled by the Mother Superior's questions as he got his jacket and wallet from Meene. The cab would be coming soon.
"… You mean… You're taking a break even though it's not Sunday yet?" Charlotte asked evenly and slowly. She tried to absorb the idea that the workaholic Marco was taking a bloody break. Even if it was just for a day he was not the type of man to simply take a break. Hell, he was adamant about returning to work with the Sisters right after the wedding and had practically refused all vacations offered to him for the last ten fucking years. Jeanne took more vacations then he did, though Jeanne had to fight tooth and nail to go on them alone… usually to London.
'Oh dear, it is the end of the fucking world… and I owe all the Sisters a chocolate,' Charlotte thought to herself as the Marco kept on talking.
"Yes Mother Superior. I hope this isn't too excessive of a request. If you want me to I can tell my… er… friend Signora Triela that I can't join her for lunch today," Marco was worried that Sisters was in need of his abilities as a Shaman or something else.
To the disbelieving Mother Superior hearing Marco request a day off was like the Pope declaring that he was not infallible. It was uncharacteristic of Marco to take a break. Even for close friends and other such people. And he was also apparently going to lunch with a woman that not A) Jeanne and B) Meene. This call was obviously from a prankster and an accomplished voice impersonator. It almost had her completely fooled.
"… Who (mentally adding 'the fuck') are you and where is the real Marco?" Mother Superior Charlotte demanded immediately.
"Who am I and where is the real Marco?! Mother Superior I assure you that I am Marco. Why would I lie!" Marco asked startled. Meene at hearing this gave a raised eyebrow inquiry which he ignored.
"Taxi's here," Meene announced as it pulled up along the street and beeped it's horn.
"There is no way Marco would request a (fucking) break after working so (fucking) hard to keep working after the wedding. I know that you think (the prick) he needs to take a (fucking) vacation and get a (fucking) life Meene but imitating his voice (which is down and out freaky) and requesting a day off without his permission is a bit much. But you almost had me fooled this time (it was fucking brilliant). When were you so good at voice imitation my daughter?" Charlotte smiled and chuckled to herself. Oh, she had to tell the other sisters about this. She could always rely on Meene to do something amusing even early in the morning.
Marco was not amused since this was in no way a prank done by Meene. It made him wonder when the Mother Superior said 'almost had me fooled… this time.' He gave Meene a dirty look which confused the hell out of her.
"You better get out there Marco. Or the driver will leave… What are you looking at me like that for? I didn't do anything."
"Mother Superior I am not lying and I have to go since the taxi is here. I will not be seeing you today," Marco stated.
"Yes, yes Meene. You really are playing this up aren't you. This really is your finest effort to date so far," Charlotte said idly. Marco twitched as he set down the phone on it's receiver.
"Marco… are you all right?" Meene asked. She watched as Marco was between wanting to scream incomprehensibly in frustration and laugh hysterically at it all. He knew he was a workaholic… but he wasn't such a workaholic to the point that everyone at the mission assumed he would never take a day off? Right? Perhaps the hints from Jeanne, Lyserg and everyone in the X-Laws were really on to something.
"I apparently am not the real Marco since I asked for day off to have lunch with someone… It is also apparently my finest effort to date in trying to fool the Mother Superior as well…" Marco drawled as he gave Meene a meaningful look.
"Oh… Um… I suppose denial won't work right now, would it?"
"No… It wouldn't…"