Title: Yearning For the Moon

Author: DasteRoad

Chapter 3: Gil's Night

Ye Obligatory Disclaimer: Girl Genius is property of amazing Phil and Kaja Foglio, I'm just a huge fangirl who likes to play with their stuff.

Setting note: A murky time period in volume 11 after Zola's escape from Castle Heterodyne, while our favourite sparky trio is still busy with the repairs - and all of them seriously needing some rest. See the warnings given in Part 1 for details on the liberties I've taken.

A couple of warnings:

- I am not a native English speaker, so there might be glitches and mistakes that you're welcome to point out.

- This chapter contains minor, non-explicit sexual themes and a passing bit of light violence. I'm not sure if T is the most appropriate rating. Please let me know if you think this warrants a higher rating.

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"I don't really know what you're talking about."

Gil rolled his eyes and curled up tighter next to Agatha, as Tarvek clearly pretended adjusting his pillow before doing the same. Sure, he had no clue, the poor, innocent little boy. No funny ideas. The toad almost sounded convincing.

Too bad that their relative position in the embrace and a last button that refused to cooperate offered a rather… distracting view of Agatha's cleavage and beyond. Not that either of them hadn't seen that already, and more than a few times. Not that both of them hadn't seen even more than that, when Zola had stabbed her right in the chest. But seeing it so close, watching it rise and fall at her deep breathing… there was something hypnotic about it, and even in the twilight, Gil was quite sure he wasn't the only one enjoying the view. He wanted to shoot Tarvek another glare, but it would be like admitting he was leering too. He wanted to slap him, but this was no news.

Gil swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the main source of distraction and get some rest. He didn't want to wake Agatha up in any case. She was clearly fried up, and waking up to find her two… what to call them? Colleagues? Experimental subjects? Sleep buddies? Suitors? However she thought of them, waking up and finding them fighting once more was probably going to result in the two culprits being kicked out from the room and back to the bedroll-on-the-cold-floor solution. Which wasn't nearly as fun if she wasn't there, just like then. Snuggled right next to him, and so warm, and soft under what little clothing still separated them. And smelling so good, the kind of smell that made him wonder how she must taste… and remember how it had felt to kiss her, on that far away day on Castle Wulfenbach.

Gil finally relaxed against her as the warmth and comfort of memories washed over him. First her hands grabbing him by his jacket, then a flash of blonde hair and the next thing he knew, he was holding her tight in his arms and they were kissing. And it was not one of those fake, theatrical kisses you saw at the opera where the singers' lips barely touched. They were kissing for real, with lips and mouth and tongue and teeth even, hearts pounding, breaths quickening, hands gripping and tangling through hair. That had been wonderful, even if it hadn't lasted long, even rushed as it was. Would Agatha kiss him back if he tried, or just slap him? She had kissed him another time after all, before the Si Vales Valeo, although just as a little peck of good luck, and they had almost kissed upon meeting once more in the Castle. Agatha did care about him, but she cared about both men currently sharing that bed with her. Would she ever trust him? And most of all… what did she want?

Distantly he heard Agatha mumble something incoherent in her sleep. Shortly after, Tarvek added something equally nonsensical in a sleepy voice. That was an odd little thing the two had in common, and it almost looked like they answered each other sometimes, mostly saying gibberish of course, but still. Not really surprising, considering that Lucrezia had likely engineered the birth of both. Custom made for each other by the ultimate criminal mastermind. Optimized genetics did not rule out free will, of course, but the thought made him queasy all the same. He tried to shove it away, but he heard her voice again, and this time the sound was clearer and closer, as if… had he heard right? Was she talking to him?

"Gil."

Puzzled, he opened his eyes and lifted slightly to look at her, and was surprised to see her so clearly in the silvery twilight, lying beside him, smiling at him, the locket around her neck twinkling dimly. He was even more surprised to realize they were alone now. Odd. He'd have noticed if Tarvek had got up for some reason. Surprise quickly turned into his heart pounding loud, and his body gladly took the occasion to remind him that his blood circulation worked quite well under the belt, too, as she slid her arms around his shoulders, snuggling against him, and he felt her soft, silky skin brush his.

Skin. Only skin. Nothing else.

Oh. Blue fire. Was she naked? In the scarce lighting he made out the shape of her locket, then rounded shoulders, and the full curves of her breasts disappearing under the sheets. Oh yes. Yes she was. And he was too, apparently, which made everything worse. Or better. He couldn't really tell.

"Agatha…" he whispered, paralyzed by surprise and sensation at the same time, and as an answer, she moved her hands to caress his face, and pressed two fingers to his lips as if to silence him.

"Kiss me."

The words went right through his heart and down his spine like electricity, and then she laced her fingers on the back of his neck and drew him closer and their lips met – and everything else but them disappeared, shattered by the deafening, boiling heat that exploded under his skin. Damn, he could die of this and it'd be the perfect way to go. Her taste was familiar, warm and lingering like butter and spices, the smell of her sweat was familiar and her quickening breath and her heart racing like mad against his, but her hands lacing on his back and exploring his skin, her bare legs brushing his sides, the way all of her body seemed to surrender and melt under him and that delightful perfection of just skin against skin and nothing else – all of this was new and wonderful and maddening. His hands danced on her skin on their own accord, following her shivers along the lines of her face, of her shoulders to finally cup her breasts, and his kisses moved to taste the tender skin of her neck, lips soon finding an earlobe, teeth eagerly following suite. She almost jumped at that and her fingers sank hard into his shoulders, nails scraping sensitive skin, drawing a moan out of him as he shuddered with something that wasn't exactly pain or pleasure, but more of a wild, surprising mix of both, that somehow brought to his mind that exhilarating feeling of being in her power that jolted him when she'd strapped him to the slab before the Si Vales Valeo. Definitely uncharted territory for him. But definitely interesting.

"Did I hurt you?" she said breathlessly, a trace of worry in her voice and in her fingers now barely touching him. Gil chuckled on her skin, unsure himself where the answer would be.

"Do that again," he whispered, and he could swear she purred as her fingers dug delightfully in his back again, and his hands slid down to the gorgeous work of art that was her butt. She sighed as he squeezed, pressing her up tighter to him, but he gasped and flushed when in a smooth motion she locked her legs around his waist to hold him even closer, closer than they'd ever been before. The "stop messing around" message couldn't be any clearer.

He swallowed and lifted to look at her. As much as he'd longed for that very moment, now that it had finally come he felt an odd anxiety creeping in, worried he might disappoint her or even worse, hurt her. After all, although he did know a thing or two about what he was doing, his reputation in Paris was mostly the result of putting on a good act and letting gossip do its job. But even in the twilight, seeing her like that, flushed and breathless, the hint of a dreamy smile on her lips – all of this melted his doubts away. Sure, it was hardly going to be perfect, but he was determined to make it as best as it could be. There would be plenty of other times for them to learn and make it better.

"You want to?" he whispered, running a thumb along her lips. She kissed it softly and shivered as the other hand lightly tickled at the inside of her thigh.

"You know I do," she replied, fingers traveling up and down his back. "Just love me now."

Gil bit his lip and leaned to kiss her full on the mouth once more. Hearing her say it like that, half pleading and half commanding, made his whole body tingle. The tension in her muscles, though, made him pause: Agatha was not a thin woman, but he was certainly much heavier than her and it occurred to him that the position wasn't probably going to be very comfortable. He slipped his arms under her, wrapping one around her shoulders and the other around her waist, and carefully he picked her up. She seemed to understand what he was going for and tightened her legs around his hips for balance, as he lifted until he was sitting up on the bed, with her in his lap. She also apparently liked the idea, judging from the smile she gave him before drawing him close for another kiss. He looped an arm around her neck, barely registering the cold contact of her locket briefly brushing his skin, then closed his free hand on her hips to lift her a little, adjusting their position… but before he tried anything, she shuddered and jerked away from the kiss with a startled cry.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Gil said, looking for her eyes in the twilight as she still shook in his arms. "Agatha? Are you alright?"

He only had one moment to look at her eyes, now wide and frightened, her breath hitching as if she were unable to speak. Then he saw her change, and he couldn't tell what changed exactly at first, but her eyes suddenly looked more surprised than frightened. A smile formed on her lips, but it was a smile he didn't recognize, a smile that looked forced, wrong somehow, as if…

Gil froze. Her locket. He'd felt it under his arm just a moment before.

Her locket was gone.

That was not Agatha.

With a gasp he blocked her arms and threw them behind her back just before she reached for his throat, instincts painfully shifting gears to survival, but even trapped as she was, her smirk, that cold, haughty smirk he'd never want to see on that face, did not fade.

"Too late," she said.

Gil felt sweat freezing on his brow at a noise behind his back, and suddenly he knew perfectly well what was going to happen. He barely had the time to glance over his shoulder and even in the twilight, he thought he'd caught a flash of red hair, before two hands he couldn't block or flee from closed around his throat and clenched into an iron grip and he couldn't breathe anymore and everything went black and…

A sharp stab of pain on the back of his neck scattered white sparks behind his eyes and drew a muttered curse out of him. He was breathing again. Through considerable effort, he raised a hand to rub at the aching, throbbing spot behind his head, and found what felt like wood underneath. His senses gradually came back to him, all of his body shaking and covered in sweat, his heart actively trying to shatter his ribcage. He was still alive.

He was awake.

As he managed to get his stinging eyes open, he recognized the window in the ceiling in that same room in Castle Heterodyne, still drowned in the twilight. He was still in that cold bed, Agatha by his side, fully dressed and stirring in her sleep, Tarvek sleeping behind her. He had likely hit his head on the wooden headboard while turning around in his sleep a tad too violently. It had just been a dream. And a nightmare. Damn.

He almost jumped at the light touch of Agatha's fingers on his shoulder.

"Hey… are you alright?" she whispered in a sleepy voice, lifting slightly. He sat up, doing his best not to look at her.

"I'm fine, just… banged my head on that thing. Sorry I woke you up."

He got up, and still carefully avoiding turning to face her, he went to the bathroom. He washed his face and neck, and the swelling lump under his hair, relishing the stinging cold touch of water turning his skin into goose bumps. Cold was good, cold was perfect. Cold wrecked his nerves and numbed the pain and all other sensations, and this was exactly what he wanted right now.

He gritted his teeth catching the reflection of his own gaze in the old, stained mirror above the sink. All just a dream, and he even had to be grateful. Although it was no wonder, really… he almost heard his father's voice in his head nagging at him. Well, if he'd been thinking with his brain instead of with his groin he could've realized it was a dream before it all turned into one of his worst nightmares. It had been one of the most realistic dreams he'd ever had, but it wasn't like things actually made much sense. Clever, strong, capable – but still not good enough to fight what was inside his head. Damn.

He took a long drink of water and left the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible. He threw a wary glance to the bed: Agatha had thrown an arm over her head, apparently back asleep, while Tarvek had snuggled against her back, an arm wrapped around her waist. Gil swallowed. He didn't really feel like going back to bed, and he could barely bear to look at the other two at the moment, so he dropped on one of the couches, where they'd left their clothes as they prepared for the night. He fumbled through the pockets of his waistcoat, looking for his pocketwatch. It was only half past one in the morning and all of his body was way too much awake for his own good. Damn again. This was going to be a long, long night.

He moved the pile of clothes a bit to make room, and just lay there, looking at Mechanicsburg's night out of the windows. Far away beyond the towers, through the nightly fog he could see the ominous profile of Castle Wulfenbach looming over the city. Was his father recovering? He knew he was in pretty good hands with Dr. Sun, but not being able to receive any news from the outside world was still worrying. He knew the attack of those Knights of Jove clowns had only been the first. How much time did they have left before someone else took the chance at toppling the Empire? Before the war?

Reluctantly he turned towards the bed. The way Agatha lay there, completely relaxed, and the way Tarvek clung to her made him cringe, but at the same time, there was something oddly tender, bittersweet about it, something he didn't completely understand yet.

How much time did he have left before facing his nightmares?

That was the entire reason he was there, after all. He was there because he wanted to help Agatha, and wanted her to be happy, and wanted to be a part of that happiness. And because he was perfectly ready to snap her neck in half in case he couldn't save her. He had no idea if this meant that he loved her, although that would explain why his brain now and then stopped working or simply disconnected from his mouth in her presence. But what did he really know about love, anyway? He almost heard his father's stern voice again. Novels were usually pretty clear as far as lust was concerned, even graphically, and he'd read his fair share of medical texts and lived in Paris long enough to discern between what was realistic and what was not. Love was much more fuzzily defined and usually had a lot to do with heroic deeds and selflessness. Everything very clean and pure, very dramatic and focused, as if love erased anything else from people's lives.

Gil frowned. There was not much really clean and pure about that whole situation. No matter how much he cared about Agatha, he couldn't forget about the danger hiding inside her, behind the locket – not even in his dreams. Just as he couldn't forget about the toad currently sharing that bed with her. Not that he thought that Tarvek didn't care about her. He knew perfectly well he cared about her, and not as just a pawn in his plans or a girl he liked. That was precisely part of the problem. He knew him well enough to realize that Tarvek had no love for Lucrezia, and that he really wanted to help Agatha get rid of her. But just like him, Tarvek did not begin and end with his feelings for Agatha. He surely had his own agenda, and Gil could not be sure if in the end he was going to be loyal to anyone other than himself. One thing he knew for sure though: he'd be damned if he was going to let him mess with Agatha's head to try and erase Lucrezia all by himself.

If he really had to kill her in the end, would Tarvek let him?

If he really had to kill her… if he had to kill them both… what would his dreams become?

Gil rubbed his arms in a shiver, and dragged his waistcoat over him as an improvised cover. He sighed. Dead tired, and starting to feel cold, but still not sleepy at all. The idea still made him queasy, but returning to the bed was tempting. He glanced there again longingly, and he saw Agatha curtly turn around under the covers. She huffed and opened her eyes to look at him, and he realized that probably she'd been awake all along. He quickly averted his eyes, but he knew it was already too late to pretend he was sleeping. Damn. For about the millionth time, damn.

"Gil… what's wrong?"

He sighed and turned to look back at her. Even in the twilight, seeing the puzzled worry on her face was painful. He swallowed. He couldn't talk to her, he couldn't tell her what was wrong, he couldn't even begin to describe it. And he was never any good at talking to her about anything that mattered in the first place. He rubbed his eyes.

"Nothing, just… changing position for a bit."

Even in a whisper, his voice sounded awfully weak. Agatha furrowed her brow.

"You'll be cold there," she said, and brushed the empty part of the bed with her hand. "Come here."

Gil's heart gave a little jolt at that tone. Half pleading and half commanding, just like in his dream. Just like Agatha. He knew perfectly well that no matter how much it hurt, he would do just that. He got up and slid back under the covers, beside her, and she pulled at his shoulders to draw him close, not being able to move much because of Tarvek's embrace. Gil shivered as she ran her fingers through his hair, relishing her familiar, warm contact, and returned the embrace, caressing her head as she relaxed against him.

He could feel Tarvek's deep, warm breath on his hand, on the back of Agatha's head. And as he closed his eyes, he realized that in those moments, in the silent truce of that precious night, he didn't really care.