Ello again, Chick-a-dees. I decided to just combine this chapter with the one I had for chapter 4 to make a super long (if not draw out) introduction. Still a special thanks to my reviewers: theAwesomePurssia17, WwLOLwW, and pirateANDelf, as well as everyone who favorite and followed this story. I'm happy you like the bonus chapter because there will be more never before seen chapters (Ha! I'm trying to make it sound more important than it is) Still I hope you like it. Until then, you have this chapter to enjoy~

Disclaimer: If I had any claim whatsoever to Hetalia...(which I don't BTW)...do you think I'd be on FF when I could have made my fantasies reality?

Vash POV

I always wake a bit early to start my day. Usually around 0600 hours, but on the day that my assignment started I woke up even earlier. Actually, I'm not sure I even slept in the first place. It was akin to a child on Christmas Day, I was just so excited. I haven't felt like that a while, and it was all because of my client: Roderich Edelstein. I used the extra time I had acquired to look over his file once more. I grabbed the envelope from my bedside table, I myself still situated in my plain twin bed. My deep green sheets only covered my lower half, my upper torso seated up with my pillow sandwiched between me and the backboard. I settled back to get myself more comfortable, the covers shifted across my bare stomach, and then proceeded to pull out the papers that contained information about my charge. My eyes scanned the pages greedily.

It was the typical request for a bodyguard, except that it also requested I'd be a live-in bodyguard at his estate. The reason for the request wasn't too unusual, but it made me stifle a laugh. There were threats made on his life from a disgruntled man who's wife left him after hearing one of the musician's ballads Sounds of Love. The duration of the mission was unknown. I assumed it would be until the found the culprit, and it was deemed safe for the pianist to move around freely. I was perfectly fine with staying as long as I could. I wasn't lying when I said that Roderich Edelstein was my idol. In fact he was the sole reason I got interesting in classical music.

The man was a genius when it came to the piano, but it was the violin that captured my interest. I don't know how he it did it, but he created this...atmosphere with his music. It evoked emotions in its listeners and that's what made him so famous. Well, that and the mysterious fact that no one knows what the man looks like. As strange as it sounded there was no picture on record of the musician, not even in my briefing file. It was all smoke and screen, literally. All interviews and concerts show just his silhouette from behind a floor to ceiling screen separating the pianist from his audience with smoke billowing out around him. He says its to protect his privacy and I can understand the need. I've learned from my previous clients that the lifestyles of the rich and the famous isn't all red carpets and after parties, but that they have personal lives as well that they want to keep separate from business.

I'm the same way. Business and pleasure where in two separate categories in my life. Business being the bigger of the two of course. In fact because of my job I never had the time to even attend one of the musician's concerts. However, now...now not only will I have a chance to see the man behind the screen, I'd be around him almost 24/7, I'd be by him for every concert, every autograph session, even business transactions. I'd be there...guarding him. And it was that thought that mellowed me somewhat. This was a job assignment, not a vacation to spend frolicking about with my idol. I had to be professional.

A disappointed sigh left my lips and I closed the file having read through it twice. I raked my fingers through my blonde hair and looked over at my bedside digital clock. 0630, about the time I usually wake up to train in my makeshift dojo downstairs. I lifted myself out of the bed and pulled on black sweat pants, foregoing a shirt entirely. It hindered movement anyway. My bare feet made soft patting sounds against the hardwood floors of my small freestanding townhouse. Actually it wasn't mine per say. IPA had homes available for single agents that were close to headquarters. There was even day care available to those rare single parent agents. Most agents I knew had preferred to find their own apartment or house. Then again most agents I knew were also married or involved with someone.

I was neither and had no need to go through the hassle of house hunting, so I opted for the townhome. It was equipped with everything that was essential to survival. Kitchen, bathroom with a shower, adequate storage space, a living room, and an extra room that could have been an entertainment room should I have guests over, but instead I turned it into my own personal martial arts training room. A better choice in my opinion, and so much more useful.

The opening to my dojo was not barred by a door, instead a Japanese noren curtain with Hokusai waves printed on it hung from the archway. I pulled the silky material out of the way to let myself through and was immediately basked in the sense of calmness. Dojos are a tranquil place, meant for reflection, learning from our mistakes and moving forward. While not an official dojo, I decorated it to look like the one from my childhood. I bowed before stepping on the mat, padded over to where a picture of my old master hung and bowed again. Then I stretched before starting any exercises. I was an expert in guns, yes, but I enjoyed hand-to-hand combat as well. Currently, I was working my way up to a blue belt in Krav Maga. I had already mastered Aikido in my teens, wanting to protect myself but not at the expense of another person's pain. Once my post-sleep induced aches were stretched out, then I began to warm up.

My warm up usually consisted of a light jog around the perimeter of the room, first forwards then backwards and last sideways. Then came the joints. From my toes to my fingertips I rolled my joints, first inward and then outward. The tuck and rolls were in the same order as the jog except I rolled from one corner of the mat to the other. Once I felt my body was completely relaxed then did the more challenging drills come. It was only moments later that I felt the power rising in me and I itched to practice on the 6 foot heavy bag that hung from the ceiling off in one corner of the room. I didn't waste another moment after the last drill and went over to the punching bag with light footsteps, feeling very much like a predator hunting it's prey. Granted it was a prey that couldn't move, but that didn't stop me from attacking it with the ferocity as if it could fight back. I ducked and weaved away from imaginary jabs aimed towards me, and returned then in full force.

It was only when I took a water break that I bothered to glance at the watch on my wrist: 0800 it read. Perfect. Just enough time to shower, eat breakfast and take a taxi to the airport. It was only an hour and a half flight, but it was better than the drive that would have taken 3 times as long just to get to my client's estate. I was informed that there would be a driver waiting at the airport to pick me up, so I didn't have to worry about paying for another taxi, not knowing how far away the musician's estate was from the airport. My bags were already packed from the previous night but I double checked to make sure I had everything just in case before shrugging on a light coat before stepping outside the house. One carry on, one garment bag and one duffle bag to be checked in were put into the trunk of the cab that was waiting outside for me and I myself climbed into the back seat.

15 minutes later...

I arrived at the airport an hour before my flight started to board. It was enough time to check in my luggage, go through security, and grab a snack. The walk over to my terminal was a good 10 minutes and that left the wait for only 10 more minutes until they called for priority access boarding. I was flying business class, all paid for by IPA, and the seats were pleasantly plush. Once everyone had boarded, I watched out of my window as the scenery grow smaller and smaller the higher we climbed in altitude. The plane ride itself was uneventful, which I guess is a good thing, and I breathed a sigh of relief once I exited the plane and could stretch my limbs.

My first stop was baggage claim to get my duffle bag, and I watched the conveyor belt for the familiar black bag whilst tapping my foot impatiently. As soon as I spotted it, I grabbed it and quickly went to put distance between myself and the loud civilians that surrounded me. I hated crowded places with a passion. It was only a short walk to the Arrivals pick-up location where the taxis and buses usual were. I was told someone would be waiting for me, Roderich Edelstein's driver. Mark Shyers was the name mentioned in the file. My eyes traveled over the various signs being held up, and there among the 'Welcome Home's was my name on a large rectangular white poster board. The black haired man holding it was scanning the terminal, looking for me I presumed. I walked over to him and his eyes locked onto mine.

"Vash Zwingli?" He questioned.

"That's me."

"Nice to meet you," he said with a friendly smile holding out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Mark, Mr. Edelstein's driver. I'm here to take you to the estate." I shook the offered hand and when he motioned to take my bag I kindly told him I was fine to carry it myself. He led me over to a white short limo and opened the trunk for me. I set my bags inside and shut it myself before he opened the back seat for me as well. It was strange having someone else do things for me and hopefully it wouldn't be a continued effort.

The drive wasn't too long, and the driver was talkative. He informed me about his boss's likes and dislikes, what annoys him and makes him happy. All things I knew from the file, but I let him talk. It was better than the alternative: the boring silence. When we reached the estate, Mark jumped out of the limo to open my door first and I thanked him awkwardly, not used to such treatment. He also got my bags from the trunk, but I put my foot down when he wanted to carry them in as well. I took a few minutes to absorb the enormous place that would be my home for the duration of my job.

It was made of grey stone and two stories high. The surrounding area was a lush green and colorful shrubs dotted the landscape. The actual building was divided into various sections, some rectangular and some cylindrical. It was impressive and I was looking forward to taking in the details, but that would come later. For now I had a client to meet. I was about to make my way up the stone steps when Mark's voice stopped me.

"Just a head's up," he told me, one foot inside the vehicle while he balanced on the other and his elbow resting on the open door. "Ro-Mr. Edelstein...may seem a bit rude at first, but he's really a good guy. "

I nodded my thanks, not knowing what else to say about that little tidbit of information.

"Please keep him safe," were his parting words and if I couldn't tell from the way he talked earlier, now I was sure that Mark cared for his boss. The concern gave me a better look at the type of person Roderich Edelstein was than my files ever could, and it also gave me hope that we could be friendly as well. Besides, I would hate for my idol to turn out to be an asshole like so many other celebrities I had come across.

"I will," I told him and I would. It was my job after all.

I hitched my duffle bag higher onto my back and shouldered my garment bag that held my suits before making my way up the stairs in front of the estate. After what seemed like a thousand steps, but in actuality was only about 10, I reached the top and stood in front of two intimidating wooden doors. There were knockers that were shaped like treble clefs and that made me smirk in amusement. I lifted my hand to grab onto the knockers, but then my eyes catch sight of the doorbell that set off to the right of the wood panel. Thinking practically I weighed my options of which would be heard clearer throughout the large estate. On one hand, I really wanted to do the old fashioned thing and bang the knockers, but on the other hand...

I rang the doorbell.

Roderich POV

I'm not much of a morning person, but when the day finally came for my new bodyguard to start his job, I woke up before the maids in my estate. I stared at the digital clock mounted on the wall opposite of my bed showing my time as well as those of big cities around the world. It was 4:50AM and light had barely broken through the curtains that covered my window. I took in a deep breath feeling my weight shift among the many pillows that were littered around me. What? I liked the plushness. It also served as a slight distraction in my rising nervousness. I was going to have a live-in bodyguard, basically a total stranger, see me and put a face to the name that the world knows. Though, it helped a bit that I knew a little bit about him from what was in his file.

Vash Zwingli was only a year older than my 24 years. He joined the Intercontinental Protection Agency straight after graduating high school. Valedictorian, I noticed with a roll of my eyes. Sounds like a total nerd. He scored above average in all marks of the entrance exam, but it was weapons qualifications that really stood him out above the rest of his peers. Expert shooter: 40 out of 40 hits. Dead center. With targets ranging as far back as 300 meters. Okay, maybe not so much of a nerd then. He's taken a lot of jobs in his 7 years of service (2 of those years were spent training at the IPA Training Academy) one of which included the daughter of the British Prime Minister.

I still had a few hours before my new employee's flight would land and my driver Mark would go pick him up, so I decided to kill some time by practicing on the clarinet I kept stored in my room. It wasn't my favorite instrument to play, but it helped with the nerves. Not much brain cells were used up by playing it and it was perfect for clearing my thoughts. I started to play My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean at 1/4 beat. My fingers shifting periodically and my breath coming out long and drawn out. Frère Jacques came next still keeping that nice an slow beat. And then I ended with Silent Night. They were the very first songs that I learned on the clarinet and they never failed put me into a trance.

By the time I had broken from the music induced haze it was nearing 6AM. Still really early, so I decided to take a shower...no a bath was more suitable. My master bedroom had a bathroom with one of those built-in-the-floor tubs. I loved it. I wasn't normally an indulgent person, but I liked to pamper myself on occasion...okay many occasions. Stress relief was one such occasion and my muscles were so tense only piping hot water and a continuous stream from built in spray jets could melt away.

Mind made up, I strode over into my bathroom, bare feet making slapping sounds against the granite flooring. I first turned on the water before placing a CD into the nearby radio. With the press of a button Moonlight by Yiruma, a Japanese pianist, resounded though the room and I felt my had grow heavy with the rhythm, a stronger music induced haze fogged my brain and I relished in the weightless feeling.

A moment later I stripped myself of the white dress shirt and black slacks from the previous night before slipping into the heavenly heat contained in the bathtub. I positioned myself so that the jet spray fell directly along my neck and spine, and then I let my head rest on the edge of the tub. I inhaled deeply holding it a few seconds before letting it go, feeling my muscles go pliant.

When Moonlight transitioned over to Fairy Tale I started to wash. Grabbing the Zephyr soap, I brought it to my skin. Rubbing in slow mechanical circles, I lathered up my body starting from my neck and shoulders and working my way down my extremities. The scents of ginger root and jasmine paired with coconut milk and warm amber musk quickly filled my nostrils. Afterwards, I ducked my limbs under the water to rinse the soap off then grabbed the Dead Sea Mud Salt soap, a grainy bar that helped to exfoliate my skin. The scraps against my flesh were welcome, and I felt utterly clean after scrubbing my whole body. Lastly was the Wildwood soap bar with its aroma of doug fir and wild cherry bark, it would leave me smelling like the forest. I must have stayed soaking in the tub for longer than I planned because soon there was a knock at my bathroom door.

"Mr. Edelstein," I heard the soft voice of one of my maid calling out, Jillian by the sound of it.

Wait, no Julian was his actual name. I would be an understatement to say that I was shocked when I had found out that the pigtailed silver-haired maid with large amethyst eyes to rival my own was actually male. When we had first met she...uh...he was out on the street trying to sell her..his original art. It hit something inside of me I wouldn't acknowledge as sentiment, but I walked over an before my brain knew what my mouth was doing, I offered her...him a job at my estate. He refused at first, stubborn and trying to prove his independence. It was a week later after a particularly violent downpour that we crossed paths again. I repeated my offer and he accepted.

In regard to his talents, he told me he could 'make things pretty.' Embellishment basically, and I gave her..him a job as a maid. Someone to oversee that the house was in pristine condition. For 3 weeks I was blissfully unaware that the hard working teenage girl was in fact not a girl until I stumbled onto him changing from a spill on his blouse. If the absence of a chest wasn't enough of a hint, then the slight bulge in the lace panties (that were not part of the uniform) sure did the trick.

I was confused more than shocked at the discovery because I didn't understand why didn't he tell me. I could have gotten him a different uniform if I had known. I told him such, but he told me that wearing a dress helped him express himself. Well, I didn't really see any reason to force him to change since she...he had his own quarters. Besides the other maids had taking a liking to him, apparently I was the only one blind to his gender. Still I had trouble thinking about him as anyone but Jillian.

"Mr. Edelstein?" he called again, this time with a hint of concern and I realized that I had yet to acknowledge him.

"Hmmm?" I hummed, my mind still halfway in my memories.

"Breakfast is ready," he told me, and as if to collaborate with his words my stomach growled at the same time.

"I'll be down in a few moments, thank you" I replied, and though I couldn't see it I knew he was bowing his head, two braided pigtails falling over his shoulders.

I listened as his soft footfalls retreated from the bathroom door and soon after a muted 'clink' could be heard from the closing of the master bedroom door. I rose from the quickly cooling waters, sighing at the way the water slid down my body like silk before grabbing a large navy blue towel from the rack close to the bathtub. I wrapped it around my person and stepped out of the tub and onto the white rug place in front of it. I dried myself off first before hanging the towel back in its place and walking out of the bathroom, naked as the day I was born. I had nothing to hide or be ashamed of, I took pride in my body.

It was a short walk to my wardrobe, and I flung the doors open. The first thing I grabbed was underwear and then I stood with my hands on my hips, pondering what I would wear for the day. Something...powerful perhaps? To show my new guard just who's in charge? Yes, I liked that idea very much. In the end I chose to wear a white blazer with a red button up shirt underneath and crisp black slacks. White leather shoes adored my feet and they had a quarter inch heel that made my steps echo loudly against the floor. I looked at myself in my floor length mirror, satisfied with the aura of power I eluded.

Going down the winding staircase slowly never failed to make him feel like a nobleman, so of course I did it every chance I got. Sometimes I almost half expected there to be a crowd of people waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me with awe. My ego was a funny thing.

I entered the kitchen where the scent of freshly baked Semmeln and sausages. There was already an empty plate set on the table with many plates and bowls brimming with various foods and fruits for me to choose from. My cook was amazing and I paid him well for it. I paid all my staff well in actuality. I know I can be a difficult person to deal with sometimes.

Once my plate was filled, the untouched food was taken to the dinning hall for my staff to enjoy. There's were greetings exchanged as the maids passed me on their way to eat. Or well, they said 'Good morning' and I nodded to acknowledge I heard. Although when I saw Julian trying to hurry pass me with his head ducked, my voice stopped him.

"Julian, what did you do to your uniform?" I asked with one eyebrow raised. The navy blue and white traditional dress was now shortened with added ruffles, and violet lined the color and cuffs.

"I...uh...modified it? Doesn't it look great?!" He gushed, giving me a wide smile sweet that further strengthened the Julian vs Jillian battle that raised in my head from time to time. In truth it didn't look bad at all, but that wasn't the point.

"Everyone has to be uniform," I told him sternly, sounding way too much like a parent for my liking.

There was a pause.

"Soooo, if we're all wearing the same thing, it's okay?"

"Yes..wait, no. Where are you going, Jillian?" My voice rose slightly and I switched his name unconsciously.

"Gotta eat if I need the energy to make all those new uniforms for you," he said already backing away from me.

"I never said-"

"Thanks, Mr. Edelstein!" he called over his shoulder while he sped away, his silver braids leaving a trail behind him. That cheeky little manipulator. However, I wasn't angry. If anything I was happy to see him so passionate. I turned back to my food with a small fond smile. Several silent minutes later, the last piece of jam covered toast was halfway to my mouth when it happened.

I heard the doorbell ring.

Now that you all are caught up with both POVs separately, we can look at them both together next. Not much dialogue in this chapter, but that's because their initial meeting will happen in the next chapter, and then their lips will flap...thaaaaaat sounded less gross in my head. Anyhoo, because I'm such a kind and loving author (okay, it's still up for debate) I'll give you a little gift:

Next chapter preview:

There was an awkward silence stretching between us as we both took in one another, employer and employee, and I rushed to fill it. I racked brain my for something, anything, to say to the blonde man.

"You're kinda short," I blurted out and immediately wanted to smack myself.

Reviews are greatly treasured and appreciated

P.S- kudos to whoever can guess what nation Julian is