A/N: Next chapter up! A quick warning to any avid Christophe/Gregory fans, Wendy does appear in this chapter, and seeing as I cannot "undo" the existence of certain scenes in the movie, I cannot pretend that there is not some level of attraction between them. I am not; however, a particularly big fan of triangles so do not worry yourself to an untoward degree that some bizarre extra pairing will work itself in. Besides, I like Wendy far too much to permit her rather grisly demise, which would be about the only possible way any triangle would end up that involved someonetrying to move in on 'Tophe's territory.

With that warning I hope you will not look to askew at my decision to portray her as quite a lovely girl, or the fact that even Gregory is not completely immune to her charms. Even Stan fell for her smile, and that boy was practically Kyle's love slave even back in the fourth grade. Even though I myself am not particularly an expert at judging women attractive, (for obvious reasons) I cannot deny that any girl with that much spunk, personality, intelligence and charm is going to be a captivating girl when she grows up even if she gets a second chin and an assortment of warts to dot it. Rather than use that image; however, I've just decided to make sure she's as lovely on the outside as she surely is on the inside.

As a slight balm to any singed readers who might decry my decision to reunite Wendy and Gregory first, I will tell you that the already written and currently being Beta'd Chapter 8, does indeed have our favorite French mercenary. And to further wet your appetites, it's titled, "A Glimpse of Eden's Apple." With that to ease any misgivings you have, I finally shut up so you can get on with the reading.

After I say thanks for reading of course. And for any reviews that have or may be written. Though I have not responded to all of them, I assure you I have read and enjoyed every single one.


It's déjà vu all over again." Yogi Berra

WPW Chapter 6: Déjà…You?!

Over the years Gregory made a habit of checking on the Fosterage surreptitiously, not that it was exactly difficult to obtain information on anything South Park related while in Heaven. It was not that South Park was assigned its own Dominion, not since the days of Rome had one of the all-seeing Dominion angels been assigned to do nothing but watch a solitary town. Yet so much occurred in the unstable place that at any particular point in time there was bound to be at least a half dozen angels sneaking a peak at South Park, just to be sure the entire world wasn't about to come unglued thanks to some Colorado related insanity. The gossip vine if nothing else, enabled Gregory to at least see that not too much of the misfortune in South Park befell the Fosterage itself. Coordinating with Jesus he was able to see that all the bad luck of both the town and Madame Gavone's other programs, miraculously avoided the Fosterage itself. It was undoubtedly this extra "divine" insurance that kept the place still in operation nearly ten years later when Gregory returned.

Of course hearing about it and actually revisiting it, were two very different things, and he could not stifle the sense of pleasure when his weary feet stepped off the slushy street road and onto a clean, well maintained driveway. Ten years seemed to fall away far more swiftly than they had accrued, as a pleasant rush of nostalgia triggered at the familiar setting. Amusement met the grandly made and overly officious sign of welcome to the Fosterage. In spite of the weather, he felt warmer finishing the last leg of his walk, with the tall manor in sight at the end of a tunnel of leaf bare trees.

With a smile of fond recollection already in place, Gregory reached up one hand to lift the oversized, old-fashioned, and definitely unnecessary brass doorknocker. The resounding boom echoed through the timbered frame and into the chambers beyond. In a surprisingly short amount of time he was greeted by the unchangingly stoic and overworked Charles. A single upraised eyebrow was the only acknowledgement of the highly unexpected appearance of a boy near a decade absent, followed by the door opening wider and a gesture for Gregory to enter.

"Madame should still be in the library planning a memorial gift basket for the seven year anniversary of the death of Mrs. Winfrey's unmentionable parts, Master Thorne. If you would join her there she would enjoy taking tea with you. Afterwards should you desire, I will have your old room prepared?"

Charles offered all of this with a steadfastly deadpan expression, not reacting to the ridiculousness of his news, and anticipating of all of Gregory's needs and questions. These were skills that one had to develop to survive years serving and interacting with an incredibly unpredictable persona such as the Madame.

Not able to keep a straight face himself at the stream of information, Gregory could not hold back a light chuckle as he replied.

"Thank you for Charles. Yes I would very much like to stay in that room again if Miss Gavone would permit. Tea would be delightful. Do you still brew the rosehip and lemongrass blend?"

Charles didn't bother pointing out what they both knew, there was no possible way Miss Gavone would not permit any guest to stay, and in fact might adamantly refuse to allow him to leave if he was just hoping to pay a short visit. Instead Charles softly closed the door behind Gregory, and knowing the boy could find his own way up the stairs to the library, retreated to the kitchen to prepare the aforementioned repast.

So Gregory wandered up to the library at his own pace, pausing outside the door to prepare himself. Soft and silent the door opened on oiled hinges, everything Miss Gavone owned was like the woman herself, well tended in spite of the age. He stepped inside and closed the door just as carefully before taking inventory of the room.

The library was a jumble of chaos and order alike, as if the two base forces had decided to wage a private war within these four walls. Tall shelves of neatly arranged books towered over tables haphazardly stacked with piles of documents. Every shelf was aligned perfectly with the next, and each table neatly centered between shelves and walls. The smaller desks and accompanying chairs however, were placed in a random arrangement, clearly positioned to an individual user's tastes. At the desk strewn with the most horrific mess of papers, sat the indomitable woman, clothed formally in spite of being alone at home. She was the image of propriety in a white dress patterned with black pinstripes, matched to the peacoat she wore overtop. The two topmost buttons were left opened and creased at matching angles, to reveal the neck high pristine white blouse, its silk spilling out from the tight confines, adorned with black lace and beads in a floral design on the collar. Her salt and peppery grey hair was pinned up tightly in a bun, though a few strands hung down to frame a matronly face. Completely oblivious to her new audience, she spoke to herself in a soft yet precise and firm voice as her pen scratched furiously to keep pace with her words, recording them into a small leather journal.

"…and so again we offer our deepest regrets on this, the seventh anniversary of your loss. We hope the aforementioned fruit and floral basket will ease your burden. Please be reminded that others sympathize with you and admire how you endure so strongly, coping with the death of both front and back parts of your person….." Her droning voice stopped as she tsked, and the pen scratched the last line out.

"No, no that won't do at all. That's too unspecific. It sounds like her whole front and back are missing. Darn that woman for losing two of the body parts that it's the most improper to refer to. What to use… bottom and lady's region? I suppose I can say vaginal region, they use the word in those monologue poems after all, so it has gained some respectability. It still seems far too forward for a condolence letter. Orifices? No, too clinical. Perhaps…"

At this point Gregory was biting his own tongue, hoping to contain the rude chuckles that the one sided conversation stirred within. Gregory knew he had to interrupt; he was quite certain that if she continued in this vein of thought and actually began listing more random names for either body part in her serious and quivering old voice, he might explode with laughter and scare the woman the rest of the way into the grave. Managing the chuckles into a polite cough he interjected, "Perhaps you might try nether regions, Miss Gavone?"

With a start the woman looked up, the speed of her reaction nearly causing a pair of ancient gold framed reading glasses to slip off their precarious perch on the end of her nose. Vivid blue eyes peered out through the polished lenses, their stark vibrant shade perhaps the only color on the entire woman to not have faded with age. She looked at him, clearly confused a moment, before offering a distracted smile in greeting.

"An excellent suggestion young man, nether regions will do quite nicely." Her free hand quickly made the correction, before she closed the book with a resounding clap. Finished, she carefully set book and pen down on the table before returning her piercing gaze to her guest.

"And who might you be young man? No wait; do let me guess. Charles let you in without introduction so I must know you from somewhere. The accent is most familiar, English obviously, but not the same region as Phillip. That hair is so very familiar…and those eyes, so distinctive, and such a handsome shade of brown…that look…I know that look! Oh my stars! Is it you Gregory?" she at last reasoned, and delight warmed her voice as she sprang to her feet with a spryness that belied her age. Arms wide she walked over to him and wrapped him in a surprisingly strong hug, though she had to reach upward to give him her traditional Fosterage greeting embrace.

"What a delight to see you again young man, my you've grown so!"

"Indeed, that happens to boys, or so they tell me," he responded with a cheeky grin, resting his head against the stiffly tied bun. His arms returned the embrace gently, handling the fragile seeming old woman with exaggerated care.

"Well I see your manner hasn't changed, at the least. Now let me look at you better," she parted from the hug to step back and continue taking him in. He had indeed grown though in truth he had changed less when compared to his true form, than when he had adopted a child's body to appear an eight year old boy. Now he almost looked as he did in angel form, not short but by no means a giant, perhaps three inches shy of six feet. While he had been forced to make himself almost scrawny as a younger boy; his frame had required almost no changes taking on his current form. Now even through the woolen sweater the solid and gentle curve of a young man's chest was visible and the arms that had enclosed the woman were firm if a bit thin. His hair had changed not a whit, still a hopeless tangle of golden curls forcibly combed backwards. His eyes also were unchanged, maintaining that strange hint of age and knowing to them that sometimes made even the ancient woman now examining him feel like she was the younger one betwixt the two.

"So," she began at last having taken Gregory's measure, "what brings you back to us after all these years young man? Another 'brief' excursion from Yardale, perhaps?"

"A brief excursion yes. My performance at home has been sufficiently satisfactory, and I've been encouraged to travel and experience a few things here," he evasively answered. He could lie if he had to; there were just divine repercussions for doing it, especially if it was said to someone genuinely honest or trusting. Instead he opted to stretch the truth and hope she took the hint. There actually was a Yardale, or had been in the earlier part of the 1900's at least, and during his time there to watch over a troubled youth, he had indeed maintained a 4.0 grade point average as he'd mentioned to other children before.

"I see your answers haven't changed either," she kindly reproached him for his unsaid words letting him know she wasn't as fooled or distracted as she once had been.

"You will be staying here wont you? Of course you will. And for longer than two months this time I hope." She answered her own question as he suspected she might, her voice brooking no argument.

"I shall have to call Charles to bring us some tea. Oh Charles," she near shouted the last word only to have the door spring open as soon as the name was said. The serving man arrived with silver tray and porcelain cups already in hand, a still steaming teakettle nestled between sugar cubes and cream saucer. Without batting an eyelid in surprise at the near instantaneous response, Madame Gavone sat herself down at the table clearing some space with a distracted sweep of her hand while motioning Gregory to take a seat across from her. "So you'll want to stay in your old room perhaps?"

"Yes ma'am that would be most wonderful if it wouldn't be a bother," he replied humorously amused that even in her rapid efficient manner she was still at least five minutes behind Charles and with not a clue. Charles did not react in the slightest, merely laid each cup before one of them, poured the tea, and doctored it to their tastes without needing instruction. Two sugars, no cream for Gregory. One small dollop of cream and one sugar for the Madame. Afterwards he walked over and moved the papers she had displaced to neat stacks; a continuation of his unending attempts to combat disorder in the house.

"No bother, none at all dear. Charles and I have so little to occupy us these days. Why I don't think we have anything going on at all today. Charles would you please prepare his room?"

"I will get to it immediately Madame. I would also remind Madame that she has a meeting of the 'People Against a Third Canadian American War' meeting with Ms. Testaburger and young Ike this afternoon. Also Master Phillip will be bringing Mr. Stotch home to join you in a game of cards and dinner this evening," Charles smoothly reminded her of her other engagements, while simultaneously offering Gregory a polite warning of the upcoming schedule that he might prepare himself.

A surge of conflicting emotions greeted Wendy's name, but Gregory roughly forced them aside rather than deal with studying them. Instead he flashed Charles a look of gratitude, before directing a query to the lady of the house.

"Are you sure I won't be a bother to you if I stay? It seems the Fosterage and you have become a bit busier over the years."

Miss Gavone dismissed the concern with a wave.

"Nonsense my dear boy. There's always room here for you, or anyone who needs a place. Besides my dear, this will work out wonderfully for everyone. I'm sure you've missed the other children. Phillip will be delighted to have another Englishman around again, and of course you should recall Wendy. She wandered by here quite a few times after your sudden departure, quite distraught with your disappearance. Nowadays she still stops by every now and then to help me on some of my more political endeavors, especially if they're against something that Cartman rogue is scheming. Vibrant mind in that girl's head, always so helpful. And speaking of helpful, I do hope Christophe stops by, of course you'll want to see him again! He was as at least as concerned as Wendy as to where you'd gone off to! And oh you must have missed all the children from school. Perhaps I should throw you a welcome back gala…" her eyes took on that distant look that signaled the beginnings of a grand scheme.

Several more emotions flared up, most of them uncomfortably unfamiliar to Gregory; including one very unexpected flash of warmth from the mention of Christophe's name. Gregory was not quite sure what was going on in his head, though in his defense, it had been quite some time since he'd been in a human body, and far, far longer since it was a teenager one. Still there was no time to sit down and think all of it through just yet, not when Madame Gavone was eagerly setting herself up for what looked like a rather enormous party. That wouldn't exactly be the most subtle of entrances back into South Park, and definitely would not make my job any easier. With alarm Gregory headed the idea off before it could catch momentum.

"Please ma'am. That's unnecessary! I'm very worn out from my trip here, and not sure I'm up to such a large affair. A small informal dinner would be far more enjoyable, I'd rather renew acquaintances singly either here or at school, rather than have to endure a mass reunion with everyone at once."

"Of course dear," she sighed and to Gregory's immense relief, she let the idea go. "Still you will give an old woman the pleasure of first chance catching up with you until school lets out and the other children begin to arrive, wont you? There's so much that's happened to us both I'm sure. You must have stories to tell, and there have been so many things going on around here you've missed!"

"That'd be fine, let's start with all thing things you've been up to here at the Fosterage," Gregory volunteered, knowing that if he could get her started, the woman would have enough stories to take days to recount. There was no possible way she'd finish before Wendy arrived, and he'd not have to fabricate or dance around the truth of his own activities over the past years just yet.

She shot him an 'I know what you're doing,' look but as the ever polite hostess, was unable to refuse a direct request from a guest. That and she truly did love talking about her projects; there had been some truly grand ones since he'd left.

"Well, let's see there was the Committee for the Equalization and Protection of Mariachi bands that I started after the Pan Flute bands were all reintroduced and the government started shipping out competing musical genre's a few years back to overcompensate. That was all of course before they found out that Mariachi bands were holding back giant Chihuahua beasts. The hardest places hit during that nightmare were the Taco Bells on the west coast; the monsters seemed to take particular delight in stomping and piddling all over the things. So then I just had to initiate a Taco Bell Relief Fund…"

Gregory settled into his chair, making himself comfortable for the long morning and afternoon ahead of him. The woman paused briefly in her stories in the afternoon when Charles stopped in with a fully prepared lunch mere moments after they'd begun to feel the first pangs of hunger. Once the repast was over, she launched right back into a tale about her attempt to interest Green Peace in freeing the 'Family Guy' Manatees. Tragically their love of Family Guy exceeded their love of Manatee's, and apparently they were still loathe to help out South Park residents, citing something about 'no more sea mammals on the moon.' Charles returned a few more times delivering documents and posters from particularly interesting endeavors, usually just before Miss Gavone actually voiced any request, which Gregory was thankful for as it kept the stories moving and avoided pauses where he could be asked personal questions.

Gregory found himself feeling full both in his stomach and in a more emotional sense as he basked in the pleasant atmosphere of the Fosterage. It was difficult to hold onto the darker emotions of the day in such a place, especially as he was lifting his cup to his lips as often to hide an amused grin at some random story as he did to take a drink. He didn't quite catch the moment during the seemingly endless tales of disasters and projects when he finally felt at home, but eventually he realized he had relaxed into his new body and temporarily banished the ghosts of past lives to the secluded corners of his mind.


The pleasant tranquility of the afternoon was shattered dramatically a few hours after lunch. Neither Gregory nor Madame Gavone heard the knock on the door downstairs, nor did they hear the speedy answer by Charles, and the subsequent directing of the two guests to the library. Thus the two in the upstairs library were unprepared for the whirlwind of fury that was an enraged Wendy Testaburger, entering the room with all the presence and fury of an Amazonian princess on the warpath. The door did not so much open, as fling itself violently out of her way as the teenager stormed in, her head facing not towards the room but back at the black haired, skinny youth that followed. It was to him that her furious words were directed, though her volume was loud enough to carry the tirade smashing through the quiet story the Madame had been telling. It was as startling as a brass marching band entering…well a library actually.

"Did you know he's instigating this war over syrup? Syrup! I don't care what he says, or what bullshit story he's telling the god damn town council, the fat asshole wants to invade Canada to lower the price of maple syrup. Ever since IHOP switched to generic instead of the Canadian stuff on their pancakes he's been scheming this up. That insensitive, fat, cruel, over-sized, mean-spirited, ball of la-…" Her tirade died in her throat as she registered the look of surprise that crossed that face of the small boy following her. Not as distracted as she had been, he had noticed that their meeting with Miss Gavone had an extra attendee this day, someone he'd never met before. Responding to the surprise, Wendy's head whipped around causing her hair to billow out behind her, much like a black cloak fanning out; as she actually examined the room she'd just crashed into.

A flush tinted her cheeks a blend of beige and pink, perhaps brought out in amazement or perhaps left over from the anger in her entrance, either way it was a visible rosy stain on her pale skin. Hair the same shade and sheen as a raven's wing in the sunlight settled from its flight to land in a solid sheet behind her. It gracefully fell from a hot pink beret, to frame her softly rounded face before disappearing behind delicate shoulders. Yet the delicacy was more illusion than reality, for there was a hint of iron in her nature that denied the softness of her slim waist and gentle curves. Even dressed in the almost silly combination of soft purple sweater and yellow skirt her natural grace and steadiness banished any impression of 'girlyness.' Above the light blush, two determined round eyes had locked on to the blonde in front of her. In recognition her hard amber irises melted to a liquid honey shade as delight washed away her foul temper for an instant. The transformation would have made for a lovely sight to set any young boy's heart fluttering, if the image hadn't been ruined completely by a dropped jaw, setting her normally prim mouth agape in a comical expression of surprise.

Retreating to his tried and true tactic of hiding a grin behind a tea cup, Gregory drew out the drink to gather his thoughts for something suitable to say in greeting. He was spared the trouble of finding the right words when a nearly audible click sounded as Wendy's jaw closed and her train of thought, so quickly derailed, finally found its way back on track.

"G-Gregory? Is that really you?"

"Why yes Wendy, I do believe it is me. It is good to see you again." No sooner where the words out of his mouth then Gregory wished them back in, certain he had just voiced his first lie since returning to a mortal body. He braced himself silently for the eventual retribution his angelic half would inflict upon himself for the untruth. Seconds turned into a minute and he was not accosted by a stabbing discomfort in his stomach, no awkward pain in his extremities, and no tickling chill down his spine. Clearly he had not lied; he had indeed missed her enough to wash some of the unpleasantness of their parting away. That little discovery caught him so unawares that the silence stretched out longer between them. Does this mean I forgive what she said after the war? Or just that it doesn't matter after all this time? Did I really miss her that much? She was pretty…unique. Definitely not what I was used to dealing with. So self-sufficient, a hint of danger, a touch of instability, the same things that make South Park itself so fascinating.

Throughout this pause of self-introspection, Wendy was equally silent; her own eyes mirroring his internal confusion, unknown thoughts and memories flashing through her own mind. No one knows how long they might have just stood there lost in their own little worlds, trying to cope with a reunion both had thought would never occur. No one knows, because after about a minute of awkward silence, the young boy behind Wendy finally decided he'd had enough of watching the two older kids staring into space like idiots, and interjected into the voiceless moment.

"So, I'm Ike, and this is Wendy, whom you obviously know. I guess you are Gregory, because G-Gregory would be a really lame name for your parents to have given you. Since no one else is finishing this I guess I have to. Gregory, Wendy is glad to see you again, I think. I can't tell since she's being quiet for the first time since the topic of Cartman came up an hour ago. Wendy, Gregory is obviously glad to see you because he said so. Now will one of you say something so we can move on to the other trivial things at hand like…I don't know…preventing a war?"

There was a very brief pause where still no one spoke, though Miss Gavone appeared on the verge if she hadn't been holding her stomach to suppress a most unladylike laugh. With a roll of his eyes that rather eloquently expressed his opinion of everyone over thirteen, Ike gave up and wandered over to the table to help himself to a left over sandwich.

After that awkward little speech, and subsequent dismissal by the young boy, both Gregory and Wendy locked eyes in chagrin. Gregory pounced on the very first thing he could think of to talk about, if only to prevent Ike from saying anything else. Unfortunately Wendy apparently had the same idea because no sooner had he tried to speak than she began stumbling over her own response.

"So what have you been up to since-"

"Of course I'm glad to see him you je-"

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"Oops, you were about to say-"

This was followed by another bout of awkward silence.

"Not again," Ike muttered softly from across the room.

Miss Gavone suddenly coughed strangely, in what sounded suspiciously like a poorly concealed laugh. Hearing the sarcasm of her companion, and the outburst from the older woman, Wendy turned to glare at Ike. In the distraction Gregory took the opportunity to speak unopposed.

"So," Gregory began slowly making absolutely certain Wendy wasn't about to start talking as well, "how have you been?"

"Fine, just fine. Things have been great."

"Great? In South Park? Things must have changed a great deal around here."

"Well not great, I mean the place goes to hell about once a week. Well not literally to Hell like when you were here. Just you know… going crazy. Still everything usually ends up about the same after all the mess gets cleaned up. So I guess I'm doing fine. How about you? Where have you been? What have you been up to?"

"I have been quite well. I've been back home with my…family. After that mess when I was here last they kind of wanted me to stay there for awhile."

"Where is your home?" Ike chimed in curiously.

Suddenly Gregory felt the full weight of the eyes upon him, as the innocent question from the small boy sparked the much more dangerous attention of both Miss Gavone and Wendy. Feeling quite trapped he discarded the vague answers he normally had ready, realizing that it was very unlikely both Wendy and Miss Gavone would allow him to slip so easily out of this one. Mentally he steeled himself to not show any visible signs of the pain that would follow the lie he was about to speak.

"Well actually I'm from-"

*CRASH*

The sound of a porcelain teacup making an abrupt acquaintance with a hardwood floor drew all attention from the squirming Gregory. Gregory joined everyone else in staring at the white shards on the floor at his feet though his expression was more one of guilt than surprise. He'd dearly love to pretend this had been an accident, but divine intervention loved to hide in coincidence, and he was familiar with this particular problem. In the span of seconds while he was focused on the lie he was preparing, his angelic subconscious had twisted to wakeful life. Finding the people in the room too honestly trusting, it had opted to act to prevent the breach of heavenly etiquette. With a life of it's own it had ever so slightly loosened the grip on his cup.

It all came down to a strange twist on an old adage. For Gregory's kind at least, it seemed 'Idle hands were more just the Devil's playground,' but an inner angel's plaything as well. In all probability this was due to their hand's closer acquaintance with Elios. Sometimes it could be fairly disconcerting, trying to be human and angel at the same time, especially when neither mixed particularly well. It was like blending oil and water, impossible to every completely combine them, not when the second you stopped stirring they started separating out again. And when they separated out, you might find that you only had half a hand in what your own body was doing.

"Char-" Miss Gavone began, only to be interrupted by the serving man's appearance at the door with trash can and cleaning rag in hand.

"I'll have it cleaned up in a moment Madame."

Completely unfazed at the speedy response, Miss Gavone smiled her gratitude while Wendy and Ike stared incredulously at the butler. Apparently they don't spend that much time around here or they'd be used to Charles. Thank goodness, that means I won't have to spend much time hiding from them. Wendy's always been too curious. I'm sure if Ike's her friend he has the same traits in spades. Such thoughts brought some slight relief to Gregory, who realized if he could survive till the end of the meeting, he might make it out of this relatively unscathed. It was also a slight balm to his conscience that the mess was quickly and efficiently removed with no long term repercussion beyond the tragic loss of the teacup.

"Well then. Where were we," Miss Gavone began as her considering gaze turned back to Gregory's abashed expression.

"He was gonna tell us about where he-" Ike began cheerfully as Gregory directed a glare at the youth.

"I should remind Madame that Master Phillip should be arriving within an hour, and Madame wished to be have time to prepare for company as Master Leopold would be joining us?" Charles interjected over top of the young Canadian. The words were sweet salvation to Gregory, who promptly shot the serving man perhaps the third of fourth look of silent gratitude that day.

"Oh my! How right you are Charles. Perhaps there will be more time for pleasantries later, but we should really get on with this meeting! Now I've been thinking on a way to prevent Cartman from presenting his case. My memory was triggered by something you said yesterday Ike, about the treaty from the Second Canadian American War. I believe you may be right; there was an amendment the Canadians insisted on, something about not allowing anyone from South Park to head or appear before a war committee ever again. I'm sure somewhere in these papers I've got a clipping or article or something about it." The sharp calculation faded to distracted consternation in Miss Gavone's expression as she began rapidly shuffling though her assorted papers on the table.

"If Madame would prefer, I took the liberty of procuring a copy of the actual treaty from the Records Office after your conversation yesterday." Charles withdrew a document from some hidden place within his serving man's uniform and set it on the table on his way out of the room.

"Why thank you Charles," she distractedly proffered just moments too late, as the door had already swung shut softly behind the departing pinnacle of efficiency. She adjusted her golden reading glasses before beginning to slowly pore over the document with no further attention on her guests. Realizing the search might take a few moments Gregory began surreptitiously edging towards the door, thinking to escape to his room in the distraction. Wendy's eyes shot up as soon as he began moving, and a single eyebrow rose in silent amused challenge at his childish attempt, almost daring him to try to get away. He found himself frozen, a deer in headlights, until Ike again shattered the awkwardness.

"It's Article VII, section 13," Ike relayed to the reading woman, in a strangely quiet voice, looking down at the table glumly.

"What a memory you have boy, you really are a little genius. Let's see section eleven…twelve…Ah here we are the 'Sheila Broflovski' clause."

For some reason a small blush crossed Ike's face at Miss Gavone's words. Gregory wondered if the embarrassment was over the compliment Miss Gavone had offered, but then Wendy turned away from Gregory, breaking her hypnotic gaze, to reach over and pat Ike's back consolingly.

"Don't worry Ike. This time it's definitely that asshole Cartman's fault, not your moms." The boy threw Wendy a rather grateful look for her understanding before he left his seat and joined Miss Gavone to read the document over her shoulder. The entire exchange reminded Gregory of Wendy's more endearing qualities, especially her ability to empathize with others so completely. On the other side of the table Wendy became aware of his attention, and threw him a warm smile as if she had read his mind, which was an idea that could send quite a few unnerving chills down his spine. For a moment he wondered why he had been so afraid of confrontation with her earlier considering how soft and genial her smile made her face. Then he saw something else there, hidden behind the pleasantness of her smile, a frank directness in her eyes that let him know she had not forgotten his earlier unanswered question. With a twinge of dismay Gregory suppressed the rather uncomfortable realization that nothing short of another coming of Hell was going to distract her next time.

Then again she grew up in South Park; it's entirely possible she'd tell Satan to sit down and shut up until she got a straight answer from me. If she were much closer right now, she might reach out to hold me captive and forego the delay. I really should get out of here now, unless I fancy finding out what else I can accidentally destroy, or just how much telling this big of a lie is going to hurt. Desperately Gregory seized his one chance at escape.

"Perhaps, I might take my leave now, Miss Gavone? I had a bit a hike to get here, and I could use a chance to relax and settle into my quarters. Especially if there's to be socializing this evening." Safe enough words there. No lie for sure, my feet have definitely not forgiven me yet for choosing such a distant glade. I certainly can't smell like a rose garden either after all that hiking to get here. And at this moment I most definitely do feel the need to relax, preferably with a few locked doors between me and Wendy until I can figure a few things out.

Miss Gavone looked up, allowing the smallest hint of disappointment to show at the idea of his departure. For a rare instant, she'd had a meeting with almost four members in attendance, quite a bit above average for one of her endeavors.

"I suppose so dear. If you really feel you need the time to settle in."

"I'm afraid I do. Ike, very interesting to meet you. Wendy, I suppose we shall run into each other at school?"

Ike offered a very distracted wave, quite like Miss Gavone herself in his focused tendencies. Wendy however, latched on to Gregory with her amber eyes, freezing him to the spot yet again, clearly weighing the option of making a scene and forcing him to stay. Just as he was sure she would do just that and the hint of sweat was beginning to bead on his brow, Ike found something exciting in the document and grabbed her hand. Startled by the contact, for the second time the boy saved him from her disturbing power as she looked at the youth with a tolerant smile.

Gregory seized the moment to execute a most hasty retreat. The door was almost shut behind him, when Wendy's reply reached his ears.

"I will definitely see you at school Gregory. We have so much to talk about."

The words were said in the sweetest of tones, and Gregory had no doubt she had the most innocent smile on her face when she said them. He had no intentions of turning around to verify this; however, not when he was also certain he'd be forced to face the teasing threat hiding just under the surface of her genial manner. Feeling caution was most definitely the better part of valor in this case; he pretended not to hear her parting shot at all and marched quickly towards the safety of his room.