Thank you to those of you who have reviewed. I assure all of you that I am posting these chapters as quickly as I can with my rather hectic schedule. I am not purposely delaying. It only depends on when I have time to type.

Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 8: Him

My notes for Herr van Vranken are nearly as vague and cryptic as he had been—with many more questions than might ever be answered—but by the time there is a loud, authoritative knock on my door, the notes have been written.

Closing my notebook, I walk to the door and open it to reveal a tall, blond man that looks as though he is built to pick up houses. He is an impressive sight, honestly. Polished shoes. Crisp, wrinkle-free suit. Slicked-back hair. He is the very personification of order and neatness.

"Guten morgen, fraulein," he greets, a curt nod.

"Good morning," I answer.

"You are Fraulein Ellsworth, ja?"

"That I am, but I fear I am at a disadvantage, Herr… ?"

"Beilschmidt. Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"Ah, it is very nice to meet you, but I believe my appointment is with—"

"Mein bruder. Und, ja, it is," he replies as he steps back, reaches over, and hauls another man into sight. My eyes widen slightly even as the blond continues to speak. "He refused to come here of his own accord so I had to pick him up and carry him over my shoulder."

At this, he gives the shorter, smaller-built man in front of him a stern look.

My first thought is that I have no doubt Herr Ludwig Beilschmidt could have carried this man, and several others had he chosen, on those very broad shoulders with no trouble at all…

My second thought, however, is that I finally have a name for his face. Albeit, that face is looking at me now with some odd combination of embarrassment and annoyance. Which of the two is more prevalent I cannot determine.

"Well then, Herr Gilbert Beilschmidt," I begin, making sure to pronounce his name with the same diligence I use when speaking what little Germany I know—which has both men to look at me curiously. Crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow at the shorter of the pair, I continue. "You've seen me once and we even exchanged words briefly in the hall. I can think of nothing I said to dissuade you from attending your appointment, so I must ask… Do I really look so hideous that I've scared you away? I assure you, I am hardly capable of turning people to stone."

For the briefest instant, his red eyes merely blink at me and then, quite suddenly, he bursts into a fit of laughter, at which, the taller blond rolls his eyes and sighs. After several moments have passed, the red-eyed man is once more in control of himself enough to breathe and respond.

"Fraulein. It is NOTHING against you personally, and I wouldn't exactly call you 'hideous' either," he remarks with a smirk, directing such a look at me that I nearly blush. "I just don't really care for your job."

Of course…

With a slight sigh, I retort. "Aha. I see. Well, like it or not, you—like everyone else—have a first appointment to get through. If you choose to return never again, then you have a choice in the matter. This meeting, however, is mandatory."

"Fiery, aren't you?" he smirks, quirking his eyebrow. "Do you wanna s—"

"Bruder!" Ludwig Beilschmidt interjects quickly, turning slightly red in the face. "*Bitte, not another law suit I must talk someone out of…" (*Please,)

Another lawsuit? Well…

"Fine! I'll keep my awesomeness in check," he answers, seeming to pout.

Hmm… He seems to act so differently now… Why? When I first had seen him in the hallway, he seemed so very different from now… What has changed? Perhaps more interestingly, why?

"Now, if you will be so kind as to step into my office, we'll get this appointment over with for you."

"Javole," he smirks before walking confidently—arrogantly?—past me and into the room.

The blond German sighs and looks to me almost apologetically before speaking again, "Fraulein Ellsworth, I will stay out here in the case that you require my assistance…"

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine, Herr Beilschmidt," I reply. "If you have something else to do, feel free to leave."

"I will remain all the same…"

"As you wish."

That said, I re-enter my office to see my patient already quite comfortably seated on the sofa.

Well that's one less question to deal with, I suppose…

I would almost say, because he was not invited or asked to sit down on the sofa, that he is slightly unmannered except that as soon as I walk into the room, he stands.

Here, I seem to catch the smallest glimpse of the Gilbert Beilschmidt I had seen in the hallway on my first day. Another change has come over him. Most noticeable, his previous smirk is absent. His posture is no longer slouchy, but rather, nearly as Herr Zwingli's posture. In fact, it is quite nearly militaristic with his heels clicked together and arms at his sides.

Yet, suddenly, he quickly relaxes, slouches a little more, pulls the smirk back across his face.

I had somehow caught him off guard… Perhaps he had been deep in thought before I walked into the room much as he had been deep in thought before he had addressed me in the hallway the first time. Once he had remembered himself and completely broken from his thoughts, he realized how he was presenting himself and changed once more to slouching and smirking.

Why?

"Herr Beilschmidt, if you will sit for just a moment longer, I will be right with you."

Sitting once more, he stares at me rather perplexed as I walk to my desk, pull my chair from behind it, and wheel it to the door.

When I open the door, I am met by yet another stare, but this one is quite different.

"Already?" asks the tall blond almost in disbelief. I can only assume that he believes me to have returned to ask for his help.

"Nein, Herr Beilschmidt. Actually," I begin, pulling my chair into view and then rolling it out into the hallway. "You said that you would be staying here. I would hate for you to have to stand the entire forty minutes. Please, use my chair."

His eyes widen slightly and immediately, he shakes his head. "Nein, fraulein. I could not take your chair."

"I have a seat in my office, I assure you."

"Well… I…" he flounders a moment before nodding and gently taking the chair from me, a slightly softer look on his face than had been there thus far. "Danke."

Once more I smile, "You're welcome."

I return to my office and close the door, looking to my patient. He is gazing at me in much the same manner as his sibling with more than a little surprise added.

"*Und wie geht es Ihnen?" I question as I walk to the sofa and sit beside him. (*And how are you?)

One pale eyebrow raises as his crimson eyes adopt a more curious gleam. "*Gut, Fraulein. Und you?" (*Good.)

"I can't complain."

"You can from what I heard."

I tilt my head slightly at the remark. "What do you mean?"

"I heard that your tires were slashed on your car und Jakey had to bring you to work. Most people would consider that something to complain about."

Whether he is referring to the fact that my tires being slashed or that Jakob brought me to work, I am in all honesty not sure. The way he said it could have lent credence to either as a valid answer. Either way, I shall answer the same.

I shrug. "I do not see the point."

"What do you mean?" he questions, obviously now interested in why I would respond with this.

"It was probably a teen under peer pressure or a child acting out. I doubt there was any serious malice behind it."

"Und if there was, Fraulein? What then?"

He now seems the closest now to being as he was the first time we met. Focused. Serious.

"Then, it can be dealt with at a later time."

He squints at me, reminding me just a little of Jakob, before he nods. "Not much bothers you, does it?"

"There are much worse things in life than to have a couple of replaceable tires slashed," I answer simply.

"Much," he agrees, suddenly seeming exactly how he had in our first encounter. He appears pensive, the look in his blood red eyes rather dark and distant.

What has done this to him?

The intensity of this lasts less than a few seconds, however, as he smirks once more. "Well, Fraulein Therapist, what should we discuss now?"

"I suppose we can discuss your day thus far."

"It's been awesome, as usual," he responds, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa.

When he offers nothing more, I prompt him with, "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Well, this morning, I pestered Roddy for a while, but about the time he was getting mad enough to actually argue with me, Elizaveta came in with that freaking frying pan, and I got the hell out of there. I do not have a death wish, after all. I'm too awesome to die, and that chick is CRAZY," he answers, rolling his eyes.

Just as it appears he will continue speaking, a rather odd noise resounds throughout the room.

'Cheep!'

At this, we both pause and fall to silence.

'CheepCheepCheep!'

The noise seems to originate from just outside the window behind my desk. Having discovered the source, my curiosity is sated and I turn my attention once more to my patient. Herr Beilschmidt, on the other hand, seems to be intently listening to the sound as though understanding it.

The chirping quickly becomes more frantic, panicked. This elicits an immediate reaction from my patient. His eyes widen nearly to the size of golf balls before he jumps up from the sofa with a loud, "Sheiße!"

He nearly runs to my window and—without even a glance my way—throws it open and leans outside.

"ACK!" is his next exclamation as he clambers out the window and out of my sight.

Feeling a little anxious, I stand, walk to the now open window, and look outside to see Herr Beilschmidt chasing a cat that is chasing a little yellow bird…

Whaaaaaat?

Both bird and patient appear highly distressed, and it is almost as if the bird is trying to get to the other but is being continually blocked by the cat.

Seeing that the situation is not improving, I sigh, throw my coat on, and then I, too, climb out the window. When I reach the ground, I kick off my shoes so that I may run.

While Herr Beilschmidt focuses on rescuing the little bird, I devise a different tactic.

Upon getting close enough to the chase, I quickly pick up the cat.

This earns me a scratch to my hand, which makes me wince, but I hold it steady and watch as the little yellow bird lands on Herr Beilschmidt's outstretched, upturned hand. The German instantly bring the bird close to him and pets it gently. His mouth is moving and so I assume that he is speaking to it, though, as he is some small distance from me, I cannot quite hear him.

Instead of bothering him, my attention turns to the cat I am holding. After the original thrashing that had resulted in my scratched hand, the cat had stilled and is now only staring at me with green eyes.

The cat is full grown with short tan-ish fur that seems to stick out rather determinedly, though it is not course or bristly. The cat, from what I observe, looks starved. In fact, I can almost see its ribs through its fur. Poor creature.

It continues to stare at me with its big green eyes and I realize that is has an odd stripe above one of its eyes, which oddly reminds me of someone, but who?

"*Teufelkatze!" shouts a voice in front of me. (*Devil cat!)

I look up to see Herr Beilschmidt glaring at the cat and protectively holding the yellow bird in his hands.

"Is the bird alright?"

"Ja. No thanks to that thing. It ought to be put down. It's clearly vicious!" he exclaims.

"It's not vicious," I quickly defend, hugging it slightly closer to me. "It's just starved. Can't you see that?"

He scowls darkly. "It attacked Gilbird!"

"It's probably only desperate for food!" I retort, getting rather uncharacteristically irritated by his indifference. "You cannot punish the poor creature for trying to survive! That is the most basic right of anything: to live and survive. You cannot fault it for that! What if someone told you that you were vicious and should be put down when all you're trying to do is survive? How would you feel?"

At my words, he suddenly appears stricken. His face drains of the little color it holds and his red eyes widen substantially. In them is something quite close to fear.

Instantly, I reanalyze my words, searching for what had caused this reaction, but I can think of nothing.

"Herr Beilschmidt? What is wrong?" I ask, taking a step closer to him.

He shivers lightly before blinking and blearily gazes at me, eyes not entirely focused.

"Wh-whaa?"

"Are you alright?"

He closes his eyes and shakes his head as if to dispel a fog. When his eyes open this time, he seems in reality once more.

"Ja. I am fine," he replies at last. He then glances to the cat I still hold. "Hn… I know where we can find it some non-Gilbird food… Follow me."

As instructed, I follow, too distracted to even think of shutting my window.

He leads me nearly entirely around the building before he finally walks to a door and opens it.

"You can stand here. I'll bring the stuff out."

"Alright."

With that, he disappear inside the building, and I look down to the cat again and readjust my hold to be almost cradling it.

"Where have you been that you're so underfed? You don't have a tag so you probably don't even belong to anyone…"

It only continues to stare at me, blinking, but then again, it's not like I expect an answer from it. The cat does, however, snuggle closer to me, and it is only then that I realize how cold it is. Unbuttoning my coat slightly, I carefully readjust once more and with one arm, I cradle the cat within my thick, winter coat. The poor, shivering thing snuggling closer still. With my other hand, I begin to gently pet the cat, and it is not long before he is softly purring.

Not but a few moments later, Gilbert—Gilbird now on his head—emerges from the door carrying a medium-sized brown paper bag.

"Let's go back to your office," he states, already walking that way. I quickly follow, holding the cat securely as I do so.

The walk back—save for our footsteps, the quiet purring of the cat, and an occasional cheep from Gilbird—is silent, which gives me time to think.

First. The bird. 'Gilbird'.

Clearly, Herr Beilschmidt has some sort of connection and history with the small creature. When he had heard its fearful chirping, he had reacted almost as a parent to a child in danger. The little chick must be a beloved pet, yet it seems quite young. To form such a strong attachment to a pet already is somewhat odd to me, but this may perhaps point to a very strong protective quality in his personality.

Second. The effect of my words.

They had produced such a strong reaction to a simple statement paralleling the situation of that cat to understandable terms. Not only had he completely ceased his 'threats', but he had almost completely changed his stand by helping it rather than insisting on having it be put down or letting it starve to death. Beyond that is his original reaction. That look of shock, fear, and pain is still in my mind. It is clear to me his red eyes were seeing some other thing, but what could be so bad in his past to cause it? And how had my words triggered it?

Turning them over and over again in my mind, I am still unable to find anything unusual about them. They are words and expressions that are fairly common to use in such a situation. Why had he reacted in such a pronounced manner?

"Do you need help, Fraulein?"

His voice separates me from my thoughts and I return to myself enough to notice we have arrived at the window of my office and he is amusedly staring at me.

"I… um… No. I think I can manage it," I reply and I can feel my face heat up slightly. How careless of me to get so lost in thought as that!

Not speaking another word, I support the cat with one arm and use the other to assist me in my endeavor to re-enter my office via window. Though I do nearly trip—I would swear I hear a snicker behind me—I right myself once more and am safely standing on the hardwood flooring…

Without shoes…

"Missing something, Fraulein?"

I turn back to the window to see Herr Beilschmidt holding up my shoes that I had removed when I went to help him.

"Thank you," I smile as I take the shoes from him.

He nods and then, as I put on my shoes, climbs into the room. Glancing at the grandfather clock, I realize we now have but a few minutes remaining and I still know next to nothing about him!

Looking to him, I watch him set out two bowls behind my desk, once he has already filled with milk and he is currently opening a container of sushi.

"Probably not the best thing in the world, but it's the best I could do…"

"I'm sure he won't mind, and sushi should be alright in a small amount."

I look down to the cat who is staring at the food. With a small smile, I kneel and set down the cat. While Herr Beilschmidt is placing some of the sushi in the bowl, the cat remains by me, but once the man has moved, the cat slowly approaches the bowls. Sniffing warily, it then takes a small, tentative bite and then, deciding that the food is alright, begins to devour it.

A sudden—freezing—touch to my left hand snaps my attention there and I realize that Herr Beilschmidt has lifted my hand and is currently staring at it.

"That cat really caught your hand," he states seriously. "You should clean it out so it does not get infected."

"I can take care of it. I have cleaner in my desk."

With that he takes one step over to my desk.

"Which drawer?"

"Oh! I can take care of it. You don't have to—"

"Which drawer, Fraulein?" he repeats, ignoring my protest.

With a sigh, I answer, "In the top middle drawer."

He nods and then opens the aforementioned drawer and removes the cleaner and a cotton ball from it. That done, he returns to me.

Unscrewing the lid, he pours some of the cleaner onto the cotton ball and takes my hand once more, immediately setting to the task of cleaning it. I only barely refrain from wincing as the cleaner touches the scratches and only hold my breath as he cleans.

Once he is satisfied with its cleanliness, he nods once and releases my hand before replacing everything in the drawer from whence it came.

Now, in looking at the clock, I realize the meeting time is indeed over.

"Well, Herr Beilschmidt, thank you for your help. It was very nice to meet you. I hope this isn't the last time we ever meet, even if you do not choose to come back for another appointment."

He seems to briefly and discreetly analyze me before smirking.

"Maybe, Fraulein Shrink. But if we do see each other again, I expect you to call me Gilbert, not 'Herr Beilschmidt', understood?"

I smile slightly. "Very well, Gilbert."

He then nods—still smirking—then walks to the door, me following. I open the door for him, he exits the room, and once more, I witness a near 360 in his personality. He is again slouchy, smirking, and already loudly greeting his brother.

"Well, Herr Ludwig Beilschmidt, I shall see you in another five minutes, if that is alright with you."

"It is fine, fraulein," he answers before pushing my chair to the door. "Your chair."

"Danke."

Rolling it into my office once more, I shut the door and return to my desk, dragging the chair behind me. The cat—who has already emptied the bowls—walks over and rubs against my legs, purring before curling up under my desk.

Five minutes for my notes. It is not the shortest time I have had to write, but for one who is unsure even of where to start… The task is rather daunting…

I suppose the best course of action, is to summarize from the beginning…


Not really much to say here other than I hope that you enjoyed reading and I would love to hear from you. If there are any typos, I apologize. I decided I would post now as I am not sure of when my next free time will be. So please forgive me.

~Kanae~