Aaahhh thank you for beta-ing this for me, No Pain No Gain or previously known as Legend of Zelda 4 Life, thank you(s) never enough and you're fast as usual ;U;

cherliona yuri : aaahh orang Indonesia lagi :DD hahaha makasih dah review m(_ _)m dan soal update waktu awal-awal per 2 minggu kok tapi setelah aktif lagi di tumblr jadi terbengkalai orz. Lololol kenapa semuanya benci sama Rose? Kasian doi XD. Oh iya pengen coba nulis FrUK/FACE family pake bahasa Indonesia tapi su-su-susah *geplaked*

Ah thank you for you who still following, reading, alerting, favoriting, and reviewing this fanfic...I-I hope you enjoy this chapter...


Chapter 9: Patching Up the Puzzle

But there still was a hole in the situation, Vash thought. He massaged his forehead for the fifth times since the revelation. If that person was the same person he was looking for, then how could he explain the existence of the small boy he called his son?

That person's child was killed even before he could walk.

He didn't know how many times he'd read about the man called Francis Bonnefoy in his data and had stared at the rough sketch the Duc had described to the local artist. In the picture and description, Francis Bonnefoy – the wanted man – had short blond hair, blue eyes and fair skin. Vash hadn't met 'Arthur's' Francis but he was damn sure that this Francis was the same Francis as on his note.

But there was still that small hole in logic that he couldn't get rid of.

He pulled an empty white paper from his stack of documents and started to write down his thoughts. He wanted to make it clear for himself, at least until he could prove that the man was indeed the one he was looking for.

There were knocks on the door before he could start writing his letter.

"Yes?"

"Dinner's ready Mr. Zwingli." He recognized the voice of Arthur's old butler.

"Yes, I'm coming…"

Vash put his ink pen down back on its stand before giving a last look at the unwritten letter and walking outside his room.


Arthur stood before his wife's closet inside their shared bedroom. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for his wife to get dressed before they could walk down to the dining room. The afternoon's events were running inside his brain again and he was getting too curious for his own good.

"Already targeting another Frenchman?" he suddenly blurted out of the blue.

"Pardon?" she asked him back from inside the closet.

"This afternoon, I saw you with my lowly servant – a Frenchman…" he paused to hyphenate the word 'Frenchman' on his tongue. " – in the garden, talking about something I don't think I want to know."

Rose walked out from the closet, approaching him in her corset and panties, one of her fine brows raised with a smug look on her face. She stopped and stood in Arthur's personal space, pressing her breasts on his chest and brushing her fingers on his cheek. She then leaned closer until Arthur could feel her warm breath meet his.

"Is that jealousy I detect, dear husband of mine?"

Arthur stared at the woman before him and, lowering his face until their lips almost touched, he whispered. "I don't think I feel anything but pity…," he pushed her away from him gently before continuing, "That you would actually repeat the same mistake twice, first with the stableman and now – a servant." Rose's eyebrows knitted. "I thought you would have better taste in men, Rose. I am disappointed." He snickered and turned to the door. "Hurry darling, put your dress on. I don't like making our guests wait."

Arthur could hear the frustrated huffs even from behind the closed door.


At the dinner table, Vash was waiting silently. He didn't even mind coming before the host since Arthur literally said he could do anything while staying at his house. That included waiting in the dining room even before Arthur asked him to come.

His eyes darted from one servant to another. He'd never seen this Francis Bonnefoy, except having eyed him in the distance. The 'suspect' now adorned shoulder-length wavy hair and a quite lithe figure. It was quite different from the description that his client had given him, though, but his hunch had always led him to victory in dealing with the case he handled.

Funny, an attorney like him wasn't even supposed to act like a professional detective.

The man he was investigating suddenly stepped into the room, pushing a trolley with various appetizers on it. Vash got ready to interrogate him when a hand was suddenly put on his shoulder. He turned to see Arthur staring at him curiously. He 'tsk'-ed and looked at his target once more just to realize there was no Francis Bonnefoy anymore in the room.

"Why are you here?" asked Vash, a little bit upset.

Arthur was taken aback by the childish tone in his voice. "That should be my question. Since when have you become attracted to servants and maids that prepare our dinner?"

"You just don't understand…"

"Tell me then."

"I can't. This is a top secret affair. I want to make sure of my hypothesis first."

"Apparently, your top secret affairs lie beneath my roof, so I don't see why I can't know?"

"You wouldn't be interested. This is about the Duc."

Arthur stared at his attorney before opening his mouth, but no voice came out. He looked like a fish out of the pond, Vash thought.

"What the hell is this about, Vash?" Arthur asked finally after he found his voice. "I don't have any connection whatsoever to the Duc and you said something that implies that he has something in my house?"

Vash looked at his client and friend in the eyes, letting the short silence envelop them both. "You may have no connection to him, but maybe that's not the case for one of your servants…"

Even if Arthur wanted to say something, he was cut off when the ladies and boys came and join them in the dining room. He decided to follow them in choosing the seats instead of pushing the issue further and he didn't bring the subject up during the small talk induced while they were eating. Nonetheless, Arthur followed the other green-eyed man's gaze as he focused on the servants and maids that came and went, and of course, the attorney noticed the obvious spying from the host. Still, he didn't show that he knew anything and didn't make unnecessary gestures when a certain servant showed up.

He was torn between loving the curious expression in his friend's eyes and keeping the speculations to himself.

Later at night, Vash stared at the white surface of the paper he had decided to neglect before dinner. He twirled the ink pen between his thumb and index finger, doubting for the first time the pursuit of his curiosity.

This should be easy, he told himself but he couldn't get his hands to work on the letter. He exhaled and decided to walk outside his room again; trying to get some fresh air that might loosen his weary brain.

But as he walked in the back garden, he noticed that the light from the kitchen still illuminated the small part of the garden since the door was widely open. His feet worked faster than his head and brought him to the backside of the manor. Vash noticed that his target was alone, brewing something that smelled somewhat offending to his nose.

"Still awake?" Vash asked without warning and the servant jumped.

"Dieu…ah you scared me Mr. Zwingli…" the blond smiled.

"What are you brewing in that pot?" he asked curiously.

"My medicine, my sickness is quite stubborn. I need to drink the concoction every day or my little boy will get sad…" he poured the liquid in a mug while chuckling. Vash eyed the blackish concoction and his brows subconsciously furrowed. "Doesn't smell very good, right?" Francis chuckled again, noticing the frown.

"It's horrible…" he approached the servant further, eyeing every line on his face. Vash's eagle-eye vision would never miss any hidden clues, and today, he had found his prey, Francis Bonnefoy.

He had deep sky colored eyes that slightly drooped at the edge. At this time, his eyes were very kind and serene, but Vash knew that his eyes could be fierce when he wanted them to. While his face illustrated unspoken tiredness, with dark circles and bags under his eyes, he still tried to smile.

"Say, Mr. Bonnefoy, I heard you worked as street musician before you worked here?"

"Oh, that's true." he looked inside his mug and furrowed his brows. "It was harsh life, especially for Mathieu. I wouldn't have minded if I had traveled alone, but…"

"I need to know a few things since your master, Mr. Kirkland, asked me to handle a paper for you and your son."

"Paper?" Francis blinked in confusion.

"It's not a big deal, but I just wanted to know. During your travels to entertain people, did you happen to meet a man named Rodolphe Bridoux?"

Francis' hand halted in midair as he tried to drink the concoction. He pressed his lips into one thin line before answering, "No…I'm afraid I don't know him."

Vash's eyebrows rose. Indeed, what had he been expecting? That the man before him would answer his question truthfully? Since when had he become so naïve?

"I see…" His eyes diligently watched as Francis uncomfortably held his right arm. "Does your arm hurt?"

"Huh? No…I…it's not…" he bit his lower lip.

Vash nodded and walked towards the kitchen's exit. "Well, I shall bid you goodnight for now. Oh, and you forgot your medicine." He pointed at the mug with the grimy liquid inside it.

"Ah, yes thank you for reminding me…goodnight…" Francis didn't even bother to turn and face the Swiss.

As the Swiss' steps disappeared from his hearing, Francis closed his eyes and let himself sink on the floor. Leaning on the nearest counter, he inhaled sharply as if the amount of oxygen he'd breathed before hadn't been enough to fill his lungs. He opened his eyes and watched his surroundings, reminding himself that he was still in the Kirkland manor. Not in the white room that appeared almost every night in his dreams, now that it had resurged in his memores.

Rodolphe Bridoux, he tried the name on his lips. A name that gave him a bad feeling, a name that felt somewhat familiar but so foreign at the same time.

Unconsciously, he rolled the sleeve of the white shirt he wore. The faint red dots were still there, and he stared at them as if searching for answers that might be locked inside his memory. Unfortunately, nothing except the white room and unrecognizable masked people inside that gave him daily injections as 'medication' came up.

A medication he couldn't even remember the reason for.

Now in complete silence he thought about his wife, a sudden longing sweeping him back into the past. A face he couldn't even remember anymore, a figure of a woman that would scold him every time he came home with a messy clothes... Everything had now disappeared from his brain.

Francis sobbed and chuckled at the same time, cursing how stupid he was. How come he'd failed to recognize his wife's face or figure? He was looking at his surroundings again, with messy hair falling over his face, trying to subdue his tears. The pain was just too much, though. He finally curled back against the counter and let the tears fall, whispering her name repeatedly as hyperventilation started creeping up over him.

"Jeanne…Jeanne…"


"Tell me what you're hiding from me."

The voice stopped Vash in his steps and made him turn around, just to find Arthur walking out of the drawing room.

"You scared me."

Arthur snorted. "Care to explain? What do you mean by one of my servants probably having connections with the Duc?"

"Why do you care so much? I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with the Duc?"

"Because I don't want to have anything to do with him, so I deserve to know. As the master of this manor, I would like to know which one of my servants is probably indulging in… wrongdoings…with theDuc…"

It was already dark in the manor, only a few candles lit for directional purposes, but other than that, the big house was just as dead as a graveyard. Vash sighed and muttered about how Arthur could be so stubborn when he was curious but Arthur just shrugged his friend's words off, his eyes still demanding answers.

"First…" Vash started. "The Duc probably didn't do anything wrong like you assume." That statement resulted with a grunt from Arthur. "The second, it is him – the servant I suspect to have ties with the Ducis none other your French guy."

Arthur froze, incapable to respond to Vash's revelation or the mention of 'your French guy' in the same sentence.

"I thought I told you about my suspicion when you handed me the task of legal immigration paper for him."

"W-well, yes, but on what basis did you conclude your speculation?"

"It might not clear at this moment, there are holes here and there, and that's why I want to investigate deeper." He turned on his heels to leave but Arthur's tugged on his arm.

"No, I mean…stop it, you are not a detective."

Vash freed himself from Arthur's hands. "And why, pray tell, shouldn't I keep up with this case?"

"Do me a favor…" he inhaled. "Please?"

"Do you know something about him that I don't know?"

Arthur shook his head. "I had a hunch…if you continue this, it'll only hurt him."

"Then again, why should I care?" he stared at his friend whose face had stiffened. "He's a complete stranger to me Arthur, and I have my client – the Duc – who is almost going crazy just to find a single ring. If he's the one he was looking for, I can't let him roam free before claiming what he took from my client."

Arthur was about to open his mouth before he heard a loud sigh escape his friend's mouth. "Next time, before you decide to trust someone, please check their background. Good night, Arthur." With that he resumed his steps and disappeared from Arthur's sight.

Arthur rubbed his temples and walked towards the servants' chamber. He peeked before deciding that the hallway was empty and safe enough for him to knock at the door of a certain Frenchman.

It took him several moments before the soft knocks were responded to, and the door flung open to reveals a tired looking Francis. Arthur's eyes widened at the sight of the faded, pale colour of the normally so peachy skin.

"Is there anything I can help you with at this hour?" Francis asked.

"Were you crying?"

Francis stepped aside to give Arthur access to his room and he was followed by the Briton whose eyes tailed his every movement.

"I was just…" he pulled a chair and heaved a heavy breath as he sat down motioning for Arthur to sit where ever he liked. "I was just missing my wife a bit…silly me." He waved his hand in the air as if dismissing a fly buzzing near him.

Arthur couldn't say anything about that. He just sat there, next to his wavy-haired servant, mouth shut, not even making a comment about the situation or thinking about cheering the other up. He just sat.

That grabbed Francis' attention. He turned to see the Briton fumbling with his own fingers to fill the silence between them, "You're bad company, you know." He chuckled. It sounded so heavy, even to his own ears. "If I were with someone else, they'd already have offered me comforting words…"

"What do you expect me to say to you?"

"I don't know…maybe something like 'please don't be sad' or something like that."

"I can't…" Francis eyebrows rose at the immediate answer that Arthur gave. "What can a lonely person that hasn't found the cure for his own sickness offer to another lonely soul? Wouldn't you think it'd be bad comfort?"

Francis stared at his master before bursting out laughing so hard, Arthur had to put his palms over his ears to cover the Frenchman's laughter while his mouth spilled swears that weren't that silent, either. After he calmed himself, Francis smiled softly. "But there is something that two lonely people can do when they're together."

Arthur eyed Francis as he dug into his pocket. "What's that?"

He offered him a cigarette, Arthur eyeing the nicotine sticks before taking one for himself. Francis smiled and lit Arthur's cigarette before lighting his own. They took a long drag that made them feel easy.

"At least they won't be alone when they're together…"

Arthur hummed before puffing the thick smoke trough his lips. It was his first time smoking again after a few years, but his body seemed to be so accustomed that he found no contradiction as the nicotine flowed through his system once again.

"Do you find me as a good company?" Arthur suddenly asked without looking at the person beside him.

"Well, yes of course…"

"Did Vash ask you something this evening?"

"Nothing much."

"I don't believe you."

Francis chuckled, "No one asked you to believe what I say, cher."

"Just spill it, Bonnefoy."

Noticing that the other man's mood was on the verge of ruin, Francis decided to talk. "Well, he asked me if I had come to know a certain person during my job as a street performer, nothing more."

"And?"

"I said I didn't know…" Arthur's eyes fixed on his. "…that's the truth."

"Good, maybe he mentioned the name of other people he worked with…" he put his cigarette out and stood, preparing himself to leave.

"W-where are you going?" Francis hastily put his cigarette out too and grabbed Arthur's arm.

"To my room, I guess?" his expression was puzzled and he shrugged.

"Oh…" he let go of his arm and laughed groggily. "I-I thought you would want to stay a bit longer…" he rubbed the spot behind his neck, a tick he always had when he was nervous.

Arthur felt his face heating up. "S-stupid, I-I never said I wanted to stay long, I-I just wanted to confirm whether you said something stupid to Vash…I…"

"It's fine, I understand…" he smiled and turned to put the chair back in its place. "You have your wife waiting there." Francis felt pathetic.

"Fran…"

"No, it's stupid, just forget it and go back to your room…I just feel quite awkward for saying something foolish enough to embarrass me…" he chuckled.

"Francis, will you listen to me, please?"

Francis stopped, looking at the other man with knitted brows. He didn't know how to respond to Arthur's command. He looked so serious, it made it hard for him to turn his head somewhere else.

Arthur lowered his gaze, biting his lower lip and once again twiddling his fingers, feeling at loss on what to say to the waiting Frenchman. "I…I don't have that kind of feeling anymore for her…"

Damn, now he felt his face starting to heat up – why were there never holes around when you needed to hide?

"Oh…" Francis stuttered, covering his mouth with one of his hands. "Oh…"

"I thought you knew already?" Arthur stomped his feet.

"Oh yeah, of course…" he laughed groggily. "No…actually, I..."

Arthur eyed him in disbelief. "Seriously, didn't you see I was opposing her return to this house?"

"Well…the truth is, I thought you were already back on good terms with her. So I figured that staying here longer wouldn't have been a good choice."

Arthur scowled. "Silly". He planted his gaze on the floor and once in a while stole glances at Francis, who didn't know how to respond and stood still, holding the chair. "I…" he walked towards Francis, his fingers brushing the side of the table before enveloping the other's pale knuckles.

He stood very close to Francis, their eyes meeting. Green met blue; the earth met the sky as Arthur reached his hands out to hold Francis' face and gently tugged him forward, in his direction, until their lips met.

It was a soft kiss, a gentle gesture that they'd never done before and it ended as fast as Arthur started it. "I-I…don't mind, staying longer tonight…" he quickly turned his head and figured that the table was more interesting than Francis' face or expression.

Francis chuckled and put his hands behind the small of Arthur back before cupping his chin and kissing the blushing man's forehead. "Is that really all right?"

Arthur pouted. "Unless you want me to change my mind…" he was about to free himself from Francis' arms but he just tightened his grip over the Briton.

"No, I'm sorry…please stay tonight…"

There was urgency in his voice that made Arthur stop his actions and face the Frenchman, "Don't you ever doubt my decision again, frog, or I will leave since you're annoying me so much."

Francis closed his eyes and murmured his apology as Arthur wrapped his arms around the seemingly too frail body and settled his forehead on Francis' shoulder. He sighed, feeling the sudden peace that he was looking for after his short talk with Vash in front of the drawing room. He didn't want to think about Vash's speculation, the Duc, the silly accusation towards the man who held him. All he need was this man and that was enough.

Arthur tugged Francis' shirt and buried his face deeper. He didn't care if it hurt a bit and he could hear Francis' little gasp as Arthur's cold fingers swept over his back. He held Arthur by the upper arms to read his expression but the Briton hung his head low. On the flicker of a candle in his room, he could see the tips of his reddened ears.

"Look at me, Arthur."

"N-no…" Arthur resisted as if he was a thief, caught red-handed.

Francis smiled and sighed. "It's fine…" He tugged Arthur's chin, kissing him softly and whispered. "…Would it be bad if I said…I wanted you?"

If it were possible, Arthur's face would have become redder than before. As if to respond to Francis' question before, he didn't answer but buried his face into Francis' chest and tugged his shirt hard, as if Francis would slip away if he didn't hold on to it.

"Is that a yes?" Francis asked quizzically.

"S-shut up, frog! Just get this over with!"

They broke away from holding each other in their arms as Francis led him towards his bed, asking him to sit down on it. Arthur stiffened, but complied. Francis smiled when he noted Arthur's reaction; he understood that the other man had never involved himself in this kind of relationship. A relationship considered taboo and that would lead him to his downfall if someone caught him together with another man.

"Relax...I won't hurt you."

"If you dare hurt me, I'll kill you right away!" Well, at least he still had his short temper.

Francis' smile stayed on his face while he reached out and started to unbutton Arthur's shirt. Arthur's eyes widened as the bony fingers unlatched the buttons from their holes one by one. "W-wait, what are you doing?"

Francis looked at his master and raised a brow. "Undressing you?"

"Oh…um…j-just don't get my shirt all crumpled, 'kay?"

"Dieu, are you always this awkward when you're about to have sex?"

Arthur threw him the pillow, fuming at his last question. "I-I am not! I can totally handle most of my sex life!"

Francis wore the 'oh really?' look openly on his face, and Arthur was obviously displeased but couldn't bring himself to stand up and leave. Francis held his hand and sat by his side, trying a different approach to make his partner relaxed.

He kissed him.

Again.

And again, until Arthur forgot that Francis had managed to make him lay down on the bed. Their kisses quickly escalated from gentle to frantic, and the lack of air didn't stop them from devouring and tasting each other's mouths. Their hands roamed freely, resulting with unconscious moans and grunts from either of them.

Arthur opened his eyes when he realized that Francis was already hovering on top of him, his hair tousled and his shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. Without a doubt, the Briton still thought of how pretty he was – of course he only admitted that inside his head – he'd rather die than admit something that could make Francis tease him.

And upon that thought he smiled.

Francis' eyes widened when he saw Arthur smiling, something he'd had yet to see before. Arthur reached out and linked his fingers behind Francis' neck, dragging him back down towards him for a deep kiss. "I-I think I'm ready…"


Vash's steps clinked in the empty hall. He held the letter he was about to deliver with the help of a messenger, but the first thing to do after writing it was to find his messenger. He could've had someone call him, but no, he figured he'd rather to do it himself.

The next place he searched after the failed attempt to find him in the servants' common room was the servant's chamber.

And he thought he heard his friend's voice muffled behind the closed door when he finally reached it.

Not only Arthur's voice, but also the creaking sounds of a bed, and the rustle of fabrics. As Vash concentrated even more, he could hear series of guttural grunts and cries, mixed words in French and English.

Arthur, why you love making things more complicated?

He turned around and resumed his search for another messenger he knew when said messenger incidentally turned down the hall and came walking in his direction.

"Goodnight Mr. Zwingli, I was told by the others at the servants' common room that you were looking for me and they said you'd try visiting the servants' chambers. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh yes, I was looking for you. Please deliver this letter tonight to a man called Ivan Braginski. He'll know what to do."

"I understand. Is there anything else you would like me to do?"

"No, just that…you may leave."

When the messenger left, Vash looked back to a certain room that was still in his line of sight and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. Even though you are my friend, work is still work…and I can't leave what I start unfinished."

~ to be continued ~


(Beta's Notes: I changed my penname OTL But asides that, I hope you guys liked this chapter! Things are getting complicated :O)

Translations:

(French)

cher: dear

Dieu: god