Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

The potential for romance between Virgil and Bridie is high but their respective duties will definitely stop them from tsking the plunge into the good old tunnel of love.

10. Guardian Angel

When he next came to his senses, Virgil found himself lying in a Ghetto hospital bed. "What happened?" he sat up groggily. The room was antiseptic-clean. The walls were bare whitewash. The first person he noticed was the old butler.

"Nervous breakdown," Mortimer answered. "Easy now…" He helped the young man sit up so that Virgil could see the other occupant. Bridie was there. She was looking at him worriedly. She got up from her chair and walked towards him.

"I'm sorry, Bridie… I can't…" Virgil clutched at the blanket. "I'm not my father… I can't be Count…" he bent his head, unable to face her. The princess took his hand in hers and bent down so her brow rested on their hands..

"I am counting on you, Virgil. Please be strong, my guardian of the Ghetto. Albion cannot do without the Ghetto's knowledge."

"I can't…" What did he know about managing the lives of all the Ghetto-dwellers and the politics with those Above?

"I have faith in you. Trust me, Virgil," she added softly. Then she added loudly. "I'm sure there are those in the Ghetto who will help guide you along, like the council." Mortimer nodded at her words. Then Virgil recalled his sister.

"Where's Vanessa?"

"The wee mite? The Ghetto Council decided they will take care of Miss Vanessa in light of your breakdown. Don't you fret, Master Virgil. She's in good hands at the children's home."

As he recovered, Virgil learnt to negotiate the complexities of running the Ghetto. The production and rebuilding of factories were easy compared to the endless negotiations with Westminster Above. King Albert and Bridie were always ready to give him a hand but Virgil was well aware of the hostility his kind faced in Westminster. He was so caught up in his work that he rarely had time to go watch a play or play his piano. Mortimer, who had returned to the Walsh home as butler, often found his master at his writing table, asleep over his documents. The old man would simply shake his head and throw a blanket over Virgil's shoulders.

A year flew by swiftly.

"Master Virgil," Mortimer finally broke his silence one day as he watched Virgil calculate the Ghetto's projected budget with his right had while wolfing down a sandwich with his free hand. "Sir, Miss Vanessa's birthday was last month… Would it be alright for you to visit the little mite?" The half-eaten sandwich fell out of Virgil's hand with a soft groan. He had all but forgotten about little Vanessa. "Are you feeling well? We still need to eat and sleep," Mortimer wiped up the mess. "You need a rest, Sir, if you don't mind me saying."

"I can't. There's the meeting about the new computer chip line… Oh my, I'm running late!" Virgil exclaimed when he saw the clock. He excused himself, threw on his coat and stuffed the papers he was working on into his briefcase. He then hurried off to the factory.

Still, he stopped by the store later and dropped by the Ghetto Children's Home. The matron was very surprised to see him. Still she invited him in for a cup of tea. After all, hadn't the Count been paying a modest but tidy sum to the upkeep of the Home? "I'll fetch Vanessa. They've just put her to bed…" she clucked.

"No need to disturb her. I'm not staying long. Here's a dress for her birthday…" Virgil fidgeted uncomfortably and handed the baby dress to the matron. The matron gasped. "Oh my, it is very nice, but she has grown so much… she'll never fit into that."

"Oh," Virgil was disappointed. He had no time to get another present for Vanessa. "Never mind, we'll return it for a bigger size," the matron added.

In the end, the store did not have any bigger dresses. Being a sensible woman, the matron exchanged the dress for a pair of mittens and a scarf for the young Count's baby sister.

King Albert's health was slowly failing. It was no longer possible for him to come to the Ghetto as often as he used to. Instead, it was the princess who often made the trips to the underground town. Virgil often found himself and the Ghetto's council of elders discussing work with Bridie. Her presence simply lit up the room and made the meetings more tolerable for Virgil.

Everyone in the Ghetto council of elders spoke of a guardian angel watching over their young leader. That angel was the princess. Their feelings were mixed. The princess was a strong ally for the young Count to have. Many expressed unease at the apparent closeness between the pair. The way their hands sometimes touched while they were discussing important matters concerning the Ghetto, the looks and smiles they shared had the elders shaking their heads. Thankfully, the count and princess were sensible enough to keep their relationship from blossoming into love, confining it to the safer waters of deep platonic friendship, so the elders thought.

They need not know how the pair often slipped off after the meetings to their special place. Nothing too scandalous, only a heart-to-heart talk between friends. Sometimes, Bridget might touch Virgil's cheek with a fingertip, or Virgil might plant a chaste kiss on Birdie's hand.

"How's His Majesty?" Virgil asked. Bridie leaned back against him. "He is feeling better. It's a slight touch of the flu," she replied. "How's your sister?"

"She is growing up. I have not seen her for a while."

"You should visit her sometime, Virgil. She might be lonely, even if she's with a group of other kids… you are family after all."

"She's always asleep when I go over to the Home, thanks to the new pharmaceutics venture. It takes up an awful lot of time … Still, it would be good for us to diversify, like you suggested …" He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Thanks for being there for me, Bridie. I'll never be able to run the place without your help. "

"Don't be silly, Virgil. You did most of the work. My father's birthday is coming up soon. Would you come, please?"

"Why?" Virgil sat up so suddenly, Bridie was caught off balance. She tumbled onto the floor in a mass of skirts and giggles. "Because it will be a good chance for you to meet people Above. You will need to know people." Bridie's tutors and father had educated her on the importance of those cocktail parties for social networking and she was surprised at Virgil's ignorance.

"But Bridie… I don't know anything about speaking to important people…" he helped her up.

"Virgil, just treat it like, well…. Remember my birthday ball? We'll dance and chat, and have a good time. Leave the introductions and speaking to me."

"Bridie, I can't do that! You've helped me too much…"

"You're not coming for nothing, Virgil. If any potential suitor gets too friendly with me, I want you to rip off his head off."

"Bridie!" Bridie laughed at the shocked expression on Virgil's face.

"Just kidding, but I would like to have someone to help fend off those suitors they keep trying to introduce to me." She winked mischievously. "Shall we dance, my knight?"

Virgil dropped by the children's home. As usual, his sister was asleep. Still, he asked the matron to allow him into the dormitory to see her. Vanessa shared her dorm with about a dozen other children, many of whom were similarly orphaned by the explosion. Virgil tiptoed into the dorm, to the cot at the far end. His Methuselah sight allowed him a glimpse of his sister's tiny form tangled up in the blankets despite the pitch darkness. Vanessa was a healthy two-year-old toddler with a cherubic face framed and soft black hair. She looked so blissful in sleep. Virgil was satisfied all was well with his sister. He then left as silently as he came.

Author's Notes:

Virgil is setting himself up for future trouble with baby sister Vanessa. And Virgil to attend a ball with Bridie?