Dragon Lady: *stares at story faintly* I must be sick.
Trowa: Is something wrong, dl?
Ken: *looks at story and taps Trowa on shoulder wordlessly*
Trowa: What?
Ken: *points at story in shock*
Trowa: *stares at story as well*
Ken: Wow.
Trowa: I don't believe it.
Ken: I'm not sure I've ever seen anything quite so strange. And coming from dl, that's saying something.
Dragon Lady: *still staring blankly*
Trowa: *shakes head* A--A 1x2 story? ///_o;; Not a 1x2 song fic, but the beginnings of a chapter story focusing on…1x2?!
Ken: And slight 3x4? Isn't "slight" what she usually says about the 1x2 in her other stories? o.o;;
Dragon Lady: So…um…I don't own Gundam Wing. Or Duo, Heero, Wufei, Trowa, Quatre or any of the other characters I'll use in this story, they belong to Sunset and Bandi. Oh. And I don't own the musical The Music Man (which this fic is follows) either. The credit for that belongs to Meredith Willson.
Ken: So, read and hopefully you'll enjoy.
Trowa: And if you did enjoy, be sure to leave a nice little review, no matter how brief you want to make it, by clicking the button at the bottom of the screen.
Dragon Lady: Yaoi alert. 2x1 centric, slight 3x4, and a mentioning of 13x11, 5xS and possibly 6x9, but not very sure about that last pairing. And for those picky people, I'll go ahead and say OOC, but personally, since this is obviously an AU fic, I don't really care much about OOC warnings outside of the Gundam Universe.
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The Music Man
DigimonDragonLady
The old whistle blew its final shrill warning as the old, white-haired conductor made his way down the aisle to check that all those riding his train were in their proper seats. A few of the men in the cramped little train car, who had boarded just moments earlier, were curiously out of breath and a suspicious mob of pitchfork carrying townsfolk could be seen from the window, but everything else appeared to be in order.
"Departing Springfield Station, Illinois," he announced to the passengers, who's group appeared to be made up completely of traveling salesmen. "Next stop, River City, Iowa."
Then he moved on and the steam engine started up with a jerk, throwing everyone forward in their seats.
"What's the matter with credit?" one man asked his neighbor, as if he were continuing a previous conversation, as he dealt them out their cards.
"It's old fashioned, that's what," his companion answered as he picked up his cards and spread his hand. "Hey, Trent," he called over to another man suddenly. "Your company runs a fairly good business, do you make it on credit?"
"No, sir," Trent answered firmly. "Cash for the merchandise."
"You can talk all you want, but it's different than it was," another man joined in the conversation.
"No it ain't, but you've gotta know the territory."
"It's the Model T. Ford [1] that's made the trouble. Made the people wanna go, wanna get, wanna get up and go," one of the men complained. "Twenty-three miles to the county-seat to some little bitty two by four kinda store."
"Ever met a fellow by the name of Maxwell?"
"Maxwell?"
"Maxwell?"
"No."
"Never heard of any salesman, Maxwell."
"Now he doesn't know the territory."
"Doesn't know the territory?"
"What's the fellow's line?"
"Never worries 'bout his line."
"Never worries 'bout his line?!"
"Or a doggone thing. Why, he makes up his speeches as he goes right along, just as cool as you please. That's Professor Duo Maxwell."
"He's a fake and he doesn't know the territory!" a man shouted.
"He's a music man."
"He's a what?"
"A what?"
"He's a music man," the man who had started this branch of the conversation repeated. "And he sells clarinets to the kids in the town with the big trombones and the rat-a-tat drums. And the piccolo. With uniforms, too."
"Uniforms?"
"With the shiny gold buttons and a stripe down the side," he nodded in affirmation.
"Well, I don't know much about bands, but I do know you can't make a living selling big trombones."
"I dunno how he does it, but he lives like a king. And he dallies and he gathers and he plucks and he shines. And when the man dances, what else? The piper pays him."[2]
"But he doesn't know the territory!"
The train on which they were riding ground to a sudden halt, and they were once more thrown forward in their seats. The conductor was walking down the aisle again.
"River City," he informed them. "River City. Just crossed the state line into Iowa. Population, River City, Twenty-two hundred and twelve." He tapped Trent on the shoulder. "Cigarettes are illegal in this state."
Trent scowled and put out the smoke he had just lit. He looked around as the conductor moved on. "All right, gentlemen, if you're all through, I'll tell you about this fellow, Maxwell."
"Say, you know Maxwell?"
"Never seen him before in my life, but I've just been run out of town because of Maxwell. Every town I've been to lately, I've come to behind him. The people don't even wait for you to put up your pitch anymore, they're ready with the tar and feathers the moment you step off the train. And it's all because of this Maxwell character."
Trent slammed his fist down on his seat. "He's given every one of us a black eye."
"Now how do you account for a thing like that?" someone asked him.
"He goes around selling band instruments, and uniforms, and instruction books by guaranteeing to teach t he kids to play. And organize them kids into a band with himself as the leader."
"Stands to reason."
"Oh, sure, he talks a good talk. And he paints a real pretty picture in those townsfolk's minds, gold buttoned uniforms and all."
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
"He don't know one note from another!" Trent howled in anger. "That's what's wrong with that. He don't know a base drum from a pipe organ."
"What?!"
"He's a swindler and a thief! Just a no-good, no-account, low life, yellow-bellied, pickpocket cheat! When the day of truth finally arrives, he just collects those people's money and then skips out of town."
"He doesn't!"
"Oh, yes sir, he does," Trent growled. "And I'm gonna catch up with him one of these days, you know. And when I do, I'm gonna have the law on him so fast -- Territory's tough enough without him around to mess things up."
"I sure would like to be around when you catch up with him," someone laughed.
"Well, I'm not about to catch up with him in Iowa," Trent sneered. "He's too smart to pull that flim-flam out here. Not on these neck-bowed [3] hawk eyes."
The train whistle warning went off again, and a man jumped up from his seat, where he had been sitting silently, observing the conversation for the entire ride. "Gentlemen, you intrigue me," he said, as he hurriedly checked over his things. "I think I'll have to give Iowa a try." His unique violet eyes glittered with prospect.
"Sorry, friend, but I don't believe I caught your name," Trent drawled in reply.
"Because I don't believe I dropped it," he answered with a mischievous grin as he hefted his enormous traveling case from the floor of the train, seemingly unintentionally exposing the side for their inspection.
It read, simply, in large, bold letters: Prof. Duo Maxwell.
"Good day, gentlemen, and good luck to you." He tipped his hat respectfully and quickly exited, just as the train started up.
Upon observing the dumbfounded and enraged expressions on their faces as they stared, or in one case, glared, out the windows at him, he only grinned more broadly and gave a small wave at the departing engine.
* * *
"Well, well," Duo nodded conversationally to himself as he took a look around him. "Let's just see how much River City is in desperate need of one of Duo Maxwell's famous boys bands, now shall we?"
He noticed a train station attendant walking by, and made to stop him. "Uh, sir--" he began, and then stopped when the man continued walking past without so much as even glancing in his direction.
He blinked in surprise, but continued on his own way with a small shrug. Maybe the man was very busy and didn't have time for any questions.
As he made his way across a grassy field toward the start of the town, he ran into a man watering his horse from a water bucket. "Say, friend, that's a mighty fine lookin' animal," he offered conversationally.
The man stared at him blankly and finally answered, "For a horse, yeah."
Duo smiled and thought that perhaps it was best to continue on his way.
Next he tried speaking with a man tending his garden of cabbages. "Good morning, neighbor," Duo greeted him cheerfully. "Could you kindly direct me which way is the center of town?"
The man paused in his work, stilling his hoe, and gave Duo a look which took in everything from his violet eyes and waist length braid to his tweed suit and traveling case. "Runs right down the middle of the street," he answered dryly, before resuming his previous activity and paying Duo no more attention.
Duo tipped his hat to him and moved quickly along. And some people complained about his sense of humor. He had reached the town at this point, and he stopped a store owner who was busy sweeping off his doorstep.
"Excuse me, friend, where would I find a good hotel?" he inquired, his smile having become a bit forced at this point.
"Try the Palmer House in Chicago."
Duo sighed in consternation. "Well, you folks certainly know how to make a body feel at home," he grumbled in his good-natured way.
"Oh, there's nothing halfway about the Iowa way to treat you when we greet you," a salesclerk told him from where he was arranging apples in an outdoors display.
"Which we may not do at all," a second clerk added.
"You don't say?" Duo grinned.
"So, what the heck, you're welcome, glad to have you with us. Even though we many not ever mention it again."
"Well, I appreciate that," he returned. "Nothing wrong with hearing a little honesty these days."
By this time there was a small crowd of curious folks surrounding him, and Duo wondered exactly how many strangers they got passing through River City.
"We can be cold as a mercury thermometer in December if you ask about our weather in July," a woman standing nearby jumped eagerly into the conversation.
"And we're so by God stubborn we could stand touchin' noses for a week and never see eye to eye," her husband declared, and Duo laughed in delight.
"So, you ought to give Iowa a try!" The crowd seemed to nod their agreement as a single mass entity, and Duo knew that he was going to do just that.
Just then, the crowd parted for a small group of people, allowing them to walk down the wooden sidewalk of the stores unhindered. The man in the lead wore a large top hat over his ginger colored hair and was mopping the perspiration from his brow with a lace handkerchief.
"Mornin' Mayor Kushrenada," a young boy piped up.
"Good morning, Mayor Kushrenada," the crown murmured respectfully.
"It is if you want to go around in your drawers all day," the mayor snapped waspishly in reply as his group continued on its way.
The crowd dispersed, and Duo was soon left standing completely alone once more. "What an odd little town," he mused thoughtfully, before turning his attention to a horse stable nearby. Maybe he could find someone there who would point him in the direction of a good hotel.
"Hello?" he called out as he entered the barn stables area and looked around for some form of help. "Anyone here?"
"Anyone?" a voice echoed back. "No one here by that name."
Duo found the voice coming from the closest horse stall eerily familiar, and he struggled, wracking his brains to place it, and snapping his fingers when he did. "Chang!" he exclaimed. "Wufei Chang!"
An Asian man with dark onyx eyes and black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail emerged quickly from the stall and stared back at Duo in dumbfounded fascination.
"Solo!" he shouted back, his mouth twisting up into an odd half smile. "Of all the people to see in Iowa, Solo!"
"Shh!" Duo threw an arm around his shoulders and motioned for him to keep his voice down. "Maxwell's the name this trip," he replied. "Professor Duo Maxwell."
"Maxwell, huh?" Wufei returned. "Well, if that doesn't beat all. Running into you in a place like River City," he shook his head in amusement.
"Say," Duo took in his one time partner's appearance. "You don't mean to say that you live in this town?"
"Yes, that's right," Wufei nodded in agreement. "And I like it, too. I mean, it's no Brooklyn but--"
"Hey," Duo narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "Are you hiding out or what?"
"No, nothing like that," Wufei chuckled slightly at his reaction, and then shrugged casually. "I'm just not as light on my feet as I was when I was working with you. I've got a nice job now. A place to call home. And Sally Po; that's the boss's niece."
"So, you're actually settling down somewhere," Duo shook his head sympathetically, but his grin and wink told Wufei that he was only teasing. "Well, I always knew that you'd come to no good."
* * *
"Hey, so tell me, what are you selling now?" Wufei asked curiously. He and Duo had spent the last hour lounging around on some hay bails outside of the barn reminiscing about the old times they'd had together. "Last I heard about you, you were into steam automobiles."
"I was," Duo answered with a nod.
"Well, what happened there?"
"Somebody actually invented one."
"You're kidding!"
Duo shrugged in a well, what can I do about it kind of way. "So, now I'm back at the old stand."
"Not boy's bands?" Wufei asked, and frowned when Duo nodded his agreement. "Well, they ain't got no call for boys bands in this town," he told him apologetically. "Anything these people don't already have, they do without."
"They got music?"
"A stuck up librarian gives piano," Wufei answered with a slight shrug. "Oh, he'll expose you before you can even get this band idea off the ground," he warned.
"Oh, don't you worry about me, Wufei," Duo grinned recklessly in response to the caution. "Dealing with stuck up piano teachers is a specialty of mine. You just point him out and I'll back him into a corner and breathe on his glasses."
They both got a chuckle out of that.
Then Wufei looked at his pocket watch. "There she blows," he nodded his head toward a woman with nut brown hair pulled back into two tightly braided buns and full moon spectacles perched on her nose who was hurrying down the sidewalk with a vengeance. "Right on schedule, too," he added.
"I thought you said the librarian was a he," Duo frowned.
"Oh, no, that's not the librarian," Wufei shook his head. "That's Mrs. Kushrenada, the mayor's wife. She makes me feel almost sorry for Heero; he has to deal with her every time he loans her nephew one of his books."
Duo raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment.
* * *
Heero carefully stamped the books being checked out with a return date., and the line of children waiting to check them out moved along at a steady rate. Heero prided himself in being efficient in his job. He looked up when the next person in line did not present their book to be stamped, and blinked.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Kushrenada," he greeted the mayor's wife politely.
"Don't change the subject," she instructed severely, and Heero blinked again.
"Is something the matter?" he inquired.
"The same this is the matter as is always the matter. Look." A book was slammed down on his counter in a huff, and Heero spent a moment studying it before raising his head to meet her eyes again. "Is this the kind of book you give my nephew to read?" she demanded angrily. "I am appalled."
"Well, I did recommend it," Heero admitted. "It's beautiful Persian poetry."
"Beautiful Persian poetry?" she repeated as if in extreme shock that he would ever call the book such a thing. "A book talking about people lying out in the woods eating sandwiches? Getting drunk? Drinking directly out of jugs with innocent young girls?!"
"It's a classic," Heero answered meekly.
"It's a smutty book."
"Now really, Mrs. Kush--" Heero began to protest, but he was cut off.
"None of your excuses," she snapped. "Just you keep your dirty books away from my nephew!"
Heero scowled at her back as she marched out of the library, and slammed his stamp down on the open book of the next child in line in anger.
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[1]. Henry Ford (1863-1947), began selling the Model T in 1909, when horses and wagons were still common place, there were no highways, and most roads were still not paved. The 'T' was the first car that the average person could afford to buy, and when it hit the market, it was the beginning of the end of the 'horse and buggy era'.
[2]. To pay the piper means "to bear the consequences of something". This twist means that he never has had to pay for his actions – even profiting from them without consequences.
[3]. Neck-bowed: bowtie wearing Iowans from Hawkeye
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Dragon Lady: *nervously* So, what does everyone think so far? Is it good? Do you like it? Hate it? Want me to scrap it and try again? I know I've taken a musical and turned into…well, a fan fic that's not a musical at all, but just bear with me please?
Trowa: You had better not "scrap" this!
Ken: Your muses would be incredibly insulted.
Dragon Lady: ^^;;; Um…and I've taken the songs from the music man and turned them completely into dialogue, and added some of my own into there, as any fan of The Music Man can tell. The first scene was almost made up completely of the song Rock Island, and I know that the train ride seemed awfully short, but there wasn't much I could do to flesh it out anymore than that that, as I have no idea how long it would take a steam engine to get from a point in Illinois to Iowa.
Ken: *elbows dl* Psst. Dl. You're babbling.
Dragon Lady: Am I? *sighs* Sorry. I just hope that somebody enjoyed this…and that I didn't butcher one of my favorite musicals by turning it into horrible fan fiction. And this is actually more of a 2x1 than a 1x2 as Duo's playing Professor Harold Hill from the music man and Heero's got the part of Merrian the librarian….
Trowa: Dl…
Dragon Lady: And I blame Wil for my new obsession with seeing Heero as a librarian. Your Mummy fic has ruined me, Wil. =P But I especially hope that you've enjoyed this. So there you have it, and non-angsty 1x2. Or 2x1 as the case would have it. Or…well, whatever! ^^;;;
Trowa: Please Review. Maybe it would make dl stop her incessant babbling and get some more work done on the fic… ///_-;;;
Ken: Or maybe not. Let's not go as far as to say that… ^^;;;
Dragon Lady: And my notes come from an online dictionary for The Music Man done by Mike Jones and Nancy West, who whoever they are, did a wonderful job of explaining the language used in the early to mid-1900's and taught me a lot of things that I didn't know. ^^
