Chapter Four
Guardian Angel
He walks up the gravel driveway in the bruised, purple color of the fading day. He hates that color because it reminds him of his own bruises. He fumbles with his keys for a minute before finding the right one, opening the door to the warm glow of his childhood home. His charter plane had been late; everyone else was already here.
"Will?" a voice calls from the depths of the house. His father, Christophe Dupont. His mother always refused to call him Will for some reason, only William.
Christophe appears to his left, out of the den, with a smile on his face. He has more gray hair than William remembers, but he's still a handsome man. "Guillaume! Don't stand there, come in and help your sisters!" He always knows he's home when he hears his father use his French name.
With a wave, he passes into the kitchen where the women are gathered. His mother is hunched over the stove with Aunt Belle, who's dictating how to cook some dish. She turns, spoon in hand, to greet him. "I would hug you, but your clothes look so clean!" Juliette grins, showing the tiny wrinkles around the edges of her eyes and smile. He's proud of every one of those wrinkles because he knows he's the cause of them. She points the spoon at the center of his chest. "Now, go help out in the dining room!"
His two older sisters, Emily and Laura, are squabbling amicably as they set out the silverware. Emily is sporting bright red hair this year. She does it purely for the shock value, but it never seems to get his parents. At least it's better than last year's blue. They pause only long enough to give him directions as they disappear to retrieve the dinner dishes.
It takes a while, but they finally all settle down to eat. His family fascinates him, watching them have dinner, how normal they look. Especially his parents. They sit closely together, asking every one about their lives, having some private discussion in undertones and glances. He always envied those glances because he had known since he was little that there would always be a part of their conversations he would be left out of.
His parents are a sort of mystery to him. Where they came from, how they met Aunt Belle, how they fell in love, why they sometimes call each other Syd and Vaughn when they think no one's listening, they never tell. He loves mysteries, so he lets them have their secrets.
His beeper interrupts his happy glow. Work, ugh. He hates trying to explain to his parents why he has to leave their family dinner, why he has to leave now, not in a couple of minutes.
"Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry..."
A look passes between them, and just for a moment he suspects they know. But, no, they couldn't, he's just jumping to conclusions again. His parents are completely innocent, the kind of people he does this for.
"It's no problem, William," his mother says with a soft smile that makes it impossible not to feel guilty. "A matter of life and death, right?" she jokes.
If only she knew...
He's out the door and in his rental car in matter of minutes after a flurry of goodbyes and condescending looks from his sisters. He promises himself that this won't happen next year as he drives to the beach, but he can't truly be sure.
He leaves the car in the parking lot as he heads for the boat docked in the pier. They'll send someone to take it back to the rental company, they always do.
Agent Weiss stumbles into view as the motor roars into life, muttering about being to old for this and poor pension plans. "Hiya, William. Nice dinner with the family?" When he sees the younger man's downtrodden look, though, he lays a comforting hand on his arm. "Next year, boyo, next year SD-6 will be gone and you can spend all the time in the world with the folks."
"No promises, Eric. You and I know nothing's for certain." He sighs. "One person who understands, at least."
"Nah, Will, I'm sure your parents understand, in their own way."
"How could they-" He's interrupted by Weiss's cell phone ringing.
"Sorry, gotta take this..." He turns his back, as if that would make his conversation private. "Yeah, Mike. Uh-huh, got our boy. Nope, don't you guys worry a bit...You know I always take care of him...Retire? Who, me? Well, maybe one of these days. See ya soon, Mike."
He's always wondered whom this mysterious "Mike" is that Weiss always gets a phone call from when he goes on a mission. Another mystery in his life, but he likes it that way. It gives him a safe feeling knowing some anonymous benefactor is looking out for him, like some sort of angel.
He turns his face to the wind as the boat speeds off into the starry horizon, and Weiss busies himself with some rope, all earlier conversation forgotten.
Yeah, like some sort of guardian angel.
A/N: So, did you like it? Then tell me so!
Guardian Angel
He walks up the gravel driveway in the bruised, purple color of the fading day. He hates that color because it reminds him of his own bruises. He fumbles with his keys for a minute before finding the right one, opening the door to the warm glow of his childhood home. His charter plane had been late; everyone else was already here.
"Will?" a voice calls from the depths of the house. His father, Christophe Dupont. His mother always refused to call him Will for some reason, only William.
Christophe appears to his left, out of the den, with a smile on his face. He has more gray hair than William remembers, but he's still a handsome man. "Guillaume! Don't stand there, come in and help your sisters!" He always knows he's home when he hears his father use his French name.
With a wave, he passes into the kitchen where the women are gathered. His mother is hunched over the stove with Aunt Belle, who's dictating how to cook some dish. She turns, spoon in hand, to greet him. "I would hug you, but your clothes look so clean!" Juliette grins, showing the tiny wrinkles around the edges of her eyes and smile. He's proud of every one of those wrinkles because he knows he's the cause of them. She points the spoon at the center of his chest. "Now, go help out in the dining room!"
His two older sisters, Emily and Laura, are squabbling amicably as they set out the silverware. Emily is sporting bright red hair this year. She does it purely for the shock value, but it never seems to get his parents. At least it's better than last year's blue. They pause only long enough to give him directions as they disappear to retrieve the dinner dishes.
It takes a while, but they finally all settle down to eat. His family fascinates him, watching them have dinner, how normal they look. Especially his parents. They sit closely together, asking every one about their lives, having some private discussion in undertones and glances. He always envied those glances because he had known since he was little that there would always be a part of their conversations he would be left out of.
His parents are a sort of mystery to him. Where they came from, how they met Aunt Belle, how they fell in love, why they sometimes call each other Syd and Vaughn when they think no one's listening, they never tell. He loves mysteries, so he lets them have their secrets.
His beeper interrupts his happy glow. Work, ugh. He hates trying to explain to his parents why he has to leave their family dinner, why he has to leave now, not in a couple of minutes.
"Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry..."
A look passes between them, and just for a moment he suspects they know. But, no, they couldn't, he's just jumping to conclusions again. His parents are completely innocent, the kind of people he does this for.
"It's no problem, William," his mother says with a soft smile that makes it impossible not to feel guilty. "A matter of life and death, right?" she jokes.
If only she knew...
He's out the door and in his rental car in matter of minutes after a flurry of goodbyes and condescending looks from his sisters. He promises himself that this won't happen next year as he drives to the beach, but he can't truly be sure.
He leaves the car in the parking lot as he heads for the boat docked in the pier. They'll send someone to take it back to the rental company, they always do.
Agent Weiss stumbles into view as the motor roars into life, muttering about being to old for this and poor pension plans. "Hiya, William. Nice dinner with the family?" When he sees the younger man's downtrodden look, though, he lays a comforting hand on his arm. "Next year, boyo, next year SD-6 will be gone and you can spend all the time in the world with the folks."
"No promises, Eric. You and I know nothing's for certain." He sighs. "One person who understands, at least."
"Nah, Will, I'm sure your parents understand, in their own way."
"How could they-" He's interrupted by Weiss's cell phone ringing.
"Sorry, gotta take this..." He turns his back, as if that would make his conversation private. "Yeah, Mike. Uh-huh, got our boy. Nope, don't you guys worry a bit...You know I always take care of him...Retire? Who, me? Well, maybe one of these days. See ya soon, Mike."
He's always wondered whom this mysterious "Mike" is that Weiss always gets a phone call from when he goes on a mission. Another mystery in his life, but he likes it that way. It gives him a safe feeling knowing some anonymous benefactor is looking out for him, like some sort of angel.
He turns his face to the wind as the boat speeds off into the starry horizon, and Weiss busies himself with some rope, all earlier conversation forgotten.
Yeah, like some sort of guardian angel.
A/N: So, did you like it? Then tell me so!