I feel almost accomplished this week! Considering how I updated Dual, finished two fic chapters, etc. Read this piece very carefully -- Erts' secret is finally stated in here. ^_~ I also hereby thank "Chibi", because she emailed me and just so happened to mention how mean I was for not posting faster. And she even named the two fics that I was deliberately NOT posting chapters from, due to laziness... ^^ Well, here we go!

THE THEATRE
where it's another world
by Kay Willow

While you pretend
Not to notice
All the years we've been here --
We're... the bums
You step over
As you leave the Theatre!


"Erts!" Jessibelle's distressed cry woke him. He opened his eyes, slowly, but his vision was fuzzy. He couldn't see anything, and his head ached abominably, and he couldn't seem to breathe correctly.

Am I... bleeding?>

"Oh, Erts, you're alive," Darla sobbed. "Thank goodness!"

Half-comatose though he was, Erts was still fully capable of feeling disgust. Merciful heaven, it's not like they had swords or anything.>

Geoff's earnest face leaned over his, uncomfortably close, but it allowed his eyes to focus on those solemn features. "You are a hero, my friend," he said seriously.

The melodrama of it all was enough to physically sicken. For a brief, frustrated moment, Erts wanted to shout out the truth -- let them all know how he'd played them for fools, how everything was just a great big orchestrated game -- but he quickly regained control over himself. He'd come too long at too great a cost to ruin everything now with an ill-timed admission. They had chosen him because he was the perfect actor.

So he sat up slowly, one hand raising to his forehead with infinite tenderness, and asked, "What... what happened?" His voice was just the correct mix of fuzziness and confusion and swift-returning horror. Erts was really quite proud of himself.

"Don't you remember?" Jessibelle gasped, and then clutched his hand to her chest for absolutely no reason that he could think of except more melodrama. "Oh, Erts! We were attacked -- set upon -- by thieves! And they stole all our money, but you -- you wouldn't let them touch us! You threw yourself at them and took two of them down, although their comrades dragged them away, but... when they tried to hurt us, you wouldn't let them!"

"It was horrible," Darla vowed. "They hit you -- again and again -- with the plank... Oh, you ARE alright, aren't you?"

He regained possession of his hand. "I... I couldn't recover our money, though," he murmured to the pristine white sheets he rested upon.

"Oh, Erts, how could we care about the money?" Jessie cried. "You nearly got killed! It was only pocket change, anyway," she added, in a tone of great reason.

Geoffrey inserted proudly, "When the ruffians fled the scene, I carried you here, back to your lodgings. It was the least I could do after your bravery!"

"Those horrible beggars!" Darla stomped a foot. "To attack us in broad daylight like that!"

"It WAS evening--"

"They're getting too bold, is what I say. Those filthy creatures should stay in the gutter where they belong!"

"Darla!" Geoff snapped, looking stunned. "You go too far!"

"Lately they've been everywhere," Jessie mumbled, and her eyes filled with tears. "We aren't the first to be assaulted, you know."

Erts noticed, for the first time, that the others had suffered some small wounds as well. There was a vivid scratch on Darla's forehead, and a bruise on Jessie's arm that had been treated with Shelton's own make of salve. Geoff appeared to have scraped one knee nastily. Why, the poor babies,> Erts thought uncharitably.

Fortunately, at that moment Azuma chose to make his entrance. He fussed and fretted as any good manservant ought to, and ushered the visitors out with the oath that their hero would be treated well.

The moment the door closed behind them, the subservient mask slipped away. Azuma lit a cigarette and cocked an eyebrow at the invalid blond. "I take it we were successful?"

"Yes," Erts confirmed, swinging his legs off the bed. He winced as his head began to throb painfully. "Although for a moment I thought I'd walked into the wrong alley. Next time, tell Robin not to hit me so HARD. They're only nobles -- it's not like they can tell the difference between a real blow and a stage blow."

"It's called professionalism," Azuma dismissed, turning to the window. "You've still got your rags, don't you?"

Filthy and ruined though they were, Erts hadn't been able to part with them, even upon the assumption of his new identity and subsequent new wardrobe. "Yes."

"Good. Don't misplace them; you'll need them for our visit on Wednesday." Azuma laughed, shortly. "I can't wait to go back to the sewers, I've got so much to share with the others! We knew you'd clean up to be a convincing aristocrat, but this -- This is too much! It'll make a great story. You're a freaking hero."

"And they would never suspect a hero as having robbed them blind." Erts smiled, genuinely for the first time in days.

So! Does everyone understand Erts a bit better now...? ^___^ If you're still uncertain, go back and read the lyrics for this section over again. Then you can properly express your feelings to me in a review! It won't take long, I promise.

But don't worry. I'll keep posting anyway. ^_~

--Kay