Praise the Lord! We're back in business! w00h00! That was, bar none, the longest I have not been able to access my control panel. *whew* I hate having to post this late because of server problems, but I've seen a lot of people reading this chapter on my website, so I guess it balances out in the end. =^_~= Ready to play "guess the new character"? =} *cackles evilly*
Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P
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Episode Twelve: Blessed Are The Meek "Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated." ~George Bernard Shaw July 31st, 1901 Far to the north of London, the dark-haired stranger, Lucille, didn't have any trouble fitting in with the people of Cloverderry Glen. She made many friendly acquaintances while working in the general store and post office, and many of the townsfolk had taken to calling her 'Lucy'. She also enjoyed the priviledge of being quite often the first person to lay hands on the morning mail and remove any articles bearing her real name before anyone else could see them. She had already received two heartfelt notes from her secret love in Africa, and quickly written back to plead that he address them to her alias instead. One morning in particular, while sorting through the post, Lucille came across a letter edged in black. She picked it up solemnly and studied the dark border with reverence and fear; someone had died. It was the sort of thing the army might send to the widow of a fallen soldier... But he and I aren't married! And even if we were, how would his commanding officer know to find me here? Looking more closely, she saw that it was postmarked in America, and breathed a sigh of relief. No longer afraid to read the actual name on the envelope, she did so, and was filled with a new trepidation. The intended recipient was none other than Lord Jeffrhyss. No matter how often the bitter, mangled form of the man trudged into the shop, she couldn't get used to his presence, and liked it even less since Mrs. Trimble, the shopowner, had taken to leaving her on her own more often than not. Lucille set the letter aside, knowing that Lord Jeffrhyss would be stopping in for it later. The morning passed quickly, and his Lordship never arrived. He invariably picked up his mail before ten in the morning, and it was nearly noon. When Mrs. Trimble popped in and learned of the unclaimed letter, her thinking was that his Lordship was too ill to walk all that distance, or perhaps simply unaware that the bleak message has arrived. Her advice, after reminding Lucille that tending to the royal post was a sacred trust between herself and the crown, was to deliver it to him in person, and she cheerfully volunteered to watch over the shop while she did. Lucille's shoulders hung in defeat. There was probably no way out of it. She picked up the black-edged envelope, donned her straw sun hat, and set off down the country lane towards the old mill. Along the way, her unfamiliar path took her past a field of sheep with a partially-crumbled stone wall, just tall enough for one to sit on and dangle one's feet off the ground. Seated just so on the wall was an old man in very poor clothes, clear spectacles, and a smouldering pipe in his hand, rested casually in his lap. Lucille thought he had quite the strangest hair she had ever seen, not in it's grey colour, but in it's shape. It billowed out messily from his face, making his head look like a giant mushroom. Between that and his long, protruding hawk nose and the quaint little pointed moustache under it, he had a rather comical appearance. They say every village has an idiot, she couldn't stop herself from thinking with raised eyebrows, maybe this is him. She walked down the path without slowing, hoping that if he was indeed mad as a hatter, he would let her pass unmolested. "Goin' t'see his Lordship, now, are we?" the mushroom-haired man called out in a thick English country village accent. Lucille slowed, not yet ready to make eye contact. "Yes, sir...good morning to you." She kept on walking, stiff-necked with apprehension. "...'e's not ill, is 'e?" the man continued in an obnoxious voice. "Only if 'e is, ye'd best steer clear in case it be catchin'!" The woman stopped. She hadn't thought of that, and neither had Mrs. Trimble. Pure scientific curiosity made her turn back and walk over to the wall; she looked him in the eyes, wondering exactly what he knew that might help her prepare to meet Lord Jeffrhyss on his own turf. As Lucille gazed past the glare in the man's spectacles, she gasped--his silvery blue eyes were not the eyes of a madman, but seemed to glow with generous helpings of both wisdom and cunning. While she stood mesmerzied by his gaze, mechanically clutching the covered basket containing Lord Jeffrhyss' letter, the mushroom-haired man reached out with his pipeless hand to grasp her arm, pulling her steadily closer. The scents of tobacco and wild goldenrod mixed in her nostrils to create an intoxicatingly rich perfume, which clouded her senses, stilling her of all movement as the man leaned forward to place his mouth beside her ear. "If I don't see you back this way," he whispered, dropping all traces of the English accent, "I'll come down the path after you. Scream, and I'll be sure to hear you. Don't forget." When he pulled away and released her arm, Lucille was trembling. Come after me!? What does he intend to do? I should never have come alone... She forced herself to bravely meet his eyes once more, but behind those little round spectacles she saw no hint of malice; instead, his stare was guarding and dauntless...almost fatherly. No...he's warning me...in case something happens while I'm with his Lordship. He'll come and find me if anything does. He'll make sure I'm alright. Her gaze softened and she relaxed. The mushroom-haired man smiled as he witnessed her achieve understanding. "Off ye go, now, t'make yer deliv'ry," he chirped pleasantly, putting the accent back on. "Mustn't keep 'is Lordship waiting." He went back to swinging his feet back and forth, and puffing on his pipe. Lucille exhaled and smiled back with relief. "Thank you," she said breathlessly. As she continued down the path, the man began to sing a loud and silly song about an alleycat who fancied herself an opera star. He just acts that way on purpose, so nobody will suspect him, Lucille concluded, but suspect him of what? Who is he hiding from? He and Lord Jeffrhyss must know each other...perhaps it's him... Her natural curiosity and well-hidden bravery began to show through as she picked up speed heading towards the cottage by the old mill wheel. The walk through the countryside did Lucille a world of good, as much as did the knowledge that there was someone in the village watching out for her. The woman's confidence bubbled over as she marched up the front walk to the neglected cottage and knocked on the door. While she waited, she looked around and wrinkled her nose as how tawdry and unkempt the property was; there were broken rocks and bits of rubble everywhere, and the windows were nearly completely blocked by tall weeds. How can anyone live in such a state? This is way beyond the limits of simple eccentricity, she thought, giving the warped wooden door another firm knock. The vibration shook loose some flecks of grungy white paint that fell to the ground with a light clatter. No one came to answer the door. She took off her sun hat and fiddled with it nervously. Maybe he's gone into town after all. Curiosity flared within her, and without stopping to think, she turned the unlocked doorhandle and stepped inside. It was dismally dark in the cottage, and what little light survived the trip past the weeds and through the window was swallowed by piles of clutter of every possible description. Despite the hideously dank mess all around, Lucille became aware of a faint orange glow coming from the far side of the room. Picking her way delicately through the debris, she came upon a stairwell leading down, and naturally followed it. Her eyes widened upon discovering the cavernous chamber underneath the cottage, filled with every fantastic device and artifact Lucille could imagine. There were piles of books on every stick of furniture, maps and paintings covering every wall, models of machinery in various degrees of completion, and a treasure trove of cultural knick-knacks from all over the world. The glow of a single gaslamp illuminated evidence of the most incredible knowledge known to man, and much more that was probably unknown. In the corner, studying a massive book on a pedestal, was Lord Jeffrhyss. "Welcome, Lucrezia," his Lordship greeted in a commanding voice. The woman froze. He knows my name! Panic gripped her as she contemplated dashing back up the stairs and out the door. "Do you have something for me?" the old man asked, looking up from the heavy tome. Shivering with fright but commanding her legs to ignore it, the brunette walked steadily forward, took the letter with the black stripe out of her basket, and held it out to him within easy reach. Lord Jeffrhyss regarded the envelope through his dark, eye-obscuring spectacles, and made a low grumbling noise. "Open it," he said. The woman hesistated, then swallowed and obeyed, tearing the envelope delicately and pulling out a note on fine embossed paper. Again, she held it out to him. Again he refused to take it. "Read it to me." She sighed nervously. "My Lord, if this is something private--" "May I call you Miss Noin?" his Lordship asked abruptly. Noin shut her eyes and trembled. "Yes, if you like." Nodding, Jeffrhyss moved out from behind the book and pedestal, and hobbled over to a rich red armchair on his peg legs. He sat facing a little table on which was set up a chessboard and pieces carved from exotic tropical woods, glowing in the warm lamplight. The pieces were not arranged as one side light and the other side dark, but seemed to be scattered randomly, so that even though the pieces appeared to sit in logical positions, it was impossible to tell which side was winning. "Miss Noin," Jeffrhyss began, stroking his gray, pointed beard, "I have decided, upon learning your secret, that you will be of some use to me. I know who you are and why you are here, therefore you have a vested interest in not displeasing me." He propped his hand and his hook up on the heavy cane between himself and the table, and studied the chess pieces before him. "Read it." ...what choice do I have? I must do as he asks, Noin thought helplessly. With much hesitation she set the basket on the floor with her hat, opened the note, and began to read from it. "...'As a demonstration of my power, I have eliminated your operative in New York'," she spoke in a timid voice, looking up nervously every few words. "'It is clearly your own fault for not teaching the boy to better recognize when he is being followed. You shall probably find a way to carry out your plans for the Exposition, but at least I will have inconvenienced you greatly. For now, that is enough.'" She let her hands drop to her sides. "There's no signature." Jeffrhyss' fingers twitched on the handle of his cane. "There was no need for one." He reached out and picked up one of the lighter-coloured chess pieces, a pawn, glanced at the underside, and then dropped it into a little ebony box at his feet, joining three or four other pieces or varying shades of brown. He rested the cane against a pile of books and leaned far back in his chair. "Take a letter, Miss Noin." Her eyes widened. "I've done more than what I came to do already! Please, just let me go! Whatever it is you're involved with, I don't want any part of it!" In one swift movement, Jeffrhyss took up his cane and swung it in a broad arc, slamming it into the legs of a tall table next to her. She jumped and squeaked involuntarily, and the world globe sitting on the table rotated ever so slowly from the sudden motion. The old man's voice turned cold as the winter wind. "Never forget that I know who you are, and never disobey me again." Noin's heart raced from fright, and she turned ghostly pale as the man calmly set the cane back against the books. Her thoughts flew to the mushroom-haired man sitting on the stone wall. I could scream. He said he'd hear me if I screamed. For a moment she thought she would, but then remembered her secret love, her soldier in Africa. He wouldn't want her to give up in such a cowardly fashion. He would want her to be stronger than this. She would be stronger than this. Noin calmed herself and steeled her gaze. Play the game... "Take a letter, Miss Noin. I will address and sign it personally." Giving him a strong, steady glare, she found paper and pen, and a writing tablet, and sat down opposite him. Jeffrhyss leaned back and stared into space as he dictated the letter. "New instructions. Arrange transportation for yourself to New York City, arrival date September 5th. From time of departure, your new mission supercedes original instructions until completion. Detailed instructions will await you on arrival..." As his Lordship spoke in even tones, giving Noin time to catch up writing between sentences, he reached forward to the chessboard and plucked a black pawn off of it. Glancing at the name written on the bottom, he placed it in a different position on the playing field, the spot recently vacated by the white pawn. The London Operative was going on 'holiday'. **********Sitting on the terrace was out of the question, due to a steady drizzle that began around midmorning and showed no signs of easing up before it was too late to sit outside anyway. Instead, Relena had to be content wandering around the house with Dorothy, giggling and gabbing like old friends. Despite the overall grandeur of Bridlewood Manor, there was only so much to keep two energetic young ladies occupied before they had to resort to Relena's newer hobbies. Like Heero spotting. Relena and Dorothy planted themselves in a corner of the impressively opulent ballroom on the second floor and rang for the butler. Her Ladyship then instructed him to carry out a long list of repairs, rearrangements, and general clean-ups on the room, just so she could watch him. Heero recognized with no small amount of disgust that he was being used yet again, but he dutifully went about his work, feeling Relena's love-starved eyes following even his tiniest movements. He knew it was his own fault for leading her on occasionally, but business was business. Such was the burden of a high-class spy. The girls kept their voices quite low even though a person almost had to shout to be heard across the vast room. "You're a knowledgeable, well-travelled woman, aren't you?" Relena asked her companion. Dorothy fingered her hair in mock concentration. "I suppose so..." Relena watched Heero polish the ornate brass frame of a wall mirror to a sparkling shine, unaware that Dorothy could follow her gaze easily. "What does one do to recapture a gentleman's...attentions, once he seems to be losing interest?" Lady Une had already blabbed to Dorothy all about the girl's silly infatuation with her butler, but she quite tactfully pretended not to have any idea to which 'gentleman' her Ladyship was referring. "Are you being courted by someone I haven't met? Shame on you for keeping secrets!" Dorothy teased. "Well, I'm not too sure, really," Relena said doubtfully, between gnawing on her lower lip. "I thought that...this person...had genuine affection for me, but he hasn't made any further advances for weeks." She could only recall two occasions when her alleged paramour had shown her any degree of warmth. The first was the day they met, when she gave him a place in her home and in her heart after only knowing him for a few minutes. The second was at Ascot, when he suddenly took great interest in her past and familial relations; the physical contact, however mild, was nice too. Other than that, Heero had been nothing but cooly professional and she couldn't understand why. "If it's another woman..." "Now now, dear, let's not go accusing the boy of anything," Dorothy countered in a condescending tone. "While it's quite true that men of such a naive age can be fickle, I find most are just timid inside and need a little 'push' in the right direction. The trick is all in knowing how to push." Relena's eyes lit up with glee. "Would you teach me?" Dorothy twisted a few golden strands around her finger and smiled to herself. I might as well get some practice in, review the basics. Might be useful for pushing a certain young gardener into a career change. "But of course, m'lady. I'll show you everything I know, and then you can try your new tricks out on him...whoever he might be." Her smile turned a bit crafty. Well...perhaps not everything. I probably know much more than a delicate little flower like you can handle. Looking away from Heero for the first time, Relena turned in her chair and gripped her friend's hand excitedly. "Would you really? Oh, that would be wonderful! When do you think I should...as it were, spring the trap?" she asked with as wicked a gleam as her innocent eyes could manage. "We-ellll...didn't I see an invitation to the Lord Chamberlain's fancy dress ball? To Lady Peacecraft, plus 'guest'?" Dorothy cooed. "Oh, that," Relena said, slightly saddened. "But I promised Uncle Treize he could escort me, and he's never been to a party in London before." Dorothy squeezed her hand. "I'm sure he'd let you go with your gentleman friend, so long as you took Otto along as a chaperone. Besides, the Count might be invited by someone else anyway," she said, remembering being told by the gossipy postman of an identical invitation landing on Lady Une's doorstep. Relena looked far across the room at the object of her affection, now shaking dust covers from little tables out the second floor window. The possibility of being taken to the prestigious ball by Heero of all people cheered her up immensely. She clasped her hands together and squirmed in her chair with delight. "Let's get started!" "Alright," Dorothy said in her best schoolmistress voice. She took a mirrored compact out of her handbag and motioned for Relena to do the same. "Let's begin by practicing how to flutter those pretty eyelashes, shall we?" The girls' conversation couldn't reach all the way to the other side of the ballroom, even taking into account Heero's excellent auditory sense, but every now and then they burst into a flood of tittering giggles that came through loud and clear. Each time they did, he would look up from his work with the uncomfortable notion that they were giggling about him somehow, and each time they confirmed his theory by freezing in mid-giggle when he looked at them, and resuming when he turned his back. It was most irritating. Then, rushing in like the answer to an unspoken prayer, came Elsie. Heero had never been so relieved to see her and probably never would again. "Oi!" she yelled at him, entering through the doorway farthest from Relena. "Somebody's ringin' for you in th' front parlour!" She turned to go and spotted her Ladyship seated in the distance, looking rather peeved at her outburst. "Oh...beggin' yer pardon, m'lady." Elsie reddened and curtsied bashfully before leaving; Heero followed her out. Elsie disappeared as quickly as she came, but Heero was just as glad that he didn't have to humble himself by thanking her for his rescue. He turned in the opposite direction only to be impaled on Otto's angry glare. The bear of a man was stationed outside the doorway closest to Relena and was probably near enough to hear what the girls were giggling about. By the look on his face, Heero guessed that his original assumption was sadly correct. He walked past Otto without making eye contact, but nevertheless noticed the man following him down the hall. After hearing the way Relena spoke, Otto was ready to tear the butler in two. She never mentioned his name directly, but to him it was obvious. He followed Heero halfway to the stairs before a firm hand reached out from a random doorway and restrained him by the shoulder. Otto followed the hand down a well-dressed arm until he was looking into the curious face of Count Khushrenada. "Otto," the Count said soothingly, "let me pour you a drink." They let Heero escape down the stairs and wandered into Lord Peacecraft's personal lounge which, much like the rest of the house, was decorated with the finest furnishings available. Otto watched in bewilderment as the Count sat in his Lordship's favourite chair and doled out two glasses of his best whiskey. Treize pointed Otto genially to a lesser chair, which he hesitated before accepting, not used to being treated as an equal by the aristocracy. Treize offered him a glass and smirked. "You're not terribly fond of young Master Yuy, are you?" Otto took an appreciative swig of the liquor and frowned. "Time and again, I've pleaded with her Ladyship to sack him, but she'll have none of it. I haven't trusted him from the moment I laid eyes on him, but she refuses to see what a mistake she's made by letting him stay!" "I know exactly what you mean," the Count said smoothly. Of course, I have too many other matters at stake to be worried about my niece's romances. If anything, I should be grateful if he married her and got her out of this house, just so long as they go. He took a gulp from his own glass and ran a thumb along the shimmering rim. "The boy's a meddler, and probably a con man as well. The manor would be well rid of him." Otto glowered at the wall, keeping a death grip on the whiskey glass. "I have an awful feeling that Miss Relena will never let him go, and I've no say in the matter whatsoever. I don't know what he's been saying to her behind my back, but she's besotted with him. Utterly infatuated! It makes me ill..." He tipped the glass back and drained it dry, wincing as the pungent liquid seared his throat on the way down. Treize held the finely-cut crystal tumbler before his eyes, taking in the rainbow sparkles thrown off by the multifaceted pattern. "Would you agree that it would be in the entire manor's best interests," he purred in a low voice, "if a way could be found to get rid of the troublesome Mr. Yuy? Permanently?" Startled by the suggestion, Otto suddenly relaxed his hold on the whiskey glass, and it tumbled to the carpet. Nearly a minute ticked by while he processed the Count's subtle yet very tempting offer. Slowly, he smiled. "What do you need me to do?" **********Heero entered the front parlour expecting to have been summoned by Treize, the only person 'worthy' to touch the bell pull whom he hadn't seen a moment ago on the second floor. Instead, he found Duo, thoroughly enjoying one of the plush chairs with his feet up on the coffee table and a bundle of papers in his lap. "Do you know how much trouble you could get into for ringing that?" Heero asked snidely, pointing to the bell pull. Duo smiled brightly. "In trouble with who? You're my supervisor!" He kicked his feet off the table and stood, clutching the papers with one hand. "Besides, I could find trouble like that really addictive." He walked past Heero and poked him playfully in the ribs on his way out, flashing him an even wider grin. Heero flinched and looked over his shoulder at the chestnut braid swinging back and forth as the boy strode out of the parlour. It took him several second to snap out of the trance and follow him. "I take it you have something for me?" "Yep," Duo replied, handing him the papers as they walked. "I just finished those room measurements you wanted." Heero took the papers and looked surprised. From the way his assistant had reacted to the suggestion, he wasn't certain wasn't he'd actually do what was asked of him. "And the blueprints?" "Waiting in our room upstairs. Ready to have a look at them?" The butler weighed that against the option of going back to the ballroom and being ogled at some more. "Good idea." He navigated his way to the back of the house to the servants' stairs, avoiding being seen in case Relena started asking the other servants where her precious had disappeared to. Duo followed without question. They slipped up the stairs and into their room, then shut the door tightly behind them. The blueprints of Bridlewood Manor were very large sheets of vellum and bond paper that were too big for the writing desk and too tidy to put on the floor, so Duo had spread the thick roll out on his bed, leaving room for them to sit on either side of it. Removing their shoes, Heero sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, and Duo leaned against the headboard, hugging his pillow and eagerly waiting for Heero to tell him he'd done a good job. Immediately, the butler was studying Duo's calculations and comparing them to the blueprints. Duo's curiosity swelled from the silence, and he leaned forward to look them over as well. "I ended up measuring the attic anyway, since it was in the blueprints, but the page for the cellar was missing," he said. Heero nodded. "That's alright...all concrete in the cellar anyway..." His voice was thin and distant as he pored over the numbers, one set neat and precise, the other set messy, crinkled, and dotted with doodles of flowers and smiley-faces. Confusion began mingling with curiosity. "What exactly are you looking for?" Duo asked. Looking up briefly, Heero decided it was probably safe to tell him; this was a bit of a side-venture anyway, and wasn't directly related to Lord Jeffrhyss or his true mission in London. He looked back down at the blueprints. "Something in those letters I was reading between the Count and Lord Peacecraft...they made allusions to minor renovations done on parts of the house, either before his Lordship's family took possession of the estate or soon after." It was Duo's turn to look surprised. "Miss Relena's family weren't the original owners?" "Apparently not. Their traditional home is in Hampshire, and this house was a new acquisition in 1856, before Lord Peacecraft was born. Almost immediately, his parents called in contractors for general repairs, but they were working much longer than one would expect just to fix a few....ahhhh...." Heero's voice and gaze grew intense as he saw something suspicious in the numbers, just what he was hoping to find. Duo leaned in closer and tossed the pillow on the other bed. "What? What?" Heero pointed triumphantly at a room on the blueprints. The billiard room. "See this? The width of this room is a perfect match, eighteen feet, four inches. The length is given on the blueprints as thirty-two feet, six inches. Your measurement is thirty feet even." Duo slumped back against the headboard and hung his head a little. Even his braid seemed to droop sadly. "Oh...sorry." "No no, that's good!" Heero exclaimed with a shake of his head. "....it is?" the chef squeaked. Heero nodded firmly. "It means that there's two and a half feet of space between the wall of the billiard room and the wall of the lounge that's unaccounted for." "Like a secret passage!?" Duo yelped with excitement. "Or simply a good place to hide something." "Whoa..." Duo suddenly had new respect for the house he'd wormed his way into out of desperation. A thousand and one mysteries could be taking place under that roof, and he couldn't wait to unravel them all. Heero started rolling the blueprints back up into a tube. He opted to examine them more carefully later, in case there were more hidden niches to be found; the initial results of his investigation were better than he had hoped, but of course with his busy schedule, he never would have found the time to take all the measurements by himself. He stood up, slipped his shoes back on, and gave his assistant the reward he was waiting for with such sincere loyalty. "Well done, Duo." The chef beamed. "Even though you missed a room." Duo sat straight up, looking shocked and disappointed in himself. "Awww, you're kidding! What room? Where?" "Just the nursery," Heero said nonchalantly. He stowed the blueprints and Duo's measurements under his bed, then grabbed the tape measure off the writing desk. "It's alright, I'll do it. It'll only take a minute." Duo smiled in relief that his teacher wasn't angry at him for his mistake. He leaned back again, stretching his legs out on the bed with a creak and a little yawn. "Thanks, buddy!" Heero nodded and left, jogging lightly down the stairs to the third floor, thinking. Duo was forming a rather odd attachment to him, but at least he didn't make a huge production out of it, the way Relena did. As he made his way to the nursery, Heero offhandedly wondered if it was a strange gratitude for Duo's sense of decorum that deterred him from rejecting the boy's friendship, as any good spy should have done. The third floor appeared to be empty, but Heero had been too well trained not to notice a second presence close by. There was someone tailing him; the footsteps were less obvious than the intruder's deep, cavernous breathing, narrowing it down to just two logical possibilites--Otto and Treize. He knew neither of them was foolish enough to do away with him while the house was full of people, though he still carried his revolver for emergencies. Whoever it was probably just wanted a 'quiet word', and Heero made the tactical decision to let them have it. He stepped into the dusty, neglected nursery, moved a few paces away from the door, and waited. He didn't have very long to wait. Only seconds later, the door to the nursery was slammed shut. A large, heavy hand closed quickly around Heero's arm, and he was yanked backwards, spun around, and slammed into the wall. His attacker's other hand gripped the front of his shirt, near the throat, daring the butler to make a move and be strangled with his own cravat tie. The lights were off and the blinds were down, but he knew it was Treize just the same. The Count stared down at his captive, mildly let down that he didn't appear frightened or even surprised. They locked eyes, each waiting for the other to flinch. Treize set his jaw. "I hear that you've been getting rather...cozy with my niece, Mr. Yuy. Frankly, I couldn't care less what you children do in your private moments, although I think it's only fair to let you know that Otto is ready to string you up from the roof of the gazebo." Heero showed no reaction. This was nothing new to him, Otto had it in for the boy from day one. He stared straight back in silence. The Count tightened his grip on Heero's shirt. "What I take severe exception to is vicious, obtrusive, muckraking, bile-swilling gutter snakes like you and your little friend meddling in my affairs." His pleasant smile turned into a crooked sneer laced with spite. "Have anything to say for yourself?" Heero raised an eyebrow. "My compliments on your Lordship's vocabulary." Treize pulled Heero violently away from the wall and slammed the boy's small frame harder against it. Heero wanted very badly to shoot him right between the eyes just then, but it sounded as if Treize thought he was just a nosy kid who wasn't working for anyone, and if he wanted to keep it that way, he couldn't let the Count know he was armed. To protect his master's identity, he took the cruel abuse without complaining. "Listen to me, you snivelling, spineless, two-faced weasel," Treize hissed an inch away from Heero's face, "you get one warning and one warning only. Keep yourself and your braided playmate out of my business, and if your witless, simpering, adolescent brains can't handle the complexity of leaving myself and my associates alone, I firmly suggest that you especially get far away from this house while you are still able. Do we understand each other?" Undaunted, Heero continued to look him bravely in the eye. "What I do in my spare time is not open to debate. If I see merit in continuing my investigation, I will do so." Treize released him, backed away, and straightened the sleeves of his own suit. "Fine. I am a sporting man, as well as a gentleman, Mr. Yuy. I've given you a fair chance." He walked slowly to the door and turned the handle. "What happens now is your own responsibility." With that, he opened the door and left. Heero smoothed out the fresh wrinkles in his uniform. Just one more complication... He had to feel self-congratulatory for not revealing the name of his real employer, but now he felt a little concerned for Duo's safety; Treize's threat extended to him as well. He knew very well that the secrecy of his mission had to be maintained even at the cost of his own health and well-being, but how could he risk another, especially when the boy had no idea what he was being put in danger for? There were two easily identifiable options: tell Duo everything and let him decide whether to continue as his assistant, or break all ties with him, without a word of explanation. He didn't relish either choice. Unwilling to face the dilemma, something that didn't happen to him very often, he pushed it to the back of his mind and calmly went back to the task at hand--measuring the walls of the nursery. |
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Next, in Episode Thirteen: Heero meets a suffragette on a street corner, and finds something decidedly peculiar about her, while Duo strikes up an instant rapport. Dorothy pours some sugar on her favourite gardener, hoping to make him change his mind about Lady Une's offer, and a second lesson in "carpe diem" is given to the hungry tiger in the dead of night.
You might be surprised to see Treize throw his weight around like that, after building up a widespread reputation for finesse, but finesse isn't worth anything if there's nobody there to see it, and to him, Heero is exactly nobody. And who's that mushroom-haired guy? *winkwink* I don't think I make these puzzles too difficult... =^_~= I'm glad a lot of you were able to get to this chapter on my website while FFN was down; remember, any time I can't deliver an episode here when I say I will, you can find it at the MitsuGallery! =^_~= Now...mark August 5th on your calendars--it'll be tight, but I think I can deliver Episode Thirteen by then!