As I've warned, this is the episode that has been edited slightly for content. The changes were to the dialogue only and have not affected the story in any way. Issues that are only lightly touched upon here (I won't say which) will probably be dealt with more heavily at a later date, whenever it's felt that it would be more appropriate to do so. And finally, welcome back, FFN! I don't care if it's back in a limited capacity, I'd rather have a condensed version than none at all! Having said that, I'm off to fetch a condensed doughnut. *tummy grumble*

Disclaimer: It seems that children everywhere are conning their parents into thinking that a laptop and a cell phone are now required elements of back-to-school shopping. I tried to convince my mother that a matching set of five Gundam pilots were necessary items for back-to-FFN-shopping, but she didn't fall for it. =¬_¬= Darnit, ma...

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Episode Eighteen: Shoulder To Shoulder

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." ~Psalm 30, Verse 5

September 14th, 1901

Late in the evening of September 13th, in the house Mr. John G. Milburn, where William McKinley had been bedridden for the last eight days, the doctors and nurses who had hovered around the President fastidiously and with all the spirit they could muster, finally gave up hope.

Certain that the end was near, the President's invalid wife, Ida, was helped into the room and given a chair by her ailing husband's bedside. McKinley drifted in and out of consciousness for many hours, speaking rarely and faintly to those still remaining in the room. When he felt the battle was surely lost, he used his last drop of strength to whisper tender good-byes to his beloved. The priviledged few who were present witnessed the last words of William McKinley with sorrow and reverence. "It is God's way. His will be done."

At 2:16am on the morning of September 14th, the President was pronounced dead.

**********

After a long night's fitful attempts at sleep, Quatre lay in bed, unmoving. What began as a slight tummy-ache due theoretically to an overindulgence of sesame cookies a week ago, graduated into severe stomach pains and a partial loss of appetite within three days. Following that, he became agitated, nervous, twitchy, and at the same time exhibited very slow deep breathing that should have made him relax, but didn't. The point came where he could no longer hide his sudden illness from Trowa, but despite his poor condition and the bodyguard's vehement protests, Quatre refused to be seen by any doctor, for fear of revealing his position to his family.

The boy looked paler than ever, tucked in bed up to his chin and feverishly convulsing as Hilde pressed cool cloths to his forehead. It was more than Trowa could stand, and he made the painful decision to break his first promise to his friend and seek out medical assistance. He left in a bit of a panic on the morning of the 14th, clutching the piece of paper Heero had given the pair before his departure. There was only one person in London they could trust.

Quatre was so out of it by that point that he didn't notice anyone leaving or entering his room in the cellar, but Hilde made sure to stay with him the entire time. "Go to sleep if you can," she said quietly, "you hardly got a wink last night, and you could probably use the rest."

He only murmured in return. Hilde bit her lip, knowing that they couldn't keep his illness a secret much longer. Arthur knew, and was trying to manage the gardens on his own well enough that Miss Relena wouldn't notice any decline in their appearance, but he was an old man, and couldn't keep up the facade much longer; it was just too much work.

Suddenly, the girl's worst fears all began crashing in on her, as she heard more than one set of footsteps lightly padding down the stairs. Seconds later, Relena walked in, followed closely by Dorothy. Relena's reaction was one of saddened shock, while Dorothy seemed to squint and make calculating glances at the boy, as if making a mental roadmap of the situation.

"I knew something was wrong," Relena cried. "I haven't seen him for days! Did he think I wouldn't notice? What's wrong with him? Why hasn't anyone called the doctor?" She barraged Hilde with questions, wringing her white silk handkerchief in both hands while Dorothy patted her shoulder comfortingly.

Hilde stumbled over her words and looked like a frightened animal about to bolt away from a busy road. "He...just didn't want to cause trouble, or...unnecessary expense, that's all. He's convinced it's just a little stomach ailment, he'll get over it quickly, I know he will!"

Relena folded her arms and peered down at the scullery maid with concern. "Coming so soon after Duo fell ill, I'm seriously worried about this house having been contaminated by something. Two major bouts of illness severe enough to force people into bed, so close together, cannot be a coincidence. It was terribly wrong of the pair of you to presume I wouldn't notice what was going on in my own house. I also guessed that having two sick people to care for on top of cooking all the meals would be too much for you, and have acted accordingly." She unfolded her arms and clasped her hands regally near her waist. "That's why I've just told Bethany to take over caring for Duo, so you can concentrate your efforts here."

Hilde's eyes bulged to an unnatural size. "You did what!?"

"Calm down, I'm not trying to make it seem as if I don't have any confidence in you," Relena said, "but I've also sent her upstairs to ask Duo what his symptoms were, to see if they match Quatre's."

Hilde nearly fainted. Duo's fate, as well as her own, were sealed, unless she could come up with a good excuse. She didn't have long to think, however, for a third set of rather energetic footsteps came crashing down, along with cries of "M'lady! M'lady!"

Relena spun around just as an out-of-breath Bethany appeared. "What's the mattter? Is Duo alright?"

"'E's more than alright, 'e's gone! 'E's legged it!" She leaned against a wall to catch her breath, while it was Relena's turn to look horrified. "The bed's empty, an' looks like it ain't been slept in for ages!"

Somewhere between surprised, confused, and downright furious, Relena looked back at Hilde intensely. The maid tugged at her lace collar and thought, fast. "Oh, uh....haven't you heard? I guess he must have been in too much of a hurry, but...um...he got better last week, then a letter came saying that one of his relatives was sick and he had to leave right away. His aunt. In Birmingham. So, he won't be back for a few days yet, but don't worry, the food's taken care of!" She grinned innocently at Relena and prayed that her act had been sufficiently convincing.

Her Ladyship was so stunned, it took her a few seconds to remember where her mouth was and start using it. "How dare he leave the estate without informing me!? I intend to have some severe words with that boy once he returns, make no mistake! If it weren't for his salmon mousse and his chocolate cream puffs, I might dispense with his services altogether!" She pointed angrily at Hilde, her handkerchief fluttering around with each jerk of her hand. "You tell that little layabout that I want to speak to him as soon as he arrives!" Mercifully, she turned and stomped out of the room and back up the stairs, without another thought to anyone's health, least of all Quatre's.

Dorothy didn't follow her Ladyship right away; instead she stood in the same spot, looking Quatre over, carefully studying his face as if wondering if he was really sick or just faking. Knowing she wasn't out of the woods yet, Hilde looked up at the woman with doe eyes and cleared her throat gently. "M'lady...forgive me, but it's really best if Quatre gets some sleep right now. Perhaps you should visit him later."

The fair-haired lady tossed her head back haughtily. I was just going, you impudent whelp...Lady Une will want to hear of this. "Of course, my dear, you're right. Do give him my best when he wakes up." Dorothy turned on her heel and stalked out just as quickly as Relena had.

As soon as she was gone, Hilde exhaled deeply with relief. Safe for a little while longer, she thought. She continued pressing the cool cloth to Quatre's forehead as he twitched and moaned quietly, looking down at him with the only genuine worry he'd received for the last ten minutes. All was perfectly calm again, when a cinnamon-brown head peeked in through the alternate exit, the rickety wooden door leading out to the back garden.

"Are they gone?" the visitor whispered.

Hilde looked up, smiled, and nodded. "It's safe, c'mon in."

Trowa crept inside with someone on his arm, a tallish woman with strawberry blonde hair carrying a black Gladstone bag, the kind doctors usually sported. She wore her favourite fern green dress for town, and her hair hung past her shoulders in two loosely-woven twists, as she really didn't have a great deal of time to make herself presentable before a frantic boy in dusty clothes started banging desperately on her door right after breakfast. "He's over here," Trowa told the woman, pulling her over to the bed.

Introductions were waived as the woman headed straight for the bedside chair, which Hilde immediately vacated. "What are his symptoms?"

"Stomach pains, loss of appetite, slight fever, and very agitated when he's awake, which isn't often anymore," Hilde said sadly.

The blonde woman nodded and opened her black bag, pulling out several instruments with which she began methodically gauging Quatre's pulse, blood pressure, and other vital statistics. "When did this start?"

"About a week ago," Trowa said, "but it wasn't nearly this bad. It was just a stomachache at first, then it got worse and worse every day since."

"Is anyone else in the house sick?" the woman asked.

Hilde shook her head. "No, ma'am."

The woman nodded again. She felt around Quatre's neck looking for swollen glands and pried up his eyelids, all the while squinting and mouthing words to herself under her breath. As she worked, Hilde pulled Trowa aside and stood on tiptoe to reach his ear. "Who is she?" the girl whispered.

"Her name is Sally Poole. She's a doctor Heero told me about before he left. She won't tell anyone in or out of the house about this, but we have to keep her hidden in return. If nobody sees her here, Quatre and I can still use her house as a refuge if there's an emergency and we have to leave Bridlewood."

Hilde looked over at the grim scene and nodded, still very much concerned. After no more than a ten-minute examination, Dr. Poole rose and walked over to the pair with her arms folded. "Has he left the house at all in the last week?" the doctor asked.

"Only to go outside and do the gardens," Hilde said, "but he couldn't even manage that after a few days."

"What's wrong with him, doctor?" Trowa pleaded in an aching voice.

Dr. Poole shook her head. "I'm not sure yet. What's he been eating lately?"

"Nothing the rest of us haven't eaten," the boy answered, "and Hilde's prepared every single meal since our chef left us."

The blonde woman turned to Hilde. "What about the ingredients you used? Were they all in good condition? Could anything have spoiled without you noticing?"

Hilde and Trowa looked back and forth between the doctor and each other, then the scullery maid brightened and shook her head, eyes wide. "Oh, no, it couldn't be that! Let me show you!" She took the doctor by the arm and led her out of the bedroom, through the kitchen, and into the pantry as she had done a week ago with both Quatre and Trowa, only less apprehensive this time. She opened the door and let Dr. Poole have a good long look at what was inside. The pantry was only about a third full now, some shelves holding jars of food, some holding empty jars, some just collecting dust.

"Before our chef went on vacation," the girl explained, "he cooked three weeks' worth of meals ahead of time and sealed them in these jars. All the hot dishes are here, all the cold dishes are in a closet he converted for cold storage, and I've only had to heat up the main courses and dish them out! The only ingredients that have come into the house in the last two weeks are milk, butter, eggs, bread, and a bit of fresh fruit, but we've all eaten them and only Quatre is sick!"

"So you see, it can't possibly be food poisoning, because all the food has been sealed up since before all this happened!" Trowa added.

Dr. Poole looked rather impressed, but nevertheless took a jar at random off the pantry shelf to check the status of it's seal. She looked at another four jars, and the seals all appeared to be perfect, and could not have been tampered with. She set the last jar back on the shelf and turned back to the youngsters, mind reeling. "Alright...I'm going to assume for the moment that all the jars that have already been opened had good seals, and that there was no outside contamination and no spoilage. Are you absolutely sure that he hasn't eaten anything else that you haven't prepared yourself, or that didn't come out of those jars?"

Trowa shook his head silently, unable to recall any such occasion, but as Hilde thought over the events of the last week, she remembered something that made her go cold. "Sesame cookies..."

"What?" the others asked in unison.

Hilde sheepishly wrung her apron in worry, and forced herself to look Trowa in the eye. "He didn't want you to know that he was snacking between meals...but Elsie bought him a tin of sesame cookies a week ago, while she was out buying bread and--"

"Show me!" Trowa shouted, grabbing her by the arm. The girl ran back to the bedroom with the other two close behind her, and all but dove under Quatre's bed looking for the squarish metal tin. She crawled back up on her knees and produced the tin, which was quickly snatched away by the angry bodyguard. "Where did these come from!?"

"I don't know!" Hilde cried as the boy tore off the lid and examined the cookies inside. Without saying another word to either ladies, Trowa bolted back to the kitchen and began shouting for Elsie at the top of his lungs. Hilde had never heard the quiet lad make such a racket, and clapped her hands over her ears in terror at his hideous wrath. She and Dr. Poole crept to the door of the bedroom but went no further, listening from a distance as Elsie careened down the stairs to see what was the matter.

"Where did you get these!?" Trowa demanded, shoving the open tin in her face.

"Eh? What's all this?" she stammered.

"Where did they come from!?"

Elsie flinched, then took a step back as she thought back to her shopping trip. "I got 'em from a lady in the market. She said, 'You live in that 'ouse with the fair-haired boy, don't you,' and I said yes, then she said 'Why don't you take these biscuits home to him, 'cause I'll bet they're 'is favourite,' and I had plenty o' money left over, so I--"

"What did she look like!?" Trowa growled, grabbing her by the arm with his free hand.

"Well, I dunno, do I!?" the housemaid squealed, more than a little spooked by the line of questioning. "She 'ad a veil on! I couldn't see 'er face!"

At that, the truth became painfully clear. Trowa went pale, let go of Elsie, and nearly dropped the almost empty tin of biscuits as well. One of Quatre's sisters had somehow planned this, and he hadn't been able to stop it. He wobbled slightly on the spot where he stood, while Hilde darted out from the shadows and shooed Elsie away.

"You'd better go back to whatever you were doing," she said in a voice approaching tears, "and don't talk to anyone about this!"

Elsie straightened her uniform, still looking very bewildered, and walked away, muttering under her breath. "Barking mad, if you ask me..."

Hilde hustled the stunned stable lad back into his bedroom where Dr. Poole was still standing by the door, listening. The expressions she read off the teens' faces told her that this could be much more than a simple case of food poisoning, and after the late-night visit she received from Heero and Duo weeks earlier, she decided not to be at all surprised if there was something shady behind it.

The doctor folded her arms and looked them over. "What's going on?"

They had no choice. If Quatre had any hope of getting well, they had to break their pact of silence. Trowa and Hilde sat Dr. Poole down and revealed the secret of the Winner family tontine, slowly explaining the events of the past few months and the danger Quatre was in from his own flesh and blood. The entire time the three of them were talking, they shot furtive, nervous glances at the tin of sesame cookies, which were now lying untouched on the bedside table. Quatre himself was asleep and barely breathing.

**********

News of the President's death was met with tremendous grief across the United States, after the nation's hopes had been raised that their leader would make a full recovery. When he finally succumbed to his injuries, the people were newly charged with rage and crying for vengeance against the shooter, one Leon Czolgosz of no admitted organization or terrorist league. Heero had worried greatly that Duo would fall to pieces upon hearing the inevitable news, but the boy took it on the chin, having already prepared himself mentally, as well as could be expected.

Knowing that the worst case scenario would be the most likely to occur, Heero had used the tainted money from the hit that never was to give his friend the best vacation he could have had under such rough circumstances. They spent another entire day at the drastically less populated Exposition, paying special attention to the Japanese pavillion, where Duo enjoyed tea and impressed the geisha girls with his limited knowledge of their language.

After that, they both went back to New York, found themselves a very rich suite in one of the more posh hotels, and disposed of the ineffective blood money with due haste. Heero bought Duo anything and everything he desired in the way of rich food and fine entertainment, and Duo in turn provided a large amount of advice on where to spend the remaining money. He introduced Heero to his first carriage ride through Central Park, his first outdoor Dixieland concert, and his first Coca-Cola. While the rest of the country mourned, they indulged in a little piece of solitude while listening to the band play 'Just A Closer Walk With Thee' to sparse and saddened crowds.

It was now the day on which Heero had been tentatively scheduled to sail back to England, freedom permitting. The boys had been lounging around Coney Island, close to what one might call deserted, and were relaxing on the beach watching the waves roll in, Duo on the left and Heero on the right, facing the sea.

As they laid there on the sand in their newly-bought casual clothes, staring up at the clouds and hoping the day would never end, the situation they had been avoiding all week forced its way out into the open. "I'm supposed to go back to England today," Heero said quietly.

It was a strange thing for either of them to think about. Heero, who presumed that he might not live long enough to reach the boat, was suddenly able to return home, and Duo, who had spent his entire life dreaming of his true home, finally arrived just as his best friend was about to leave. The braided boy sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "We've got a few things to discuss before you go, you realize that, right?"

"Hai."

While Heero continued to stare at the sky, Duo unravelled his braid and shook the sand out of it. "We both know I haven't got a dime, except what you give me...we also both know that you haven't said a word about taking me with you tonight. It's because you think I'd be safer here, isn't it?"

A pause. "Hai."

Duo thought about that, rebraided his hair, and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and staring out at the ocean. He let out a long, frustrated breath. "I thought I'd gotten through to you."

Heero turned his head to look up at the boy. "What?"

"I thought I got you to see that I don't need to be wrapped up in cotton wool just to be around you. I'm not helpless, and I'm not a coward either."

With a slight sigh, Heero sat up as well, propping an arm up on one knee. "I never said you were..."

"Then why haven't you asked me to go back with you?" Duo demanded. "Are you waiting for me to get down on my knees and beg, or are you just going to let me stow away again? Do you even want me with you at all? It can't just be concern for my health, because I've shown you over and over that I'm tough enough to take anything life throws at me!"

"It's not that I think badly of you," Heero said, rubbing his eyes, "it's just that...you have no idea what I'm up against, even after what happened last week. I don't want you involved. I don't want you knowing too much about me because you might never escape."

Duo put on his holier-than-thou face and kept staring at the water. "I already know more than you think..." He let the statement hang in the air like bait on a fishing rod; Heero bit quickly, snapping his head around to face him.

"What do you know?"

Duo shrugged innocently. "I know what I heard when you were having that little swordfight with that guy, Wufei," he began, well aware of the growing expression of shock and horror on his friend's face, "I know you work for a Lord Jeffrhyss, and that's he's got some big mother of a covert operation going on. Not too hard to figure out that he's got some major hold on you to be able to drag you out here on a suicide mission, and that hold probably has something to do with those scars you haven't told me about." He turned his head just enough to look into Heero's widened, mortified eyes. "I know you're not a guy to be ashamed of your injuries, especially old ones...it wasn't that you didn't want me to know you'd been hurt, more like you didn't want me getting mixed up with the kind of people strong enough to hurt you. So, yeah, I've got a pretty damn good idea of what you're up against, thank you."

Heero shut his eyes and turned away slightly, instantly blaming himself for letting what he most feared happen out of carelessness. "You should have told me."

Duo laughed without mirth. "Ha! I know exactly how you would have reacted if I did, that's why I went to so much trouble to get here without you knowing! Your trouble is, after everything we've been through together, you have yet to realize that I'm not the kind of psychological weakling that would run away from problems like yours! I wasn't brought up to abandon people I cared about!"

He swivelled to face Heero and took something out of his jacket pocket, a worn photograph that had seen more environmental punishment than it was probably meant to. It was still plainly visible, however, and sported the kindly face of a young woman with long blonde hair. He showed it to Heero. "You see her? That's Helen, the patron saint of hopeless causes. When it looked like my folks weren't coming back for me, I stayed with her in Ireland for a few years, and I'll never forget the three most important things she taught me: loyalty, honesty, and responsibility.

"When I heard you were coming here and might not make it back alive, I knew I had to go with you...I didn't know for what, to protect you, or to stop you, or just see you before you did something idiotic and I lost you for good. We're friends, and friendship is about loyalty. There was no way I was going to let you come all this way on your own and have nobody around who cared about you when whatever was supposed to happen happened." He handed Heero the photograph and let him study the woman's face solemnly as he continued.

"Then I thought, 'If I even hint that I intend to come along, he's going to do everything he can to stop me.' You knew how much I cherish honesty, and if you thought for one second that I'd put myself in danger for your sake, you would have ordered me to stay in England. You'd have forced me to promise that I wouldn't come after you because you know I'd never break a promise or lie in making it. That's why I avoided you all day before you left, because if you couldn't talk to me, you couldn't tell me to stay.

"Early on it dawned on me that there was something else holding me back...I had a house to feed, and I couldn't do that if I was on the other side of the world, right? For the first time in my life, I've got a decent job and people who depend on me, and if I just took off after you and left them all for the sake of the first two values Helen taught me, I'd be forsaking the third...responsibility."

The boys locked eyes, and Duo began punctuating his story with emphatic hand gestures. "You wanna know how hard I worked to be able to come find you with a clear conscience? I had to make sure the whole house was taken care of food-wise, so I cooked all the meals for the next three weeks and sealed them up in Mason jars in the pantry. I did all the desserts, all the cut fruit, and put them in jars too, and stuffed them in the broom closet, which incidentally is now a cold storage room with ice trays and everything. I even made dry mixes for all the baked goods, like cookies, and pancakes, and tea biscuits, and I made a huge chart and stuck it up on the pantry wall so all Hilde has to do is look up what day it is, open the jars, throw some milk and eggs in the cookie mix and toss it all in the oven! Every single, solitary bite of food was pre-planned just so I could have the supreme joy of risking my life on a rickety lifeboat to come and find you!" On the last syllable, he poked Heero hard in the shoulder.

The Japanese boy seemed to digest all this for several seconds before putting his two cents in. "You turned the broom closet into a cold storage?"

Duo grinned proudly. "Yeah!"

"Did you insulate it?"

Duo blinked.

"Because if you didn't, the ice will have probably melted by now, much faster than you calculated."

The chef's eyes narrowed. "Must you split hairs at a time like this?"

Heero smirked, imagining Elsie and Bethany wading through an inch of water to get to their dinner. "I'm sorry. You did an excellent job, I'm sure."

"Well, thanks," Duo whined teasingly. "See, it doesn't kill you to be a little supportive of my hobbies once in awhile.

With a faint but genuine smile, Heero handed back the photograph. "She'd be very proud of you."

"I hope so," Duo said quietly, putting the photo back in it's usual pocket. "After all, I did manage to get all the way to America on no money, find you, stop you, and then keep you from losing your mind while there were ten thousand angry rioters roaming the streets, all without compromising any of my principles. That should prove to you, once and for all, that you haven't got any ordinary nutcase for a sidekick, and if you still think I can't handle knowing who you are and what you're up to, then you've gotta be crazier than I am!" He ended his argument, flopped back down on the sand, forgetting that he'd get more of it in his hair, and stared up at the clouds again.

After a few minutes silently pondering what Duo had put himself through, Heero laid back down on the sand as well, letting his hands fall onto his waist and gazing up at the mottled celestial umbrella of blue and white.

"So, are you gonna tell me or what?"

"...hn?"

Another brief pause. "Who are you, Heero Yuy? The whole truth, this time. I think I've earned it."

...indeed you have. Heero listened to the rolling waves for awhile, trying to decide where to begin, then took a deep breath. "I was orphaned at about the same age you were. I don't remember where I was, only that I was alone, and at some point Lord Jeffrhyss found me and took me in. All I've ever known before Bridlewood is being trained to become whatever he wanted...a fighter, a spy, an assassin...I never thought there was anything wrong with it because I never knew any other way to live. Time had no meaning because every day was the same...take orders and complete assignments, or make a mistake and receive punishment." He looked over out of the corner of his eye and saw Duo wince as he made the connection between that and Heero's scars.

"Lord Jeffrhyss is the head of an organization that believes in keeping more secrets from it's own members than from anyone else. There are several more like it, and they all have the same goal, to be the one with ultimate control over the nations of the earth. They compete with one another to see who can make the greatest impact, and they have no regard for the lives they disrupt along the way. All that matters is winning the game.

"It may well have been one of Jeffrhyss' rivals who ordered the successful attack on the President, and as soon as they take credit for it, he will know that I failed. I won't be able to escape retribution, but at least I can hope that I won't be sent on any mission remotely like this for awhile. It would be too much of a risk to let me fail twice."

Duo turned his head enough to press one ear into the warm sand. "Why can't you just quit altogether? Tell him to cram his stupid job and find somebody else to pick on?"

"Being part of one of these organizations is rather like being part of Quatre's tontine," Heero said with a hint of sadness. "Once you're in, you're in for life. If you desert the cause, someone else will be assigned to take you out. We all know too much to be allowed to run away, and too little to protect ourselves from our masters. This is my life. It always has been, and it always will be."

With renewed confidence, Duo looked back up at the sky, reached for his friend's hand, and clutched it gently. He raised both their hands to eye level, pointing up at the endless sky. "Then it's my life too. I care about you too much to let you go through this alone. Somehow or other, we're gonna figure out a way to get you out without getting you killed...because you deserve better." Duo gave the hand in his an affectionate squeeze, and very shortly after, Heero actually squeezed back.

They let go at the same time and settled back into the sand, while a content smirk settled across Duo's face. "So, I don't care if I have to knock you out and carry you aboard, or glue myself to your suitcase. I'm coming with you on that boat to England, and there's nothing you can say or do short of fishing that rifle out of the lake that can stop me. Deal with it."

Wordlessly, Heero slowly took something out of his own jacket pocket, a small white envelope made thick by it's contents. He switched it from his left hand to his right and held it in front of Duo. The braided boy blinked, then took the envelope and turned it over once or twice. "What's this?"

Heero closed his eyes and shrugged innocently. "Your ticket. We have adjoining cabins."

Duo stared at the little envelope in disbelief. "You had this all along," he said quietly. A wide smile appeared. "......you brat!!"

Heero threw his arms up in front of his face and rolled away from the inevitable handful of sand that was flung in his direction. He defended himself with a double-handed sand bomb, which turned the minor skirmish into a full-scale sand war. In a bizzare contest to see which one could get the other more covered in the tawny grains, the pair laughed and tumbled around on the beach in a rare moment of pure joy the like of which couldn't be found anywhere else for miles. It felt wonderful to be children without rules at last.

**********

Sally leaned back in the old wooden kitchen chair and rubbed her aching right shoulder, then turned the gaslamp up a notch. Trowa had graciously found her a small basement room to work in where she wouldn't be seen, but it was lacking in creature comforts like upholstered seating arrangements and electric lights that she was used to in her own comfortable laboratory. Having made an expedition to her house for two large armloads of glassware, chemicals, and miscellaneous scientific equipment, she turned the tiny room into a miniature version of her lab, where she could properly analyze the sesame cookies which had drawn so much suspicion, while keeping a close eye on her patient.

After what felt like an eternity of tinkering with test tubes and various noxious liquids, she was all too near to the unfortunate solution to the puzzle. She slumped in her chair and was waiting for a second test to confirm the results, when something about ankle-high brushed her leg. Sally looked down in surprise and found a large, fluffy white cat hovering around her feet. She smiled at the feline, and it meowed a greeting in return.

Happy to have some company that wasn't ill or in a state of panic, she picked up the cat and let it sit in the folds of her green dress, purring contentedly. Sally stroked the cat's head and back, then stopped and seemed to notice something about its slightly plump belly. She prodded lightly around the fluffy white fur and finally found something to smile about. "Not much longer for you, is it? Good to know someone in this house had a nice summer..."

The cat licked her hand, knowing only another woman could understand what was on her mind, then hopped down and padded away, swishing her tail back and forth merrily.

Sally looked back up at her equipment and saw that the second test had turned out the same result as the first. With a sombre expression, she walked back to the boys' bedroom where Trowa and Hilde were sitting very stiffly on the unoccupied bed. Out of all the times she had come in to check Quatre's temperature or blood pressure over the last hour, they could tell that this time was different. She finally had something to say.

"I think it's strychnine," she declared.

The two worried servants swallowed grimly and clasped each other's hands. The patient didn't make a sound.

Sally checked his fever once more before delving into a more thorough diagnosis. "It was definitely in the sesame cookies. Trace amounts of poison that barely register on their own, but if the tin was full and he's eaten most of what was there, it's built up in his system gradually over the last week, and...this is the result." She indicated the pale, sickly boy with one hand.

"What's the treatment?" Trowa whispered fearfully.

"Since the poisoning wasn't acute, there really isn't one," she said, "other than administering sedatives and hoping that the toxins clear his system on their own." Their reaction to this was less than cheerful; both knew that Quatre likely wasn't strong enough to wait that long, and the fever was getting the better of him already. Seeing the forlorn response, Sally stepped forward and lowered her voice. "There is an alternative..."

Two pair of eyes snapped wide open. "What do you mean?" Hilde asked plaintively.

"I've spent many years studying eastern medicine, particularly Chinese herbal remedies," Sally explained. "While I can't guarantee he'll recover completely, there are certain mixtures I could give him that might help cleanse his blood and lower his fever. However, I can't do anything unless I have your absolute understanding that I don't know if it will make him better, and if I choose the wrong herbs, it may make him worse."

Trowa looked despondently at his little friend, gaunt and wheezing under the thin sheets. How much worse could he possibly get? He focused his emerald green eyes very intensely on Dr. Poole and set his jaw. "I want you to do anything and everything you can for him, doctor."

Slowly, Sally nodded and disappeared back into the makeshift laboratory to collect a few items. She returned with a red satin bag, delicately embroidered with a colourful Chinese dragon, and set it on the bedside table. From the bag, she took nearly a dozen different little glass jars filled with green leaves and brown powders, which she began mixing in varying combinations with a mortar and pestle.

Even while there seemed to be hope in sight, Trowa was beside himself with grief. "I can't believe this is happening...I promised I'd protect him no matter what!"

"You weren't to know!" Hilde cried. "He kept those cookies a secret because he didn't want you worrying about his diet! You did everything you could for him..."

"If that's true, why is he lying there half dead?" Trowa choked. "But then, maybe I really couldn't have done any more. After all, if Duo hadn't left us, this might never have happened, and I couldn't stop him from running away, could I!? If Quat dies because of Duo's thoughtlessness, I'll never forgive him!"

"Actually," Dr. Poole interjected, "if he hadn't taken such care in sealing up all the food so well, I wouldn't have known where to start looking for the poison. I'd even go so far to say that his efforts may have saved your friend's life."

Trowa looked up with a blend of powerful emotions that all fought for control of his unshed tears. "You mean he'll live?"

Sally tilted her head to the side as she poured some fresh water into a small bowl. "His chances are certainly better than they would have been if I'd spent hours and hours looking through all the cupboards and testing every speck of food for contamination. The sooner we start treatment, the better, and your chef saved us a lot of time." With that statement, Trowa looked down at his hands, gaze heavy with guilt over being so angry, and Sally left the room for another pitcher of fresh water.

Everything in the room was quite still until the pale lump under the thin blanket a few feet away stirred slightly. With a tiny groan, a sweat-soaked head of feathery blond hair peeked out with tired, dark-ringed eyes. Before Quatre could even think about uttering a syllable, Trowa was instantly at his bedside trying to keep him quiet until the doctor returned.

"Shhh, little one...don't try to talk," he said softly.

Quatre refused to be quieted completely, although his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Trowa...I'm sorry..."

The cinnamon-haired boy shook his head and stroked his friend's hand. "I should be apologizing to you for letting this happen. I let my guard down, and I swear I'll never let danger like this catch up with you again."

Quatre swallowed and forced out his statement between laboured breaths. "Don't...want you...to be angry...at Duo..."

Trowa hung his head dejectedly. "I'm more angry at myself than anyone."

"Don't....want that......either." The sickly Arabian gave him a brave little smile before drifting back off to sleep. Trowa couldn't bring himself to even hope for forgiveness, but in Quatre's mind, there was nothing to forgive.

Sally returned just then with the water and set the pitcher on the bedside table, next to the mixtures of herbs and leaves. "The chart on the wall says it's about time you were serving tea," she said to Hilde with a smallish grin, "so you'd better get out there and feed the troops. We'll be fine in here." The little brunette dried her eyes, nodded to the doctor and left. Sally and Trowa sat up the rest of the night with Quatre and the Chinese herbs, trying this combination and that, looking for something that would ease his suffering and cleanse his polluted blood. The gardener's fate was still uncertain, but Trowa made a solemn oath that if the boy survived this ordeal, he would look after his friend more carefully in the future. Obviously, London wasn't a safe place to be anymore.


~~~~~~~~~~

Next, in Episode Nineteen: The overseas travellers return home to a mixed welcome, as the overall dynamic in the house seems to have changed while they were away. New plans are made among the household alliances that will have lasting effects in the months to come. Meanwhile, has Quatre survived his potentially lethal dose of treachery, or will Bridlewood be looking for a new gardener?

Alright...you know how I've been reluctant to give away pairings? It's because I didn't want people from either camp running away at the labels I'd have to put on this story. I wanted both sides to give me an honest chance as a writer before slapping a pageful of restrictions on myself and my work, so...that having been said, people who want to know what's what and who's likely to be with whom should start paying close attention to interpersonal relationships very soon. Those of you whom I know that you know what you're looking for, you've already found the beginnings of it. =^_~= I'm setting a goal for September 22 for the next episode, and I promise I'll write my little tail off to get it out on time. Ja ne!