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*shakes kinks out of fingers* =x_X= This is a lot of writing in a short space of time, and I'm not giving myself any breaks for awhile yet, either. Be aware of adult-ish themes coming up ahead, and I swear on Rachel's chocolate chip cookie recipe that I'm not bashing any particular segment of society. The opinions of some of the characters in this chapter do not necessarily reflect those of the authoress. =P O-tay? =^_^=

Disclaimer: Halloween is almost upon us, and I refuse to believe that 24 is too old to go trick-or-treating. I've got my pillowcase for the candy, I've got my clear plastic poncho in case it rains, and I've got my super-duper long-distance running shoes so my feet don't get tired. I've got just about everything I need...but do ya think I can find any green tank tops and black spandex in the middle of October? Hell no. =~.~= Guess I'll be a ghost again this year...oh yeah, and none of the people in this fic belong to me, except a few bit players I dreamed up while eating Apple Jacks.

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Episode Twenty-Four: Mousetrap

"One of the many lessons that one learns in prison is, that things are what they are and will be what they will be." ~Oscar Wilde

October 30th, 1901

As soon as it was light enough to see, Heero was sent away from the cottage, neatly dressed with train fare in his pocket. Once it was determined that he was well enough and penitent enough to return to work, all the doors in the cottage were unlocked and he was allowed to leave. Nobody saw him out or gave him further instructions, in fact nobody seemed to be in the cottage at all.

The sun hadn't even broken the horizon when Heero began his long, solitary walk back to the village, and his stomach growled angrily at having to make the trek without any breakfast. It was still too dark to reliably read his watch, but he hoped that by the time he reached town, the pub or the inn might at least be open; having subsisted on rations of rice and bean sprouts for the last five days, he was seriously craving a good old English fry-up.

Heero managed to fritter away the morning until he could get some food and a carriage ride to the nearest train station; he actually watched the sun rise, and when it did, he found it almost too bright for his eyes which had only known dim light and darkness while in Lord Jeffrhyss' custody.

Before he boarded the ealiest train back to London, he purchased a newspaper simply to find out what day it was. Each time he thought about his disorientation, he brought a hand up to lightly trace the crook of his left arm, where there would undoubtedly be numerous needlemarks from mind-bending injections. Jeffrhyss had an injection for nearly everything, one to keep you quiet, one to give you pain, one to make you submissive, one to help you learn...there was even an injection that cancelled out the effects of all the other injections. The man was injection-mad.

Flipping through the paper in an attempt to distract himself from the rather surreal week he was having, Heero skipped over the local prattle about by-laws and tea socials, and went straight to the world news, as was his custom. If he had stopped to look carefully at the local news, however, he might have been better prepared for what awaited him on his arrival.

Heero reached London around midmorning and was oddly comforted by the sight of a busy urban train station full of strangers, but as he made his way outside to find a cab, he noticed something peculiar, or rather someone peculiar sitting on the ground leaning up against a pillar some distance away. It was a pauper girl selling flowers, wearing a tattered blue dress and a little flowered hat. She looked remarkably like Hilde.

As he got closer and studied her, he decided it was Hilde. She was looking all around the station with tired eyes, clutching some wilted carnations and trying to look like a common street vendor, although she appeared to have camped out there all night.

Hilde spotted him, walking straight towards her, and stumbled to her feet, dropping the half-dead flowers. She lurched forward but was so weakened by hunger and fatigue that she fell almost immediately. The working class all stepped aside to avoid her prone and gasping form, but none stopped to help her up. Heero sprinted through the crowd to the spot and gathered the girl up into a half-standing position, ignoring the scratching pain in his back.

"How long have you been here?" he demanded.

"We didn't know...where you were," Hilde choked out frantically, "or when you'd be back...we had to find you..."

Heero gave her a light, sharp shake by the arms. "Why? What's happened?"

Catching her breath, Hilde grabbed hold of the arms that steadied her and slowly looked up into their owner's calm, frosty eyes. ".....Duo's been arrested!!"

**********

In the police station closest to where Duo had been captured, the chef was slumped down on his bunk and feeling quite sorry for himself, but not without good reason. He had been stuck in a holding cell for days, and for the first little while he held out hope that Relena might come and bail him out so he could at least sleep in his own bed, but her Ladyship never came, and the hope soon faded. No one ever came to see him except Trowa, Quatre, and Hilde; Arthur at least sent a kind word of encouragement through the youngsters, but the rest of the manor kept well away, as if they were too ashamed to look him in the eye.

Quatre kept bringing him the only decent meals he would find behind bars, but waiting night and day for Heero to come had dulled his appetite, and that morning the plate of fresh bread, fruit and cheese lay untouched, balanced on the rim of the washbasin. It was by far the cleanest part of the soul-dampening cell, the rest being plain concrete and blocks of stone, with a tiny barred window and an alien stench that seemed to have permeated the walls and floor on a permanent basis.

"I checked on the kittens again this morning," Quatre said brightly, trying to make conversation, "and I've got the key in my pocket. They seem really lively! They're eating some of Anna-Maria's food, and they all learned how to use their little sandbox just by watching her! They're really smart!" Despite the cheeriness in his voice, Quatre's eyes stopped sparkling when he saw that Duo was just the same as before. "Well...you'll be able to see them real soon..."

Duo slumped a little further down as his form of non-answer.

"What should we do if Heero doesn't come back?" Trowa asked quietly. Someone had to address the issue sooner or later. "We'll have to find you a lawyer, or whatever they have in England."

"Relena's family solicitor was here yesterday after you guys left," Duo said, staring at the floor. "He says he can fix me up with a barrister and everything, but he can't get a straight answer out of Relena on whether or not to represent me."

Trowa shook his head with a snort of disgust. "What is wrong with that girl? Can't she drag herself away from the newspapers and gossip columns long enough to deal with this like an adult?"

"No, don't you see?" Quatre said. "She's still just a child herself!"

Trowa turned around to offer another opinion on their employer's maturity level, but was cut off by the sound of a key turning in a lock, and then the heavy, solid wood door to the hallway bring swung open. The duty guard presented them with two dark-haired teens, the sight of which made Duo leap up and fly to the bars of his cage, displaying more joy and hope than he had felt all week. "Heero!" he shouted, clasping the bars with both hands.

Heero skipped the formal greetings towards the other servants and dashed to the bars. "Are you alright?"

Duo shrugged. "Kinda. Nobody's totally alright in here."

Heero looked between the other three faces standing next to him. "What happened? When did this happen?"

"Right after you left," Hilde began softly, "Duo and I went into town looking for ingredients, and the police just...grabbed him! We didn't know what to do! He doesn't have any family here and Relena wouldn't set foot in this place, even to help..." She choked back a sob, trying very hard to look brave.

Heero shut his eyes and exhaled something close to a sigh. If I hadn't been called away, I might have been able to do something... The butler scowled. "One of us will have to go to the American Embassy and bring back--"

"We already tried that," Quatre interrupted. "Duo doesn't have any papers proving his citizenship, so they said there's nothing they can do."

He looked back through the bars at Duo, eyes suddenly ablaze. "Alright...what are you charged with?"

Nobody spoke. Duo slowly looked away and shuffled back over to his bunk, slumping down onto it again. Quatre took Hilde by the arm and knocked on the door for the guard, giving Trowa a knowing glance. Trowa nodded back, adding to Heero's confusion as the gardener and the scullery maid left the visiting area, closing the door behind them.

Heero gave Duo a questioning look. Duo sneered. "They're protecting her. This isn't something you should talk about in front of a lady, after all." He tucked one foot up on the bunk and sat forward with his face pressed against his knee and his arms folded around his head. It looked like he was hiding.

Frustrated, Heero turned to Trowa, snapping his medium-strength glare into place. "What's going on!?"

Trowa folded his arms and cleared his throat gently. "He's been charged with gross indecency under the Labouchere Amendment."

Hit by another wave of confusion, Heero shook his head. "I don't follow."

Somehow, Trowa had hoped that Heero would be familiar enough with British law that he wouldn't suffer the embarassment of having to explain it to him. He turned slightly red around the ears and coughed once or twice. "It means that they've accused him of....homosexual practices....including trying to seduce men."

Duo kept his face turned away from them both, and could only imagine the awful things Heero must have been thinking. That's it. Over. My nice, comfy life is over now. He's analyzing everything I've ever said or done to him...oh geez, and sleeping in the same bed with him! How stupid was that!? He cringed and shivered as he felt Heero's eyes burn two holes into the back of his neck. Oh God, the railroad tracks! I kissed him! What the hell was I thinking!? Even if I get out of here, he's never gonna let me within ten feet of him ever again!!

Once he'd given himself a sound mental beating, Duo woke up to the fact that Heero hadn't said anything yet. Morbid curiosity forced him to whip his head around and see exactly what the butler thought of him. The boy looked quite calm and seemed to have finished processing what he had just heard, waiting for Duo to make eye contact.

"And have you?" Heero asked matter-of-factly.

"Of course not!!" Duo yelled.

Heero let that sink in as well, then nodded. "I believe you."

Duo sat up, wondering if he'd heard correctly, but each time he replayed the phrase in his mind, it came out the same. Heero gave a long look to Trowa, who took the hint and went the same way as Quatre and Hilde, knocking on the heavy door and departing as soon as the guard appeared. Suddenly, the partners in crime were alone together for the first time since the news broke.

Duo didn't quite know what to expect. Would he be yelled at? Looked down on? Ignored? After an uncomfortable pause, Heero surprised him by taking a step towards the bars, no longer glaring. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"If I had been here, I would not have allowed them to capture you."

Duo chortled bitterly at his friend's militaristic way of looking at everything. "What were you gonna do, pull a gun on the arresting officer and demand that they hand me over? This isn't spy games or guerilla warfare, Heero! You can't treat the police the same way you treat the underworld cronies you're used to, it just doesn't work!"

Heero didn't have a reasonable answer for that. Upon seeing his blank expression, Duo jumped up and scampered over to the bars, grabbing hold of them on either side of his face. "I'm sorry, pal, I didn't mean to be so..." He swallowed from the strain of wanting to cry and wanting to appear strong at the same time. "It's just been really hard the last few days.

"The other prisoners all voted to get me thrown into solitary confinement because none of them wanted to be in the same cell with me. They couldn't stop making these sick comments, teasing me about my hair and my eyes...mostly the hair..even the guards don't wanna be around me, like I'm gonna jump 'em or something." He leaned his head against the bars, utterly defeated. "They say they've got enough evidence to put me away for two years, hard labour...so you'd better tell Relena to start advertising for a new chef."

Heero grabbed the same bars an inch below Duo's hands. "Why are you giving up so easily? You said yourself, you're innocent."

"I know...and I meant what I said. I never hung around in alleys trying to get picked up like they said I did." He spat the words out like they were acid in his mouth, compounding the revulsion every second they remained there.

"Then it's simple," Heero said plainly. "If you're innocent, they're not sending you to prison. I won't let it happen."

Duo shook his head sadly. "Heero...I know you mean well, but I just don't think I can fight this and do it honestly, and I don't want you breaking the law for me either."

The bit about honesty went right over Heero's head; he was too driven to notice it. "You're going to plead 'not guilty' and you're going to win. I'll make sure of that, and I'll leave the law perfectly intact as well. I'm not leaving you here, and that's final."

The chef sighed faintly, unable to compete with Heero's ingrained bull-headedness. Poor fool...he hasn't put it all together yet. Sure, I haven't done any of the things they say I did, but that doesn't mean I'm pure as the driven snow. If they ask exactly the right questions about me, how can I lie? It was a deplorable position to be in, full of fear and uncertainty, and Duo could only think of one thing that would make him feel better. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"If I don't get out of here, if something goes wrong and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it...promise you'll wait for me?"

Heero blinked numbly at the dewy violet eyes making their fervent plea for loyalty and remembrance, wondering exactly how to interpret the question. Wait for him? What does he mean? Suppose the worst does happen...would I stay in London while he served his sentence and meet him on the day of his release? Of course I would. It required hardly any thought at all. "I promise."

Duo smiled, though the smile failed to reach his eyes. His instincts told him that Heero really didn't understand, but he thought perhaps it was better that way, better than losing Heero's friendship altogether when he found out that Duo had some semblance of 'feelings' for him.

"Tell you what," Heero said, "once you're out of here, I'll take you to the best restaurant in town to celebrate, and then you can write down all their recipes and take them home with you. First class all the way." It was as good an attempt as he could make to lift the chef's spirits, and it seemed to help a little. Duo smiled.

Letting go of the cell bars in favour of his pocketwatch, Heero judged how much of the day was left in which to make things happen. "I'll go back to the manor, see if I can find this family solicitor of Relena's." He turned to the door, then paused and looked behind him when he heard Duo clear his throat and tap the bars impatiently.

The chef was hanging his arms very casually over the crossbar with his weight shifted to one foot, trying to look as relaxed as possible while approaching a very tense subject. "How did it go with his Lordship?"

It was only then that Heero remembered the dull ache that spread all across his back, and the once-cotton shirt that now felt like sandpaper. He supressed the pain and shrugged. "It's been settled." Not allowing Duo any time to restate the question, only more forcefully, he rapped soundly on the door and was escorted out.

Duo knew that something was amiss. He sat back down on the bunk and promised himself that even if he had to wait two years to do it, he would ask that question again.

**********

The servants were all avoiding the front parlour, as they had done since the morning after the drawing room unveiling when the police called 'round to inform Relena that her chef was cooling his heels in the clink. Had the official word arrived before the morning paper, which already contained the lurid details in the gossip column, Relena might have been in a condition to have a decent conversation with, instead of already bawling her eyes out hysterically.

She alternated rapidly between screaming in anger and just plain crying, stunned by the potentially lethal blow that had been dealt to the manor's reputation. Mostly she simply hid in the parlour, with the curtains drawn in case some rubbernecking passers-by wanted to peek inside the house that was becoming known as a den of sexual immorality. The pile of newspaper clippings on the parlour coffee table was growing almost hourly, splashing Duo's name and Bridlewood's name together in a morass of vile, putrid commentary on how low the estate had sunk.

"We'll never live this down," she blubbered through her handkerchief, "we'll have to sell up and move! I won't ever be able to show my face in town again!"

Her sole visitor, a thirty-ish gentleman with an expensive suit and a brown crocodile attaché case, shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the girl sobbed away. He appeared before her clean-shaven and tidy, as he always did, with hair the same brown as his case, cut simply and efficiently. He tapped his fingertips together and looked around, giving her a moment to compose herself, but it didn't seem to be working. "Er...some more tea, m'lady?"

"No thank you," she sniffed, "I've had gallons and it hasn't helped. What am I to do? I've worked so hard to build this house up as a pillar of the community, a symbol of class and good taste! It's all gone now! Our reputation is in ruins!"

Relena broke down in tears again, and the gentleman only looked more uncomfortable. Mercifully, the front door opened with a loud creak, and moments later a young man with wild hair, equally wild eyes and a tired but determined expression entered the room. The two men regarded each other oddly while listening to Relena weep, unsure of how to graciously interrupt her. Unwilling to wait indefinitely, the young man cleared his throat, just enough to nip at the heels of Relena's attention.

She looked up and immediately stopped crying, then threw her handkerchief down hard on the coffee table and stood up, furious. "Where have you been!?" she demanded, stomping to the parlour door where the young man stood. "Not a word for five whole days, and I was expecting you back in two! Do you have any idea what's been going on here? Or what's happened to the manor? We're a laughingstock, a positive laughingstock, and all because of that scruffy, unkempt, warped degenerate you brought into this house!!" On the word 'you', she smacked the boy as hard as she could in the shoulder, which wasn't much. He took the hit with little movement and a slight glare.

The gentleman stood up from the parlour sofa and came up to Relena's side, just as she resumed crying into her backup handkerchief. Eventually, she lessened her blubbering to the point where she remembered her manners. "This is Heero, my butler, Mr. Marlowe." She turned slightly towards Heero. "Mr. Robert Marlowe, our family solicitor."

Mr. Marlowe smiled warmly and offered his hand. "How do you do?" he stated in a well-bred English accent.

Heero took the man's hand and shook it firmly, impressed that a gentleman of such a high-class profession wouldn't blink at being friendly towards a mere servant.

Relena whimpered off to the sofa again, blowing her nose and leaving the menfolk to get acquainted. Mr. Marlowe looked at her rather helplessly, then turned to the butler, clasping his hands behind his back. "Yes, well...she's a trifle upset over this business with the chef--"

"A trifle upset!?" Relena cried, holding up a fistful of newsprint. "Look at what the papers are saying! 'Manor house disgraced by sinning servant!'...'Wild chef cooks own goose!'...'Eyewitnesses tell of secret Bridlewood brothel!'...oh, I don't want to hear about it anymore!" She leapt up from the sofa and fled the parlour as fast as her ludicrously expensive patent leather shoes could take her, throwing the newspaper clippings up in the air so that they fell to the Persian rug like snow. The tales spun by the tabloids were all lies, of course, but they were in the society gossip column, the publication of which was the most important part of Relena's day.

An awkward silence fell upon the parlour; Heero instinctively reverted to host-of-the-manor mode and gestured towards the tea set on the coffee table. "Cup of tea, Mr. Marlowe?"

"No, thank you, I've had several," Marlowe declined. He wandered back to the sofa and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Her Ladyship hasn't the strongest constitution I've come in contact with...oh, do sit down, would you?"

Heero raised an eyebrow and took the chair next to the sofa, further impressed. "Thank you." He was already setting aside a place on the 'A' list for Mr. Marlowe, who was anything but a snob. "You are here because of Mr. Maxwell's arrest, then?"

"After a fashion, yes," Marlowe said, "but I've having a frightful time trying to get anything done about it. Most of the staff seems to have disappeared, her Ladyship's young friend has gone out for some more brandy, and this Khushrenada fellow who's supposed to be managing the estate hasn't shown his face since I dropped by the other day. Frankly, I'm disappointed with the level of organization here since Lord Peacecraft's unfortunate passing."

The butler squinted unpleasantly at something Marlowe said, and leaned forward attentively. "You just...'dropped by' the other day? You mean to say that Relena didn't call you in order to take over the case?"

"Why...no, she didn't," Marlowe said with a surprised look. "I read it in the morning papers last week, but nobody rang me up. After a day or so, I telephoned, because any legal matters pertaining to the manor are technically my territory. I was worried that perhaps she'd hired someone else to look after things, but I found out rather abruptly that she hadn't hired anyone! And now she refuses to even discuss it!"

Heero set his jaw angrily. "I see." Obviously she cares much more about how Bridlewood's name looks in the papers than she does about Duo. "Mr. Marlowe, as the seniormost member of the household currently willing to make a decision, I am formally requesting that you take up Mr. Maxwell's representation, and if her Ladyship won't guarantee you your fee, then I will. Personally."

Mr. Marlowe seemed satisfied with that, and grateful that some progress was finally being made. "Oh! Right, then!" He took up his crocodile attaché case and both gentlemen stood. "I'd best go visit the accused and work out a strategy. Haven't much time before the trial, you know."

He walked briskly out of the parlour to the front hall, with Heero close behind him. "Why isn't there much time? He was only arrested last week."

"I've had my ear to the ground for the last few days," Marlowe explained while putting on his hat and overcoat, "and it seems that someone is trying to rush the case...someone with money. The prima facie hearing came and went before I even got to see my client, and the trial is set for the fifth of November. I don't know who's buying the case's way to the top of the roster, but it must be someone with tremendous influence!"

Heero's analytical side worked feverishly for only a few seconds before deciding on the most likely suspect. They said their tentative goodbyes and the well-dressed solicitor left on his way to Duo's holding cell at the police station.

The butler shut the door, turned around, and glared at the empty house. He was still as a statue, but inside, his blood was boiling. Despite Lord Jeffrhyss' recent efforts to bury the boy's emotions even farther than before, Heero's indignant rage was bubbling rapidly to the surface. The arrest had to be a set-up, it simply had to be, and he knew exactly who among them had the wealth, power, and unmitigated vileness to concoct such a plot.

Heero had to count much, much higher than ten before it was safe to go looking for Treize.

**********

Up in the second floor study, the Count was having a self-congratulatory drink in Otto's company. The house steward had burst into the room to inform Treize that Heero had returned, and was looking very nervous and fidgety until the Count tempted him with a bit of whiskey.

"You're going to worry yourself into an early grave, Otto," the Count chided. "He's just a boy."

"So you keep saying," Otto murmured between gulps of liquor, "but he's also a spy and a murderer, and I don't think that angering him is necessarily the right move."

Treize shook his head at the man and smiled. "When will you see that I want him to be angry? It means I've finally struck the correct nerve, and if he doesn't accept my conditions, I can crush that nerve permanently. The agony would be unimaginable." He grinned wickedly and poured himself seconds.

"If it's all the same to you, m'lord, I'd rather be elsewhere while you confront him," Otto said.

"Fine, fine, as you like," Treize sighed, "but you'll be missing a spectacular show."

Otto set the empty glass down and fled. He wouldn't admit it to Relena, or Dorothy, and certainly not to any of the staff, but he was becoming nearly as afraid of Heero as he was of Treize. Either one had the ability to snuff him out like a spent candle if he displeased them strongly enough, and since he was too involved in Treize's affairs to escape his influence, he chose the safe route and just generally avoided Heero as much as possible.

Treize could easily sense Otto's apprehension and was quite amused by it, but it wouldn't compare to the joy of getting rid of Heero for good. He got up from the armchair and crossed over to the writing desk, thinking he could get a little correspondence done before the butler began hunting for him.

You've become too much of a nuisance, Mr. Yuy, he thought as he sat down in the rolling leather chair and shuffled through some papers on the desk. Killing a very costly assassin is one thing, but sniffing around my bank records, now that's just going too far.

All was serene for a moment or two, and Treize wasn't even aware of the light, hasty footsteps approaching up the stairs and through the hall. Suddenly, the study door flew open and was slammed shut again. Treize looked up but only saw a blur as he felt his chair being yanked away from the desk with him still in it. Before he could blink, the chair was flying backwards and ended up tilted against the footstool next to the liquor cabinet, and Treize found himself gripping the armrests for balance and staring up at the ceiling. A small, strong hand roughly grabbed a fistful of shirt and tie near his throat, and the ceiling was replaced with the very angry face of Heero Yuy.

"You did this," the butler spat down at him.

Treize grinned faintly. "Please hold your applause until the end of the performance. I've only just begun."

Heero dragged the Count and the chair upright again, then shoved them both away so he could glare at them from a safe distance. "Why?"

"Because you just can't take a hint, even when it's giftwrapped and handed to you, that's why," Treize said, straightening his tie. "You should be grateful that I'm planning on keeping your name out of the trial, and out of the papers"

"But why Duo?" the butler asked sternly. "He's done nothing to you, and any help he's given me in my investigation was at my request!"

Treize leaned forward in his chair and looked terribly sad, like the tear-stained mask of a tragic clown. "Oh...how careless of me...what a mistake to make!" He leaned back again and crossed his legs languidly as the grin returned. "Perhaps I should consider having the charges against Mr. Maxwell dropped. What do you think?"

"I'm far too polite to say what I think," Heero said sharply. "Get to the point, Treize. I want Duo released, and you're fast-tracking him straight into prison. What's your price?"

Treize fiddled smugly with one of his gold-plated cufflinks, taking his time to answer. He got up and walked very slowly towards Heero, stretching the boy's patience to the limit before making his first and only offer. "Leave Bridlewood. Take that braided deviant of nature with you, if you like, but leave this place and never return." He waited for an immediate response, and when none came, casually lit a cigar. "Leave England, the pair of you. Hide yourselves away in some dark corner of the earth where twisted people like you are accepted, and where my business dealings will be well out of your reach. Throw yourselves off Gibraltar for all I care...but if you want him back, it is absolutely imperative that you and I never cross paths again." He waited again for a reaction, then shrugged. "Otherwise...well...we both know that sweet little boy is much too fragile for prison life, and 'accidental death' behind bars is not at all unheard of in the British Empire."

Heero remained stonefaced, finally responding with the silent resistance Jeffrhyss had drummed into him. He calmly computed the pros and cons with a blank expression, but his eyes betrayed a volcanic fury held back only by the thought of being given a jail cell of his own on a homicide charge. He couldn't give Duo over to the seedy lowlifes in Dartmoor just looking for someone to take their frustrations out on, but he couldn't abandon the mission either. "Unacceptable."

Treize shrugged and walked away. "I hope your friend likes prison food."

"I see a critical flaw in your plan," Heero said.

"Indeed?" Treize sang lightly as he went to the armchair and refilled his whiskey glass. "Kindly elaborate, Mr. Yuy. I could do with a laugh after such brusque treatment."

Heero took a few menacing steps towards him, keeping the pressure at maximum. "All along, you've been toiling under the assumption that the charges against Duo are justified. You may have bought a place in the courtroom to satisfy your grudge, but you can't buy the jury. The case is out of your hands now, and I doubt even you could totally corrupt one of the cornerstones of the British legal system. They'll see that Duo is innocent, and all your hard work will be for nothing."

Treize swirled the amber liquid around in the jewel-cut glass and chuckled. "I won't deny that I can't buy the jury, but I can buy what they see and hear, and what they see and hear will ultimately decide the case." He drained the glass in one gulp, then studied the pattern in the glass with interest. "Besides, how can you honestly believe that he isn't at least partly guilty? I didn't imagine what I've seen and heard around here, especially about you two, and I'm suprised that such a devout student of silence and deception as yourself wouldn't be more discreet about his...companionships. Perhaps you should rethink your strategy if you intend to rely solely on the 'truth'."

Heero glared, deciding he had exposed himself to more than enough of the Count's drivel for one day. He walked swiftly to the study door, and just as he reached it, Treize called out one last time with his offer. "It's not too late, Mr. Yuy. You have until November 5th to decide...but if you're not out of my life by then, it really will be too late, for you and your little friend."

The butler only paused a moment before opening the door. "See you in court." He left, slamming the door shut, this time with as much determination as anger.

**********

The litter of kittens seemed immune to the turmoil in the house, and were happily beginning to explore their environment. It was becoming less and less of a good idea for Heero to keep locking them in the bedroom just to keep Wufei from getting at the treasure trove of cash and sensitive documents being held there. Duo had given his spare key to Quatre, who gave it back to Heero at the earliest opportunity, after which the butler decided the kittens should be given some breathing room.

He packed up everything that had once been inside the homemade safe, stuffed it into Duo's old carpet bag, and took the whole bundle to his old room at the Muddy Nag, which he still held onto for various reasons. He locked the room up again, and gave Catherine another three months' rent in advance, which she very happily accepted.

Next, Heero went back to the police station where Duo and Mr. Marlowe were hard at work developing a defense to the gross indecency charges. Now that Heero was back, Duo stopped feeling so sorry for himself and was finally fired up about the trial; he practically insisted on being put on the stand, even though he had a right not to testify. Heero and Marlowe stayed as long as they could before the guards said it was time for them to go, and they both took a cab back to the manor.

Heero invited Marlowe down the kitchen for a late dinner, to which the chipper and personable solicitor quickly agreed. They found Trowa, Quatre and Hilde seated around the kitchen table, waiting for them.

"How is he?" Hilde asked desperately.

"Putting up a brave front," Heero said, pulling out a chair. He briefly introduced Mr. Marlowe to the others, and the solicitor set his crocodile case on the table.

"It's good to meet you all," he said, "and especially good to see that Mr. Maxwell has so many friends. I'd like you all to sit in the gallery where the jury can see you." He sat down and massaged his writing hand, sore from the copious notes he had taken all afternoon. "The way things are going, we'll need all the support we can get."

They all looked at Heero, who wasn't looking at anyone. "What do you mean?" Trowa asked tersely.

Marlowe winced. "It means that, while I find Mr. Ma--...while I find Duo to be a pleasant and very engaging young man, I'm afraid I don't fancy his chances. The prosecution is simply streaking ahead of us, and it's all moving at a fantastic pace!" He opened his attaché case, took out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Heero. "I didn't want to upset you in front of your friend, but the Crown's barrister has already presented me with a list of witnesses."

Heero looked over the page and saw the names of eight men he'd never heard of. "Who are all these?"

Marlowe looked uncomfortably at Hilde, but presumed that she chose to be there, and was ready to hear anything. "They all claim to have been...indecently propositioned in the street by Mr. Maxwell."

While the other servants made angry noises of disgust at the accusation, Heero's eye fell on the last two names that made up the list of ten witnesses: Elsie Farmer and Chang Wufei. He glared violently at the paper, unsuccessfully willing it to burst into flames and send itself back to the deceitful hell from whence it came. Omae o korosu! Both of you!!

"He's denied all knowledge of these, er, gentlemen," Marlowe continued, "and perhaps I could investigate and refute their claims, if only I had more time...but the trial's been pushed so far forward, there arent enough days left to properly prepare. I've a dreadful feeling that someone's planned it that way."

Hearing Duo's own lawyer admit that there was little hope for victory brought a grim cloud down around the table; nobody had much of an appetite for dinner anymore. The other three servants made woeful conversation with the solicitor as they all speculated over who could possibly harbour such terrible spite towards such a kind, gentle soul as Duo, but Heero didn't join in. For their own safety, he had to bear the terrible truth, and the guilt it brought, all alone.

**********

At the end of the very frustrating day, all Heero wanted to do was fall unconscious, wake up, and find that this was all just a garish nightmare. Treize must have paid off every one of those men, they can't possibly be telling the truth...but if he's paying for false testimony, he must be scared. He knows I'm right and that no jury on earth would convict...but who's to say they won't after hearing whatever lies he's invented about Duo? A headache was starting to set in.

As he climbed the familiar stairs to his room, nothing felt real; the stairs, the walls, and even the house itself should have collapsed in sympathy after such a disastrous week, and yet here they stood. He wanted the house to destroy itself, to complete the disassembly of his happy illusions of comfort and safety, to get it over with now while he was still in a sour mood. He stopped his ascent and shook the banister violently; it wouldn't budge.

...hn.

It only burned off a tiny fraction of the tension he needed to expel, but fatigue prevented him from putting any fresh holes in the rotting plasterboard wall. Curiously enough, at the moment when he most wanted to destroy something, what suddenly caught his attention was a tiny little 'mew'.

Heero looked up. At the top of the stairs, peering down at him with glossy turquoise eyes, was the little charcoal grey kitten he'd become acquainted with before. It looked as though it was waiting for someone to come up and visit, and must have actually missed Duo and Heero very much.

The butler's glare softened, and he trod up the rest of the stairs, scooping the kitten up from the final step. It gave a little squeak as it was lifted off the floor, then settled down to enjoy the rest of the ride. Heero went into his room and shut the door, then went over to his bed and counted the kittens; six in the bed and one in his hand, a rather high number, but they all seemed healthy.

He sat down on the edge of Duo's bed and watched them, thinking. They must wonder where Duo is. He used to play with them every night...and I used to tell him to shut the light off and go to bed or he'd be sleeping on the floor. Without thinking or noticing, he cradled the grey kitten against his chest and rubbed its neck as he stared straight ahead. The kitten shut its tiny eyes and purred gently, tucking its paws into Heero's shirt to keep them warm.

The simple act of stroking the soft fur had the same soothing effect on Heero as polishing the silver, but it couldn't ease the guilt and loneliness that was pouring in on him from all sides. ...Duo-nezu...I never treated you very well, did I?

The kitten mewed again, reminding Heero of its presence. He shook off the blanket of self-pity and got up to put the grey kitten down to sleep with the others, but to his surprise, it wriggled and squirmed away from them, and clung to Heero's sleeve with its tiny claws.

Heero scowled and tried to pry the furball off him, but the kitten was adamant. It refused to let go of him, and he didn't want to risk hurting it by pulling too hard. He let it sit on his right arm and looked down at it with a mental sigh. Thinking it just wanted more attention, he sat back down on the double bed, but instead of cuddling up for another scratch behind the ears, the kitten scrambled over Heero's shoulder and jumped down onto Duo's side of the bed, curling up on his pillow right away.

Heero looked at the kitten over his shoulder and realized with gratitude that it didn't sink its claws into his sore back on the way down. Trowa seems to believe that animals are highly psychic, he thought. Perhaps this one can tell that I'm injured.

He watched the kitten for awhile, and every so often it opened its eyes and looked up at him, to make sure he was still there. He looked over at the rest of the kittens, and Anna-Maria; none of them seemed bothered by the depressed atmosphere Heero brought into the room with him, or by the abscence of Duo. He looked back at the ball of fluff on the other pillow. "It's alright.....I miss him too," he whispered. I suppose I must, if I'm talking to a cat, he thought, rolling his eyes slightly. The grey kitten was almost asleep, and only the tip of its tail twitched in response.

Resigned to letting the feline stay where it was, Heero changed clothes, turned out the lantern on the desk, and carefully climbed into bed. The kitten was just lonely for its human friends, and it would have been cruel to forcibly evict it from the bed; there was more than enough room for both of them anyway.

Lying on his back was too painful, and he preferred to know where his little guest was during the night, so Heero rolled onto his left side where he could easily see the dark shape on Duo's pillow. Jeffrhyss would have been most disappointed in him at that moment, of that there was no doubt, but he was beginning to see that Jeffrhyss' training methods and a 'normal' life were incompatible with each other. Heero squeezed his own pillow with both hands. Why wasn't I ever given a choice??

Sensing sudden distress on the other side of the bed, the charcoal grey kitten climbed over to nestle between the pillows, nuzzling and rubbing up against Heero's clenched hands. The boy relaxed his grip and closed his eyes, drifting into a warm, pleasant haze, comforted just by having a presence next to him, even if it was a tiny animal. They each settled down and went to sleep, somehow knowing in the back of their minds that they wouldn't be sleeping any more soundly that night than Duo would.


~~~~~~~~~~

Next, in Episode Twenty-Five: Court is in session for the case of Crown v. Maxwell, as Duo fights to defend his honour before the whole of England, but Treize has nearly every route of escape blocked with legal trickery. What can Heero possibly pull out of his sleeve that can save his friend from jail?

You heard the man, November 5th. *gaaaaaaasp* If I don't make this deadline, it means I died at the keyboard due to overexertion of the spacebar thumb. =X_x= *salutes* Our questions, both new and old, will be answered next week! Watch this space!! =^_^=