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*shakes kinks out of fingers again* =X_x= You may notice that I used a quote from the same man two episodes in a row...if you have no idea why I did this, look his name up after you finish this episode. You may find it...enlightening. =^_~= You're gonna see some heavy material here, and I just want to be perfectly clear on something so I don't get hate-mail for it later: In the sixties, the courts decided the law had no business dictating what consenting adults could do behind closed doors, but before then, "alternative lifestyles" were a serious crime. Stuff like this happened in real life to real people, but I'm just the messenger, o-tay? Oh, and my beta reader is the one who picked out the spelling of Hilde's last name, so if you thought it shoulda been something else, address your complaintst to rachelperrin@billsfan.net =P
Disclaimer: ....umm....I just wrote forty pages in five days, I don't think there's anything left in me to write a new disclaimer. Maybe next week. =^_^=
Suggested Font: Times New Roman~~~~~~~~~~
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Episode Twenty-Five: The Trial "The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple." ~Oscar WildeNovember 5th, 1901 On the night before the trial, it rained and rained until the gutters turned to rivers and the pavement disappeared under an inch-deep cascade of freezing cold water. Quatre and Trowa were up half the night soaking up the steady trickle invading the basement with rags and sponges, and collapsed exhausted into their beds a little before sunrise. Quatre found he couldn't sleep, however, and went wandering around the house trying to burn off some nervous energy. His route was random and aimless until he sensed a presence that was out of place, away from any of the bedrooms and very faint. He followed the feeling right to the door of the library and knocked gently; there was no answer, but curiosity begged him to open the door and peek inside. There was someone sitting at the reading table sound asleep, with their head laid flat on an open book and pointing away from the door. A gaslamp on the same table was sitting unlit, having used up its fuel some time ago, and there were dusty books and many piles of paper everywhere. As Quatre stepped closer, taking small, quiet steps to avoid waking the person, he realized it was Heero. He read the title of one of the books and sighed deeply; they were law books, the same ones the boy had been studying for the last three days, and for which he had already given up two nights' sleep. It seemed to have caught up with him at last. Quatre reached out and shook him gently by the shoulder. "Heero?" The butler stirred with a tiny moan and opened his eyes to the darkness. Groggily pulling himself upright, he gradually noticed the lantern was out, realized where he was and what he was doing, and fumbled clumsily for his pocketwatch. "It's five-thirty," Quatre whispered. Heero looked up, seeing the gardener's shadowed outline for the first time. He moaned again and rubbed his eyes while Quatre went to the far writing desk and flipped on the electric lamp, providing enough light to see without blinding the other boy. When Quatre walked back to the reading table, Heero was staring oddly at a small lump of dark fur on one of the law books, now visible in the dim light. They both leaned in closer and identified it as a curled-up kitten, sleeping comfortably with it's nose tucked into it's tail. "Study partner?" Quatre whispered with a smile. "No," Heero said, shaking his head slightly at the charcoal grey lump, "it was sleeping upstairs when I came down here...how on earth did it..." Heero mentally traced the route from the attic to the library, counting the number of doors, corners, and stairs in between, but couldn't fathom how the tiny kitten had managed to follow him. Quatre had already shrugged the puzzle off and was pulling a second chair up to the table. "Have you made any progress?" Heero shook his head again. "I've been through every one of these and there are no precedents that can help us. I've been on the phone ten times to the American Embassy, the church that ran Duo's old orphanage...I even got so far as to find out what ship his parents arrived on ten years ago, but the booking agency doesn't have their address on record. I can't find any of his family or any legal loopholes that might get him out of this." He slouched and stared blankly at the page he was reading when he fell asleep, unable to say anything encouraging and yet unwilling to admit he had failed. "You got two of the prosecutor's witnesses thrown out, didn't you?" Quatre reminded him in a hopeful voice. "For providing false information to the court about their citizenship, yes," Heero said flatly, "but I didn't have time to investigate them all. They still have a strong case against Duo." "I still wish you'd let me take the stand as a character witness," Quatre said somberly, shaking his head. "You don't know that any of my sisters will be there." "If it was up to me, you wouldn't even be in the courtroom," Heero argued, "but I can't force you to stay home. Putting you on the stand is an even greater risk, and I cannot, in good conscience, sacrifice your safety, even for his." Quatre leaned over the table and lightly stroked the fur on the kitten's curled-up back, hoping it would cheer him up a little. "I wish this tontine had already been settled...at least then I might have had a chance to bail Duo out so he wouldn't have had to spend the week on remand. We could have afforded it, then..." Heero ground his teeth angrily, remembering with bitterness how someone, most likely Treize, had pushed bail far beyond even Heero's vast means. The price tag was more than his entire net worth, and so the chef stayed in custody until the trial. Heero watched as the kitten stirred sleepily and Quatre drew his hand away quickly, not really wanting to wake it. "I can't imagine who would want to do this to him," the gardener said solemnly. "Duo's so friendly and happy...someone's got to be out of their mind. Someone's got to be lying." Difficult as it was, Heero didn't answer. It would be endangering Quatre and endagering the mission if he revealed what he knew. I'm going to bring Duo home. I don't know how, but it has to be done. I won't let him suffer because of my profession, and I won't let Treize beat me. The pair sat watching the ball of fur breathe in and out in dreamless sleep, listening to the rain pounding the house, muffled by the rooms around them. The sun rose slower that morning than it ever had before or ever would again, on the day that would live in infamy at Bridlewood Manor. **********Treize found the breakfast Elsie cooked to be barely adequate, but didn't complain; nothing could dampen his spirits today, not even the constant drizzle outside. Elsie enjoyed complaining, but found nothing wrong with the gifts she received from the Count in exchange for her testimony, along with the promise that if Duo was convicted, she'd be 'chef de cuisine' as she should have been by rights all along. The fact that the woman really couldn't cook was beside the point. The Count walked past Relena's room and rapped lightly on the doorframe, then poked his head into the frilly pink chamber to see his niece sitting on her bed hugging a pillow and looking very morose. "Relena my dear, it's time to go..." "I'm not going," she mumbled into the pillow. "I can't show my face in the street ever again, what makes you think I could live down going to court?" "We're all going, my dear, it's an event. As soon as the boy is sent away, the court will see that it was all his fault and none of ours, and the manor will survive just as well as it always has. People will forget." "No they won't!" she whimpered. "I might as well get used to rattling around in this drafty old house alone, because I can never leave, and nobody's ever coming to visit again, so just go to your little trial and leave me alone!" Treize smiled faintly and shook his head; being older and wiser, he knew she'd get over it, and it really was the best thing for her. One way or the other, Heero would be easily toppled after today, he felt sure of that, and life would get a little bit easier for all of them. "I'll save you a spot in case you change your mind," he said gently, backing away from the door. With that Treize left the girl to her sorrows and wound his way downstairs. At the foot of the grand staircase was a deputation of servants ready to go to the courthouse, huddled together and whispering, five altogether, including Heero. They broke apart and looked up at the Count with blank expressions, all except one, for only one of them knew who was really to blame for the court case to be presented that day. Heero quietly told them all to go on without him, promising Quatre especially that he hadn't given up, and they went out the front door obediently. Treize and Heero stared at each other for awhile, until the Count came the rest of the way down the stairs, adjusting his cufflinks. "Not coming to watch, eh? I don't blame you...it's going to get rather...unpleasant." He towered over the boy and smirked. "It's still not too late to accept my offer, Mr. Yuy. Just say the word, and this court case goes away, just like that." He snapped his fingers an inch away from Heero's face, which didn't impress him. "No deal," Heero said. "I'll get Duo out of this my own way." "Little chance of that, I'm afraid," the Count said in feigned sadness, grabbing his white gloves and black overcoat. "You'll have to face it, before the end of this day, that you're just no competition for me in broad daylight." He lightly slapped Heero in the face with one glove before walking confidently out the door. Heero exhaled violently as soon as he was gone, and had been extremely close to punching the man's lights out. He had a point, though; it seemed that when the sun was out, when there were no back-alley dealings and assassins to deal with under the cover of darkness, Treize had the advantage. He had money and power beyond Heero's capabilities to work within the law, and even if he were to go outside the law, he still couldn't match the Count's influence. ....alone, that is. Heero blinked and pondered that thought for awhile. I'm not using all the resources available to me, that's why I'm not getting anywhere! He thought it over; it was risky, but if it worked, the payoff would be enormous. He checked his watch, then ran outside to tell Quatre he might be a little late getting to the trial. **********Duo was brought to the courthouse in handcuffs, just one more indignity to add to a growing list, which also included a seemingly endless stream of taunts and catcalls thrown at him by the other prisoners as he was led away from his cell. Once inside the massive stone building, he was taken to the room in which his case would be tried that day, full of rich, dark wood in the form of benches, railings, desks, chairs, trimmings, and the little set of steps going up to the little closed-off area where he would spend most of the trial under guard. Above the judge's bench was the British flag and the crest of the royal family, and all around the room hung painted portraits of previous judges, officials of state, and one very large painting of Good Queen Vic herself. The baliffs placed Duo in the prisoner's dock, a simple square platform with a chair and a wooden railing, and the handcuffs were removed. The courtroom was already beginning to fill up with spectators, and to Duo's delight, the back four rows on one side were quickly filled with a flock of teenagers, both boys and girls, that he used to hang out with while living on the streets. They all exchanged waves with Duo and, after asking which side of the courtroom was represented by the defense, sat on that side in a show of support. Next came the general public, for whom trials of this nature were a form of entertainment, and then the Bridlewood crowd, consisting of Bethany, Hilde, Quatre and Trowa. Even Dr. Poole took time out of her schedule to offer the boy her moral support. Relena must've stayed home out of sheer embarassment, Duo thought with a frown. Thanks a lot. The side of the room belonging to the prosecution was also filling up, and to no surprise, Treize and Wufei sat next to each other looking very pleased with themselves. Otto was there too, but a few rows back, and for reasons Treize chose to keep to himself, didn't appear on the witness list. Lastly came Mr. Marlowe and two barristers, one of whom would be defending Duo. They both wore long dark robes and short, curly, white powdered wigs with black ribbons, as was the tradition of the English court. The skinnier of the two, a white-haired man who wore spectacles and had gaunt, chisleled features, went straight over to Treize and had a chat with him. The other barrister, a slightly stout but very tall man with a short salt-and-pepper beard and a fatherly smile, followed Mr. Marlowe up to see Duo. "I'd like you to meet your barrister, Mr. Maxwell," Marlowe said from two feet below the dock. "This is Mr. William Spenser the third, he's going to represent your case before Judge Hampstead." Mr. Spenser extended a hand up to Duo, who took it gratefully. "I've heard a great deal about you, young man, and I'd like to reassure you that it wasn't all bad press," he said warmly. Duo smiled at him, relieved. "Thanks, that means a lot to me." He released the man's hand and ducked down to say something to him in secret. "Watch out for that big guy in the first row over there, the one with the 'I'll-do-what-I-want-cause-I'm-rich' haircut. This is all his doing." Spenser looked over at the first row of seats behind the prosecutor's desk, identified Treize, and smiled back at Duo. "Yes, I'm familiar with the Count to a degree. I won't let him pull one over on me, I promise you." He winked at the boy, and Duo finally felt optimistic about the day. A few feet away, a jury of his peers, twelve men of varying ages, filed into the jury box and looked him over with distaste. When the courtroom was filled to capacity, the doors were shut, and at the stroke of nine, the case began. There was much pomp and ceremony involved, most of which Duo didn't understand; he just answered the questions asked of him and tried to pay attention as the court officials muddled through the usual customs. Judge Hampstead was a dour, curmudgeonly figure in a black robe, with a long white powdered wig that reached almost down to the top of his bench, and spectacles that perched on the end of his nose, giving him the appropriate air of superiority. Everyone was commanded to rise upon his entry, and could not sit again until he was seated. "The case of the Crown versus Maxwell will now proceed...," the judge said slowly in a half-asleep voice. "The accused stands charged of gross indecency and solicitation of persons over the age of twenty-one to commit acts of sodomy in public places...the plea of 'not guilty' has been entered...Mr. Beecham, is the prosecution ready?" The skinnier of the two barristers, the one who went to speak with Treize, looked up from his desk and nodded. "Yes, m'lord." Such was the rather inauspicious start to a very gritty trial. At the Count's secret bidding, the prosecutor paraded six different 'gentlemen' in front of the jury to describe how Duo approached them at night in the street and offered them all manner of sexual favours for a shilling. Their stories were virtually identical, except for small variations in the services that were offered to them, and sometimes the pricing. Some said Duo had invited them to an opium den for activities they didn't even have proper words for, others claimed he would just take them to a dark alley and have a wide variety of lewd acts performed on him or by him if a bit of silver crossed his palm. The real Duo sat with a shocked and disgusted look on his face as he listened to all the festering details he never wanted to know being splashed into the ears of the jurors. It became so bad at one point that the judge halted the testimony to suggest that the ladies leave the room, although few of them actually did. Mercifully, it couldn't last forever, and the torrent of lies spewed forth by Treize's cronies ended. The six witnesses had taken up most of the morning, and the judge needed rather badly to adjourn for the lunch hour, even though nobody had any appetite left. Afterwards, the participants marched back into the courtroom, and the case resumed with the prosecution running down their shrinking list of witnesses. Mr. Beecham rose and grasped his robe where normally one's suspenders would be, and brought the case back into full swing. "The prosecution calls Chang Wufei!" "Calling Chang Wufei!" the clerk cried. Wufei rose from his spot next to Treize in the gallery and made his way to the front of the courtroom to be sworn in. The judge took one look at him and his oriental features, took off his glasses, looked again, and gave the prosecutor a squinty glance. "Have you provided for an interpreter, Mr. Beecham?" "No need, m'lord," Wufei said upon reaching the witness stand. "Mr. Beecham's diction isn't that bad." A few sporadic giggles flew through the courtroon, and the judge banged his gavel lightly once or twice to silence them. Wufei was sworn in without further incident, and the questioning began; the prosecutor remained where he stood and twiddled a fountain pen about in his fingers as he spoke. "Are you, Chang Wufei, an interior decorator currently employed at Bridlewood Manor?" "Yes, sir." "Had you ever met the accused before your employment began?" "No, sir." "Think back to the time when you did first meet the accused. Would you have described him then as an effeminate character?" Mr. Spenser immediately rose from his chair. "I protest, m'lord, counsel is leading the witness..." "I'll rephrase the question," Mr. Beecham said quickly, holding up a hand to the judge. "What were your first impressions of Mr. Maxwell?" Wufei looked over at Duo, smirked, and turned back to the prosecutor. "Quite simple, really. I thought he was a girl. I saw him from the back, with his hair hanging down like a bellpull, and I thought it was a girl wearing trousers. Only when he turned around and actually spoke to me did I hear his voice and decide otherwise...but that hair is difficult to ignore." "I see." Mr. Beecham put down his pen and grasped the front of his robe, in the same place he did before. "Mr. Chang, would you kindly tell the court what you saw on the night of October 17th?" "Of course," Wufei said pleasantly, catching an approving glance from Treize. "I was decorating a room in the manor and was suddenly stumped for ideas, the way writers suffer from writers' block, so I went for a walk. I wasn't aiming for any particular place, but I happened upon a set of railroad tracks that crossed a dried-up creek. It was dark and rainy, but clear enough to see." Wufei paused, then looked straight at Duo as he continued his tale. "I saw the accused and another young man on the railroad tracks. As they moved away from the tracks and closer to where I was standing, I became sure that it was Mr. Maxwell, but the other gentleman's back was turned, and I couldn't recognize him." Duo noted with bitterness that he deliberately avoided using Heero's name, just as he left out the entire story of how they nearly died under the wheels of the train. "What else did you observe that night?" the prosecutor asked. "I saw, very clearly, that the accused embraced this other young man and kissed him." At Wufei's words, the courtroom murmured their disapproval; Trowa and Quatre looked at each other, both silently wondering who the other young man could have been, if it was true at all. Quatre paid close attention to Duo throughout the proceedings and could sense when he felt guilt and when he did not, and at that moment, slight trickles of guilt over the mysterious kiss did not escape the gardener's attention. "You're quite certain that it was Mr. Maxwell you saw?" Mr. Beecham asked again. In the background, Hilde suddenly leaned forward over the back of the bench in front of her and whispered something in Mr. Marlowe's ear. Then Marlowe leaned forward and whispered something in Mr. Spenser's ear. "Absolutely," Wufei said with conviction. "As I said, that hair of his is difficult to ignore...or forget." "Thank you, sir," Mr. Beecham concluded, sitting down. "Nothing further, m'lord." Mr. Spenser stood and left his desk to wander in front of the witness box. "And you have no idea who the other young man was, Mr. Chang?" he asked. "None whatsoever." "Do you see anyone resembling the gentleman in this courtroom today?" Spenser said, making a sweeping gesture towards the gallery. Wufei made an honest attempt to locate Heero in the gallery, even though he was under strict instructions not to identify him, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. "No, sir." "Could you...describe the young man to us?" Wufei squinted and leaned back. "...it was rather dark out." "But you recognized the accused," Spenser said, pointing to Duo, "so surely you could give us some idea. How tall was he? Up to here?" He held his hand up at about ear-level, which was fairy high on such a tall man. "...no, shorter," Wufei said. "Up to here?" Spenser asked, lowering the hand to shoulder-level. "...yes, I suppose so." The boy was feeling cornered, but couldn't understand why. Spenser nodded, moving in front of him to block his view of Treize. "Was he a heavy man? Or slender?" Treize looked suspiciously at the defense counsel, as did Duo. "Thin, very thin," Wufei stammered. He wasn't supposed to lead anyone to believe it was Heero, but in the back of his mind, he knew he could put Heero in jail too if he wanted, regardless of Treize's plan. The resulting confusion actually forced him to tell the truth. "And what about his hair? Was it straight, or wavy? Dark, or fair?" Wufei didn't see Treize's sharp glare as he answered, helplessly impaled on Mr. Spenser's imposing gaze. "Well...short, dark hair...a bit spiky at the front...that's all, really," he ended with a shrug. "So you saw a shortish, slender person, with short dark hair that was a bit spiky at the front, is that correct?" As Mr. Spenser summed it up, the prosecutor fingered his pen, looking for a place to object to the odd line of questioning. "That's what I said, isn't it?" Wufei snapped impatiently. Spenser glanced up at the judge. "If I may indulge the court, m'lord?" "You may," the judge said in his typical tired voice. Mr. Spenser turned to the gallery and nodded to someone in the second row. To everyone's surprise, Hilde stood, squeezed past the other people in her row, and came to stand next to Mr. Spenser. The barrister raised his hand to shoulder-level, and Hilde fit very nicely underneath. "Mr. Chang, do you deny that this young lady is a shortish, slender person with short dark hair that is a bit spiky at the front?" "I must protest, m'lord," Mr. Beecham declared, rising. "What has this to do with the case at hand?" "I am merely trying to demonstrate that, accurate as Mr. Chang's eyesight and memory may be," Spenser replied, "he cannot be one hundred percent certain that the person he saw Mr. Maxwell kiss was necessarily a man! If all he can give us is a vague description, how can any of us be sure of what he saw?" The judge nodded. "Logical. Proceed, Mr. Spenser." Mr. Beecham sat down with a sigh, and Mr. Spenser turned back to Wufei. Hilde was still standing very quietly under the barrister's hand, and could feel Duo's eyes on the side of her face, begging her to look his way and give some indication of what was going on, but she didn't move. "If we might continue, Mr. Chang," Spenser said with a smile, "are you absolutely sure of what you saw?" "Of course I am!" Wufei scoffed angrily. "I do know the difference between men and women, and the same accurate eyesight and memory that told me the man's height and hairstyle also told me that he was wearing trousers! Explain that if you can!" "Thank you, Mr. Chang," Spenser said, walking away from Hilde and towards the witness stand, "I will." He took up the same position as before, standing precisely between him and Treize. "You said yourself that the first time you saw the accused, you thought he was a girl wearing trousers. Are you now saying it is impossible that you might have seen Mr. Maxwell kiss a girl wearing trousers by the railroad tracks? You seem to think girls can wear trousers anytime they like, or you wouldn't have made such an assumption in the first place!" More murmurs resounded through the courtroom, and Duo's expression brightened as he saw his champion punch a sizeable hole in the shield that was Wufei's testimony. "Which was it, Mr. Chang?" Spenser asked pointedly. "Did you see a man, or a girl wearing trousers?" Wufei glowered, then slumped against the wooden railing, defeated. Behind the prosecution's bench, Treize looked equally miserable. **********Aided by clearer knowledge of the route to take and an earlier train, Heero made the journey from London to Cloverderry Glen in record time, mind reeling with anxieties over what to say and how to act. As he rode from the train station into the tiny village, he began to worry that because there was so much as stake, he might forget protocol and act on instinct, which could be disastrous. Heero left his carriage and driver in the center of town, outside the post office. He checked his pocketwatch; it was just past eleven, so if he made this quick, he could be back in London by tea time. Trying to look inconspicuous to the townsfolk, he walked very casually to the border of the village, where Noin had taken him before, but as soon as he was far enough down the dirt path not to be seen, he broke into a run, dashing towards the cottage by the mill wheel with gazelle-like strides. The rain had ended, but the path was still muddy, and he was lucky not to have slipped and fallen given his rate of speed. As he passed by the crumbling stone wall, he was unaware of the shabbily-dressed man with round spectacles and mushroom-shaped hair crouched down behind it, watching him. Ignoring the ache in his limbs and back, as well as the repelling force the cottage exerted on his psyche, he ran straight up to the door, thrashing aside the tall weeds and jerking the doorhandle about with tremendous force. The door was locked, but Heero wasn't keen on climbing in through the window, so he kicked it in. The cottage was darker than usual inside; not even the orange glow marking the location of the stairs was evident, and Heero cursed himself for not bringing any matches. He tried to make his way to where the stairs used to be, but everything on the main floor had been moved, not much but just enough so that he bumped into unidentifiable thing after thing along the way. Finally, he reached the stairs and hurled himself down into the inky blackness two steps at a time. There was no light, no sound, no vibration to indicate that anyone was near. Heero listened in all directions, then grew impatient. "Where are you!?" he shouted. No reply came. He tried to remember where the nearest light or lantern was, but everything on the lower level had been slightly moved also, and he continued to stumble around blindly. Suddenly, there was a short click, and a white hot light that burned like a thousand suns shone directly into Heero's eyes. It seared his vision and sent him cowering backwards into a stack of boxes that collapsed around him as he tumbled to the floor. "You weren't invited here," the familiar gravelly voice thundered. Heero somehow knew the bright light would stay on until he made some small gesture of supplicance. "Forgive me," he called out quietly, holding a hand up against the light, "but I had to come. I had to ask you for--" His request was cut off by another click; the light doubled in intensity, so much that it even hurt with his eyes closed. He buried his face in his hands and could faintly hear soft footsteps travelling around him, but his senses were overloaded, and he couldn't glance up even to see whose they were. "You ask nothing of me," the voice boomed. "You belong to me and are well provided for. What presumptuousness is this, that you should come here asking for things?" Blinking away the piercing white haze, Heero's eyes slowly recovered from the shock, and he realized that the bright light had been turned off. In its stead, more than a dozen gas lanterns all around the cavernous room had been lit, all at once, giving the underground chamber its characteristic orange glow. Heero now saw that he was on his knees in a pile of knocked-over papers, but they were of no consquence to him. He twisted around at the waist and saw Lord Jeffrhyss seated behind him, in front of his beloved chessboard, staring hypnotically at the pieces. The boy rose and turned to face his master, but was silent, remembering the penalty for talking out of turn. Jeffrhyss balanced his hand and his hook on the heavy wooden cane and inhaled deeply. "You want me to save the Maxwell boy." Heero tipped his head humbly towards the floor and gazed down at it silently, hands at his sides and standing ramrod straight. As he suspected, his volatile instincts had gotten him into trouble, but as yet, the damage wasn't too bad. "I've read something of the case against him," Jeffrhyss said. "I find it surprising that you would ally yourself with such a character." "Master," Heero said softly, eyes still down, "may I speak?" Jeffrhyss continued to stare at the chessboard, deliberately creating a long, tense silence before deciding. "You may." "The charges against Duo are false," the boy explained, "part of Khushrenada's ongoing effort to intimidate me. In spite of what you may have heard, he's not the person the papers say he is." "And this is meant to be his excuse for distracting you from your mission?" "He wasn't distracting me, he was helping me," Heero insisted. "I uncovered information about my target that I couldn't have obtained without his help." "You've never needed help before...so instead of distracting you, this boy has replaced your training. Even better," Jeffrhyss scoffed bitterly. "How much have you told him about our organization?" "Very little." "Too much." Jeffrhyss hoisted himself out of the chair with his cane and finally looked his agent over with disappointment. "You have all that you require to complete your task." He turned away, heading for one of the heavy wooden doors around the perimeter of the room. Heero looked up, unable to believe that this was all Jeffrhyss had to say on the matter. "Wait!" Jeffrhyss turned around slowly, frightfully slowly, hand tensing around his cane as if subtlely gauging how far he could throw it. Being too far away from the bright light to use it again, he stopped and gave Heero a brief opportunity to explain his impudence. "Is that it?" the boy asked with an incredulous look. "I took a great risk coming here at all, and every minute I delay is putting Duo in greater danger! If he goes to prison, Treize has all but assured me that he won't make it out alive! Half of the financial reconaissance we have on Treize, we have because of Duo! Does that mean nothing to you?" Jeffrhyss flexed his hand around the cane, stalling until he was calm enough to respond civilly. "If he was foolish enough to associate himself with you after hearing what I assume you told him about yourself, then his fate is justified. If you have allowed your abilities to rot to the point where you need his assistance to complete even the simplest of tasks, then your fate is also justifed." "You instructed me to form whatever alliances were beneficial to my work!" Heero protested. "You might be the most powerful man in England right now, and you won't use even a small portion of your influence to preserve my most valuable alliance? Why?" The old man said nothing. He peered at the boy through his dark spectacles for a moment or two, then turned to leave, silently declaring the subject closed. Heero took a dangerous step forward. "If you don't help me, I won't go back." Lord Jeffrhyss paused, and when the boy saw he'd struck a nerve, he elaborated on his threat. "I will halt the investigation and never return to Bridlewood," he spat. "Send anyone you wish to terminate me, but we both know I'm the best agent this organization has ever seen, and no one else will ever get near me. Do this one thing that I ask...or our partnership is finished." Jeffrhyss glared. The impertinence of making demands and backing them up with threats against other agents was bad enough, but the implication of the word 'partnership', that the two of them might actually aspire to be equals, was blasphemous. With a barely detectable snort of disgust, he turned and began walking away a second time. Heero's eyes widened. After making the best argument possible, he couldn't believe that he wasn't getting through. He thought again of Duo wasting away in prison, making little rocks out of big rocks until his term expired or he expired, and something in him broke. Without a second's thought, he grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a heavy globe of marble, larger than a man's fist and flattened on one side to make it a paperweight. "Listen to me!!" he shouted, and he hurled the globe past his master's head. It collided with the opposite wall, knocking off pictures and shelving, and leaving a sizable dent. Jeffrhyss spun around and fixed his gaze on the source of the projectile, then took the action he would only use as a last resort when alone and threatened by his own creation--he removed the dark spectacles. Underneath the circles of darkened glass were the eyes of a demon, with rings of pale, sickly yellow-green filled in on either side by blood, unparalleled in their ugliness. It was a hideous sight that Heero had not been consciously exposed to since he was a tiny child, alone and frightened, wondering what had become of his mother and father. The red and green glare paralyzed him through unknown means, and he was frozen in place as Jeffrhyss hung the spectacles on his hook and strode menacingly towards him. All of Heero's senses shut down in one direction, still transmitting information but not allowing him to move, speak, or even breathe as he felt Jeffrhyss' rough, wrinkled hand close around his throat. The old man squeezed the boy's neck as a warning, keeping him transfixed on his terrifying gaze, and with a mighty shove, flung Heero's small body away from him into a cluster of furniture and wooden crates. He crashed to the floor a coughing wreck, released from the trance as soon as eye contact between the pair was broken, and clutched at his throat, remembering with revulsion why he loathed to be touched, especially by his master. Reminded once again that Lord Jeffrhyss was stronger than he looked, Heero stayed very still and listened to the footsteps travelling around the room. When he finally looked up, Jeffrhyss was back in his usual chair. Encouraging, he thought, for if his Lordship wasn't willing to listen to the next offer, he would have left the room after all, as seemed to be his earlier choice. Taking no more chances, Heero crawled to the massive armchair and, placing his right hand up on the carved oak armrest, tucked himself into a crouch on one knee with his head bowed in surrender; Jeffrhyss preferred him that way. Heero drew a shallow breath and stared at the floor. "He's my friend.....please." His Lordship had put the dark spectacles back on, and glanced casually between the kneeling boy and his chessboard. He picked up a particular black pawn, one he often studied, and pursed his thin lips in thought. "They said I couldn't create an agent that would be impervious to the influences of the world...that no human could be taught to be completely detached from it, while maintaining total obedience from within it. I refuse to accept failure this early." He put the pawn back down gently. "Look at me, boy." Heero slowly looked up. The old man reached to his right, to a potted flower with broad red petals, and plucked the bloom off its stem. Heero glanced around quickly and saw that it was one of the dozens of similar plants, in varying stages of development, that were clumped in a corner of the room. Jeffrhyss cradled the crimson flower in his good hand. "I'm disappointed in you, not merely for your uncontrolled outbursts, but for the way you allowed yourself to be tainted so soon after your reconditioning. I will help your friend...but only if you submit to a change in your training, something that will strengthen my hold over you." He fingered the blood red petals, and seemed to be withholding details of the change until the test subject agreed to the experiment. "What is your answer?" Staring wearily at the flower, Heero pondered the choice before him, which was hardly a fair one. How can I possibly choose without knowing what my options really are? He won't tell me what it is until I say yes...what if the price is too high? He remembered with terrible guilt the reason why he came, and steeled himself. This is for Duo. There is no price too high. "I accept." Jeffrhyss gave no indication of delight or displeasure. "Then tell me the name of the judge trying the case, and we'll begin." **********The prosecution's presentation was coming to a close, and Mr. Beecham called his final witness. "I call Miss Elsie Farmer, m'lord." "Calling Elsie Farmer!" came the clerk's shout. Elsie came up from somewhere in the back of the gallery and walked up the aisle, avoiding the eyes of the four servants seated two rows behind the defense counsel. Bethany, in particular, gave her a surprisingly vicious glare for selling out to the other side, running a cool eye over the splendid new dress she wore. Elsie was sworn in and took the stand, casting no eye whatsoever in Duo's direction. Mr. Beecham walked over to her and smiled genially. "What is your occupation at Bridlewood Manor, Miss Farmer?" "'Ousemaid, sir," the cockney woman said simply. "And where in the house do you work?" Elsie counted off her numerous duties on her well-worn fingers. "Parlours, front 'all, upstairs study, guestrooms, drawin' room, polishin' brass, puttin' fresh soap in the--" "That's fine, Miss Farmer," the prosecutor said, holding up a hand to stop her, "and where do you sleep? On the main floor?" "Oh, no sir," Elsie said with a shake of her head. "Indoor staff sleeps upstairs in the attic." "Is Mr. Maxwell indoor staff as well?" Mr. Beecham asked. Elsie nodded. 'Yes sir, 'e sleeps in the attic too. I know a lot about it, 'cause 'is room's right next to mine, y'see." With a sidelong glance at Treize, Mr. Beecham stepped over to the jury box and placed a hand on the railing. "Does Mr. Maxwell have a private room?" "No, sir," Elsie said proudly, straightening up as she prepared to deliver her keynote speech. "'E shares that room wif' another member of the staff..." She leaned towards the jury and gave them a wide-eyed look as if she were letting them in on the secret of the century. "With a gentleman member of the staff!" Duo glared. Cow. You're just jealous because I unlocked the secret to perfect Yorkshire pudding and you didn't! In the bench behind Mr. Marlowe, Bethany and Hilde whispered back and forth, then whispered something to Marlowe, who passed the message on to Mr. Spenser. The bearded barrister nodded and added the information to his inner library. "And what could be so significant about sharing a simple room for me to tear you away from your highly valuable duties to come here today?" Beecham asked with a clever grin. "There's two o' them in that room, and two beds in that room, but they only use one," Elsie said in a gossipy tone, leaning towards the jury again. The gallery burst into more furtive rumblings, and Duo fidgeted nervously in the dock. Trowa, Quatre and Hilde looked desperately at each other; they knew the innocent reason why that was true, but they had a funny feeling the prosecutor wasn't going to mention it. "I know 'cause I'm the one what does the washin'," Elsie continued, "and the beds is diff'rent sizes. Only one of 'em ever gets the linens changed." Hilde gasped. "She's lying!" the girl whispered. "I'm the laundry maid! Elsie never goes near that room!" Quatre gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "I know," he whispered back, "but she didn't come up with this by herself. Someone told her to say that." "No further questions, m'lord," the prosecutor said, returning to his desk. Mr. Spenser stood and walked over to the woman, scratching his beard. "Miss Farmer...how many indoor staff sleep in the attic?" "Me an' three other maids, plus them two in th'other room," Elsie replied, jerking her head in Duo's direction. "I see, and how many bedrooms in the attic are occupied by the indoor staff?" Elsie shrugged. "Just two." "Just two." Spenser went to the jury box and leaned against the railing at the same place Beecham had. "That puts four housemaids in the same room, by rule of simple arithmetic. How many beds are in that room, Miss Farmer?" "...three...no, wait, four. There's four." "Why the hesitation, Miss Farmer? Why the uncertainty? Is it three, or is it four?" Treize was suddenly quite agitated; something was going slightly wrong with Elsie, he could feel it, but he couldn't put his finger on the problem. He also couldn't make eye contact with her, as Mr. Spenser chose that moment to step between him and his witness once again. Elsie fidgeted and twisted a bit of ribbon on her new dress. "Well...there's four...but we only use three...on account of one's got a wonky leg, an' it wobbles summat awful." "So, simple arithmetic also tells us that two housemaids are currently sleeping in one bed, unless one of you is content to sleep on the floor," Spenser said, mostly to the jury, "and curiously enough, no one has accused the housemaids of any impropriety. Is it not possible that the unoccupied bed in Mr. Maxwell's room has...a 'wonky leg'?" Treize scowled and Elsie pouted. "S'pose so." Mr. Spenser looked over his shoulder at Treize, then back at Elsie, taking in every detail of her beautiful blue frock and matching cape. "That's a lovely dress, Miss Farmer. Is it new?" Mr. Beecham was on his feet instantly. "I protest!" Spenser ignored him. "It looks very expensive, Miss Farmer. However could you afford it on a housemaid's wages?" "M'lord, I protest most strongly!" Beecham shouted. "Cheerfully withdrawn, m'lord!" Spenser said with a smile, walking back to his desk. "Nothing further for this witness." Elsie made a face like she'd just lost the cost of her dress betting on the wrong horse, and some tiny bits of laughter resounded at the back of the courtroon. She was allowed to leave the witness stand, and gave Treize a small but doleful look on the way back to her seat. Duo watched them both carefully, then wrinkled his nose at Treize as soon as their eyes met. **********Some time after he arrived, Heero stepped gingerly out of the cottage and into the streaky sunshine breaking through mottled grey clouds, squinting uncomfortably. He vaguely remembered needing to get back to London for something, but at that moment, it was difficult to know precisely what. He felt something flat and smooth in his right hand and looked down at it; he was carrying some folded papers, one with a shiny seal and a colourful crest on it, but couldn't recall what they were or where they came from. Numbly and with slow, unsure fingers, he tucked them into his inside coat pocket and walked unsteadily away from the cottage. Just behind a nearby hedge, the mushroom-haired man peeked out at the boy and instantly knew something was wrong. He had gone into the cottage able and alert, but seemed to have come out a near vegetable. He wanted very much to get closer and have a look at his pupils, check his pulse, and test a few of the lad's formerly sharp reflexes, but now wasn't the time. It would be better to let him stumble down his chosen path for the time being, the mushroom-haired man decided...but he intended to have some strong words with Jeffrhyss later on. With each step Heero took down the path towards the village, he became more coherent by a small degree. By the time he reached the carriage he took there and corralled its driver, he could remember his own name. Halfway to the train station, he remembered Duo and the trouble he was in. Riding the train itself brought about a greater revelation, the very recent memory of kneeling at a low table in front of a wide dish filled with a smouldering substance. He felt an old, wrinkled hand on the back of his head, pushing his face closer to the billows of thick, putrid smoke that made him gag and choke helplessly, and the slow loss of his mental faculties as the chemicals in the smoke worked their chosen magic. By the time he reached London, Heero realized that the broad-petalled flowers Lord Jeffrhyss was cultivating were poppies...very peculiar poppies. **********At last, the defense was given the opportunity to present its own witnesses, and first up was none other than Dorothy. When Marlowe had described her role in the case, she hadn't even been that interested in whose side she represented, but once he told her what the topic would be and how many people would be paying attention to her, she agreed in a heartbeat. The blonde Baroness stood very regally before the court in one of her finer satin gowns, in a pale green with dark embroidery around the collar and buttons. She enjoyed having so many pairs of eyes drinking in her beauty all at once, and flashed gleaming smiles around the gallery during pauses in the conversation. "What is your role at the manor, m'lady?" the defense counsel asked. "I'm lady's maid to Lady Peacraft, of couse," Dorothy delcared proudly, "a friend and confidante, style advisor, fashion consultant, events co-ordinator--" "Yes, yes, m'lady," Spenser interrupted genially. "Now, we have heard testimony that the accused has been sharing a bed in the attic with another male member of the staff for some time, specifically..." He paused to look down at some papers on his desk. "...since the 30th of September. Can you tell us, m'lady, what happened on that date?" "Indeed I can!" Dorothy said, beaming. "My precious Anna Maria had her first litter of kittens!" She grinned and squeaked with pride, coaxing some 'aww's from the crowd. Dorothy leaned forward and addressed the gallery brightly. "All of which will be available for adoption at a minimal fee in three weeks' time, and I would advise anyone interested to hurry and reserve a kitten, sired by Jacques de Montpellier, purebred Turkish Angora, five times Parisian Grand Champion!" The gallery chuckled goodnaturedly at the sales pitch, and the judge banged his gavel a bit to silence them. Spenser smiled, glad to have the obligatory promotional part of her answer out of the way. "Yes, we're all quite pleased for you, m'lady. Now, could you please tell the court precisely where in the house these kittens are to be found?" "Yes, they're in the servants' quarters in the attic," Dorothy said with only a small hesitation. "Let us be absolutely clear about this, m'lady...by 'servants quarters', do you mean the bedchamber of the accused, Mr. Maxwell?" Dorothy was slow to admit it, but eventually gave in. "Yes, that's correct, although I don't know what Anna Maria was thinking, choosing that lower-class little hole in the wall..." Again, a small surge of laughter was faintly heard at the back row. "Are the kittens housed in a box or crate in the usual manner?" the barrister asked. "Certainly not!" Dorothy scoffed. "Credit her with some taste! As soon as she chose the room, she immiediately appropriated one of the beds for herself, which I'm confident must have been the softer of the two. She simply wouldn't stand for anything less!" "So your cat gave birth to a litter of kittens in one bed, forcing the two servants who shared that room to both sleep in the other bed, is that correct?" Dorothy looked up and to the side, thinking; she had never actually considered the consequences of her cat's actions before. Once Anna Maria's needs were taken care of, everything else was secondary. "I suppose so, but it would be for a very worthy cause. My baby must be allowed to have whatever she wants, and if she wanted a bed in the attic, I should think it was very gallant of the boys to give it to her without question." She folded her hands and lifted her head proudly. "Granted, I would have preferred it if she had chosen one of the nicer guest suites, but...what rebellious young girl ever listened to the advice of her mother?" The Baroness smiled and the courtroom chuckled. Treize seemed neither one way or the other about her testimony, and must have thought it inconsequential compared to what lay ahead. "Thank you, m'lady," Spenser said, turning to the prosecutor. "Your witness." Mr. Beecham rose behind his desk and clasped the front of his robe again. "Madam Baroness, wouldn't it have been so much simpler to just move the kittens as soon as they were old enough to be moved? Even I know that they should be walking around by now, so it can't possibly harm them." Dorothy gave the man a frosty look. "Anna Maria doesn't want them moved, and my baby gets everything she wants, whenever she wants! I'm not going to tell her she and her new family have to pick up and move, and if you tried it, you'd have a face full of scratches in about three seconds, because nobody, but nobody, tells my Anna Maria what to do!" The gallery chuckled warmly again, and Mr. Beecham found himself up against a brick wall. "No further questions, m'lord." "The witness may step down," the judge boomed. Dorothy looked terribly disappointed. "You mean...I'm done already?" She turned to the judge and batted her eyelashes at him shamelessly. "Couldn't I stay up here a bit longer and talk about the kittens some more?" The judge balanced his spectacles on the end of his nose and looked down at her disapprovingly. "The witness may step down now." She frowned, turned, and flipped her hair over her shoulder at the insolent judge as she left the witness stand, amongst more tittering giggles from the gallery. Duo and Mr. Marlowe looked at each other tensely; her story added logic to the case, but her attitude wasn't the best, and they couldn't be sure if her testimony would help their case or hurt it. **********In the newly-redecorated drawing room, Relena sat for uncounted hours in a row, sipping tea and fretting over Bridlewood's future. The entire rest of the household was at the Crown courthouse, except for Doris and Arthur, who had stayed behind to watch over her Ladyship, and Heero, who had disappeared and abandoned her once again. Why does he keep leaving me just when I need him most? she thought mournfully as she dried her eyes on her handkerchief. He seems to care for me...sometimes...but he picks the most awful times to run away... She looked up suddenly, startled at her assumption. Run away...is he running from me? What did I do to drive him off? Why can't he stay and talk things out with me? A gentle knock came at the drawing room door, and Doris peeked inside. "Finished with your tea, m'lady?" she asked softly. Relena nodded, sniffling still. "Yes, I think so," she answered, looking over the tray of cold tea and half-eaten biscuits. "Take them away, please." Doris entered the splendid new drawing room and shut the door, but made no move to pick up the tea set. Instead, she walked over to the blue velvet cushioned sofa where Relena was sitting, and sat down next to her. "Now, you've hardly eaten all day," she said, "you'll waste away to nothing if you keep this up." Relena looked into the kind eyes of the gray-haired housemaid and sighed. "What are we going to do, Doris? How are we going to live? This beautiful room was going to herald the beginning of a golden age for Bridlewood, with endless parties and tea dances, and we would have had all the most desirable people in London coming to visit. Who's going to visit us now? Who would even set foot in this house knowing what's been going on here!?" She sniffled and brushed away fresh tears. "I was really looking forward to the bonfire tonight, too...now that's ruined, along with everything else. Nobody will come...they'll all spend Guy Fawkes Night at some other house that still has their reputation in tact...not in tatters, like ours..." Doris folded her hands and sat up straight, looking down at the girl. "My dear...I know I can't speak for your dear mother, but I feel confident in saying that if she were here, she'd be most disappointed." "I know," Relena whimpered, "but you just can't get the right sort of staff anymore, can you?" "I don't mean disappointed in the staff, m'lady," the old woman said in a motherly tone, "I mean disappointed in you." Relena gasped and clutched her handkerchief to her chest, eyes wide at the woman. "Doris! What a hateful thing to say!" Doris shook her head firmly. "It's not hateful, it's the truth. You may not remember, but your mother was a lovely woman with a kind and generous heart, and she never put the status of the manor ahead of the people in the manor. She had wealth and class and fame, all the things you treasure so deeply, but she never lost sight of the people that helped her get them. Now, you're still quite young, and you've a great deal to learn about what it means to be Lady of Bridlewood, but if she were here, I'm sure she'd tell you to consider what makes this house truly special." The old woman paused, then looked away from Relena and into blank space, as she brought up memories that had been buried for too long. "Many years ago, when your mother was but a young woman, we had a hall porter with a limp, a boy named Thomas. He used to take visitor's bags up to their rooms and show guests around the house. One day, a Welsh gentleman came to stay with us, a nobleman who had an emerald tie pin which he always wore no matter where he went. He was an acquaintance of your grandfather and came to London on business, and Lord Peacecraft insisted that he stay here rather than go to a hotel. "The day before the gentleman's departure, his emerald tie pin went missing. 'There's the culprit!' he shouted, and pointed to young Thomas. 'He was mucking about with my luggage! He must have taken it to sell down the pawn shop! After all, how much can he possibly earn with a limp like that?' Thomas swore blind that he didn't take the tie pin, and they even searched his room without finding it. No one knew where it had gone. "The Welsh gentleman demanded that he be repaid the value of the pin out of Thomas' wages, and that the boy be sacked, if not immediately handed over to the authorities. Your mother stood right behind Thomas then and there and said, 'See here, if I had accidentally dropped your pin down the heating grate or into a crack in the floorboards, would you demand that I be taken to the authorities for it?' "'Of course not,' the man said, 'but you're the lady of the house, and there is quite a bit of difference.' Her Ladyship was incensed, stood toe-to-toe with the man, and mind you, he was a good foot or more taller than she, and said, 'You can easily afford a dozen emerald pins like the one you lost, but we only have one Thomas, and we're not letting him go for anything so trivial as a tiny piece of jewellry!'" Doris looked back down at Relena, whose eyes had lost their angry sheen. "Valued servants of Bridlewood have always been treated like family, and if one of our family is threatened, we stand behind them, no matter how strong and fearsome the opposition may be. That's what your mother would do again if she were here, because we only have one Duo...and that's what I believe she'd want you to do now." Relena was dumbstruck. No one had ever told her that her mother might possibly disapprove of the way she was running the estate, and the shock was just working its way through her arms and legs, such that she found she couldn't move. "Go on," Doris entreated, "ask yourself who it really was who made your soirées and dinner parties such a success. Who prepared all those nibbles for your roomwarming party? Who cooks those lovely hot meals for you night after night after night? Who got up at four in the morning to make you some cocoa because you couldn't sleep? That dear boy sitting in the courthouse across town, that's who. He's been very kind to this family, working long hours for criminally low wages...he does the best job he possibly can, and he does it without complaining. Doesn't this house owe him a little more than what he's getting?" Relena's eyes were downcast, intensely studying the pattern in the carpet because it was so much easier than making a decision for herself. The painful truth was, Doris wasn't about to let her up from that sofa until a decision was made. **********Duo tried to concentrate on everything being said in the courtroom, though the court officials often lapsed into a sort of legalese he couldn't translate. More and more often, he lost track of the proceedings and wondered where Heero was. It was starting to worry him, and so did the looks he kept getting from the jury; occasionally, the trial seemed to be going his way, but he only had to look into their eyes to see that all twelve men had already decided he was a spawn of Satan, worthy only of the gutter. Even when things did go his way, he didn't really like how it happened. Everything Wufei said was true...most of what Elsie said was true...and the only way I can win is to make the jury believe they both lied? There's something really wrong with that. I told Heero I couldn't fight this thing honestly! And did he listen? Nooooo! He looked at his supporters, all seated behind Mr. Spenser and paying dutiful attention. After everything I've told them about the value of telling the truth, would it be right for me to be acquitted because of a lie? The moral dilemma could only occupy Duo for so long before he started to worry about Heero again. He promised he'd be here to help...where is he? The chef looked nervously at Treize and thought about all the testimony he had heard that morning; even he had to admit that it could sound very convincing if taken as the whole truth. Suppose Treize told Heero something that convinced him I deserve to go to jail? Suppose he thinks I'm guilty and decided to split while he had the chance? He wrung the edges of his tweed coat with both hands, mired in doubt and despair. The prospect that Heero might abandon him, paranoid as it was, could not be counted out as impossible, and Duo's stomach clenched in fear. Suddenly, there seemed to be some action in the courtroom. Both barristers had been having a quiet word with the judge, and something appeared to have been decided. After the men retook their positions, the judge took his spectacles off again and addressed the court. "Under the circumstances, I am going to allow the testimony of a witness not on either barrister's list, with the understanding that the prosecutor may question the witness as usual." He nodded to Mr. Spenser. "Call your witness." "The defense calls Miss Hilde Schbeiker." "Calling Hilde Schbeiker!" the clerk shouted. Duo looked at her with surprise as she left the gallery once again and walked quietly to the witness stand to be sworn in. He couldn't think of anything she could say that would sway the jury in his favour; in fact, the kinds of things she knew about him could put him away for good, but he trusted her more than that. "How long have you lived at the manor, Miss Schbeiker?" "Three months, sir." "And what is your occupation there?" "Scullery maid, sir. I help out in the kitchen." She deliberately withheld the laundry portion of her duties; even if she didn't agree with Elsie's testimony, conflicting with it openly could weaken her own position. "How long have you known the accused?" "Years and years," Hilde said with fondness. "We knew each other when we were children, and we've always kept in touch." Spenser nodded thoughtfully and wandered in front of the jury. "Would you say that the two of you are...close?" Hilde smiled sweetly and ducked her head a little, blushing and peeking at Duo out of the corner of her eye. "Yes...very close...and not only that, but I've come to respect him a great deal. He taught me how important it is to always tell the truth." Mr. Spenser slowly leaned against the jury box with both hands and looked each of the twelve men in the eye. "Miss Schbeiker...where were you the night of October 17th?" Hilde lifted her head proudly and spoke in a clear, strong voice, "I was with Duo, at the railroad tracks." The courtroom erupted into shocked whispers as more threads were unravelled from the prosecution's tapestry. Duo shot straight up in his seat, unable to believe what he had just heard. "We went for a stroll after dinner that night to talk," Hilde continued once the judge had called for silence. "Bridlewood Manor may look like a huge house, but it gets real small real fast when you're trying to have a private conversation." Some laughter was heard, and Mr. Spenser turned away from the jury as it died down. "What did you go there to talk about?" Hilde smiled and blushed again. "Modesty forbids me from saying, sir...but I can tell you that it was me he kissed, not some boy." Mr. Spenser smiled with satisfaction at the upbeat murmurs travelling through the gallery, as he considered how far he should take his questioning. Duo was aghast, numb from head to foot, and stared at the side of Hilde's head until she finally looked his way. What are you doing!? he thought. I don't want you to lie for me! Please!! The girl looked back at him, and as if she could read his mind, gave him a warm smile full of love and friendship that said she knew in her heart that this was the right thing to do. Hilde turned her attention back to Mr. Spenser, who stood with his back to the courtroom and tilted his head by the tiniest degree in the direction of the prosecutor. She answered him with a tiny nod. "Your witness," the bearded man called to Mr. Beecham. The prosecutor rose slowly and clutched his robe again, walking with measured steps towards the witness stand. "Miss Schbeiker...we have heard testimony that the...person...Mr. Maxwell kissed was wearing trousers. How do you account for this?" "I wore a gentleman's suit that night, borrowed from another member of the staff," Hilde said plainly. "It had been raining, the place where we were going to was bound to be muddy, and I didn't want to ruin any of my dresses, since I have so few." She finished her statement looking directly at Elsie near the back row, who pouted and looked away. Mr. Beecham pointed at Duo and raised his voice a little. "Did this same boy, who taught you to always tell the truth, also teach you that women should wear men's clothes? And that men should wear their hair long to look like women?" Mr. Spenser rose. "Move to strike, m'lord!" "So ordered," the judge said with a nod. Mr. Beecham's question was blotted out of the record, but Hilde opted to answer it anyway. "Why should men dictate to us what we can and can't wear? It's all very well for men to say that skirts and dresses are more appropriate for us, because they don't have to wear them, but it's the women of the world who are beginning to realize how impractical they really are! I'll dare any man in this courtroom to wear a dress for one day, and then they'll find out that there's no good way to ride a bicycle side-saddle!" All the woman in the courtroom laughed and cheered heartily at the girl's challenge, and Sally Poole applauded loudest of all. The judge pounded the bench with his gavel, calling repeatedly for order until the ladies settled back down in their seats. Duo, Trowa and Quatre were all smiles. "Miss Schbeiker and Mr. Beecham," the judge said sharply, "I remind you that this is a trial concerning the misdemeanor charge of gross indecency, not the women's suffrage movement. If you both wish to argue the point, I suggest you do so outside the building, after court is adjourned." "I'm terribly sorry, your honour," Hilde said in a sugary tone. Mr. Beecham frowned. Without bantering back and forth about whether or not the witness was telling the truth, the question of attire was the only good argument he had. "Nothing more, m'lord," he said in a disappointed drawl. Hilde looked at Duo and smiled, and he decided reluctantly that even though he fundementally didn't approve of what she did, he was very grateful, and probaby couldn't have convinced her to do otherwise even if he tried. The prosecution retreated slightly to regroup before Duo took the stand in his own defense. During the short break in the action, there was a low rumbling outside the courtroom doors that grew by degrees, turning more and more heads in the gallery until the doors opened and the cause of the commotion was revealed. A girl was there in a maidenly pink dress, fine but not extravagant, standing at the entrance to the courtroom and flanked by two elderly people, a man and a woman. Gathered around them were several reporters and members of the press, taking down notes for their particular newspapers. Many of those in the gallery gasped and whispered amongst themselves as they recognized the visitor. Duo especially was in shock. Ignoring the stares and whispers, Lady Relena Peacecraft sailed down the aisle with her eyes fixed on the royal crest of the late Queen Victoria hanging over the judiciary bench. Behind her and to her left walked Doris, and next to her walked Arthur, both wearing their Sunday best and fending off the pushy reporters. Two baliffs helped shove the mob back outside, and the doors were firmly shut. The judge drummed his fingers on the bench, and with a cloying smile followed by an impatient scowl, waved the girl an invitation to take a seat. Relena looked to one side and saw the rest of her staff, all seated behing the defense attorneys and looking up at her with surprise and doubt. To her other side, seated on the side of the prosecution, were Treize and Wufei. Treize smiled widely as his little niece, who pondered the space left on the bench next to him, just enough for three people. Relena looked him straight in the eye, gave him a tiny, momentary smile in return, nodded to her entourage.....and sat behind the defense. The rest of her staff all bunched up to give them room, and her Ladyship sat close next to her cinnamon-haired coachman, already feeling a weight shifting off her battered conscience as Trowa smiled down at her. Across the aisle, Treize was silently fuming at the girl's mutiny, already sensing a shift in the jury as they saw the accused's employer throw her support behind him. She didn't see her uncle's angry glare; her attention was wrapped up in the soft look of hope and gratitude she got from Duo, who was genuinely touched by the gesture. "If we might continue, Mr. Spenser," the judge said, "kindly call your last witness...some of us have bonfires to light before it gets too dark out to see." "Yes, m'lord," Spenser said. He walked up to the prisoner's dock to briefly confer with his client. "Are you quite sure, young man?" he whispered. "You don't have to do this, you know." Duo nodded. "I'm sure." The barrister walked back to his desk as he addressed the judge. "I wish to call the accused, Mr. Duo Maxwell." As the baliffs escorted the chef from the dock to the witness stand, the clerk made the superfluous announcement of his name, and the jurors sat up a little straighter. Duo stood behind the railing with one hand on the bible and swore on all that was holy to him that he would tell the truth, even if the truth was more unholy than a lie. Please, please, whatever you do, he thought, looking at the prosecutor, don't ask me the most direct question of all...don't ask who means more to me than anyone in this world, because I can't lie and I'll ruin us both! Facing his own barrister first would be the easy part because he knew the answers to all his questions, as instructed by Marlowe, but it didn't help his nerves any. "Mr. Maxwell," Spenser began, "have you ever been arrested prior to October the 30th of this year?" "No, sir." "Have you ever been in trouble with the law before today?" "Never," Duo said solemnly, shaking his head once. He paused, looked down, and fiddled with the end of his braid. "Uh...actually, I've stolen before, I'm not going to lie about that," he added, looking earnestly at the jury, "but I grew up on the streets, and it's pretty much required that you do some petty theiving if you want to eat. I was never caught, but that's the worst thing I've ever done." Mr. Spenser nodded and ran an eye over the juror's faces. "It's very brave of you to admit that, in my opinion." The prosecutor twitched, wanting to object, but the word 'opinion' kept him in his seat. "And what, if anything did you do to atone for your 'petty thieving'?" "Whenever I stole food for myself, I'd take some of it to this orphanage I know," Duo told the court. "They don't have much money to spend on the kids, so if I ever found a coin on the ground, I'd slip it under the door to them, 'cause I was old enough to take care of myself, and they were just little kids, y'know? I figured...they needed it more than I did." Treize rolled his eyes and sank a little into the bench. Unbelievable. Using orphans and stale food to win the jury over...some people have no integrity. "Have your good deeds decreased since you became a productive member of society?" Spenser asked. Duo hesitated, looking at Relena. Neither he nor his attorney counted on her being present to listen to this, but there was no going back now. "I, um...I can't get to the orphanage as often as I used to, because I'm busy cooking for the manor, but when I do go, I take whatever's left of dinner that the family couldn't eat. It might be a little cold when it gets there, but once in awhile some poor kid without a family gets a home-cooked meal." A few of the jurors weren't looking so severely at Duo anymore, and Relena actually smiled; even if he hadn't been a real chef when she hired him, and even if he'd never asked if he could spirit leftovers out of the house, she found she didn't mind any of it. Spenser saw her look of approval, and hoped the jury saw it as well. "Mr. Maxwell, six men were presented to the court earlier, and each of them claimed to have been propositioned by you in the past. Have you any knowledge of these gentlemen?" "Absolutely not," Duo declared confidently. "I've never seen any of them before in my life, and I certainly didn't offer to 'spend time' with them for any amount of money, or even for free!" His emphatic denial echoed through the courtroom and no one dared break the silence. From his spot behind Robert Marlowe, Quatre could sense quite clearly that Duo was telling the gospel truth, and he patted Hilde's hand comfortingly. She squeezed his hand back, because she didn't need any sixth sense to tell her when she was hearing the truth from her dear friend's lips. Mr. Spenser's questions went on a bit from there, the main point being that Duo was a kind, generous, upstanding young man, which of course he was. Inevitably, though, the time came for Spenser to step aside and let Mr. Beecham take a crack at the boy. The prosecutor adjusted his spectacles, then his wig, and walked slowly to the witness stand. "I'll make this as brief as possible, Mr. Maxwell," he said snidely, "as there are many of us here who have Guy Fawkes celebrations to attend...those of us who are able." Mr. Beecham was clearly implying that Duo wouldn't be going home that night, and the boy fought himself not to glare at him, knowing how bad it would look. "You say you've never met the six gentlemen who gave their testimony today...are you suggesting that all six of these men are liars?" Duo sat up straight and looked Beecham in the eye. "I don't know what they saw or who they talked to. Maybe they all met a guy who looks a lot like me and heard what they wanted to hear...but it wasn't me." "I could see possibly one or two of them making such a mistake, but not all of them. I'll rephrase the question..." Beecham stopped in front of the jury and removed his spectacles. "Perhaps you were walking down the street one night and had a conversation with one of these gentlemen. Is it possible you just don't recall these specific gentlemen?" he asked, pointing to behind Treize where the six witnesses sat, only half paying attention. "Hey, I could've asked them all what time it was every night for a month and it wouldn't make any difference," Duo stabbed back, sounding insulted at the man's inference. "I just don't have conversations like that, not the kind they describe." Mr. Beecham tried to stare the chef down, but he wasn't budging. "Very well, let's leave that for a moment, shall we? It has also been suggested that you have been sharing close sleeping arrangements with a male member of the staff. Do you deny this?" Duo paused, but only briefly. So far, there was no shame in telling the truth. "No." "Another brave admission!" Beecham sneered. "Didn't you listen to the nice lady's speech an hour ago?" Duo snapped. "One bed has a litter of kittens in it! You want Hee--...you want the other guy in that room to kick 'em out onto the floor and step on them by accident the next morning!?" While the spectators took the hint and chuckled quietly in agreement, Relena felt a sudden, unpleasant tugging in her stomach as she realized the boy narrowly missed saying Heero's name. She had never taken an interest in how the servants' quarters were arranged, but now the subject was becoming very critical to her. "But why share with you?" Beecham asked. "Why didn't this other young man simply go somewhere else?" "There's nowhere else to sleep!" Duo cried helplessly. "Nowhere else to sleep!" Beecham repeated, turning away from the witness. "In a house with sixty-two rooms...there is nowhere else to sleep!" Duo sighed and slouched forward a bit, cringing. "In case you missed a memo, we're staff. We're not allowed in the guest bedrooms except to clean 'em or take somebody a midnight snack." Relena bit her lip, wondering how such an injustice slipped past her. Is this really happening every night? Oh, poor Heero, he probably hasn't gotten a decent night's sleep since the kittens were born...and that must be why he's been out of sorts lately. I'll have to make it up for neglecting him. I know, I'll offer him one of the guest rooms on the third floor! Otto won't mind, and it is my house after all. Quite proud of herself for resolving the issue, Relena smiled and turned her attention back to the trial, which was rapidly progressing without her. "Do you deny being at the railroad tracks crossing Old Millstone Creek on the night of October the 17th?" "No, I was there," Duo said calmly. Mr. Beecham nodded. "There seems to be some confusion over who was with you that night, however. My witness says you were accompanied by a young man, while the young lady in the second row," he said, extending a hand to where Hilde was sitting, "claims that it was her. Perhaps you could clear this matter up for us, Mr. Maxwell, since you had the best view of the person. Who was with you that night?" Duo froze. This was the kind of direct question Marlowe had warned him about. He couldn't tell the truth without incriminated Heero, nor could he confirm Hilde's story without compromising his principles. He swallowed and avoided the girl's eyes. "I'd rather not say." "You'd rather not say?" Beecham crowed in mock surprise. "I'm sorry, but you don't have your pick of which questions to answer, Mr. Maxwell. If you're not prepared to act properly under oath, you should have pled guilty in the first place and saved the court all this trouble!" Duo narrowed his eyes at the prosecutor. "You can call it protecting a young lady's honour, if you want." "I shall ask for it to be called contempt of court in a moment!" the man bellowed. "Besides, the young lady herself had waived her right to secrecy, in front of everyone present here today!" He closed in on Duo, fixing a glare on him. "Who was with you that night?" The chef swallowed again and looked down; the mood directly behind Mr. Spenser cooled to an uncomfortable temperature, and everone on that side of the courtroom looked more than a little worried. Beecham had enough of it soon and decided to ask for intervention. "M'lord!" "Wait a minute!" Duo shouted. He turned and looked up at the judge with all the sincerity he could muster. "I know what 'contempt of court' is, it means a lack of respect, right? I have respect for you and for this courtroom and everyone in it," he said, slapping his chest for emphasis. "It's not that I'm trying to show up your whole legal system, I...I just can't answer." The judge looked at both Duo and the prosecutor, with a subtle peek at the ticking clock in between. "The jury will make a note of the accused's refusal to answer. Continue with your questioning, Mr. Beecham." "As you wish, m'lord," Beecham said grudgingly, walking back to his desk. He may have had to sacrifice a contempt charge, but he had one ace left, one of Treize's choosing, that could still blow the case wide open. All through the trial, both sides had avoided something very obvious about the boy, something that was about to get an inordinate amount of attention. Receiving a small, furtive nod from the Count, Mr. Beecham reached into his leather document file and pulled out a gleaming silver item--a pair of sharp scissors. "I have an offer to present to you, Mr. Maxwell," the shrill-voiced gentleman said. "I have the power to reduce your charge to one of minor obscenity. We could take care of this whole matter with a five-pound fine and a thirty-day suspended sentence. If you behave yourself from now on, no jail time." Beecham smiled liked a viper slithering towards it prey, and held up the shining shears. "But only if you cut your hair." Suddenly, Duo's eyes were as big as saucers with fright. He squirmed backwards, riveted to Treize and his devious grin; the man obviously delighted in playing sadistic games with his captives, and if he couldn't necessarily put Duo behind bars, he was determined to at least make him feel ugly, just to be mean. The prosecutor took a large step towards him with the shears and Duo instinctively threw one hand up to defend himself, while the other hand flew to the base of his braid. Mr. Spenser all but leapt out of his chair to protest. "Is this display really necessary!? I see nothing but pure malevolence towards my client on the part of the prosecution!" "What's malevolent about it?" Beecham asked innocnetly, spreading his hands wide in a submissive gesture. "Hair grows back, does it not? It's a fact of nature that, except for a few unfortunate spots such as underneath Mr. Spenser's wig, hair continues to grow. What interests the Crown is why a young man would insist upon excessively long hair which makes him look like a girl!" "Are we to start locking up men who smell of flowers?" Spenser called out mockingly. "Or who wear even the smallest scrap of satin? Or excessive jewellry? The Lord Mayor will enjoy that, he walks about with a great golden necklace on all day!" The judge banged his gavel, but Mr. Beecham spun around to hit Spenser with a counterattack. "Wanting to appear soft and feminine simply gives credence to the very justifiable assumption that this boy is guilty!" "Shut up! Just shut up!!" An angry young voice that was far from being either soft or feminine overpowered both barristers and the judge's gavel. Duo leaned halfway aross the railing and the baliffs rushed forward to restrain him, but he shoved their hands away. "You wanna know what this is for!?" he shouted, grabbing his braid in his right hand and punching the air with it. "I got lost in Victoria Station when I was five, do you get that!? Five years old! I blinked and my parents were gone, and every year for ten years, I've stood in that station on the same day they disappeared, waiting for them, just in case they decided to crawl back looking for me!" The courtroom was suddenly silent, except for a few tiny sobs from Hilde; she had heard this all before, but it still broke her heart. Duo pulled his braid over his shoulder, staring out into space, and clutched the rope of hair with both hands as if it were the only lifeline that could pull him out of his miry despair. "I'm not trying to look like a girl, and if you don't believe it, then tough. I know it sounds stupid...but I was just a kid. My hair was a little bit long when I was five, and I thought that if I cut it...my mother wouldn't recognize me if...if she came back." By the end of his speech, the angry voice had faded to the frightened whisper of a child, and his words were laced with tears though his face was dry. The ticking clock became deafening all of a sudden. The baliffs moved away from Duo, deciding he was no longer a threat, and the crowd in the gallery slowly recovered from the emotional roller coaster they had all been exposed to. Relena, of all people, brushed away a tear, feeling very lucky that she had a chance to know her father. Mr. Beecham held the shears out to Duo, handle first. "My offer still stands. Just a few snips, and you can walk out of here a free man." Duo's stomach was in knots. Once Beecham was finished with his questioning, the barristers would give their summations and the jury would decide his fate. The trial was nearly over and Heero still hadn't arrived, even after promising to be there to help his friend. Forced into the darkest corner he had ever known, Duo had to consider the possibility that Heero wasn't coming, and that cutting his hair might be the only way out. Where is he? He promised...he swore to me... He looked at the jury, and they all seemed to be wondering why he didn't just take the scissors and get it over with so they could all go home. I really am a freak, aren't I? This must be why I can't keep anyone. My parents left me, Helen left me...Heero probably saw sense and left me too. Good for him. "Going once..." the prosecutor taunted. "Going twice..." There really was no escape. Duo watched with horror as he saw his hand twitch, saw his whole arm move slightly towards the scissors. Now, it was the only way. A sudden commotion with shouts and arguments arose outside. With a thunderous boom, the courtroom doors flew open, and all eyes were upon the intruder; one pair of amethyst eyes in particular were literally a hair's breadth away from weeping for joy. There stood a dark-haired boy, driven by the irresistable gravity of justice and loyalty, holding the door open with one tired hand and holding a folded piece of paper in the other. There were a few gasps as the boy walked straight up the aisle and into the forbidden barrister's area, but then very few people knew who he was. Duo locked eyes on him, finding his reason to live as the person he was, all over again. I never should have doubted you! I'll be making this up to you for a long time! He smiled. Lucky me. "If it please the court," the boy announced, holding out the paper, "I have new evidence to present." The clerk stepped forward to take it from him, while the judge looked down the end of his nose at the lad. "And who exactly are you?" Heero caught his breath and looked at Duo, relieved to see that he made it in time. "A messenger of the Crown." The judge received the folded paper, into which was tucked another paper, a letter addressed specifically to him. The other was a document suitable for the eyes of the public. After reading the letter and looking at Heero almost fearfully, Judge Hampstead read from the second page. "'It has come to our attention that Mr. Duo Maxwell, common-law citizen in good standing, faithful servant of Bishop O'Reilley in the diocese of Carshalton, and guest of the British Empire, has had attributed to him a crime which has no basis in fact. Maintaining the greatest respect for His Majesty's courts, and in the best interest of good relations with Mr. Maxwell's country of origin, being the United States of America, we require his immediate release.'" Frantic whispers spread, and Treize showed concern for the first time in two weeks. The judge looked again at the royal crest, the golden seal, and the signature that was absolutely flawless. "Signed..." His voice nearly gave out as he read the name. ".....His Majesty, Edward........Prince of Wales." The courtroom exploded with a mighty cheer from one side of the aisle, the people bowled over by the prospect of Queen Victoria's son, the next in line for the throne, would take an interest in this poor little American waif. Judge Hampstead dismissed the case and adjourned the court, then left holding the piece of paper meant only for him. The servants in the crowd jumped up and gave each other hugs and shouted their hurrahs, led by an ecstatic Hilde, and Heero let his tired eyes linger on Duo's quietly. Theirs was a well-earned victory. Treize and Wufei watched helplessly as the baliffs took Duo from the witness stand and let him go. The prosecutor was red in the face from shouting for verification of this 'royal pardon', but it looked perfectly authentic to the judge, who therefore had no choice but to obey it. Duo's supporters in the back rows hooted and hollered, and swarmed the front of the courtroom all around him, giving him hugs and telling him they never lost hope, not for a minute; Relena was so touched by the whole affair that she invited them all to enjoy Bonfire Night at Bridlewood, and not one of them refused. Soon, they mobbed Duo right out the front door, while Elsie, Otto and Wufei snuck out the back. That left Heero alone with a few stragglers, Marlowe and Spenser congratulating each other, and a very livid Treize. Heero walked just far enough back up the aisle so that he stood a scant few feet from the Count, absorbing the murderous look in his eyes at full force. There, the boy's glare turned to a smug little smirk, and then he walked away. **********Bonfire Night went ahead as planned, and due to recent publicity and the royal pardon hanging by a pin in the drawing room like a trophy, waiting to be framed, there were twice as many guests as originally expected, not counting Duo's friends from off the street. Relena was just tickled to have anything touched by royalty in her home, and whenever another batch of well-wishers arrived, she would trot them by the drawing room to admire the Prince's signature awhile before going outside for refreshments by the fire. During a lull in the action, Duo escaped the crowd long enough to visit the piece of paper himself. He had seen that two pages went to the judge and only one came back, and he knew darn well that the signature wasn't to be taken as face value, and might have doubted it even if it hadn't been hand delivered by an international spy. Still, the result was nothing to sneeze at. I actually did it honestly. Everyone around me was lying...and I got off because of a lie...but I was totally honest. Funny world, huh? He stared up at the paper, marked with the ink that had set him free, and imagined himself talking to it. And now I've got you. I've got a piece of paper that says I'm a free man and there's nothing wrong with me. I've got a piece of paper that says I'm not in love. So which one of us is the liar? **********Outside in the back garden that night, Relena's guests were milling around the huge bonfire, a pile of dried branches fifteen feet tall, atop which was a straw-stuffed effigy of Guy Fawkes, for whom the holiday was named. The four members of the household who sided with the prosecution were absent, to nobody's surprise, but the rest of the happy crowd numbered well over two hundred, so the traitors were scarcely missed. While most everyone was chatting, drinking cider, and eating cooked-out sausages, Heero sat alone under the stars, cross-legged in front of the fire, on one of the heavy blankets scattered about on the lawn. After a time, the man of the hour came out of the house wearing his chef's uniform, glad to be rid of the brown tweed for awhile. He took no time at all in deciding where to sit down for a rest. "There's gotta be one phenominal story behind that piece of paper," he said quietly, lowering himself onto the blanket next to Heero. "Where'd you come up with 'faithful servant of Bishop O'Reilley'? I don't know any Bishop O'Reilley." "Your orphanage is located in his diocese, and is partially funded by the Catholic church," Heero explained, watching the flames lick at the dried twigs and straw. "You didn't know that?" Duo shrugged. "I didn't ask. Hell, I didn't even know it was in Carshalton." He politely declined a mug of cider from a passing guest and went on. "How about that other piece of paper, the one nobody but the judge saw? I could see a corner of it...was it actually telling him to buy that song and dance about Prince Edward?" Heero looked at him slowly, faint traces of the smug smirk seeping through his professional mask, but said nothing. "Uh huh," Duo conceded with a grin. He watched the embers leap higher and higher into the midnight blue sky, thinking. "Thank you. Nobody else would've cared enough to do what you did for me...you really are my best friend. I hate to think what that 'royal pardon' cost you, though." Heero blinked at the boy; he was unable to find any benefits in telling him the whole truth, so the abbreviated version would have to suffice for now. "Once a week, I have to go back to see Lord Jeffrhyss...to check in." Duo looked at him quizzically. "Check in? What's that supposed to mean? You have to go all that way, show him you're still alive, then turn around and come back?" Again, Heero didn't answer. Duo slowly grinned and nudged the boy in the ribs gently. "Still, in a few months' time when old Eddy gets coronated, knowing someone who can forge the king's signature could come in mighty handy!" The butler rolled his eyes while Duo prattled on. "We can get ourselves diplomatic immunity, a castle each with a polo field, maybe a small country...hey, we can get matching ocean liners and race each other around the world, huh? How cool would that be?" Heero shook his head, letting a little more of the smirk show. "Baka..." Duo leaned in close, pressing the side of his face into Heero's shoulder and humming contentedly. "I love it when you call me that." Someone else walked by offering them mugs of piping hot cider, and this time they both accepted. Relena called for attention and everyone gathered 'round to watch Arthur light the fireworks, which shot up into the sky and painted it all the colours of the rainbow. The boys watched the flares of coloured light, not saying anything, preferring to leave the mountain of questions until the next morning. For now, it was enough to know that they would both be sleeping in a warm bed tonight, and that neither one would be lonely. |
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Next, in Episode Twenty-Six: The household recovers after a curious month, with questions flying in all directions and too few answers to go around. The manor seems to have suffered no slight because of Duo's court case, but Relena falls terribly ill for no apparent reason. Is it just stress, or is her health at serious risk from some unknown ailment?
=x_X= ...ugghnn...Mitsugi tired....need rest. I gotta give myself a little break for a bit, rest, regroup, rub liniment on my fingers, that sort of thing. The result of which being, I'm not sure when Ep.26 will be ready. Don't get me wrong, it's coming! I just need a few days off after that to figure out where I am in the story. =P You understand. *grin* Keep checking back at my site to find out what's what! I'll let you know as soon as I know, but I won't leave you hanging for long...I've still got a bunch of material for November/December! =^_^= Ja ne!