Disclaimer: In a town called Perfect where there's a Walgreen's on every street corner, every author and authoress has their own set of Gundam pilots to love and to squeeze and to show off to all their friends. But we don't live anywhere near Perfect. *realizes she just ripped off a commercial to explain that she's not ripping off a tv show* Dangit.

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Episode Forty-Two: The Trials of Clan MacDougall

"It is often easier to fight for principles than to live up to them." ~Adlai E. Stevenson

April 3rd, 1902

Mid-morning sunlight streamed into the 'great room', a massive hall with plush furnishings that served as a parlour when the guests in the house numbered more than ten or twelve. While Otto was coordinating the last efforts to move the family and their belongings back to Bridlewood, Relena waited, one hand resting atop the ornately-carved white marble mantlepiece as she gazed out the window at the blossoming countryside. She had sent Hilde to deliver a message nearly an hour ago, but her Ladyship had infinite patience, this morning of all mornings.

Fifty feet away, the oaken double doors in the middle of the wall facing the windows opened, and a boy in a dark suit walked in. He shut the doors and stood in front of them with both hands clasped behind his back, content to stay where he was. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes." Relena took her hand off the mantle and toyed with the ring on her finger. "I called you here because we need to talk, and we haven't been doing a lot of that lately."

Reluctantly aloof, Heero walked up beside her, keeping a discreet arm's length between himself and the girl at the expectation that she would try to cling to him yet again. His revulsion for physical contact was rarely stronger than when he was in her presence, whereas in other rooms of the house, with other people, it was becoming quite the opposite. Even if that fact was potentially hurtful to Relena, Heero had to feel a little bit proud that he was starting to develop likes and dislikes for the first time in his life.

"The more I think about our engagement," Relena began, still staring out the window, "the more I worry...that we might be making a terrible mistake."

Heero double-blinked and looked all around the room, wondering when the real Relena was going to jump out from her hiding place and shout 'Gotcha!'

"It's not that I don't care for you anymore, because I do...very much." She looked down at the ring and gracefully slipped it off her finger, gazing one last time into the gemstone's gleaming facets. "I've just come to the realization that you and I are very different people. This wasn't an easy choice for me, but if I'm honest with myself...you're not the man I thought you were."

While she wasn't looking, Heero rolled his eyes slightly. I could have told you that.

"I hope we can still be civil to one another, and I hope that someday, you might forgive me for my...intolerance." At the end of her well-rehearsed speech, she held out the ring with her right hand, still unwilling to turn her head and look Heero in the eye.

It took a moment to sink in. Relena had broken off their engagement. Heero was officially free. He looked at the ring for a few heartbeats, the loop of metal to which his shackles and leg irons had been attached since Christmas, and took it, placing it in his waistcoat pocket where his watch should have been. "I understand," Heero lied, not really knowing what critical event could have changed her mind, unless his generally churlish behaviour over the last several weeks had been a sufficient protest.

"Now, as to your future," Relena said in a very businesslike manner, "my servants and I are returning to London, as you may know. If at all possible, I'd like to avoid going back short-staffed, so I'm prepared to offer you your old position back, with a small pay rise starting in June. Rather than go through the tiresome falderal of finding a new butler, I'd just as soon let you continue as you did before, since you know the house well and seem to get along with the rest of the staff."

Heero had to think about that. The engagement was off, the mission was off, and he had absolutely no legal responsibility to the Peacecraft family whatsoever. On the other hand, he had promised Pegan, the true head butler by rights, that he would protect Relena from whatever nefarious scheme Treize had simmering, and there was still the Winner family tontine to consider, and several other minor oaths of help and allegiance that Heero made when he thought he'd be tied to Bridlewood indefinitely...it was actually an ideal base of operations from which he could complete his moral obligations before moving on for good. There was just one thing needed to make it bearable. "What about Duo?"

Relena's neck muscles tightened. "What about him?"

"He's been out of work since you left. Those cleaning men the Count hired practically kicked him out of his own kitchen because he didn't know Polish cuisine. Were you planning on hiring him back as well?"

"First of all," Relena said, on the verge of being huffy if not downright snippy, "it is not his kitchen, it's mine. I own the house, and I say who's hired and who's fired. Second--"

"Second, if you don't want to go through the 'tiresome falderal' of finding a new cook as well as a new butler, you'll reinstate him or suffer more of Elsie's dried-out chicken and crunchy lemon tarts. Take your pick."

Relena snapped her head around to deliver the first witty retort that popped into her vocabulary, but quickly recalled why she had deliberately avoided looking at him thus far. She turned back to the window, folded her arms and pouted, hoping Heero didn't notice anything different about her, but his senses were all working at peak efficiency again, and he wasn't about to miss anything. He stepped closer and turned her face towards his by the chin, curiously examining the faint red vertical line slashing down across her lower lip.

"How did this happen?" he asked with genuine concern.

Relena stared at him in shock. You don't remember, do you? She froze from head to foot.

Heero stepped back and glared, faintly dissatisfied with her disturbing silence. "Did someone hit you?" he demanded, thinking instantly of her dear uncle and his lack of scruples. "I'm serious. Tell me who did this."

Since Heero obviously couldn't recall what had happened in the servants' cottage a week or so ago, and since it was a very important catalyst that caused a rapid mental maturation for Relena, she saw no reason to twist the knife and tell him the truth. "No one did anything," she said confidently. "I got up in the middle of the night without striking a match and I tripped over a footstool. That's all."

Heero studied her eyes intently; if she was lying, he couldn't detect it. He'd have to let it go for now. Nodding faintly, he stepped back and retreated to the door. Just as he reached it, her Ladyship spoke up again.

"I'd like you to choose one of the guest rooms for yourself," she said, glancing at a flock of starlings on the wing just outside the window. "The attic really isn't suitable for you."

Heero nodded again. "Yes, m'lady." He dutifully shut the heavy double doors behind him as he left, and for a moment, life seemed somewhat normal for both of them. Right when personal turmoil seemed to be at its peak, the youngsters perpetually gravitated towards the familiar, for comfort, and for solace.

**********

The travel arrangements back to London were slightly different than they were on the way to Hampshire. Three carriages were lined up in front of the house, just as before, each heavily laden down with trunks and cases and hatboxes. This time, however, Heero was not invited into the lead carriage. Treize, Relena, Otto and Dorothy had that carriage to themselves, with Anna Maria and Frederick, of course. The housemaids were piled into the last carriage, leaving the middle one empty for whoever was left over by that point.

As discreetly as they could, Duo and Heero crept up to the middle carriage from the direction of the cottages, tied their luggage to the roof, and clambered inside before anyone in the lead carriage could give them a nasty glare. Before they left their humble hideaway, all traces of the last few weeks' drama had to be erased. Heero repaired the window he broke, Duo cleaned up the kitchen to a sparkling shine, Sally cleared out her glassware and other equipment, aided by Lucille, to whom Sally had offered a room in her townhouse for the time being, and Hilde swept all the cat, fox, and miscellaneous animal hair out the door. Just in time, the kindly country couple returned from their cruise holiday in Tenerife, nicely tanned, very relaxed, and still incomprehensible when they spoke. Five minutes later, Duo was out the door. On their way to the carriage, Heero told him what transpired that morning, with background behind the deal he struck with Marcus, and once they were comfortably settled for the journey, they discussed it further.

"How'd she take it?" Duo asked, tucking one foot underneath him on the cushioned bench seat.

Heero exhaled heavily. "Amazingly well. She didn't cry, she didn't scream or complain...she didn't seem like herself, but who am I to question? I got the end result I was looking for, best not to jinx it with unfounded suspicions."

"And this Marcus guy really likes her?" Duo whitsled a long, falling note of astonishment. "We'd better treat him like royalty. Maybe he'll take her off our hands." He slapped Heero's shoulder lightly with the back of his hand and grinned. "Hey, get him to come over for dinner and I'll bring my salmon mousse with dill out of retirement!"

"I'd bring it out of retirement now, if I were you," Heero said, shrinking guiltily behind his shirt collar. "She's only taking you back on the strength of your cooking, plus my threat of resignation for good measure."

Duo smiled. "Awww...you quit the bad job for me, you almost quit the good job for me..." He leaned over and rested his head on Heero's shoulder, coaxing a small smile from him at last. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special."

It was a lovely, cozy moment while it lasted, but someone unlatched the carriage door from the outside, and they jumped away from each other as the cherrywood panel swung open. Without warning, Quatre poked his head inside and perched a foot on the step, but froze when he saw Heero. A wave of guilt washed over the gardener's face, and it was only a prod in the back from Trowa that got him the rest of the way into the vehicle. Shadow graciously padded aside, letting the two newcomers share her bench, and they shut the door and sat down quietly.

Duo was the first to break the awkward silence. "So, Trowa, buddy! Bet the horses won't remember you after all this time, huh?"

"Don't worry, I'll take them out back in the park, spend some quality time with them." Another brief silence followed, and Trowa elbowed Quatre lightly in the ribs. "You're looking forward to getting back to the gardens, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm...already late with my spring planting, so...it's a good thing we're on our way home." Quatre fiddled with the buttons on his washed-out gray waistcoat, avoiding the eyes of one person in particular. The weight of the next pocket of silence, however, soon made him crack. He looked up with forlorn sea green eyes and shook his head sadly. "Heero, I'm so sorry. I was horrible to you the day of the hunt, I just didn't realize that you had no choice in what you were doing! I was worried about Relena and I...jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Your conclusion was a hundred times simpler than the real one," Heero said sympathetically. "No harm done."

Quatre smiled with relief. "So you're feeling better, then?"

Heero nodded. "Much improved, and it's not likely to ever happen again, but I also don't want you to be guilt-ridden about our...altercation. You were only looking out for Relena's best interests, and I respect that."

"I can't help feeling bad, though," Quatre moaned. "I wish there was some way I could make it up to you."

While Duo and Heero slowly looked at each other, the carriages sprang forward, carting their load away from Sutherby Hall, hopefully on the pace to catch the appropriate train to London. Heero looked back at Quatre with the gleam of a brilliant idea glittering in his eyes. "You really want to do something for me?"

Quatre sat up a little straighter, while Shadow climbed right over his lap to get to Trowa. "What do you have in mind?"

"I gather, from past observation, that you've got a good head for business," Heero said simply.

Quatre almost blushed. "Well, I like to think that I have a good sense of economics, and my math isn't too bad, but I wouldn't call myself an expert."

"Don't be so modest," Trowa said, scratching Shadow behind the ears. "I couldn't have managed to feed the horses on the measly stable budget if you hadn't found so many corners to cut in the gardening budget." Quatre almost blushed again.

"Now that I've abandoned Lord Jeffrhyss, I won't be receiving a salary from him anymore," Heero explained, taking a thick white envelope from his inside jacket pocket. "Problem is, he may want back everything he's paid me up to this point. I've heard of it happening to other agents who either tried to desert or got killed in the line of duty. He reclaims their unspent wages and funnels them straight into a newly-activated agent, thereby keeping large amounts of cash off the books, and away from the authorities."

He handed over the envelope without a second thought. As it passed from his hand to Quatre's, the carriage hit a bump, and they almost dropped it. The gardener forced himself to take an uncouth peek inside, and gaped at the fantastic sum bundled up with a piece of string. It looked to be several hundred pounds, perhaps even a thousand. He swallowed.

"I want you to invest it for me," Heero went on. "Just in case Jeffrhyss sends someone to ransack the manor, I can't have that much money lying around. I'll leave it up to you, what to do with it, and you can place it under any name you wish, just so long as it's out of the house and difficult to find. We can all use it as an emergency slush fund. Anyone who needs to make a quick escape to another city, or country, will be able to do so, and we all have an enemy somewhere in the world. It's the best use I can think of for profits I'm not exactly proud of."

"Y'know...I had my doubts about you," Trowa said to Heero, "but you're alright."

"I won't let you down," Quatre said proudly, concealing the envelope in his own waistcoat pocket.

Duo grinned at his friend. "Was that your good deed for the day?"

Heero shrugged. "If I can think of any more, you'll be the first to hear about it. Now that I don't have a master giving me orders, I'm on my own, so I should probably learn how to be an upstanding citizen, like the rest of you."

Quatre made a little 'tch tch tch' noise and shook his head, smiling. "Heero, look around you. What makes you think you're on your own?"

"And what makes you think you haven't got a master anymore?" Trowa chimed in, looking ahead out the window to the lead carriage, which was negotiating a sharp turn onto the main road to Southampton.

"Yeah, he just got shorter, younger, and blonder!" Duo joked. They all had a good chatty chuckle, trading stories about their Lady and taskmaster, and just enjoying the leisurely ride before they would be put back to work at Bridlewood once again.

**********

Later that afternoon, Quatre eagerly made good on his word. He and Trowa visited an upper class bank on the High Street, wearing their Sunday best for an optimal first impression. As they sat before the banker in his marble-tiled office, Quatre astounded his companion with an extensive financial vocabulary. The humble gardener and the bearded banker discussed stocks, bonds, dividends, the market share index, and a multitude of other concepts that Trowa had only heard of in fairy tales. They managed to construct an impressive portfolio before teatime, and left the bank with their heads held high.

As the pair jogged down the white stone steps leading up to the bank, Trowa elbowed Quatre, who was all smiles. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Indeed I did!" Quatre answered melodiously. "I won't lie to you...I miss having money. I miss holding it, and counting it, and making plans with it. I miss being in control of my own meagre fiduciary destiny. Do you think that's being greedy?"

"I don't think it's the same thing," Trowa said with a quick shake of his head. "Greed is never being satisfied with what you have. You always seem to appreciate what you have while you've got it."

They joined the flow of pedestrian traffic out enjoying the sunshine before the spring rains set in, and Quatre steered his friend towards a newspaper cart with a striped awning. "I could teach you how to manage your finances too, if you like," he said, perusing the selection of newspapers on display.

"Thanks, but I haven't got that much to manage," Trowa chuckled. He picked up a paper at random and scanned the world news for anything of interest that was happening in Spain. "About the only useful thing I've done with my wages is take a few shillings to the racetrack. I won four pounds sixpence, mind you, but I suppose I can't rely on that forev--" Trowa turned to make eye contact with Quatre, but the blond boy was gone. He looked left, right, and turned around, but couldn't find him anywhere.

A pale hand tugged at Trowa's pant leg. "Down here!" someone whispered.

Trowa looked down and saw Quatre crouched down next to the newspaper cart, obscuring himself from everyone and everything to Trowa's immediate right. "What are you do--"

"Shh! Don't look at me! Look up! Look up!"

Trowa immediately looked up at the last published copy of Harper's Bazar, specially imported and offered at a premuim price as a collector's item. "What's going on?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"See that girl over there? The one with the headscarf?" Trowa turned his head to investigate, but that only got him a sharper tug and a frantic warning. "Don't look at her!"

"How am I supposed to see her if I don't look?"

"Well, you can look, but don't look look, or she'll see you looking!"

Scrambling for ideas, Trowa picked up a newspaper, opened it in front of his face, and casually turned to his right, peering over the top edge of the inky newsprint. Not more than twenty paces away, there was a young woman with a few wisps of dark hair escaping from a golden yellow scarf wrapped around her head and shoulders. The rest of her clothes were fancy fabrics of red, orange and gold, draped around her very artistically but mostly covered by a dark coat of British origin. Not only did she look foreign, but she didn't look as though she had come prepared for the weather, or for the spring breeze that plucked her hair into plain view no matter how much she tried to shove it back under the scarf. She was also quite pretty, and about Trowa's age.

"I see her," he whispered.

"That's Nashida," Quatre said in his lowest possible tone. "She has a twin, Asalah, and they're never apart. Asalah's bound to be around here somewhere."

Trowa watched the girl as she stopped browsing a street vendor's jewellery and began walking towards the newsstand. "She's coming this way!"

Quatre panicked, and chose the only route that reasonably guaranteed safety and concealment, which was under the newsstand. The heavily-sideburned cockney vendor yelped and jumped, looking down at the fair-haired youth crawling about at his feet, and was understandably surprised. Without missing a beat, Trowa caught the man's attention and complained bitterly, not to mention loudly, that the pages of the newspaper he was holding weren't in the correct order, just to keep him from giving Quatre away as the veiled girl walked past, paying little attention to the ruckus. As soon as she was well out of sight, Trowa dropped the paper, ended the argument with the frustrated vendor, and rapped sharply on the far right-hand side of the newsstand. Quatre emerged at the signal, scrambling fearfully to his feet, and the two of them shot off in the opposite direction from his sister as fast as their legs could carry them.

**********

After a hectic and draining furlough in the country, Heero was looking forward to just putting his feet up until he was called back to his duties, but there was a small matter of accommodations to be settled first. Relena had offered him his choice of rooms elsewhere in the house, and he didn't take the responsibility lightly. After surveying a dozen different rooms and gauging their relative merit as living spaces, he chose a suite on the second floor with modest décor, and a small balcony, like many of the bedrooms had. It was at the back of the house, overlooking the rear gardens, and was the closest bedroom to the west stairs, which led straight down to the kitchen. Efficient, yet calming.

Anticipating that he'd be summoned to serve tea any minute, he slung his suitcases up on the bed and dug out one of his uniform suits to change into. He was out of his travel jacket and about to unbutton his waistcoat when the door creaked open, allowing a cat to enter and a mouse to follow. "Knock knock!" the mouse sang cheerily. "Anyone home?"

Heero waved Duo in as Shadow padded around her luxurious new environment with queenly grace. Duo stood just inside the door, still carrying his carpet bag with both hands on the handle, and took a long, sweeping glance around the new butler's quarters. It looked expensive, but tasteful, with upper-middle class furnishings, red and purple fabrics for accent, and its own ensuite bath. It was nice...far nicer than the so-called cook's nook in the attic.

"Wow...some place you ended up with," Duo said quietly, masking a touch of sadness with a wry smile. "Bet you can see clear across Regent's Park from your window...and no second-hand furniture, either! Yeah, this is a real classy joint you hooked yourself up with..."

Heero faintly smirked to himself and set about unpacking, content to let Duo jabber on for as long as he liked.

"Guess you're thrilled to get out of that drafty attic, huh? I haven't even been up there yet to count the dust bunnies, I just spent the last half hour surveying the damage in the kitchen. Man, it's a disaster zone down there...plates of half-eaten cheese perogies, stale potato pancakes on the stove, a vat of red cabbage stew that's been fermenting since God-knows-when...it's probably for the best that you've got your own room now, 'cause I'll be scrubbing the place down 'till three in the morning, and I wouldn't want to distur--"

"Duo..."

"...hm?"

"Put the bag down."

Duo's smirk grew into a genuine smile of joy. He tossed the bag aside, ran at Heero, and knocked him onto the bed with a flying tackle, inflicting a dastardly tickle torture on his victim as they flopped around next to the empty suitcases. The skirmish was brief, and they both sat up to catch their breath and bask in the glow of their combined optimism.

"Hey...ten to one Relena has a fit when she finds out we're sharing a room under her roof again," Duo wagered. "Or should I be saying, if she finds out?"

"I honestly don't care whether she objects or not," Heero said firmly, "and I got the impression this morning that she'd rather not know in any case." Dodging Duo's look of surprise, he got up and went to the chest of drawers, putting away what little he had in the way of non-business attire. "I'm not about to let her keep me from my freedom, after what I went through to get it, and besides, I wouldn't have made it this far without your help, so you have every right to be wherever I am." He turned around and was comforted to see that Duo had stood up and followed him eagerly. They locked eyes, hoping that no pesky knocks or clanging bells would spoil this ideal moment. "You saved me."

Duo's eyes sparkled, and his smile grew. The boys hugged each other tightly and were loathe to let go, but their duties had to catch up with them sometime, and the longer they spent in each other's arms, the tougher it would be to leave them. Duo was first to pull away. "Back to the salt mines, I suppose."

"There are worse things than an honest day's work," Heero reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

The chef nodded. "Yeah." He flashed a final grin and headed for the door, pausing to reflect on how well everything had turned out at last. "Amazing...things are finally looking up for a change." He left after that, opting to get the messy part of the evening's work over with before putting on clean chef's garb.

Heero went back to finding new homes for his paltry belongings, but was only alone for a few minutes before Quatre came knocking at the door next. The gardener politely waited until he was invited in, but practically ran over to Heero once the invitation came. He had a terribly serious look on his face.

"It's done," he said. "Every last penny. I put seventy-five pounds each in oil, steel, and grain futures, a hundred pounds each in Daimler Motorcars and the Creighton nickel mine in Sudbury, and the rest I put into an American company called Dupont." It sounded like good news, but the boy still looked highly troubled.

Heero nodded appreciatively, then picked up on the bad vibe. "What's wrong? Did the market collapse on the way over here?"

"No no, everything's trading normally for the time of day," Quatre reassured him...and yet...he continued to look worried.

"Are you...concerned that someone might stumble across the paperwork?"

"No, all the documents are in separate safety deposit boxes, and the keys to all those boxes are in this box," the gardener said, handing over a tiny silver key. "Um...I know you said we should save that money for an emergency, in case any of us needed to leave the country in a hurry...and I don't want you to think I'm making an early grab for it, but...I saw one of my sisters today."

Starting from the top down, Heero slowly deflated as the moral obligations all came back, danced around his head in a dizzying pattern, and stabbed him all over with their little pitchforks, letting his good mood drain out through a thousand spiritual puncture wounds. "Did you really?"

"I wouldn't lie about this, Heero, really! Trowa saw her too! She was in the street outside the bank...she didn't see me, but I'm sure she's brought others along with her!"

Heero swabbed both hands over his forehead and eyes, then dragged them down the side of his face and exhaled. What was Duo saying about things looking up? "Alright...we'll go to high alert and keep someone with you at all times. Wufei should have arrived before us, maybe he'd be willing to help, if you don't mind him knowing your life story."

"One more won't make much difference now," Quatre agreed, wringing his hands, "but I don't want anyone getting hurt over this."

"Of course." Heero shut the suitcases and stowed them under the bed; when he stood back up, Quatre was staring at Duo's carpet bag, on the floor next to the full-length mirror, and he had a strange, apprehensive look on his face. "Anything else?" the butler asked.

Quatre's head snapped up, and he babbled shamefully at being caught looking. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you two were still...um..." The boys followed each other with their eyes until Quatre choked out what he meant but was almost too embarrassed to say. "...sharing a room."

Heero was puzzled at the way the boy's voice dropped to a whisper, as if he found something hideously wrong with the apparent living arrangements. He blinked rapidly in wonderment. "You and Trowa are sharing a room," he said without concern.

"Well, yes, but not like...not in the same...I mean, uh...we don't actually...not that I'm suggesting that you two are..." Quatre blubbered hopelessly, digging himself deeper and deeper while Heero gazed at him in total bewilderment. He knew for a fact that the boy couldn't have been drinking, and yet he couldn't finish even one sentence all of a sudden, and kept glancing uncomfortably back and forth between the carpet bag and the ever so slightly rumpled bedcovers. Finally, Quatre pulled himself together and laughed nervously, backing up to the door. "Heh...it's really none of my business anyway."

As Quatre failed at four attempts in a row to rapidly work the door handle and retreat, Heero felt somewhat bad for him. Poor soul...the pressure must really be getting to him.

On the fifth try at the door handle, the gardener was successful, but instead of escaping what he saw as a den of sins he wished he didn't want to know about, he was shoved backwards by an anxious Trowa, who was just coming up to the other side of the door and barrelled through it. "We have a problem," the cinnamon-haired boy blurted out. "While we were away, Arthur was attacked."

The moral obligations flooded back in and swam around Heero's head, only instead of little pitchforks, they were whacking him with big wooden mallets. And it had started out as such a nice day...

**********

For the umpteenth time since the meddlesome boy arrived the night before and saw the extent of his injuries, Arthur swatted Wufei away as he tried to put salve on the last of his bruises. "Ach! Away with ye, lad! I've 'ad more'n enough o'yer mollycodd'lin!" the curmudgeonly carpenter barked.

"Hold still, you old buzzard, or I'll spill this all over," Wufei shot back. They were actually enjoying each other's company, though it would be difficult for an outsider to tell. Though they started off highly mistrustful and on guard against anything, they were also equally stubborn, equally driven by honour, and equally nasty when pushed too far. In short, they were getting along splendidly, and Wufei had been especially appreciative of him ever since he made his way back to check on the gold and heard Arthur's wild tale of treachery and torment. "And stop picking at that bandage," he added, slapping Arthur's hand away from his forehead.

"Ah'd a'thought ye'd 'ave bett'r things to do wi' yer time," Arthur shot back. "Ah'm no' an invalid, y'know!"

As they traded barbs and putdowns as easily as some people traded fishing stories, there was a knock at the door. Wufei put down the pot of salve and went straight to open it, knowing that Trowa had returned, as promised. It was a slightly larger group than he expected; both Heero and the boy gardener tried to look over Wufei's shoulder, and he let all three of them squish through the door and dash across to the sitting room where Arthur was nursing a wrist wrapped thickly in strips of cloth. Overall, he didn't look too bad, but then, what transpired happened many days ago, and he had nearly revocered already.

"What happened?" Heero demanded.

As they all took seats around his armchair, Arthur sighed and shrugged. "Didnae see 'em comin'...a right ratty pack o' workmen stormed in, oh...'bout three weeks ago, an' demanded to know where the gold was bein' kept. Ah kept me mouth shut as long as ah could, but then they got impatient. Made a terrible mess o' this place, e'en broke a coupla chairs, but ah didnae give 'em anythin', at first."

"Did they say who sent them?" Quatre asked.

"As if they 'ad to! They were talkin' some other language 'alf the time, but th' word 'Khushrenada' came through loud 'n clear."

Heero felt terrible. The poor man never would have gotten involved if not for him, and judging by how long it was taking some of his injuries to heal, he must not have been in prime health to begin with. He was covered in old cuts, scrapes, bruises, and probably some deeper wounds underneath that even Arthur himself couldn't see. While the butler silently berated himself, however, Trowa was itching for revenge. "We've got to find these lunatics before they come back for a second helping!" he exclaimed.

"They haven't been back since, and we think we know why," Wufei said. "All they wanted to know was where the gold's hidden. Once they beat it out of him, they just left. Nobody's come back to remove the gold, and as far as we can tell, it's all accounted for."

"That doesn't make any sense," Heero mused.

"Why would Treize go to all that trouble and then not collect on his investment?" Trowa wondered.

"And who's next on his hit list?" Quatre added with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Don't be frightened, lad," Arthur said, patting Quatre's shoulder. "Ah gave 'em quite the hiding before they subdued me, I'll tell ya! Used to box for mah old regiment in the Scottish army, and ah've still got a few good moves left! If anyone comes back, we'll be ready for 'em!"

Behind them all, the door creaked open, and a tall, smirking gentleman appeared. "I should stay off my feet, if I were you," he said in a velvety voice. All four boys leapt to Arthur's defence, standing between the old carpenter and the suave intruder with fierce glares all 'round. Treize took only two steps inside the cottage, then put his hands in his pockets and evaluated the potential threat from the servants as minimal. He shook his head at Arthur. "An elderly gentleman like you really ought to avoid exertion."

Heero immediately took the lead and scowled. "You don't look a bit worried, so why don't you just take what you want?"

"Have faith, Mr. Yuy, I'm no amateur. I know where the gold is now, and I'm content to let it sit for the time being. Is that so difficult to understand? And as for you, sir," Treize said, glancing casually at Arthur, "I require nothing more from you, so you may call off your little tribe of savages."

"We're just here to make sure you don't cause any more damage!" Trowa growled. "For all we know, any one of us could be next...even your favourite niece, I'll bet."

Treize gasped in mock horror. "You wound me, boy! As if I'd harm such a charming example of womanhood!"

"You took away her father, and now you want to take away her fortune," Heero said firmly, scowling harder. "That's harm."

"And I suppose the five of you think you have the power to stop me?" Treize chuckled.

To everyone's surprise, the door Treize was blocking the view of slammed shut, and Duo was standing in front of it. "No, but the six of us have the power to make your life miserable in every other respect, so don't push us."

"Now, now, children," Treize chided, "playtime's over and it's time you were all settling down for your nap. The gold is perfectly safe where it is, and the list of people who can get to it is growing shorter every day. I won't pester you with details, but there's been a rather significant battle in South Africa recently, one that's going to strengthen my position beyond your ability to reach, even if you decide not to let me leave intact. Besides, how do you think the courts will see it if an unarmed aristocrat is beset upon by five lower-class thugs taking revenge for their battered ringleader? If I don't walk out of here in perfect condition, it won't look good to the authorities, I promise you that."

Duo took the long way around Treize and leapt acrobatically over a table to join the others, still proud of the way he snuck up behind Treize all the way from the house without him noticing. "Go ahead and walk. We know where you live."

Treize smirked and strolled the short distance back to the door. "On a two-way street, if you'll remember. See you at dinner, Mr. Yuy." With that thinly-veiled threat hanging in the air, the Count left the cottage as silently as he had come.

The five young conspirators exhaled as one, and seemed quite down about their new situation until Arthur raised his voice with renewed strength. "Don't tell me you're all intimidated by the likes of 'im! We've go' a duty to a young lass now, we can't afford to be intimidated!" Struggling against lingering pain to lean forward in his armchair, he hastily pointed Quatre to a jug of cider on the kitchen counter. "Fetch us that jug, lad, and you, cook, fetch summat to pour it into!" Acting on his instructions, Duo and Quatre brought the jug of cider and six mugs to the sitting room, and a helping of the biting apple liquid was poured out to each of them sitting in the circle.

Arthur raised his mug and addressed the boys sternly. "Now then...the group of us, what's sitting 'ere...we are not gonna be bullied by that forked-tongued bog monster, and we're not gonna let 'im hurt Miss Relena! I'm makin' every one o' ye an honourary MacDougall, so now you can't let me down or I'll disown ye!" The boys grinned at each other and Arthur. "Raise your glasses, lads."

Six mugs of cider were lofted in the air.

"Let's all of us show Khushrenada he's no' goin' to push us around anymore. 'Buaidh no bàs', lads! Victory or death!"

"Victory or death!" the others chimed in, before taking a drink in perfect unison.

"Preferably not death," Duo added.


~~~~~~~~~~

Next, in Episode Forty-Three: Quatre discovers the extent of the threat suddenly against him, as more of his family appears within the boundaries of London. Relena receives terrible news from the frontline of the Boer War, but will she run to Heero or Marcus for comfort?

Guess what? I'm going to start doing historical notes again! (With Rachel's help. =^_^=) Actually...she did most of the work on historical accuracy for this episode, and she's cooked up some notes that'll knock your socks off! With any luck, they'll be up tomorrow, and believe me, there's something in there that made me laugh for ten minutes straight without taking a deep breath. It's that cute. Now then, next episode...*looks at calendar*...April 12th, if you can stand the wait. =^_~= Ja ne!