A.N.: Gomen nasai, FFN readers! There seemed to be no way to load the fanfiction.net page every time I tried over the last two days, so you're getting this a bit late, but remember, anytime FFN goes down, I'll still be releasing this simultaneously on my website, so in the event of another outage, just hop on over! =^_^= *hopes Candy has been able to hold out this long* =D
Warning: Angst. Kleenex advised. =^-^=
Disclaimer: My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even tried to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D
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Episode Forty-Nine: Lost and Found "Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it." ~Victor HugoJune 3rd, 1902 It was well past three in the morning, and Duo still hadn't slept. The long day of travelling that had been put behind him should have been enough to tire him out for the night, but it didn't seem to be working. He tossed and turned for hours, fidgeting uncomfortably as he often did in an unfamiliar bed. What bothered him most was being alone, but coming in a very close second was the place he was in, and the uncertainty before him. Duo and Heero had spent the previous day packing, preparing the house for their absence, and train-hopping from cosmopolitan London to the laid-back town of Pembroke in Wales, from which point they caught the ferry to Rosslare, County Wexford, Ireland. Heero crossed the border with no trouble at all, passing himself off as Harvey Young as per usual, but Duo had no passport, and if not for a craftily-concocted fiction about Duo having his pocket picked on the ferry, they might not have been placed in the customs office courtesy lounge, from which they easily escaped. By then, it was too late in the day to do any more travelling, so they found rooms at a charming bed-and-breakfast to run out the clock until it was time to carry on. Obviously, they had separate rooms. It was tearing Duo to shreds inside, because on that night of all nights, he really needed Heero to be there. Knowing that he was only a few feet away in the next room didn't help his insomnia; he needed to curl up to him, wrap his arms around him, and feel his heart beating. He needed to whisper softly of the fears and anguish plaguing him, things he didn't feel he could discuss in a cab, or on the ferry, or the train, and have Heero tell him he was worrying over nothing. He missed those empty reassurances. The time came that night when Duo decided he wouldn't get one wink of sleep until he discussed it with someone, and there was only one other person available to him, any time, day or night. He rolled out of bed with a thud, hauled himself up to his knees and leaned over the quilt on his elbows, clasping his hands together with great bucketloads of humility pouring out of him. "...Lord? It's me, the little hellraiser...how's it goin' up there?" He swallowed and knocked himself lightly in the head with his folded hands. Nice opening... "Look...I hope I'm not tearing you away from anything vitally important in China at this hour of the night...but I've gotta talk to someone. I'm scared, Lord. I'm scared of what I'm going to find when I get where I'm going. I mean, if someone's looking for me after all this time, it can't be good news, can it? "Heero suggested that maybe Helen left me something in her will and they just couldn't find me to tell me until now. He's been trying to cheer me up with ideas that I've got a house coming to me, or a piece of land, something to fall back on if working for Relena gets too awkward, but...I dunno...seems unlikely. I just don't get strokes of luck like that, y'know? I'd probably inherit a weasel farm, or a great big wagon with no wheels...something useless like that. No sense wasting a good inheritance on me, I figure... "You know I'm not one to complain, but I just...can't understand why I have such a hard time keeping anybody. I mean, am I being punished for something? I know I'm a weird kid, and I'd be the last person to sugar-coat my many faults...but how can I know whether that's why nobody wants me or not? Maybe I've gotten a little too lucky, finding Heero as a friend...maybe he's the biggest reason I'm being punished, if that's what's going on...if it is, I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do about it. I'm actually happy with him, and I really hope that's not as bad a thing as the world's been telling me lately, 'cause if it is, I am so screwed." Catching himself on his language, Duo swallowed and ducked his head a little. "Sorry. Tough times have that effect on me, and I'll shut up in a minute, just as soon as I ask you for one teeny, little thing, okay? Okay...so here goes... "I want a mother. It's really not that big a thing to ask for, when hundreds of thousands of other people must be asking for boats and mansions and the opportunity to marry into the royal family. It's such a basic thing, and now that I've met the woman who I thought all these years was my real mom, I feel kinda cheated. Hardly anybody needs a mansion or a boat, but everybody needs a real mom. Even you had one, sorta. I don't even know what I'd give to have that feeling, that there was someone somewhere who would always love me no matter how rotten I turned out, and...that's all I could really ask you for, Lord. I've got everything else I need, plus a couple of luxuries on the side, so...if it's not too much trouble...maybe you could find someone to be my mom, and then if you do, I'll know that you don't think I'm a horrible person. Would you do that for me? ...please?" After his solemn and unilateral conversation, the room seemed even quieter than before, with an eerie atmosphere that couldn't have been described if Duo had a sea full of ink and a forest of paper. Eventually, he crawled back into bed, still terribly vexed, but slowly giving into fatigue. Within minutes, his insomnia couldn't compete with the spiritual calm that came with pouring out his heart to the Almighty, and he fell asleep. **********When Duo and Heero regrouped in the dining room of the bed and breakfast, Duo was strangely quiet. Thinking that perhaps he didn't get enough rest, Heero asked him how he slept. 'Fine' was all he said, and it was the last thing he said for several hours. They ate breakfast in silence, or rather, Heero ate a normal-sized meal while Duo shoved his around on his plate until it was barely recognizable as food. It soon seemed that the only thing that might cure the boy of his voiceless state was progress, so Heero settled up with the landlady and led Duo out to the train station as soon as he could. On the platform, Duo stared blankly at the trains and the passengers, and didn't seem totally aware of where he was, but underneath the pallid mask, he knew. Ireland was quite a lot like England, but at the same time, every detail Duo had become used to over the past few years was just different enough to throw off his emotional equilibrium, resulting in more silence. Luckily, he had already talked Heero's ear off the day before about local geography, so the more verbal twin was able to request the appropriate train tickets. Heero was anticipating a very long, very quiet ride. Many months ago, he would have preferred it, but not now. The train took them west through Wexford County, across Waterford Harbour, and into the region of Cork. Slowly, Duo began to perk up as a glittering green landscape appeared to him through the window. They had a private compartment with the shade pulled down on the door, obscuring them from passers-by in the corridor; Duo sat facing west, with the window on his right so he could see what was up ahead, and Heero sat opposite him, travelling backwards, so he could keep tabs on the boy's apparent mood. Finally, as they rolled past a stretch of the Blackwater River, he gradually came back to life. "See that right there?" the chef said, pointing out the partly-open window to a home on the outskirts of a village along the river. "That guy on the roof of that house, see him?" Heero looked and saw a little cottage with a straw roof on the horizon, and there was a little dark speck of a man in overalls and a cap, shaving bits off the edge of the roof with a short sickle. "Mm-hm..." "They say thatchers hide a purse full of money somewhere in the straw when they're thatching a new roof," Duo explained enthusiastically. "If they ever tell anyone where it is, though, they'll fall under a terrible curse. Betcha didn't know that..." Heero gave it some very rapid thought and arched a random eyebrow. "Of course he'd be cursed. He'd never see the money again." Duo laughed. It was just a little laugh, but he'd been out of practice for a few days, so one couldn't expect total recovery in five minutes. He focused back on the window and let out a long sigh as the scenery became more and more familiar. One step beyond the familiar, and it became entrancing, full of rolling green hills that still glistened with morning dew, tiny white dots where little clusters of buildings huddled together in the distance, all capped with a sky of the brightest blue. The air inside the train compartment had changed as well, once polluted with cigar smoke and coal fumes, now delicately perfumed by passing trees thickly laden with fragrant flowers. It was the closest thing to paradise either of them had ever seen. After a tiring journey of two hundred miles or so, the train began to slow down as it approached another town in which the standard exchange of passengers would take place before moving on to the next stop. The town was deep in County Kerry, almost touching the ocean, and was surrounded on all sides by the most breathtaking lands imaginable. Three sparkling lakes shone in the distance, bouncing sunlight off their glass-like surfaces and scattering it deftly. Emerald green mountains stood watch over the valley, giving only the highest of clouds permission to dance across the blanket of blue hovering over massive fields of lush, green trees. Astonished by the magnitude of the splendour around them, the boys stepped off the train and into the city of Killarney. With one suitcase each, they paused up against one of the outside walls of the station and gathered their thoughts under a carved wooden shield mounted on an iron pole just above their heads, a shield painted blue with three golden crowns. The town itself was a busy place which retained much of its old world charm; down the street in either direction were a multitude of brick storefronts, each pasted with a different colourful emulsion, and as the pair walked down the cobbled road, they passed pubs, market stalls, corner shops and every establishment in between, all bustling with midday activity. At no other time did Duo feel more strongly that America was his home in name only. "Where should we start looking?" Heero asked once the dazzling effects of the countryside were blocked by city buildings. Duo drifted off momentarily, lost in remembrances, then snapped back on topic. "Dr. Walsh's house, I guess. He was the last one I talked to before I left." They didn't need to rehash what happened. Helen fell terribly ill years before, and Dr. Walsh was the one who sealed off her home to all visitors, expecting the worst from an illness he never named in front of the young boy who had been living there peacefully. He was the first logical person to check up on if there was any unfinished business from that terrible time. The boys voted against finding a hotel before carrying on, for Duo couldn't wait any longer to solve this particular mystery. Suitcases in hand, they made their way through the city centre, dodging horses, carts, and children playing in the rain-filled gutters towards Duo's old neighbourhood. The chef gazed longingly at the happy children, but kept on walking. It was a long walk, made even longer by Duo stopping every hundred yards to point out places he'd been and trouble he'd gotten into. "I remember that fence!" he exclaimed joyously, dragging Heero over to look at a wooden plank fence with a tattered layer of brown paint. "I was bringing home a basket of groceries and I got tired along the way, so I put the basket down and leaned against the fence for awhile. You should've seen the big brown stripes across my back after that! For a penny or two, they might've invested in a 'Wet Paint' sign, for cryin' out loud! ...and look over there! That's the very same puddle where I lost my shoe in the mud and had to hop home! Luckily, that wasn't a grocery day..." Heero paid dutiful attention and let Duo ramble on as much as he wanted, with a trace of a smile. It was much better than watching him sit still as a statue and not talk at all. After a dozen more such interruptions, Duo spotted a Victorian two-storey house in cream-coloured brick, and recognized it easily. "Hey...hey, this is it! This is Dr. Walsh's house!" The boys scampered up the front walk and put down their cases, rang the bell, and rubbed their tired arms while they waited for the good doctor to appear. Duo was bristling with excitement, and somehow had a wonderful hunch that Dr. Walsh had been the author of the lost letter. Fate, however, disagreed. A pleasantly plump, middle-aged woman with curly tan hair and spectacles opened the door and peered curiously at the young men on her doorstep. The boys peered back with even greater confusion. "Afternoon," she said cautiously in a thick Irish brogue. "Can ah help you at'all?" Finally coherent enough to do his share of the talking, Duo stepped forward. "Yes, ma'am, we're looking for Dr. Walsh. Are you his housekeeper?" The woman looked surprised and shook her head. "There's no doctor livin' here, to be sure. 'Tis only me an' my two daughters since my late, dear Patrick was taken, God rest his soul." While Duo and Heero exchanged odd looks, the woman called her daughters to the door to illustrate. Within seconds of hearing that there were two handsome lads on the step looking for someone, the girls very nearly trampled their mother trying to get a look at them. They were both tall and fetching, with long curly hair, and definitely of marrying age. They seemed to be sizing Duo and Heero up with their eyes and communicating telepathically to decide how to divvy them up between the two of them. "Margaret? Nancy? Either of you heard of a Dr. Walsh?" The girls barely heard their mother's question as they drooled and struggled against the portly woman's strong restraining arm. Eventually, they each mumbled a half-hearted 'No, mother' but quickly returned to silently imagining their dishy young visitors tied down and wearing nothing but a thin layer of marmalade. In unison, Duo and Heero took one baby step back. "Uh...th-thank you, um...we must have the wrong house," Duo stammered. "Sure you won't come in for a cup of tea anyway?" the woman asked genially. Her daughters' eyes lit up like fireworks at the suggestion. Duo grinned his self-defence grin and backed up even further, tugging needlessly on Heero's arm. "No, thanks, we've gotta get goin'." They picked up their cases and speed-walked all the way to the street, not stopping until they were well out of sight. Feeling not only confused but a little bit cheap, they flopped down on the curbside to regroup. "I could've sworn that was the right house," Duo insisted over and over. "Maybe your Dr. Walsh moved," Heero suggested. "Yeah, s'pose..." Tightening his lips into a thin line, Duo concentrated on the list of people he used to know and came up with the next most likely person to contact. "I know who we can try next...Beatrice O'Malley, lives at the end of Tullemore Close next to the duck pond. She was a huge gossip and just had to know everybody's business, so if Dr. Walsh moved away, she'd know where he went." Heero nodded in agreement, and they picked themselves up off the road to try again. It was yet another long walk to the other side of the neighbourhood, punctuated by a layover at a place called Connor's Cafe for a quick lunch, but within an hour, they arrived at a grey brick cottage that was indeed next to a duck pond. Mentally crossing their fingers, they knocked on the door. "It's Mister O'Malley I feel bad for," Duo whispered while they waited. "The woman never stops talking, and hardly ever says anything directly to him unless she's giving out orders. Poor guy's probably never had a moment's peace the whole time they've been married." The heavy red-painted door with black iron hinges swung open, and a short, skinny, withered man with bushy sideburns who might have crumpled under too heavy a hat appeared, tilting his gray, balding head back so he could look down his nose at the visitors, who were actually an inch or two taller than he. "If ye've come fer the pig, ah've already sold it!" "No no, Mr. O'Malley," Duo corrected him with a broad smile. "It's me, Duo Maxwell! Remember? The little kid from the flower shop?" Mr. O'Malley studied him close-up, then smiled and extended a hand, clapping the boy hard on the shoulder. "Why, so 'tis! What brings ya back this way?" Relieved to be remembered by someone, Duo clasped his hand and shook it vigorously. "Just reminiscing, getting back in touch," he said. "Actually, I've come a long way to talk to Mrs. O'Malley, if that's alright." "Why, 'course 'tis!" Mr. O'Malley crooned happily. "Right this way..." He stepped back and let the boys in, and Duo thought how wonderful it was to see Mr. O'Malley so relaxed and contented; he was quite sure he'd never seen the man in that condition before. "Have yerselves a seat, and I'll go fetch her." Duo and Heero were pointed to the front sitting room, where they availed themselves of a worn but cushy floral sofa, taking time to admire the life's collection of knickknacks scattered about the room. They had less than a minute to enjoy the surroundings before the sound of footsteps called them to attention, and Mr. O'Malley re-emerged...carrying a large brass urn. The boys gaped. "Here she is," the man said, plunking the urn unceremoniously down on the coffee table. "Go ahead, talk to her all you like! The beauty part is, she can't talk back no more!" Mr. O'Malley threw his head back and laughed, just a little at first, but the laughter soon grew out of control until he was howling maniacally at full volume as he walked back out of the room, and presumably, out into the garden. After that, the ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound. Duo swallowed, not taking his eyes off the urn. "Uh.....m-maybe all those whiskey sours and rich desserts finally did her in." "Maybe," Heero said slowly, also rivetted to the tall brass canister. "Or maybe he snapped and garotted her with a cheese wire..." The red door opened, and two boys with suitcases ran out of the house as fast as they could. Efforts to find out who wrote Duo the letter stalled somewhat after the Beatrice O'Malley incident. More than slightly discouraged, he moped up and down the streets looking for anyone else he used to know, with Heero trailing close behind, unable to think of a way to reassure him. Some time later, as the afternoon warmth reached its peak, Duo stopped in front of a row of semi-detached shops, squarish and plain-looking. He centred himself in front of the pale green unit with the striped awning and dropped his suitcase, staring. Heero stopped next to him and followed his gaze. The whole row of shops was in a state of mild to moderate disrepair, and the one in the middle seemed to be the worst off. Its awning was torn and dusty, the green exterior paint was flaking off badly, one of the upper floor windows was broken, and it appeared to be abandoned. "Is this it?" he asked. Without answering audibly, Duo took a few more steps towards the building until he could read the faded sign over the door. It simply said 'Flowers.' He looked up at the broken window and pointed. "That's my room." They both stared at the window for awhile, but eventually Heero wandered off to inspect the other buildings in the row, leaving Duo alone with his memories. Happy sounds fluttered past the boy's ears, muffled slightly by the passage of time, and he felt himself getting a bit misty-eyed, but pulled himself together before he could embarrass himself royally. When he was firmly grounded in the present and in no danger of blubbering insensibly, something unfamiliar caught his eye, a piece of white card with faded lettering nailed to the front of the building beside the door. It was so stained and the exterior paint so mottled that the poster and the wall blended almost seamlessly together. He walked right up to it and squinted at the sun-bleached words. "Heero! Come look at this!" he called out. Heero ambled back over, but Duo was making an impressive effort to read the poster without his help. "Be it here...hereby known that this...estable.....establishment has..." The chef's eyes widened. "...has moved to number twenty-three, Fieldstone Avenue!" He spun around, demanding an explanation from his quiet companion. "What does that mean!? How can they move a business without the owner's consent!? Did she leave it to somebody who didn't like this corner of the city!? They can't have moved it! This was her home!" Heero settled his hands on Duo's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "The whole block of shops is abandoned. They all have a notice pinned to the wall saying they've been relocated somewhere else. Something extraordinary must have occurred to cause that." Duo shook himself out of Heero's grip, dashed over to his waiting suitcase and scooped it up. "I've got to find out what it was. C'mon, let's find this Fieldstone Avenue!" He ran off down the street, and Heero had no choice but to run after or lose sight of him. They were both growing far too fatigued to hurry about so much, but there was no stopping the boy. The next leg of their journey was a winding, twisting path that took them all over Killarney as Duo searched for the road listed on the poster. Exhaustion followed on their heels but never quite caught up to them as they shot through the afternoon crowd of shoppers and horse carts, stopping to ask person after person for accurate directions. Fieldstone Avenue turned out to be closer to the edge of town, where a few new houses and shops were being built, where the cobbles were clean and newly-laid, and where the trees looked no more than saplings. Duo searched every storefront one by one, and there, over the door of a brand-new building with freshly-painted wood siding and bright, clear windows, was a glimmering placard of forest green, with the following words painted overtop in an inviting pink: 'Fieldstone Flowers, H. O'Daly, proprietress.' Duo threw down his suitcase and ran inside. Heero had fallen back a few yards and only saw Duo disappear into the shop after discarding his meagre belongings by the roadside. "Duo!" he shouted to him, but it was useless. Heero jumped out of the way of an oncoming carriage just in time, picked up the extra bag, and hurried inside after him. The perfume of a thousand fresh blossoms struck Heero in the face, mingling with the aromas of potting soil and chlorophyll. There was an elderly man in a linen waistcoat standing at the bottom of a set of stairs, having abandoned his post behind the counter to chide the braided intruder who had shot past him and was already near the top. "You can't go up there, that's private! You, boy! Come down from there!" Picking a spot on the floor between two large vases of tulips, Heero set the cases down and ran to the stairs, gently nudging the old man out of the way. "Allow me," he offered, jogging up the two half-flights of stairs separated by a small landing and a right turn of ninety degrees. When he neared the top, he spotted Duo standing in front of an open doorway looking in, with his back partly turned to the stairs, not moving an inch. There was something unusual about his posture, as he was holding onto to the door frame with both hands, and what little he could see of his face from a rear quarter angle was a look of astonishment and heart-stopping emotion. Heero stopped three steps from the top and watched him, wondering what the matter was, when suddenly, Duo launched himself forward and disappeared into the little room. There was a strange noise, the fluffing of fabric combined with the violent creaking of springs, and two voices cried out softly from within. A tingly feeling shot up Heero's spine, a totally new experience for him, and he crept up the remaining stairs as quietly as he could, then to the doorway in painful slow-motion. Bracing himself against the unknown, he peered inside. The room was a bedchamber brimming with fresh flowers from the shop downstairs. Sunlight streamed in through the only window, accompanied by a gentle summer breeze that rustled the lace curtains ever so slightly. There were modest new furnishings in wood painted white, and the centrepiece of the room was a bed covered in a fluffy white comforter and trimmed with many comfy pillows, also of the purest white. Curled up in the middle of the soft white cloud was a trembling, broken Duo, wrapped in the arms of a lovely young woman. Heero had to grab hold of the door frame as well, taking in the spectacular sight. Duo was actually shaking as he buried his head in the woman's shoulder, and she held him as tight as she could, stroking his hair in a motherly fashion. She was a magnificent vision of a woman, even in her obviously sickly state. Dressed in a simple white nightgown, she appeared to have been ill for a long time, and at an age of little more than thirty, had wasted away terribly, with dark circles under her eyes and thin, delicate limbs. Nevertheless, she was still striking in her own way. Most amazing to Heero's gaze were her deep blue eyes, long blonde hair woven into a braid, and most of all, her kindly heart-shaped face. Despite her frailty, she was beautiful, like an angel...just as Duo had described her. Together they wept and shivered, and watching the pair of them, Heero began to feel as if he was intruding on something too beautiful for him to understand. Behind him, he could hear the faint but heavy footsteps of the elderly man slowly catching up to the ruckus. Hearing the strange sounds, he looped around to Heero's right side and glanced into the room, also feeling the weight of the scene before them. With an unusual amount of sensitivity, Heero moved away from the door and silently beckoned the man back to the stairs, and they padded down to the flower shop below, leaving Duo and Helen to share their tears in solitude. **********When Relena needed to find Lucrezia Noin in a hurry, somehow the message got through to her without Relena ever finding out exactly where she lived. On the whole, she knew terribly little about the woman to be including her in important family matters, but she was a special case, and very likely would always be special to them in one way or another. Today in particular, Relena felt she needed her presence. Once word trickled down the grapevine to Sally's townhouse that Noin was invited to Bridlewood on most urgent business, she rushed there straight away. Upon reaching the manor and stepping through the heavy walnut doors, she was greeted by tense faces all around, and was quickly guided to the parlour, where it seemed nearly the entire household was gathered around the scarlet sofa, and around Relena. The housemaids were curled up on the floor, except Doris, who couldn't bend down that far. Quatre sat on Her Ladyship's left hand, with Trowa standing behind him, and Dorothy sat on her right. Count Khushrenada was lounging a few spots distant and was trying hard to ignore Frederick, who insisted on hanging around his ankles, wagging his tail and looking up at him expectantly for no apparent reason. "Thank you for coming," Relena said softly. "Please sit down." Noin nodded and helped herself to the adjacent sofa, between Doris and Otto, who had shown her inside. She briefly wondered where Duo and Heero were, but decided not to trouble herself with it until necessary. "I came as soon as I heard you wanted me. Is something wrong?" "That's what we're about to find out," Relena answered. She held up a small beige envelope with an expression somewhere between hopeful and grim. "Telegram...from the army. I thought...whatever it said...you should hear it at the same time." Noin looked down. "Oh." They were expecting some kind of official statement regarding Milliardo, but it was so much like the army, to avoid saying anything until there was something to say, that it brought a cloud of worry over the sealed document the likes of which few present had ever felt. Noin squared her shoulders and lifted her chin bravely. "Whenever you're ready." Relena wasn't sure whether she was ready or not, but she tore open the envelope with a zeal that surprised even her. Skipping over the salutation and other unimportant lip-flapping, she quickly started on the subject of the message, what they had all gathered to hear. "...'It is my privilege to inform you that with the signing of'...such-and-such, by whomever...'the war in South Africa is officially over.'" Relieved sighed and smiles drifted around the room, but Relena and Noin were still stone-faced, waiting for the bit that really mattered. Relena read on, slowly dropping her hands into her lap and lowering her eyes when she found the piece of information she was looking for. "'However...'" The faces around her fell, and Quatre quickly put an arm around her, forgetting his lowly place. "He's really gone?" "They couldn't find him," Relena corrected gently. "They say they've combed every inch of the area where he was last seen, during that one battle, and there's no trace of him anywhere." Most everyone in the room moaned in sympathy for the girl, and now that they knew more of Lucrezia, for her as well. Noin was never terribly fond of sympathy, however, and chose the more difficult reality to cling to. "If they haven't found him, then they haven't found him dead. We can sit here sorrowing if we want to, but I won't allow myself to believe he's gone until I see his body brought before me." A few of the staff were shocked at her bold indelicacy in front of Relena, but to their surprise, she agreed. "Me too. No news is good news, and we should all carry on as normal until we have reason to do otherwise. Mr. Marlowe says we can let the funeral proceedings wait for as long as we feel comfortable, and that's exactly what we'll do." While the staff all joined voices to cheer the women on, Treize and Dorothy looked tiredly at each other, and seemed to share the same thought. Delays, delays, delays. **********Heero waited downstairs for an awfully long time, graciously listening to the elderly man name each and every species of flower he was selling while they gave the two upstairs their space. Retail traffic in the flower shop was light, but the occasional sale was made with a smile, just often enough to keep the man moderately busy and give Heero time to think. He sat perched on the bottom two steps with his chin propped up in one hand or the other, staring between the forgotten luggage and the bustling street outside. It was becoming the most amazing case of chronic misinformation Heero had ever witnessed, and he pondered what a long stretch of time had been wasted just on the very plausible assumption that Helen was dead. Clearly she was not, and if Duo had made the trip back to Ireland even once during his troubled adolescence, his whole future might have been vastly different, but of course, by then he was so poor that travel was impossible, and he could not have concealed himself on the ferry to England as easily. "Heero?" a happy voice called from the top of the stairs. "It's alright, come on up!" Heero looked up, looked at the old man behind the counter, and slowly rose to his feet, making his way carefully up the steps. Duo greeted him at the door, still brushing moisture from his tired eyes, and led him to the bedside by one arm. The blonde angel smiled and propped herself up weakly as Duo presented his travelling companion proudly. "Helen, this is Heero," he said. "He taught me to read and write, and he's been my best friend for months." Helen fought hard to extend a hand to the boy, and he caught the hand in both of his and cradled it. "Thank you for lookin' after him so well," the woman breathed in a soft, musical voice. Her thick Irish accent made her words even sweeter sounding, despite her weakness of tone. "I couldn't have asked for a better friend myself," Heero answered, smiling proudly at Duo. Duo smiled back, then climbed back up on the bed next to Helen, cuddling her needfully. "I wish I could've read your letter, but it got lost. All I knew was that someone from around here tried to find me, but I didn't expect it to be you...I mean, the way I left...the way things were.....I thought you were..." He swallowed hard against fresh tears, and Helen gave him another comforting squeeze. "Ohhh, me sweet little potato dumpling," she cooed lovingly, "I'm sorry I frightened you. I expected to be gone by now, I'll admit...but I regretted not sayin' g'bye properly for such a long time, while I waited..." She sniffled and smiled, pushing Duo away just enough to hold his arms up and size him up with her eyes. "I'm glad I made it this long, to find your picture in the paper, and see how big you've gotten! Look at ya! Yer legs are that long, yer probably taller than me now!" While they laughed, Heero pulled up a chair as close as he could, letting them guide the conversation wherever it wanted to go. Duo waved off his added height and took a long look at Helen, still too starry-eyed to notice how sick she was. "Well, look at you! I mean, you're here! You're actually here! You must not have been that sick after all, right?" "Oh no, I was sick when you left," Helen affirmed with wide, expressive eyes. "I might've had a better recov'ry if that bleedin' Dr. Walsh hadn't mucked things up with his quackery." Duo was taken aback by her angry tone. He'd never heard her speak that way about anyone. "What happened?" "You remember our old shop, built just like this one?" she asked. Duo nodded energetically. "We went by it on our way here." "You remember the wallpaper in my bedroom? That green stuff with the filigree pattern?" "...yeah, I do! It was peeling a bit around the edges, but most of it was in such good shape, it would've been a shame to rip it all down." Helen paused dramatically. "We should have." At the sight of Duo's puzzled expression, she elaborated. "'Twas the blessed wallpaper that was makin' me ill." "Wha...that doesn't make any sense!" Duo cried. "Who told you it was the wallpaper's fault!?" "One of the proper doctors that came from Dublin," she said. "Walsh hadn't a clue what was wrong with me. After he sent you away, he poked me and jabbed me for all kinds of tests, and in the same week, he thought I had cholera, typhoid, scarlet fever, yellow fever, green an' purple polka dot fever, anything you could imagine. Then he pumped me all full of medicine that made me worse, hoping that I had something recognizable by science, but after weeks and weeks of suff'rin' in that sick bed, he still didn't know why I was so poorly. It was only when he thought he mighta discovered some new kind of disease, something he could put his own name to, that he started bringin' in experts to confirm his findings. 'Twas one o' them that told me the wallpaper was to blame, and that I'd get worse an' worse unless I left too. "The fella called it 'Scheeles Green,' and said it had a long history of killin' people off. There's even talk of it killin' Napoleon, although I never woulda believed it until it almost happened to me. There was rising damp in that room, and all up the back wall. Some kind of mould was growing behind the furniture, where I couldn't see it, and 'twas the mould that released a toxin out of the green pigment in the wallpaper, so I was told." "Long-term inhalation of airborne arsenic," Heero added as quick as he thought of it. Duo's head snapped around to give Heero a surprised look, then back at Helen as she smiled and pointed across at him. "Sure, an' that's a smart friend you've got there." "So...I didn't have to leave you after all?" Duo whimpered. Helen patted his hand reassuringly. "If you'da stayed, you'd have gotten as sick as I was. You had to go, and so did everyone else in that block that had the same wallpaper." Duo accepted that fact grimly, then turned bright as he searched for something hopeful in the grim and bizarre story. "But...you're okay now, right? You're out of that house, so you're not sick anymore! You can come back to London with me for a visit and see my place!" Helen's face darkened, and she looked down. "I'm sorry, love...but I'm still too poorly to travel...and I'll likely be this way for quite some time." Agitated, Duo sat up on his knees, sinking an extra half-inch into the bed covers as his eyes crinkled in worry. "W-what do you mean? If it was the wallpaper that made you sick--" "It made me very sick, Duo, and very weak. I was so drained afterwards..." She was suddenly interrupted by a violent coughing fit that kept her doubled over and hacking for half a minute, even with Duo's arms rushing to steady her. She flopped back against her mountain of white pillows when the coughing subsided, and looked weakly at the boy. "Since I've left that house, there's been no more arsenic poisoning.....but I've come down with tuberculosis." Duo shivered as he exhaled, stricken with a new terror. "...b-but I've only just found you," he squeaked, his voice fading a little at the end. He crumpled into her arms again, and Heero slumped forward, perching his elbows on his knees uncomfortably. Tuberculosis was one of those things that science had thus far failed to triumph over, and the wealthier patients could only send themselves to country sanatoriums for bedrest and country air, which was less of a cure and more of a comfort while they waited for the inevitable. Helen had never been affluent, and seemed to be just managing to buy food with the humble profits from the shop downstairs. "Never mind, love," Helen said in a soothing tone, "that Jimmy Ferguson downstairs, he fixes all the meals and he'll be working on supper soon. Why don't you nip down and ask him to make double, so you can stay with me awhile?" Duo sat back and pasted on a brave smile. "Let me do the cooking. Please? I've gotten really good at it! You should see how thick my cookbook is back home!" "Alright then," she said through a laugh, "and you two can tell me all about life in London." Nodding, Duo stood up, then leaned over to give her one more hug before leaving the room. "Don't you worry about anything," he whispered. "I'll take care of you, I promise. You took care of me when I was sick, and I'm going to look after you for as long as it takes." With that, he left, and Heero followed him out, taking a second to look over his shoulder at Helen as she fell into another one of her coughing fits. This was turning out to be a terrible situation for his little mouse, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of a way to fix it. **********Many hours were spent up in Helen's bedroom talking about old times, exchanging stories from the past several years, and not once were the subjects of death and disease introduced into the conversation. Helen's stubborn cough was the only vivid reminder of reality, and the three of them pretended to ignore it in model fashion. The boys were invited to stay overnight wherever there was space, as it was far too late in the day to begin travelling back anyway. Long after dinner, just past dusk, and when Helen had fallen asleep, Duo vanished from sight. Old Jimmy Ferguson had gone back to his own home, leaving Heero awake with no one to talk to. A short exploration of the house revealed a fire escape ladder leading from just outside the main floor kitchen window all the way up to the roof. On a hunch, he levered himself out the window and climbed the ladder, and sure enough, Duo was curled up with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the fading traces of the sunset. It was a spectacular view full of valleys, mountains, and glistening water, and it turned out to be a very good thing to be relocated to the outer edge of the city. Heero sat down next to him and crossed his ankles, noticing that Duo had something shiny and metallic in one hand, and was turning it over and over on its chain. It looked like the cross he occasionally wore; without glancing up, Duo seemed to sense that Heero was watching it. "Bet you thought this was part of that costume for the masquerade ball," he remarked. Heero didn't need to answer. They both knew the cross had only been visible a few very brief times since they had known each other. "She gave it to me for Christmas one year, when money was tight," Duo continued. He thought for awhile about his recent prayers, then decided to get a second opinion. "Do you think I'm a bad person?" "Of course not," Heero insisted. Duo dropped the cross back down inside his shirt and looked up at the stars that were just beginning to poke through the blueberry sky. "Then why do I have to beg and plead for something that I really, really want, and then have it taken away from me as soon as I get it?" "She said herself that she's been sick on and off for years now," Heero reminded him. "If she was going to fade away as soon as you turned your back, I'd be very surprised." "But she's not getting any better," Duo said. "I can tell when she's trying to act tough for my sake, and she knows she hasn't got much time left." He put off what he was about to say next for as long as he could, because he wasn't looking forward to Heero's reaction, but the time had come. "I'm not going back." Again, a chill shot through Heero's system. "What?" "I can't leave her like this. I don't know when I'll be home, but I can't leave tomorrow. Tell Hilde she's in charge of the kitchen, and help her out as much as you can. Will you do that for me?" It all felt so rushed, so last-minute, and so very wrong, but Heero lacked the physical capacity to deny Duo any request, no matter how dismal. He stood quickly, wanting to rush back inside and think about how this trip got out of control. "Whatever you want." He turned and vanished down the fire escape ladder, not hearing Duo's faint and downcast sigh. Heero hid himself in the sitting room just off the kitchen, where he would be spending the night on the sofa. Duo would have the spare room, of course, right next to Helen's so he could leap to her rescue if she made even the slightest sound in the night. The implication was there that Duo would eventually be coming back to London, but after the last two harrowing days, Heero didn't have the strength to be that optimistic. He saw the way he looked at her, and even with his limited imagination he could believe that their fondness for each other must be ten times what he himself could ever experience. The possibility remained that Duo would stay in Ireland permanently. And where would that leave me? Heero was never prone to selfish thoughts in the past, but Duo was his lifeline. Beyond him, the choices were slavery and death. The uncertain future was churning up his insides like gristle through a meat grinder, but he couldn't turn to his mouse for any sort of peace now. Sinking down onto the sofa, he propped his elbows on his knees and leaned his forehead into both hands, looking for something, anything in his memory that could stabilize him enough to induce sleep. ...peace comes from harmony...harmony comes from oneness...oneness comes from obedience... It was going to be a long night. |
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| Next, in Episode Fifty: When Duo fails to return or even contact Heero in any way, terrible insecurities fill the air, and Heero finds himself contemplating a difficult choice. Dorothy makes a bold attempt to spy on Quatre's sisters, but isn't aware that she's being watched. |
*sniffle* WAAHHH! =;_;= I'm such a meanie...but seriously, there are going to be some cool historical notes to go with this episode, especially about the wallpaper problem. Dangerous stuff, really it was. Also, I'll have pictures of Ireland! YAY! Not pictures that I personally took, I'm not that lucky, but still. As soon as I reorganize the notes index, we'll see some lovely greenery, we will! =^_~= Mark down June 12th for the next episode, and remember, it sure looks like we're following last year's schedule, but that's bound to change.