Thank you... to Emy from Italy for providing the Italian used in this episode! =D (...oh yes, and there's some shounen-ai fluffiness here, if anyone needs warning. *grin*)
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 Sixty: Dark Magic of Desire "Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all." ~Jean GenetSeptember 19th, 1902 Normally, Quatre slept quite soundly, but on this morning, in the wee small hours, he was stirred awake by something formless, soundless, and completely invisible. He sat up in his striped pajamas and looked over at Trowa, but he was justifiably fast asleep. Still, something dark and ethereal had come oozing into his sphere of consciousness, and whether it woke Trowa or not, it was still there. It was tangible, and frighteningly real. Quatre got out of bed and put on his slippers, being careful not to wake the light sleeper in the other bunk. He gazed out the nearest window for a moment, but found that the feeling was more intense coming from the hall. As he padded out the door in near-total darkness, faint whispers wafted in from beyond the pantry, and he was drawn to the closed door to the kitchen and leaned against it, crouching. Underneath the thin door, a trickle of orange light brushed the toes of his slippers and flickered softly with the combined breath of two clandestine visitors. "Here...just plunk yourself down and I'll see if there's any milk left in the icebox." The whisper sounded vaguely like Duo, but terribly subdued. What followed was a few small clinks and clunks that corresponded to Duo pouring the last of the milk into a saucepan, setting it on the stove, and lighting the gas with a long, tapered match. With a sympathetic sigh, he strolled back to the kitchen table, where Heero was slightly slumped over and askew in his chair. "You gonna be okay?" Heero grunted lightly in the affirmative, looking and sounding very tired. "What was it about?" "...it was...a year ago, in America. I was in that private box at the Temple of Music, and I was looking down the sights of my rifle at the President..." Heero paused to draw a deep breath and rub his eyes, then continued in a dull tone. "I squeezed off a shot...only I missed him and hit you. You weren't even standing next to him until the second I fired." "Whoa...and then you woke up?" "Mm." "Awww." Duo got up and patted Heero's shoulder on the way to the cupboard next to the stove, where he located the canister of Cadbury's drinking chocolate and dumped a few spoonfuls of the sugary brown powder into the bubbling milk. "Well, it's just a bad dream, and it can't hurt you." "I know it can't," said Heero, "but I'm just not used to them yet. For twelve years, my dreams were the mental equivalent of oatmeal...cold, drab and reasonably tolerable." Duo smirked as he poured the hot cocoa into two ceramic mugs and carried them to the table. "When you start having hot fudge dreams, let me know," he purred, sitting down next to him, their chairs tilted towards each other. "I might like to join you." Heero smirked back. "If I could have that, the occasional nightmare would be well worth it," he said on his way to taking a sip. "Hey, you think that's bad? I used to have this recurring dream where I was standing in the middle of this church and it just blew up," Duo said, his hands flying out to demonstrate a blast pattern. "Totally exploded, like it was packed with dynamite. Everyone in it died except me. Now that was a nightmare." Behind the pantry door, Quatre felt Heero's surprise at the admission, and shared it. Duo was such a lively, happy person that it was hard to believe he ever could have suffered from persistent nightmares. Outside, a gentle rain began to fall, and not long after, a flash of light and a clap of thunder startled Quatre slightly, but Duo and Heero didn't flinch at all. Heero arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were afraid of thunder and lightning," he said teasingly. "Used to be," Duo said between sips, "but thunder can't hurt me any more than bad dreams can hurt you." In the year that had passed since McKinley's death, both boys had learned a great deal, some of which they never wanted to know, but most important at that moment was the realization that Duo always felt a little more secure when Heero was around, and had let go of some very childish fears. A second thunderbolt struck, a bit closer than the first, mixing bright white flashes with the soft, muted orange glow coming from the single candle. The rain began to pelt down harder, hammering at the windows and roof in a steady rhythm. Heero sighed. "That's woken up the whole house by now," he guessed. Duo groaned. "They'd better not all traipse down here looking for hot cocoa...I kinda like having the kitchen to ourselves." He sat forward on the edge of his chair, placing his mug next to Heero's, close enough that their fingers could brush together yet seem to be touching by accident. They didn't say it out loud, but the same thing was on both their minds. It was roughly a year ago that they first slept in the same bed, when Duo was just about paralysed with fear and worry as Heero prepared to cross the Atlantic. What was a tense and uncomfortable night had been transmuted into a sweet memory, one that they enjoyed reliving every time there was a storm. Suddenly, Quatre felt a faint but warm sensation permeating right through the pantry door. It was unique and had no precedent in his memory. Curious, he mentally grasped the window sash leading to his soul and pushed it open a crack, to let more of the warm feeling in. Heero was leaning equally closer to Duo now, and they were both ignoring their cocoa. Duo kept looking at him, both anxiously and pleasantly, but with the thought stuck in his head of other sleepless souls trotting downstairs to forage for food, he frequently looked over his shoulder at the stairs or over Heero's shoulder at the back door. He couldn't do what he wanted to do until he felt they were safe. From weeks of carefully studying the differences between the face Duo showed him and the face he showed the world, Heero knew just what he wanted, and smiled that tricky smile again. Suddenly, he leaned to his left and blew out the candle, shrouding any prying eyes that might have been peering at them, even in Duo's imagination. He then wrapped a hand around the back of Duo's neck, pulled their faces close together, and indulged him in a long, luxurious kiss that distracted them even from a fierce and torrential series of ear-ringing thunder strikes. Duo relaxed and enjoyed letting Heero take the lead, since he was so much better at it. As they were mutually filled with luscious, burning anticipation, Quatre felt a tingling pressure nibble at his belly and throat as the warm feeling he was curious to explore began taking him over completely. He couldn't see what was happening on the other side of the door, but strangely, he could feel it. He curled up into a ball involuntarily, and his head lolled back as electric pulses crawled up his chest and wrapped themselves over his heavy-lidded eyes. The feeling squeezed his lungs so that he could barely draw breath, causing him to gulp shallow, rapid gasps of air that made his heart race. It all should have been terrifying, but he was overcome by exhilaration and a peculiar ecstasy that had no equivalent in words. The psychic imprints of Duo and Heero saturated the air and washed right through him, identifying the strange feeling as belonging only to them. Then, without warning, it tapered off as the owners slowly broke their kiss and basked awhile in the afterglow. A pained squeak escaped Quatre's lips at it's removal, and the tiny noise forced him to remember where he was, and that he was trying not to be heard. Swallowing, he brushed a hand over his forehead; it was glazed with sweat. The candle forgotten, Duo took Heero's hand in his own and stood, pulling the other boy with him, and together, still barefoot in their pajamas, they carried their cocoa up to bed. The warmth went with them, leaving the pantry completely and trailing up the squeaking, creaking stairs to their cozy hideaway. After a while, Quatre could feel his legs again, and the rest of him was tingling all over, begging for another taste of the dark magic. He walked carefully and jaggedly back to his own bed, studying Trowa for signs of movement. He was known to be a light sleeper, but if the storm had stirred him, he wasn't making much of it. Quatre slipped under his covers, curled up on his right side, and watched Trowa's back expand gracefully with each breath. He wanted to talk, but didn't know what to say. Soon, sleep took away his anxieties, but only, as it would become apparent, for a very short time. **********Milliardo didn't much like the sour look on Lucrezia's face as she read her first letter from home in more than two years. The pair had been secret lovers since their teen years, even as her family was trying to sell her off in marriage to a wealthy American, and when she stormed out of their opulent residence overlooking the Aegean Sea swearing she would never bend to their outrageous demands, they said they would never forgive her. Now it seemed they were making good on their promise. Lucrezia shook her head once again as she read, exhaling through tersely tightened lips. Milliardo leaned forward over the glass-topped cast-iron table in the conservatory, where they were taking their morning tea, and tapped his fingers on the side of his teacup. "What do they say?" "Same thing they've been saying all along," she sighed tiredly. "If I marry you, I'm out of the family." "I can't believe they'd stay angry at you forever." "You don't know Mama. I'm sure she's got an emergency backup plan that involves sending my brothers here to tie me up, throw me in a potato sack and carry me back home for the wedding." "Surely not," Milliardo chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. Lucrezia tossed the letter on his side of the table with a flourish. "Think I'm joking? Read that and tell me Mama's not a lunatic! Why do you think I was a fugitive on the run all this time? You wouldn't believe some of the places I've had to hide out in while you were overseas." She said that in all truthfulness, because Milliardo didn't yet know about her entanglement with a psychotic recluse by the name of Jeffrhyss. "I'm sorry," the young man said with a tiny smile as he lifted her hand and gave it a kiss. "They never would have found you if you hadn't stayed here to comfort me." Lucrezia smiled proudly back at him, regretting nothing. "I was only delaying the inevitable." "This isn't part of some strange Greek custom you've never told me about, is it?" he asked. "Not really, no...they just really, really want me to marry this man because I'm the oldest daughter. I wouldn't worry, though...eventually they'll give up on me and pick one of my sisters to make an honest man out of Mr. Rockefeller." Unnoticed or simply ignored by Milliardo, the cook crept into the conservatory carrying a tray of sweet cakes and finger sandwiches he had begged off the butler so he could speak to the elder Peacecraft in person. Lucrezia gave him a little 'hello' smile as he sat the tray down between them, while Milliardo continued right on. "It's disgraceful that an entire family would bully one of its own for purposes of wealth." "Actually...I tell a lie," she said. "Uncle Myklos is on my side, but he's the black sheep, and nobody would listen to anything he had to say, not in a million years." She shrugged in resignation. "Doesn't matter." "Uh...'scuse me for interrupting," the chef said meekly, clasping his hands at waist-level, "but I wanted to personally thank you for getting Hilde her job back. I mean, I'm kinda responsible for recommending her to Miss Relena in the first place, and I just...well...it was real big of you, that's all." Milliardo looked up at the boy, but had difficulty placing a name to his face. At best, he identified him as the peculiar long-haired person whom he thought was a very skinny girl in trousers at first. "You're quite welcome...mister..." "Maxwell, sir," the chef said with audible disappointment. Maybe Relena and Dorothy were unremorseful snobs who, at times, considered themselves too good to breathe the same air as the staff, but at least they took five minutes to learn peoples' names. "Well, you just remind your friend to hold her tongue when her anger bubbles over, and I'll try to impress the same point upon my sister." Already bored with the man's mere presence, Duo slapped on a fake grin and backed humbly out of the room, though Milliardo's attention had already shifted to the tray of goodies before he even made it to the door. The encounter left him unimpressed and feeling a bit downtrodden, in spite of his moral victory, however small. He knew that if he went straight back down to the kitchen right away, Heero would show up eventually, but part of him wanted to go looking for him that moment. In this brief few seconds of indecision while he hung around the back of the first floor, he heard something distant and strange. "Oh, good morning, Miss--" "Shhhh!" Duo was instantly intrigued. He stealthily slunk up the south hall to the edge of the foyer, from where he thought the sounds originated. "Are you feeling better, Miss?" a woman's voice whispered. "I'm going out, but you mustn't tell anyone," a second, younger voice whispered back. Duo deduced that it was Doris and Relena. "Miss Dorothy isn't back yet. Wouldn't you like to wait for her?" Relena paused with mild surprise. She didn't even know Dorothy was out. It didn't really matter, though. "If anyone asks for me, just make up some excuse." "Yes, M'lady." Relena escaped quietly out the front door on some secret errand, and Doris went obediently back to her dusting. Duo's curiosity was running rampant, climbing the walls and tearing bits off the ceiling, which it flung at his head with its clawed, reptilian hands. He was an inch away from following her when bells started ringing in the basement. He groaned. It was awfully difficult spying on people when one had dishes to collect and lunches to prepare. The most he could do was tie a string on his finger reminding him to tell Heero what he had heard. **********Trowa and Quatre caught up on their chores early so they could take the afternoon off, and found themselves wandering around parts of the city they never knew existed. Among other places, they stopped at a lush, green park, with benches and tall trees and a clearing where some school-age children were skipping class to fly their kites. Nannies walked up and down with frilly prams, young couples strolled together trading coy smiles, and the dogs of the nobility were romping and barking under the watchful eyes of their keepers. A fresh, rain-washed scent rose up from the grass, blanketing everything and everyone in a delicate layer of dewy mist, which only lingered a moment before being scorched away by the late summer sun. It was one of those perfect days one hears about in fairy tales. The boys picked themselves out a bench that put their backs to the sunlight, taking advantage of the bright warmth without troubling their eyes. From there, they had a pretty good view of most of the action, and conditions were ideal for the commencement of their little experiment. "Where should we start?" asked Quatre. "How about those two over there?" Trowa suggested, nodding his head in the direction of two lovebirds walking slowly down the path. Their objective was to test the full range of their abilities and hopefully come to a decision as to whether it would be beneficial to tell Heero and the others about what they could really do. "Alright..." Quatre re-settled himself on the bench and tried hard to focus his eyes and his instincts on the far-off pair without staring rudely. Usually, emotional impressions simply came to him, without him having to actively seek them out, but it was doubtful whether such a talent could be of practical use. He feared that if he told Heero the truth, he might be disappointed that Quatre couldn't actually read minds, which would have given the group more of a tactical advantage, so he was willing to give it a try. He focused on the couple and concentrated. The lady wore a dress of bone-white lace, with a matching parasol, open and perched on her shoulder. She continually turned her back to the young man and glanced just past the edge of the parasol at him with a shy smile. The gentleman wore a typically-high-fashion dark suit and carried his tawny straw hat in both hands, following the lady around like a lost puppy. "He's definitely infatuated," Quatre said confidently, hardly needing his sixth sense to tell him that much, "but she's not so sure...she thinks kindly of him, but I suspect there's another young man she likes better. She's indecisive...though she doesn't want to hurt either of them..." He finally sat back and folded his hands in his lap. "That's about all I can tell, and I can't guarantee I'm right." Trowa eyed the pair and applied Quatre's commentary to the scene, nodding slowly. "That's not bad, really." "Yeah, but what good could that sort of thing do us?" "Well, it won't all be people like that, you'd be doing real spy work!" "Trowa, that was an educated guess based as much on observation as it was on...instinct. I don't think a potential enemy will be that easy to read." Trowa shrugged. "I still think you could do great things." A little bit uncomfortable with that compliment, Quatre wriggled. "Go on...you try something." Trowa tried something. He looked around and was easily drawn to a scene at least fifty yards away in the clearing. A middle-aged woman not unlike Elsie, clearly charged by her household with walking the master's dogs, was becoming increasingly frustrated by her charges, after foolishly letting them off their leads for some exercise. She was trying vainly to corral three out-of-control tan and white Corgis, yipping and snapping and wrestling with each other, and just generally being a nuisance. Every time the poor woman tried to clip a cord onto one of their collars, they all bolted thirty feet in the opposite direction and began carrying on again. The woman was haggard, tired, and just about ready to cry, for if she lost the master's precious pups, she'd also lose her precious job. Trowa wondered if the dogs were too far away to be reached by his furtive thoughts, but gave it a try anyway. In the manner in which he communicated with all other animals, he reached out with his mind on what he believed to be that particular frequency that only four-legged creatures could hear. After a minute or so, he began to worry that he was too far away, but suddenly, the dogs froze and sat up, looking in his direction and twitching their fuzzy, triangular ears. Then, all three of them started running towards the boys on the bench as fast as their stubby little legs could carry them. They didn't look like they would stop in time, and Quatre quickly pulled both feet up on the bench and tucked his hands out of sight, but the Corgis came to a gentle halt in front of them, tails wagging and tongues flopping happily. Disarmed and relieved, Trowa laughed and leaned down to give them all a pat on the head, and they fell all over him, each struggling against the others to lick his hands and receive the bulk of his affection. They were so thrilled to be around him that they didn't notice their weary governess creeping up behind them. With a snap-snap-snap, she clipped all three leads to their collars before they knew which way was up. "There, that's got you, you rotten little fleabags!" the woman crowed victoriously. "Have they been giving you trouble?" said Trowa. "Nuthin' but trouble, that's what they is, but I've got to get along with 'em or it's back to washin' dishes for me!" The woman gathered up her tethers and scowled at the dogs, then gazed curiously at the boys. "...'ere, 'ow come they like you? They don't like me...they don't like nobody, 'cept the master, o'course." Trowa did a good job of looking innocent. "I have a way with animals." "Huhm," the woman grunted disinterestedly. "Well, if you fancy my job, who knows, I could very well be outta there in a week's time. Thanks all the same." Giving a sharp but futile command to the Corgis, she tugged on their leashes and away they went. Quatre's eyes widened, and he slowly put his feet back on the ground. "Incredible! They loved you! They would have done anything for you!" "Yeah, but it's really no better than a parlour trick," Trowa sighed. "Let's face it, unless we can use swords and shields or bows and arrows, we're not going to contribute anything special." Quatre shook his head. "I can't accept that, not yet. We must have been given these gifts for a reason, and I can hardly think of a cause more worthy than battling a bunch of megalomaniacs hell-bent on disrupting peace throughout the world!" Trowa slung both arms over the back of the bench and gave him a tired, heavy-lidded look. "Quat...we found one girl who's cheating on her boyfriend and taught three dogs to sit. World peace is waaaay out of our grasp." "Well, if you're going to put it that way, of course it sounds lame! How do we know there won't be an opportunity to use our talents? We really ought to tell Heero so at least he'll be aware of all the resources available to him." "If we do that, we'll just be making ourselves look ridiculous for what could be no reason!" It seemed like an impossible problem rather like betting on whether or not it would rain on a certain day two months in advance. Quatre tapped his fingers on his knee, pondering. "How about this.....for now, we say nothing...but if we get a chance to use our gifts and they end up benefiting the group, we have to tell Heero. Agreed?" Trowa gave it some thought, and it seemed reasonable. At least then there might be actual proof of their 'powers', and they might have a quantitative purpose. "Agreed." With that much out of the way, it was easier to enjoy the picturesque day they would have otherwise been forced to ignore. Still, it felt like they had argued, and Quatre didn't like that. He and Trowa were often at odds over some small thing, and while they always worked through it before moving on to the next task, it still wasn't the smooth, blissful ride down rainbow rivers that Quatre deeply wanted. No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, his early-morning encounter with stolen passion left him wondering if he would ever feel that way on his own, instead of accidentally leeching such feelings from other unsuspecting souls. **********In a prestigious office on the first floor of a luxury townhouse somewhere in Knightsbridge, a perplexed and brow-beaten Dr. Pritchard shuffled through his glass and oak corner cabinet full of bottles and vials, extracting a small bottle of pristine white pills. Reluctantly, he sat down behind his desk and handed it over to his stern visitor, a fair-haired girl in a plain gray travelling dress. She looked tired, with purplish circles under her eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. "Now, it's quite simple," the moustached doctor said, taking off his spectacles and folding them on top of the desk. "Take no more than two pills on nights when you have difficulty sleeping, for no more than three consecutive days, and you must never mix them with alcohol." "You've said that already," Relena told him indignantly, tucking the bottle into her purse. "Mmm." Dr. Pritchard clearly didn't approve of her venturing out on her own to procure restricted pharmaceuticals, and eyed her like a runaway child as he clasped his hands in front of him. "I do wish you would discuss this with your brother..." Relena scowled. "I don't need anyone to hold my hand. This is my problem and no one else's." Dr. Pritchard shrugged helplessly. He preferred not to dispense drugs to minors so easily, but Relena's money was hard to argue with. They exchanged a few common pleasantries, and the girl was on her way, ending her visit with a verbal reassurance that she knew what she was doing. As soon as Relena left the townhouse, she ducked into another doorway on the busy street, opened her purse, and looked at the little bottle of tiny white pills. Her sleepless nights had been draining her of her strength bit by bit, and that morning's thunderstorm was the last straw. She had tried everything she could think of, from hot milk to warm bubble baths to soothing music on the phonograph, but nothing worked. She was stressed, confused, frustrated, and four or five other states that she didn't have a name for, and most infuriating of all was that she couldn't pinpoint a single cause. Life itself had been turned upside down, inside out, and put through the mangle, and it was all getting to her. Hoping that this last resort would be the only one she needed, Relena snapped her purse shut, rubbed her stinging eyes, and hailed a cab back to her own neighbourhood. **********Dorothy had fought her way into Lady Une's house first thing that morning, dodging dressmakers, decorators, and sales reps from the catering company, but she was still waiting to speak to the woman of the hour. While she waited in Une's plush front room with the large bay window, watching dozens of extra workers flit past in the hall, she flip-flopped several times, trying to decide to whom she should speak first, Une or Treize. However, after several hours of being told that 'either one should be along shortly,' Dorothy lost it. All through the house she stormed, sick of being put off and ready for an argument. Each room she searched had a plethora of people, all making plans for parties centred around what would be the wedding of the century, but neither half of the happy couple were to be found anywhere. When she was turned away from the second floor by Une's snooty butler, however, that was a blazing red beacon. She squirrelled herself away in an unpopulated corner and soon located a narrow staircase used solely by the parlour maids, and then used it to bypass the butler altogether. The second floor was nearly empty, and Dorothy soon zeroed in on Lady Une's bedchamber, bursting in without even the briefest knock. Her victim was there, seated at her white lacquered dressing table with the gilded vanity mirror, wearing only her corset and slip. Her shining brunette locks were piled artistically on top of her head, and she was surrounded by thousands of pounds' worth of new dresses and lingerie, made of the finest silks, satins, and lace. Lady Une felt a slight draft, but rather than be bothered with actually turning her head, she picked up an ivory hand mirror and held it up at the perfect angle so she could identify the intruder and admire her own beauty at the same time. "Come to congratulate me, I presume?" "I've been trying to talk to you for days, but you're never available!" Dorothy growled. She would have expanded on her point but there was a rustling noise to her left, and when she turned to see what it was, she gasped. There was a man there. There was a man there who wasn't Treize or one of the servants. There was a strange man in Lady Une's bedchamber who was seeing her in her slip and corset. Dorothy was paralysed by the very concept. The man was standing between the white, gilded bed and the matching wardrobe, scandalously clutching a selection of ladies' negligeés. Une could feel the two of them staring at each other, and twisted around in her chair to gaze pointedly at Dorothy. "Oh, never mind him, that's just Alfonse. Now, you wouldn't come all this way just to have a peek at my boudoir, right? What did you want to say?" Dorothy was still gaping at the man and turned slightly red, while he stared back. "...Alfonse?" Une sighed. "Whatever it is, make it snappy, darling, I'm busy choosing my trousseau." On cue, Alfonse trotted forward with the garments he carried. He seemed...strange. There was an unnatural amount of spring in his step, and the tidy lines of his dark, slicked-back hair were rumpled by a casual turtleneck and a bright paisley waistcoat that seemed to be every colour of the rainbow. "For ze early evening, perhaps with ze pearl earrings?" Alfonse suggested in an oddly floral French accent, holding up the diaphanous delicacies. Humming and tapping a finger to her lips, Une perused her choices, then pointed. "That one." "Ahhh, excellent choice, Madame. Thees ees verry fashionable in Paris." Dorothy watched with an icky, twitchy feeling as Alfonse trotted back to his spot and jotted down an addition to her Ladyship's order. Once the Baroness regained the power of speech, she turned angrily to Une. "Would you mind telling me what this engagement is all about?" Une giggled as she patted her neck and chest with a big pink powder puff. "Really, darling, your mother should have explained that to you years ago." "You know what I mean! With my own ears, I heard you say that you wouldn't marry Treize until you were wealthier than him!" The Baroness folded her arms and waited for a sensible reply. Alfonse butted in with a pair of long satin nightgowns on puffy potpourri hangers. Une studied them briefly and frowned. "No, no...don't you have anything that will show off my figure a little more than that?" Only after he scurried back to his station did she look back at Dorothy. "So?" "So...you wouldn't be holding out on me, would you?" Une laughed. "Oh, don't be obtuse," she scoffed. "If I'd already claimed the money from the tontine, you would have heard about it by now, seeing as the presumed last surviving Winner is living in the same house with you. Besides, I have connections that tell me there's a lot more work to be done in order to thin out the family ranks." Dorothy paled and put her arms back down at her sides. "You haven't...told the Count about our...little agreement, have you?" "Certainly not. But then, I've had more interesting things to talk to my affianced about these days, such as how to find the rest of Quatre's siblings and eliminate them." At her Ladyship's words, something sharp and hot like embers stabbed Dorothy in the chest. Had Une just implied that she had broken their pact of silence? Did Treize know that Dorothy was going behind his back to his mistress to swipe a fortune more alluring than even the Peacecraft gold? She stammered, trying to get her bearings and spit out what she wanted to say, but back slithered Alfonse with three more garments, cut more provocatively around the hem and chest. "Oh yes, that's better. I'll have that one, but in this fabric, and the colour of the third." "Très bien," Alfonse said smoothly. "Madame has exquisite taste!" Dorothy shot forward to take Alfonse's place as he walked away, and she gasped and choked while wringing the skirt of her mint green dress with both hands. "Y-you said you hadn't--" "I said I didn't tell him about my agreement with you, and as far as that's concerned, I've kept my promise," Une told her, "but I don't recall ever promising not to tell another soul about the tontine itself." "...but we have a partnership!!" Une turned back to her vanity mirror, took a thick charcoal pencil out of her bejewelled makeup case, and leaned forward with it, carefully outlining her eyes with the rich black powder as she sighed mischievously. "Yes, well...I find I must make a slight adjustment to the terms of our partnership. Specifically, I'm dissolving it. You were too slow, and wasted valuable time quibbling about the morality of your task. Thanks to your bumbling, little Quatre is still free as air, and probably thinks he's gotten away with something magnificent. Treize, on the other hand, knows how to get things done. His contacts in other countries will be most useful in tracking down the remaining family members and putting them out of the competition. He and I will be working on the tontine together from now on, and in exchange for my information, he's agreed to give me a percentage...as a wedding present. So sorry it didn't work out, darling." From the way Dorothy's face reddened in rage, Alfonse was a smart man to drop his silk pantaloons and put his fingers in his ears. Everyone from Lady Une's bedchamber all the way to the front door, in fact, was treated to a rare display of multilingual fury as Dorothy began hollering a wide variety of curses, insults, and temper tantrums that started in English and quickly up-shifted into the most violent Italian any of them had ever heard. The snooty butler at the bottom of the stairs ran up as soon as the ruckus started, and the workers all lined the foyer as the Baroness Catalonia was carried, slung over the butler's shoulder, kicking and screaming and thrashing all the way. "Come hai osato?!? Ti sei messa in un mare di guai!! Me la pagherai molto cara!! Tradimento!!" Lady Une made a regal appearance at the top of the grand staircase in her sumptuous red dressing gown, smiling and waving goodbye as her unruly guest was forcibly ejected. No one knew precisely where in the house Count Khushrenada was, but wherever he was lounging around, it was pretty certain that he heard Dorothy's outburst, and smirked to himself as he lit up a cigar. **********Ever since that very early morning, every time Quatre saw Duo and Heero together, talking, chatting, or just standing in the same room, he wondered if he was going to get another infusion of that magical psychic warmth, and had to keep telling himself it was none of his business, no matter how good it felt. As the staff were gathering in the kitchen for their supper, the two of them were standing next to each other by the china cabinet full of cracked and chipped cups and plates, but they weren't standing particularly close. Nevertheless, Quatre couldn't stop himself from staring and trying to listen in on what they were saying. "No idea what she was sneaking out for?" "Nope, and no idea when she got back either, but she's asked for the crab cakes, so I know she's here now." "It could be nothing...but still." "Yeah, but still." "I'll keep an eye on her." Trowa came in through the back door, drawing Quatre's attention away. He was looking over his shoulder and then went straight to the nearest kitchen window and peered outside. "Isn't that Hilde on the swing in the gazebo?" Duo laughed. "Yeah, she's been on that thing most of the day. She figures she's entitled to a bit of extra luxury after the way she was treated." "Isn't that Wufei with her?" Three more bodies wandered quickly to the window. Wufei was sitting on the swing next to Hilde, and they looked pretty friendly together. "Whoa," Duo breathed. "He wasn't there earlier!" "I thought he was staying at Catherine's for the foreseeable future," Quatre said. Heero squinted. "He was..." Trowa leaned back and looked perplexed. "So what's he doing back here if he's not here to talk to us?" None of them had an answer for that, except perhaps Hilde, who wasn't about to finish her conversation and run inside just to give them an update. They went on with dishing out their dinner, expecting the girl to come inside whenever she was hungry. Doris was the next one to arrive just as the mashed potatoes came off the stove. She, too, looked out the window, and expressed surprise at the scene. "Is that our Hilde out there on the swing?" "Yes," Trowa droned, paying more attention to the steamed sprouts making their way around the table. "And is that the decorator she's with?" "Yes," Duo and Trowa droned in unison. Doris shrugged and took her place at the table. Next, Elsie came rocketing down the stairs, and made the same display of confusion out the window as Doris. Apparently the staff weren't usually allowed on the nicer bits of outdoor furniture. She squinted. "Ain't that--" "Yes," the entire table buzzed. "And that fella--" "Yes." Everyone was tired and hungry and wanted the subject to drop. Lastly, Bethany came in, and everyone expected a repeat performance, but she went straight to Heero's side and whispered in his ear. He was right in the middle of dishing out a slice of pot roast onto his plate, and the serving fork stopped in mid-air as he listened to what she had to say. When she finished, she stood back slightly and folded her hands, looking the tiniest bit concerned and a great deal more curious. Heero put the slice of pot roast down immediately. "Thank you." He stood, snapped his fingers once, pointed at Duo, pointed over his shoulder, and made a beeline for the stairs. Duo was right in the middle of mixing up the gravy and became wide-eyed at the strange summons. Whatever it was, it sounded serious. He dropped the gravy boat off at the table as he made for the stairs, just as Heero was disappearing up to the ground floor. He had to jog all the way up to the second floor before Heero stopped, dashing into a familiar hall. Duo scrambled to his side as he looked up and down the hall with a peremptory glare. "What?" Heero held a finger to his lips while he finished his surveillance, then leaned back to whisper the news to Duo. "Relena's been in our room." Duo's blinking increased in speed. "What!? When? How? We always lock it, and we have the only keys!" "There must be a master key," Heero said, walking swiftly to their door. "Bethany was walking past and heard noises. She knew I was already downstairs, and she doesn't even know we're sharing, so she had a look. Relena was poking around and then didn't have an explanation for being there when Bethany asked her if she needed anything." They got to the door, and Heero gave the doorknob a turn. It swung open with a short squeak. They shut the door behind them as they entered and looked all around for signs of...anything. They couldn't believe Relena would steal from them; besides being a highly moral individual, there was nothing they had that she couldn't buy for herself. They also couldn't accept that she was nosing around looking for evidence that they were definitely sharing a bed again, for she seemed to have lost interest in them both recently. Everything seemed to be exactly where they left it, their clothes and books, Heero's jasmine plant, the metallic watchbirds sitting on the dresser, nothing appeared to be missing or moved. "Maybe she's foraging for a rummage sale," Duo guessed. "Either that, or she's developing some bizarre fetish we'd rather not know about..." It didn't make sense. Heero was puzzling and puzzling over it, until a horrifying thought struck him. He went to the large, squatty dresser and crouched in front of the bottom-right-hand drawer, the one closest to the window. Defying the pervasive sense of urgency, he tugged the drawer open very gently, so as not to disturb the one crucial object inside, his gun case. Duo looked over his shoulder as he studied it's position, trying to remember if it was in exactly the same place as he left it after the weapon's last cleaning several days ago. He just couldn't remember. Heero opened the case right where it sat, and his trusty six-shooter was still safely inside. Duo let out a rapid breath and flopped backwards on the bed, relieved, but Heero couldn't relax for wondering if Relena had been in that drawer. Just because the gun was still there didn't mean it hadn't been seen. He sat on the bed for awhile, worrying, and eventually Duo reached up and squeezed his arm, feeling some of the same uneasiness after all. "It's okay." "...hn." Maybe I should keep it with me all the time...at least then I'll know where it is, if the lock on the door is totally useless. They hung around in their violated sanctuary awhile longer before heading back down for dinner, but the eerie feeling of being robbed remained, even though not one stitch was taken. It was a very unwelcome mystery. |
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| Next, in Episode Sixty-One: Lady Une and Treize host a lavish engagement party to make everyone they know green with envy, but Relena ignores her formal invitation in favour of a quiet night in with Heero. |
Thank you Emy for that Italian lesson! =D Now, there's going to be an announcement on our site regarding an email problem. For now, I'll give you the short version: I can't get into Hotmail, and I think it's a fault at my end. Until it's sorted out, the email form on the Mitsugi page has been redirected to Rachel's email addy, and the poll script has been as well. Stay tuned for more info as it becomes available! *looks at calendar* I'm gonna hafta beg some extra time, because I'm running behind and I've got the cookbook to set up...could you all last until September 30th? Suuure, I know you can. =^_^=