Notes: Because I'm a total space case, I forgot to mention in the notes to Part One that this fic is based on (fused with?) a short story called "The Enchantment." It was in a romance anthology I used to own, but don't have anymore, so I can't remember who the author is at the moment. (sigh) I shall try my best to find out.
-Part Two-
Whispering Winds lay about thirty miles up the coast from Tranquillity Bay. Heero was glad he'd stopped by the store to purchase a few things on his way up. He didn't relish the thought of driving all the way back to town for meals. Mrs. Maxwell had said the electricity was still on, so he should be able to cook for himself while he was there. No problem. Cooking was something he secretly enjoyed, yet rarely had time to do beyond throwing something frozen into a microwave. Who knew... maybe Relena had been right. Maybe this little vacation would be good for him.
The road to the house was narrow and winding. He had to drive with care. On one side of the road was a sheer wall of rock; on the other, a steep drop off leading to the ocean below. He wouldn't like to drive this road on a rainy night. He wasn't entirely comfortable driving on it now with a light drizzle coming down. Fortunately, the weather forecast had called for clear skies later that afternoon, and sunshine for the rest of the week. What good would staying at an ocean-side estate do him if he were stuck indoors all week?
The road leveled as he neared the top of the cliffs. A grove of pine trees cast eerie shadows over the road. 'The house should be close,' he thought. 'She said it was at the top...'
He steered his car around a sharp curve, and suddenly, the house was there. The trees were left behind. And before him... before him was a castle.
He pulled the car around the circular drive to the front door and stepped out, hefting his overnight bag over his shoulder and his bag of groceries into one arm. He took a moment to look at the house, ignoring the misty rain falling down upon him. The house wasn't exactly a castle - it wasn't quite that big. It resembled an old Victorian manor house, covered entirely with what he thought was Crab Orchard stone - a beautiful but highly expensive stone. But what gave the place the illusion of being a castle was the turret rising up above the roof line of the house. The house looked to be three stories tall; the turret, he could see, had five distinct levels. The top room seemed to be made almost entirely of glass windows. The view from the top must be amazing. He snorted. And the Mrs. Maxwell had called this place a cottage.
Shaking his head, he strode quickly to the front door, fumbling with the key for a moment, before letting himself inside. The interior was dark and smelled stuffy and unused. He knew a cleaning crew had been here a couple of weeks ago to do some cursory surface cleaning, so dust shouldn't be a problem. But the place did have an abandoned feel to it, as if no one had used it in a long time. Pity. It was an absolutely gorgeous place. How could anyone just let it stand here, unused and unloved?
He found the kitchen easily enough. He also found a light switch, which thankfully worked. He'd been a little afraid that the power hadn't been turned back on after all. He dumped his bag of groceries on the counter, and let his overnight fall to the floor. First things first. He emptied his grocery bag, putting all the nonperishable things into one of the cupboards. He'd go through the entire kitchen later. The few things he needed to keep cold - a couple of steaks, a half gallon of milk, some frozen chicken - he put into the empty, but working, refrigerator. He dug around until he found a pot. Washing it clean of dust from where it had been stored all those years, he opened a can of beef stew and poured it in. He added some water to make the broth a bit thinner, then quickly cut up some of the vegetables he'd brought with him and added it to the mixture. Finally shaking in a generous amount of oregano and other spices he'd brought with him, he put the stew on the stove to simmer while he got situated into one of the bedrooms. He put the rest of the vegetables into the fridge, then picked up his overnight bag.
He turned lights on as he went. He didn't believe in ghosts and still thought Relena was making the whole thing up about the place being haunted, but the old house was rather... intimidating in the near darkness. He wasn't scared, but he wasn't crazy about wandering around the unfamiliar house in the darkness.
The second floor wasn't in as good condition as the first. He could already tell he'd have to have to have the rug in the hall replaced. It looked like it had been chewed on. He grimaced. Perhaps he'd better call in an exterminator as well.
He chose the first bedroom he entered for himself. No sense in wasting time choosing. He was sure there were grander bedrooms elsewhere in the house, but he wasn't terribly picky. One was just as good as another in his opinion. And this one looked relatively un-infested. There were no eaten-through holes in the rugs, and the bed linen actually looked clean.
He set his overnight next to a Queen Anne chair. The rest of the furniture looked equally expensive. The whole house was most likely full of antique furniture. He'd seen a colonial period desk in the study off the dining room. He wondered what other treasures he'd find in the house.
He spent a little while unpacking his bag and checking out the room. The bed linens were indeed clean. He set his laptop up on what appeared to be a Louis XIV desk, but refrained from booting it up when a clap of thunder boomed overhead. He moved to the window, frowning. A nasty storm was moving in from the southwest. The skies looked dark and foreboding, and the rain was now pelting down with a vengeance. He sighed in frustration. He should have known the weatherman would have gotten the forecast wrong. So much for clear skies.
Deciding that he'd let his stew boil long enough, he hurried down the stairs, refusing to give in to the temptation to shudder as a cold draft of air swept up the stairs. The place was not haunted. He didn't believe in ghosts. They did not exist.
Therefore, when he saw the willowy figure standing in the kitchen, looking down into his pot of stew, his mind had trouble grasping what he was seeing.
It was a boy, or young man rather, with long chestnut-auburn hair bound in a messy braid running down the length of his back. Long tendrils of hair had escaped the braid, making the figure look wild and earthy. His skin was pale, almost white. And... he was dripping all over the kitchen floor.
Heero shook his head over his own foolishness. The young man was dressed in an Old Navy sweatshirt and jeans, far too modern clothing for him to be a ghost. And he was wet. Of course he was wet. The door leading to the back of the house was slightly ajar and letting the rain in. No wonder he looked so pale. If Heero had been caught in the chilly autumn rain, he'd be as white as a ghost too.
Another peal of thunder rocked the house, causing both Heero and the young man to jump. The movement must have caught his attention, for the stranger yelped when he caught sight of Heero standing in the doorway. He reached out and snatched the knife Heero had been using to cut vegetables earlier and brandished it before him.
"Who are you?" The light tenor voice shook, but whether it was from fear or from the cold, Heero did not know.
"Who are you?" he shot back, arching one eyebrow up at the knife.
The other man shook his head, his braid whipping behind him, dripping even more rain water onto the Italian tile. "I asked you first."
Heero snorted and stepped forward. "You sure are stubborn for a ghost."
The young man pressed himself against the counter as Heero came closer. "I'm not a ghost, and I want to know who you are and what you are doing here."
"I work here."
The other did not look convinced. "Yeah, right. Who are you? What's your name?" He waved the knife a little. Heero rolled his eyes.
"This is ridiculous," he said, tiring of talking in circles. He had better things to do than stand there, arguing with who was probably either a petty thief or a squatter looking for someplace warm and dry to spend the night. Not that he blamed him. He didn't particularly want to be out in a night like this anyway. Still, being threatened by a skinny kid with a knife wasn't high on his tolerance list, especially when his soup was most likely burning. Eyeing the makeshift weapon warily, Heero reached out and grabbed the young man's wrist with one hand while snatching the knife away with the other. The stranger cried out in surprise at the sudden movement and wrenched his arm out of Heero's grasp.
"Now then," Heero said dryly, holding up the knife, "if you are quite through with the dramatics, we can move on to other things - like who you are and what you are doing here."
He could see a vein begin to throb on the young man's forehead. "I'm Duo Maxwell. My family owns this place," he said with a glare. "Who the hell are you?"
Heero took a step back, blinking in surprise. This skinny kid was Helena Carrington-Maxwell's son? If that were true, what a way to begin a business relationship with his new client. Threatening a client's son at knife point was never a good thing.
"My name is Heero Yuy," he replied, lowering the knife. "Mrs. Maxwell - your mother, I presume - hired me to come out here and see what kinds of repairs needed to be done before I put this place on the market."
The young man - Duo - looked at him incredulously. "Mother hired you? I find that hard to believe. Nothing but the best for my mother. I would have expected her to hire a whole team of experts to go through the house, hired from the biggest and best real estate agency in the region." He looked Heero up and down. "You don't look like a company man."
"I have my own small agency in Tranquillity Bay. Perhaps your mother wanted someone who knew the area."
The braided kid shook his head. "My mother does not hire strangers."
Heero had to resist the urge to throttle him. "She said she knew my mother. That they went to school together when they were girls."
"Ah. That explains it then. She wouldn't consider you a stranger if she knew your family. She's peculiar like that."
Another crash of thunder rattle the windows. The young man shivered, reminding Heero just how soaked through the young man was.
"There's enough soup for two," he said, taking pity on the poor, bedraggled kid at last. The autumn rain must have been ice cold. He flipped the knife in his hand and offered it to Duo, handle first. "You can have that back if you promise not to stab me."
The young man took the knife and just stared at it dumbly. "Do you have any spare clothing?"
Duo looked up at him. "Yeah. Upstairs."
Heero nodded. "Why don't you go get changed. I'll serve dinner while you're getting ready." When Duo didn't seem to want to move, Heero gave him a light shove. "You really should put something dry on before you get sick."
The kid shook himself out of whatever stupor he had been in. "Yeah. You're right. I'll... I'll be right back." He practically bolted out of the kitchen, leaving the knife behind on the counter.
Heero quickly stuck it in the dishwasher, before the young man decided to use it against him again.
He dug out two bowls and poured a generous helping of soup into each. He had been planning on saving most of it to reheat for later meals, but after being out in the freezing rain, Duo would undoubtedly eat most of it to warm himself up. Heero didn't mind. There was still plenty of food to get him through the week, and he could always make a supply run into town should he need more. Duo would need the warm soup more than he needed leftovers.
He set the bowls on the little wooden table in the kitchen. No sense in eating in the dining room. That room was way too big for just two people. The kitchen would do. He broke up some of the bread loaf he'd brought and set that out on the table, along with some cheese. To drink, he opened a bottle of wine he'd brought with him, knowing that the alcohol would at least give Duo an illusion of warmth until he managed to warm up on his own. He was just placing silverware on the table when Duo reappeared, looking much less wet and utterly... enchanting.
Heero blinked. Where in the world had that thought come from? Then he looked at Duo again and realized where. The young man had changed into a pair of loose fitting sweat pants, and yet another hooded shirt. But what gave Heero pause was his hair. Duo's glorious mane of hair tumbled loosely down his back in waves of auburn and gold. His fingers itched to run through that hair, but he squashed the urge as quickly as it had arisen. This was his client's son, and he did not mix business with pleasure.
"That smells good," Duo said somewhat meekly. "Are you sure you don't mind sharing?"
Heero shook his head. "Like I said, there's more than enough. And you look like you need someo... something to warm you up." He bit back a groan. He'd almost said someone. What the hell was wrong with him?
Duo sat down in one of the chairs. "Thanks," he mumbled, before digging in to the hot soup.
Heero took the other chair, sipping his soup more slowly. They ate in silence for a few minutes, listening to the storm rage outside. Duo shivered every time the thunder roared overhead.
"What were you doing out in that storm?" he asked before he knew what he was saying.
Duo paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. "I was... taking a walk on the beach."
"Down the cliffs? In this weather?" Perhaps the boy's wits were addled.
Duo scowled. "For your information, it wasn't storming when I went out there. It was barely raining. This storm just appeared out of nowhere."
Heero glanced out the window. "Aa. Strange weather. We were supposed to have clear skies tonight."
Duo shrugged. "Weather's never that predictable this close to the ocean."
Heero swallowed a bit of bread. "Your mother didn't tell me anyone was going to be here," he said, offering some cheese to the other man.
"She wouldn't have known. My mother and I... we don't speak that often." He squirmed in his chair as he bit into the cheese. "I'd heard she was selling this place. And before I knew it, I was on a plane and renting a car to drive out here. I guess I just wanted to see it one last time before she sold it."
"Fond memories?" Heero was used to people becoming attached to their homes. But he was surprised when Duo shook his head.
"Not really. More like bad ones."
"Oh. Does it have anything to do with why you and your mother aren't on speaking terms?" Damn, but he was getting nosy.
Duo just gave him a funny look.
"I'm sorry," Heero said. "I didn't mean to pry."
"No, it's okay." Duo set his spoon down and took a long drink of the wine before answering. "My mother took issue with the fact that I didn't go into the family business. Nor did I become a doctor or a lawyer. She found it rather horrifying that I chose to 'waste my life' by becoming a teacher."
"Being a teacher is nothing to be ashamed about," Heero replied.
"Tell that to my mother. Any job where I don't make at least two hundred grand a year is wasting my life. So she was upset about my career choice already when I dropped the big bombshell and told her I was gay."
Heero nearly choked on his soup.
Duo raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a problem with that, do you?"
Heero downed the rest of his wine and wiped his mouth with the linen napkin before replying. "No. I can honestly say I definitely do not have a problem with that."
The braided young man gave him a measured look. "Good." He broke off some more bread. "Needless to say after she found out she'd never become a grandmother, she pretty much stopped speaking to me."
"Ah. Are you upset that's she's selling the house?"
Duo looked around him. "Not really," he said after a moment. "I think it's high time she sold the place. She's been hanging on to the memories here for far too long. It's time to let them go."
Heero didn't know what to say, and didn't want to pry further. Instead, he asked Duo what his job was like and where he worked. He tried to keep the conversation light so as not to make Duo uncomfortable with his questions again. He didn't know what had come over him ask such personal questions in the first place. Perhaps he had been craving human contact after all, and Duo... well, he could admit he found the young man intriguing. But that's all he would allow himself to feel. This was his first big client. He was not going to screw it up by making a pass on the client's son. No matter how attractive said son might be.
Argh. He gnashed his teeth together as he stood to rinse his bowl. Duo followed. His close proximity wasn't helping. Duo said something, then smiled at him. No, definitely not helping. He shut off the water without taking his eyes of the young man.
"Do I have something on my face?" Duo asked, smiling cheekily.
Heero cursed himself inwardly. Bad enough to be staring in the first place, but to be caught staring...
Before he could apologize however, another clap of thunder rocked the heavens and shook the house. The lights flickered once, twice, then went out altogether.
"Oh shit," he heard Duo mutter in the darkness. "Okay, don't move. I know my way around better than you do."
"What are you doing?" the agent asked as he heard Duo moving in the darkness.
"Trying to find the emergency candles. Mother used to always keep some in here somewhere..."
Lightning lit up the room for a brief moment. Heero caught a glimpse of Duo rummaging through a drawer near the refrigerator. "Dammit, I know they're in here somewhere."
"Do you need some help?" Heero asked, taking a cautious step forward.
"No. I think... there! Now all we need is matches."
Heero heard the young man move toward him. The lightning again lit up the room just in time for Heero to see Duo trip over one of the bar stools sitting by the island. Instinctively he reached out and caught the younger man before he could crash into the counter next to him. The lightning flashed again and Heero felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared down into the young man's face. In that brief instant, he felt Duo's eyes capture his and draw him in. His eyes were dark; he couldn't tell what color they were. Why hadn't he noticed before? A pleasing warmth spread through him where their bodies came in contact. He tried to breathe. He found he couldn't.
Then the lightning dissipated, and the moment was over. He helped Duo find his balance, the long-haired young man murmuring his thanks as he set the candles he had found on the counter. Heero heard him open and rummage through another drawer nearby, then with a strike-hiss, light flared between them.
Duo lit two candles and handed one to Heero. "I don't think the power will be back on tonight," the young Maxwell heir said. "Are blackouts common here?" Heero asked, watching Duo's face in the flickering light.
"Not very. But on nights like this..." He trailed off, shuddering as though frightened by the storm raging outside. "I'm willing to bet a tree has fallen over the lines somewhere."
Heero made a face. "Perhaps it'll be restored by morning then. I don't relish the thought of staying up here the next few days without power, do you?"
Duo shook his head. "Won't matter. I'll be gone tomorrow."
"So soon?" Heero was amazed at how disappointed he felt over the news.
Duo shrugged. "This place... I came back on impulse. I heard Mother was selling, and the next thing I knew, I was here."
Heero blinked. "You have a car?" He didn't remember seeing a car outside when he drove up.
"Yeah. It's in the garage." Duo fiddled with his candle for a moment before looking up at him again. "Anyway, I don't really know why I came. To bury old ghosts perhaps?" He shrugged. "But I'll get out of your hair tomorrow. I need to be getting back to my job anyway."
Heero fought down a surge of disappointment. "I'm sorry to hear that. This house feels like it could hold some happy memories."
Duo shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "It did... once." He picked up his candle. "I should get to bed. I want to leave as early as possible in the morning."
"Aa. I'll go too. To bed I mean." He was proud that he managed not to blush. "I guess then... I'll see you in the morning before you leave?"
Duo managed a weak smile. "Okay. I'd like that." He gave Heero one last lingering look. "Good night, Heero."
"Sleep well... Duo."
He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable in the strange bed. Outside the wind howled across the cliffs, and the rain pounded at the window as though demanding entrance. Heero glanced toward the clock, momentarily forgetting that the power was out, and the electronic digits were black. Deciding he wasn't going to sleep any time soon, he sat up and groped at the foot of the bed, looking for his robe. There was some wine left over from dinner. Perhaps another glass might settle his mind enough for him to sleep.
Some more fumbling occurred before he had a light. He shook the match out after lighting the candle, and set the burnt out stick in a little dish on the night stand. He shuffled to the door and opened it quietly. Duo had chosen the room across from his, and he didn't want to wake the young man up.
Creeping down the stairs, he was just about to push the door to the kitchen open when a soft light emanating from further down the hall drew his attention. Was it Duo... or some other midnight visitor? He walked down the hall as quietly as he could so as not to alarm whoever - whatever - it was.
The light was coming from a sitting room at the front of the house. Heero peeked around the corner, careful to keep the light from his own candle hidden. Duo was standing in the middle of the room, candle held forgotten in his hand as he stared up at something - a painting - on the wall above the settee. His hair was still unbound, cascading down his back in a dark waterfall. He wore an old fashioned night shirt, something that looked straight out of the 1920s, that fell past his knees. In the dim candlelight, he looked like a specter from the past, a vision that sent chills down Heero's spine.
A soft sigh startled Heero out of his thoughts. He quickly ducked around the door and into another room, again hiding the light from his own candle as best he could. He didn't want to let Duo know he'd been spying on him. When he heard the younger man walk past him and start up the stairs, he slowly relaxed. He waited a few more moments just to be sure, then headed back to the sitting room.
The room wasn't large, but it was decorated lavishly. Heero supposed this was where Mrs. Maxwell had received guests at Whispering Winds once upon a time. He turned to the settee and held his candle aloft in order to better see the picture hanging on the wall.
The painting had been done by a master artist. It was of two boys, one about ten years of age, the other maybe five or six. The younger of the two was definitely Duo. The artist had captured the boy's cheeky grin perfectly - a grin Heero had seen echoed in the face of the young man earlier that evening. In the low light, Heero still couldn't quite make out the color of Duo's eyes. He would have to remind himself to look in the morning. The other boy was older boy a good number of years. Where Duo's hair was dark, this boy's hair was lighter - almost blonde. But the facial features were the same. He wondered if this was a brother. While he knew of the Maxwells - everyone in Tranquillity Bay did - he didn't know much about the current family. Perhaps he'd ask Duo about it in the morning before the young man left.
The only puzzling thing was why Duo had been down there staring at the painting in the middle of the night? Even after drinking his wine and settling back into bed, that question kept Heero awake long after he should have been asleep. When he did finally drift off with the wail of the storm echoing in his ears, he dreamt of long, long hair and colorless eyes.