A/N: A follow-up to that last bit of Do You Still Love Me, because I had to. The thought of it was too adorable not to. AU where Ethan is still alive.

~ Just So He Knows ~

The laboratory was messy when he entered, test tubes and beakers scattered everywhere and equations scribbled on every possible surface. Bell was seated at the desk, writing feverishly on a napkin, but looked up and hastily covered his work with one arm when he saw his guest. "Ah, if it isn't the elder Frye! I wasn't expecting you."

"Hello, Alexander," said Ethan. He looked around the laboratory, and noticed small signs he had never seen before - things he only saw now because he knew they would be there. A fresh cup of Earl Grey with three sugar cubes sitting on the table, as though someone else was being expected here today; a top hat with a blue ribbon sitting on the kitchen counter; a heavy trench coat hanging on the coatrack that definitely didn't belong to a modestly clothed inventor; an extravagant silver cane leaning against the door that seemed a little too showy for Alexander's taste.

Alexander coughed and blinked a few times, clearly noticing Ethan's wandering gaze; he suddenly looked a bit nervous. "What brings you by?"

Ethan folded his arms. "We need to talk."

"Oh?" Alexander's eyes widened, ever so slightly; and Ethan could almost feel his growing terror. "Er - about what?"

"My son, Jacob," Ethan said. "And you."

Alexander sputtered feebly. "I - um - er -"

"Don't worry." Ethan looked around and found a chair. He gripped it and swung it over in front of him, then settled down on it wrong-way first and rested his arms on top, just like his son liked to do to intimidate Blighters. It certainly worked as intended on Alexander, whose face went white as a sheet. "I just want to have a little conversation. Do you mind?"

"S-sir," Alexander whispered. "I - I -"

"Yes?"

Alexander seemed incapable of speech; instead he screwed his eyes shut, apparently waiting for Ethan to leap from his chair and assassinate him. But Ethan hadn't come here for that.

"Now that we've understood each other," Ethan said, "I'd like to set a few ground rules."

"But - but -" Alexander whispered. "Aren't you going to -"

"What?"

"You should arrest me," Alexander said, in a tiny voice. "Or kill me."

Ethan shrugged carelessly. "I still could," he said, and Alexander froze, clearly terrified of that possibility. Calmly, very calmly, Ethan snapped out his Hidden Blade and started to polish it as he spoke. "I haven't ruled it out."

"What are your rules, then?" Alexander squeaked, and Ethan smiled to himself, satisfied. He'll listen to me now.

"You'll never break his heart," Ethan said. "You won't ever cheat on him, or backstab him. Even if he's in the wrong or he breaks the law, you'll support him. And you'll never, ever see anyone else behind his back."

Alexander nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. I won't, sir."

"You'll have to go to his fight rings, and card games," Ethan said. "You'll do that and you'll like it. He doesn't have anyone else in his life who's always going to cheer him on at those, so that'll have to be you."

"Y-yes sir."

"And don't you ever forget his birthday," Ethan said. "It's the ninth of November, in case you didn't know. It's his favorite day of the year, and you'll make sure it's about him. You won't even mention that it's the same as his sister's, because he doesn't like to share it. And if he tells you he's the older one, you're going to pretend to believe him."

Alexander was reaching for a pen and paper to write this down. "Yes, sir."

"Don't hit him," Ethan said. "You don't look like the type of man who would. But don't you ever lay a hand on him regardless, or I'll cut it off and leave you for the crows."

"I - I won't, sir. I'll remember all of that, sir." Alexander was scribbling furiously on the notepad. "I -"

"His favorite color is green," Ethan told him. "His favorite drink is the house special bitter at the Thistle and Crown, but he's partial to ale, grog and whiskey. He really loves flowers, even though he pretends not to. He likes vanilla, but not chocolate. And he never goes anywhere without his lucky necklace and a pair of brass knuckles, so you'd better make sure he doesn't lose them. Understand?"

"I do, sir." Alexander seemed a little less afraid than before; in fact, his eyes were starting to twinkle, realizing what Ethan Frye had truly come here for. "Anything else I should know, sir?"

"He's a killer," Ethan said. "And a gang leader. But if you've been seeing him this long, you already knew that. I can't ask that you ignore that, but I hope I can at least reassure you that he kills for the right reasons."

"Yes, sir." Alexander's eyes flicked nervously back to Ethan's Hidden Blade, which was still drawn and glittering orange in the lamplight. "I won't forget what you've told me, sir."

"Good. I came here to make sure you take good care of my son." Ethan rose from his chair and retracted his Hidden Blade with a meaningful snick. "And so you remember that you'll answer to me if you don't."

"Yes, sir," Alexander said, weakly. He watched as Ethan put his hood back on and started to leave. "Sir?"

Ethan glanced back. "Got something to say?"

"I - I really do like Jacob," Alexander said, looking sheepishly at his shoes. "I would never do anything to hurt him. I - I want you to know that."

Ethan smiled. "I know," he said. "I just want you to remember what his father does for a living."

And he relished the mixed terror and respect on Alexander's face as he left, satisfied that he had put the fear of God and Ethan Frye into his son's lover. Which, in the end, was all he had ever wanted to do to whatever poor unlucky soul got involved with Jacob - male or female. Just so they knew who they really had to worry about if they ever dared to break his son's heart.

Now, he mused as he hopped back into his carriage to return to the train, I just have to go scare the living hell out of Henry Green.