As Others See

By Jedishampoo T (PG-13) for now, will change to M next chapter. Some language, sexuality.

Summary: A magical misfire ends with the wrong Howls in the wrong worlds. Howl's Moving Castle (Movie) crossover with Howl's Moving Castle (book).

Author's Notes: This is mostly an excuse to play with the people involved and see how I might make the movie characters deal with Book!Howl and the book characters deal with Movie!Howl. WARNING: Most of it will be T-rated and lightly humorous but I'll switch it to M later for sex. And what I plan to do to the characters is not very nice in some parts. You may hate it. It's all so very, very, wrong, I'm sure, but I couldn't help it. You'll see. ;) Thanks to sakura haru and sharpeslass for their betas!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, Diana Wynne Jones or Studio Ghibli does. I'm just playing with them.

x x x

Chapter 6

When Howl and Sophie came downstairs Michael had indeed returned. So at least Howl could impress him with his jet-black hair and with how much he no longer looked just like Howl. He still had that sick feeling in his stomach about Sophie, but there was nothing he could do. Waiting was his only option. And Sophie was strong. She'd rescued The Great Wizard from himself, after all, and had managed to clean up his act and his castle in the process. She could fly on her own for a bit, and afterwards they would just have to pick up the pieces as usual.

Michael gave Howl a bit of a startled look when he spotted him. "Did someone die?" Michael asked.

Howl could only laugh. "I certainly hope not!"

Michael laughed in return, a bit nervously. "You're dressed for a funeral, and so glum. But you look less like Howl, now, anyway."

"Good," Howl said, for that pleased him just fine. He set his hands on his hips and took a deep breath, and prepared himself to survive the next twelve hours or so.

"I'm going home," Sophie said with a glare at both of them. "I don't suppose I should bother to wait on Lettie."

Howl found that he actually didn't want her to leave just yet. At least she was familiar. She was a bit thorny, sure, but that he could deal with and had, many times in the past, from many people.

"I'd like to go out anyway," he told her. "Shall I escort you home?"

"You! No. I'm still irritated with you."

"Why ever for?" Michael wanted to know. He glanced over at the hearth in confusion. "Calcifer?"

"I don't know what she's talking about, either," Calcifer said with a wave of his green flame-hair.

"You can't leave. You're not allowed," Sophie said over her shoulder as she opened the closet, looking for her coat.

Howl opened his mouth, but surprisingly, Calcifer interjected in his defense. "He's an adult, Sophie. I'm not keeping him prisoner."

"But we need him to get Howl back!"

"And believe me, I won't miss that," Howl said, trying to hide a grin. "You think I don't want to get home?"

"He's right, Sophie. He hasn't done anything," Michael added.

Howl watched the little argument with some interest, as well as with some pity for Sophie. Michael and Calcifer were clearly enjoying her discomfiture. Her glare of steel pierced them all; she must play the martinet around here, Howl thought, even more so than his Sophie did at home. He missed her terribly for a moment then pushed the feeling away, tucking it back inside his subconscious where it belonged, along with nothing he could do and afterwards and he'd better not.

Sophie pursed her lips. "Fine, Calcifer. Traitor," she said, and tied her light brown cloak at her waist. She glared again at Howl. "I guess if you're walking with me then I can keep an eye on you, for a while at least."

Feeling a bit guilty about it but doing it anyway, Howl laughed at her again. Anyone could be a target for her fury. At least she'd stopped calling him a lecher. "I'm looking forward to it."

Howl watched her turn the square knob to blue, and played an instantaneous guessing-game in his head-- probably not the wastes. Kingsbury, then? But she opened the door onto a town that looked very like Market Chipping.

Outside it was late afternoon, and the slanting sunlight gave the yellow, cross-beamed houses a golden luminescence. The streets were quiet except for a few passersby, dressed in simple clothing and walking with purpose in their eyes, and a few horse-drawn carts. The air was clean, almost bucolic, unpolluted by mechanics.

Howl breathed deeply and offered Sophie a crooked elbow. She ignored it and strode ahead, fisting her little hands at her sides, forcing him to catch up. Breezes teased the loose strands of her long reddish hair, setting them dancing about her pale, stony face.

"Ben will see Lettie home, I'm sure," she said, staring straight ahead.

"And me," Howl added in a carefree tone, and breathed more of the country smells. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and considered whistling, but then decided she'd had enough aggravation. "Where are we?"

"Market Chipping."

"Ah, I thought so."

"Does it look familiar?" she asked. She didn't sound happy about it, as usual. Then she seemed to take a deep breath of her own, and spoke in a more conversational tone. "My mother and stepfather are in town for the fall festivals. He has houses everywhere. They'll live in Kingsbury in the spring, the country in the winter. They live in almost as many places now as Howl does. But I spent my whole life here. Curses."

"Getting personal again?" Howl teased. His mood had improved, and he wanted hers to, also. He suspected they had the same worry; they were almost in this together. So he took his left hand out of his pocket and jiggled her elbow with two fingers.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. Her brown eyes had taken on a gold nearly the color of her dress in the fading sunlight.

"Come on, Sophie," he said, still feeling odd calling her that out loud. "Let me at least play the gentleman."

She didn't say anything snarky at that; perhaps she'd tired of casting aspersions on his nature. In fact, she didn't say anything at all, just hooked her elbow around his. She kept a regulation sort of distance, however, and focused her eyes ahead once more.

"That's my girl," he said, feeling somewhat nostalgic about it.

"You act so differently from Howl," she said after a minute or so of silence. "I know how to deal with him. And I'm still going to clobber him when he gets back."

Howl knew how she felt. "Do you often clobber him?"

"Of course," she said, and then laughed at herself. "That's why we get along so well. I don't baby him at all."

"Good," Howl said with some feeling, though he had a suspicion that she might baby Howl more than she thought. But he kept that suspicion to himself.

"I guess I just don't know how to deal with you. Or how to control the situation, getting Howl back, everything. It's out of my hands, and I can't stand it." It seemed that once she started talking, the floodgates were open. "I suppose I'll have to deal with this sort of thing all the time once I've married Howl. Still, happiness is not overrated at all, no matter what they say. Argh. I don't know what it is about you, but I can't stop telling you things."

"I don't mind. I like it."

"I know. That's probably the reason. I don't even talk to Howl like this."

"Maybe you should." By habit, or perhaps trying to be comforting, Howl tugged her elbow until she was a bit closer to him, and didn't look so much like she was being led away at gunpoint.

She let him do it. "Yes, but then I usually do or say something stupid."

"You? No, you're very sensible. I can tell." Then Howl realized he sounded like he was flirting with her.

She looked startled, but her surprise seemed to be directed more at his sentiment than his tone. "You're very smooth. But it's nice to hear it for once."

"I'm happy to oblige."

"You're too kind, sir," she said, then laughed. "See? I sounded ridiculous right then."

"No, we were both just being ridiculously polite." Howl was beginning to suspect he knew why she felt so free to tell him these things: it was because she could get a Howl-sort of perspective without embarrassing herself before the man she cared about.

Everyone had their issues, he decided. Sophie-- this one-- had some sort of fear of sentiment, fear of appearing to care too much. His Sophie had no problems with sentiment at all, much to his appreciation. Her issues had all been about her looks. But once she'd gained confidence by walking through fire and sorcery, she'd been able to move past it. And himself? He had... well, he was a bit moody, perhaps. And he was sure he had other faults.

Ultimately, though, this was not his world and he didn't plan to stay in it for longer than he absolutely had to. And if he wasn't going to worry about his Sophie back home, then he sure as hell shouldn't be worrying about this one. Still, he was. He just wasn't completely sure why.

Perhaps his silence went on for too long; she paused in her walking to stare at him, and he wondered if she was searching his face for irony or ridicule. Or maybe she was just looking for Howl. Finally, she said, "I must admit, you have a great deal of charm. So does Howl, though, so I guess it just stands to reason." She sighed and started walking again, pulling him along. "It makes one wonder how many sides one coin can have."

"I prefer not to think about it," Howl admitted.

"Me, neither," Sophie said. "It's rather freeing, not to think about it. So, when, exactly, are you getting married?"

And there she was again, not helping him to not think about it. "I told you, whenever Sophie says go." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"Hah. Maybe she doesn't trust you."

Howl laughed at her. She was projecting again. "That's not very nice," he told her.

"Perhaps not. But I have a theory, even so. Do you want to hear it?"

"Desperately," Howl said, not untruthfully. "Give me the insider's perspective."

She chuckled at the joke. "I think she will. I think--" Here she paused for a while, and narrowed her eyes at some passing, giggling girls, with that silent, get lost look she did so well. The girls moved on and Sophie practically yanked at Howl's arm, hurrying him along before continuing. "I think she probably has been very good and quiet her whole life. And now for a while she can play the part of someone who does not follow the rules. Every world has rules. Here, Howl is a respected sorcerer, one of the Royal Wizards. At home in Wales, his sister wonders why Howl doesn't have a job. If Sophie is an eldest sister-- it feels strange saying such a thing, like I'm talking about myself-- then she's expected to be responsible. But now she's being rather wanton."

In this particular instance Howl could not inwardly accuse Sophie of projecting; that scenario was something he had suspected himself. But he had no objections to wantonness on Sophie's part, none at all. In fact, he enjoyed it. Lots. And there, it had been at least another half-hour. "Oh," he said, lost in other thoughts. His smile must have been rather stupid-looking.

"And like any man, you take advantage." Sophie's voice was smug. "I believe I'm right, and it's refreshing to feel that way. Oh, look. I'm home."

"Huh?" Howl said, tearing his thoughts away from more pleasant things. He halted and looked up at an imposing, white-columned and red-bricked doorway set a few yards back from the street. A little gold plaque nailed into the bricks proclaimed it to be the residence of the Sacheverell-Smiths. The windows on the door were cut crystal-glass, and like prisms they caught the sun's last rays and spat them out into little shrinking rainbows on the stone porch.

"Nice," Howl said, thinking he should say something.

"Yes," Sophie agreed in a flat voice. Then she blew out a breath and pulled her arm from his, only to grab his hands. Her fingers were cold. "Good night. For the last time, I hope."

"Good night," Howl told her. He'd been trying to be kind to her, but her dismissals were beginning to grate on his nerves. And his ego. So he added, in a wry voice, "No kiss, I suppose."

To his surprise Sophie didn't slap him, merely stared at him and kept a firm grip on his hands. Her brown eyes were dark in the bare light of the dusk, and assessing. "You may, if you wish."

"Uh," Howl said, stupidly, and stared back at her. He took a moment to marvel at himself; how much had he changed, that such an invitation should flummox him rather than make him feel justified in his existence? He'd just never expected that from her. He coughed to recover his aplomb, and a teasing tone. "I was joking. What about your reputation?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him in some sort of challenge. "No one will be surprised to see me kissing my fiancee. You don't want to."

"That's not it! Well, perhaps. I am engaged. It's just-- why all the rules and regulations?" he asked, trying to remind her of her own excuses. His intuition had failed him at that point. He could come up with no excuse for her behavior. Or for his own hateful curiosity.

Sophie shrugged, still holding his hands in her cool, firm grip. "Sisters have to watch out for each other. Mostly, though, it's to annoy Howl. He thinks he can have anything."

Ah. Howl laughed darklySo he was some sort of revenge, then, for foul deeds real or imagined. Perhaps it was all the talk of wantonness, but Howl realized he was feeling the challenge. There was a healthy dollop of guilt there, too, mingling with the resident curiosity to form an oddly intriguing mixture of emotion in his belly. But how could he help it? She was Sophie, the woman he adored, in a way. A kiss wouldn't hurt anything. He'd done it before, after all, unknowingly.

"All righty, then," he said and jerked at her hands, closing the distance between them. Her face was pale and set, shining like a statue through the dimness. She didn't really look like she wanted to be kissed, though Howl thought he could detect a bit of reciprocal curiosity in her gaze. They were in this together.

So he bent his head and set his lips against her pursed ones. They were surprisingly warm given the coldness of her expression; but no, not really like his Sophie's at all. She just stood there, breathing through her nose for a few interminably disappointing instants. And then she pulled her hands from his and Howl figured it was over and began to back off.

But she'd only been gathering some sort of resolve. Her fingers gripped his shoulders all in a rush, forcing him to kiss her more firmly.

Forcing him? That was an unfair thought; Howl was participating in this foolishness, and quite willingly. Besides, he had something to prove. What, he wasn't sure. That he was something better than Howl, more tender a lover? Human nature was more powerful than magic most of the time, and made less sense. Not quite knowing what to do with his freed hands he did the obvious and familiar; clasped his fingers about her waist, warm through the plushy weight of her coat.

With his eyes closed Howl felt less guilty and somewhat more aroused. She did taste and smell like Sophie, heartbreakingly so, he thought, as he pulled her close and let his tongue tease the slippery inside of her mouth. She returned that intimacy, and after a few minutes he realized that he was enjoying that familiar-but-not sensation much more than he should. The flesh was weak, and her breaths harsh and excited.

Guilt was feeding his arousal, or at least so he told himself. At some point he'd squeezed her close, forearms pressing into her back, and he could feel more of her than he'd thought possible through that coat. And soon, he realized dimly, things would become irreparably interesting.

His arms uncrossed in a rush and Howl jumped back in a blundering manner that he hated but couldn't prevent. Sophie-- the wrong Sophie-- untangled her fingers from his hair and stared at him, as silent as he.

Her cheeks were pink in the light from the house; they gave life to that pale, heart-shaped face. Anger? Lust? Howl waited for her to slap him but she didn't, merely took her own step back.

"Hmm," she said, then yanked at the fabric of her buff-colored coat, straightening it in a very Sophie-like gesture. Her feet backed her away a few more steps, bootheels clicking on the stone pavement. She turned to ascend the short stairs that led to the porch. "I'm not her, you know. And I think I shall keep all of this to myself."

"Good idea," Howl said, unable to think of a better riposte. He felt a need to defend himself, and sought frantically for something to say. An uncharacteristic, naked admission found its way through his lips. "I do love her. Desperately."

"I know," Sophie said, and her voice held grave sincerity. "Good night."

Howl gave her a little wave, and turned into the night. The cool air was gratifyingly head-clearing. Yes, he'd been a revenge, and some sort of a test of her own curiosity. That didn't make his actions correct. Perhaps he did take advantage. Was that a fault, then?

Howl didn't want to think about it. He wandered the town, trying with little success not to think about his Sophie at home, and how he didn't deserve her, and how he wasn't going to grab hold of her as soon as he got home and never let go, only glue himself to her side like some sort of conjoined twin. He tried not think about how stupidly, blunderingly close he could come every minute of every day to losing her, and how no matter what happened here or there, he would pick up whatever pieces he could or risk a lonely, meaningless future.

x x x

End Chapter 6.

Sorry, only one world this chapter (but it's pretty long anyway). And sorry for what happened. This one wrote itself. Bwah hah hah! Next: Howell.

I do VERY MUCH appreciate your comments and reviews, positive or negative, all is good.