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The Portrait
Part 8
"Hey Peacecraft, did you hear?" Milliardo had barely set foot into the room when a couple of his classmates approached him.
"Hear what?" He put his laptop bag down on the table and dropped into his chair.
"Professor Bonaparte quit."
"Actually, he retired. Yes I knew. He told me last Friday when I went to his office."
"Did he tell you anything about his replacement?" One of the other guys asked.
The young man shook his head. "Only that he didn't know him."
"I've heard the other teacher talk about him this morning." Mueller planted himself on the corner of Milliardo's desk. "Apparently he taught at King's Point before."
"The military academy?" someone in the background asked and Mueller rolled his eyes. "Do you know of another 'King's Point'?"
"So, he is probably a Military guy who retired from active service and went into teaching, in other words some old geezer." Milliardo assumed. "One question remains though, why would anyone who taught at King's Point come to this place?"
"Maybe he got fired?"
"Who cares? As long as he doesn't start treating us like a bunch of cadets I don't care who stands in front of the class."
"Everyone, please take your seats. The bell rung already, I believe." Headmaster Stiller's deep baritone interrupted the student's conversation and everybody scurried to their desks.
The headmaster waited till the class had quieted down before he continued. "As you probably know by now, Professor Bonaparte retired from his teaching position and left our school. I'm sure we will miss him all dearly, but I'm very excited to introduce you to your new history teacher…."
Milliardo was barely hearing what Stiller was saying, because he was starting in complete surprise at the man beside him. Tall, tawny-haired and blue-eyed, he looked just like the other morning when he stood outside Milliardo's door, even wearing a similar suit.
"…Professor, Treize Khushrenada."
Why is my heart pounding like this?
#
The headmaster continued his speech for a few more minutes before he finally turned toward the new teacher.
"Professor, would you like to take over from here?"
"Why not." Treize nodded. "Thank you for the kind introduction, Headmaster."
"Well then, I'll leave you to your class. If there are any problems whatsoever, you can find me in my office."
"I'm sure everything will be fine." After waiting until the headmaster had left the room, the tawny-haired man turned toward his class. "Well, thanks to headmaster Stiller you know who I am, but I still don't know whom I will be teaching. So, why don't you start by telling me your name, beginning with you…" he pointed at a young man at a desk at the front left row.
"Marcus McCarter."
"Mister, McCarter, you don't see me sitting down while I am talking to you, do you? I'd appreciate it if you could show me the same courtesy and get up from you chair when you are speaking, and that goes for everyone else as well."
A wave of discontented murmurs went through class, but in the end every last student rose to their feet and stood while introducing him or herself.
"Very well," the professor nodded when they were done, and checked his watch. "Only fifteen minutes left, not exactly enough time to begin a new lesson. I know the headmaster already told you a few things about you, but some of you might still have a question or two. So, I'll give you these fifteen minutes to ask me whatever you'd like to ask." He looked around the class. "Anyone?"
In the back of the room someone's hand shot up. "Is it true that you taught at King's Point before you came here?"
"Yes, that's correct. I spent three years teaching there."
At Milliardo's left Mueller snorted and mumbled something about "Just a School Desk Soldier." The blond shot him a cold glare.
Although the biting remark wasn't made very loud, it didn't escape the professor's ears.
Treize turned toward him with a smile on his face, the smile of a cobra checking out his next meal. "Mister…Mueller it is, isn't it? Perhaps if you were more familiar with our military school system, you'd know that no one teaches in King's Point who doesn't have at least five years of training and three years of active duty under his belt. And I assure you, desk jobs do not count as active duty."
"Professor, does that mean you have seen real combat?" someone asked.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Why did you leave King's Point for this place?"
"For personal reasons. I actually applied two years ago, but back then there was no position open. Anyone else."
There was some quiet chuckling in the back of the class and then one of the girls asked: "Are you married, Professor?"
Treize laughed. "No, I'm not. Unless of course you would ask my mother, who always complains that I am married to my job."
Milliardo had been listening quietly and with great interest, all the while studying his new teacher. A few times Treize had looked over to him and their eyes met. The young man wasn't sure if he should asked Treize about his family background and perhaps find out what, if any, his relationship to Alexander was. But before he could raise his hand the bell rang ending the class, and he missed his opportunity.
#
"Mister Peacecraft, you are difficult to find."
Milliardo languidly opened his eyes and focused on this new history teacher standing in front of him. He had been lounging on one of the stone benches in the school's flower garden, his head resting comfortably on the bunched up jacket of his school uniform.
"I didn't know you were looking for me, Professor," he replied as he swung his legs over the side of the bench and sat up. He could have added that the main reason he had picked the furthest corner of the flower garden for his little 'siesta' was that he didn't want to be found. "Am I in trouble?"
"Why? Did you do anything that could get you in trouble?"
"You mean Professor Bonaparte didn't leave you his little black book of delinquent students?"
The older man chuckled. "Perhaps he did, I'll have to check his desk. Come to think of, shouldn't you still be in class right now?"
"Independent studies."
"Oh, is that what they call it these days? And I could have sworn you were sleeping when I just came."
"Not sleeping," Milliardo corrected. "Just resting my eyes while I was thinking. But if you are not here to reprimand me, why were you looking for me?"
"Because I wanted to thank you once more for letting me use your phone the other day. And I thought I'd repay my dept by inviting you to a cup of coffee…after school of course."
"That sounds good. Any particular place you had in mind?"
"I'm not sure. You know this town better than I do, so why don't you pick the location."
"Well, there are quite a few nice shops nearby. What do you like better, coffee or tea?"
"Hmm…I do like both."
"In that case, I know just where we should go. Barney's Teahouse, not only do they serve great coffee and tea, but you can also have them both together in their famous Green Tea latte. It's only two blocks from here, on the corner of Lexington and Maple Street. Till when are you working?"
"My last class ends at three."
"Perfect, so does mine. We can meet there; let's say at three thirty."
"Are you driving?" the professor asked.
"Normally yes, but I took my car in for a checkup yesterday and didn't get around to pick it up yet."
"In that case, why don't you wait for me at the teacher's parking lot; I'll give you a ride."
"Aren't you afraid people might start talking if you pick up a student on your very first day?"
"Pick up a student?" There was an amused undertone in Treize's voice. "That's sounds rather…"
"Naughty?"
The older man laughed quietly. "That was not exactly the word I would have used, but I suppose it works. But I'm not afraid of rumors. Besides, we are only going to have a cup of coffee together, right?"
"Right."
"Well then, I'll see you later." Treize nodded. "I guess I'll let you go back to your 'independent studies' now."
Milliardo smirked.
The older man was about to turn away and leave when he stopped him.
"Professor?!"
"Yes?"
"May I ask you a question? I was going to ask you earlier in class, but I was not sure if it was too personal."
"Oh?!" Treize raised one eyebrow.
"Yes, I was wondering if you have…had family here in town. I was reading some old newspaper a while back, doing research for a project, and I could have sworn the name Khushrenada came up on the social page."
"That must have been some old paper," the professor laughed.
"From around the turn of the last century," Milliardo confirmed.
"Yeah I suppose that could have been about right," Treize gave another nod as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Most of my family and ancestors come from the north, but I was told that a distant relative of mine, a great grant uncle or cousin twice removed lived down here. But to tell the truth I had no idea," he added with a tiny smirk, "that he was renowned enough to make it into the 'social page'."
###
"So, what do you think, Professor?" Milliardo asked after taking another sip from his latte.
"I think you really ought to stop calling me that. At least while we are not in school." Treize replied. They were sitting at a table in the very back of the small café.
"That's not exactly what I meant."
"I know what you meant. I can see why this place is so popular with many students. The coffee here is very good. Although, not as good as the one you made, if I may add."
"You don't have to flatter me, you know." The blond laughed. For some reason he felt very relaxed around the other man. Perhaps it was his easy going attitude. He wondered if Octavian felt the same way when he was with Alexander.
When he looked up Milliardo he realized that Treize was studying him. He gave then older man a questioning look, but he only smiled.
"Now, if you don't mind I have a question for you?" he said after a while. "The other day, when I knocked at your door, do you realize that you called me by my middle name?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Milliardo admitted in complete confusion. But as he tried to recall that moment when he first opened the door it suddenly hit him. "Your middle name is Alexander?"
"Indeed," the professor confirmed with a nod. "My full name is Treize Alexander Khushrenada."
"I had no idea," the younger man admitted.
"So, you are telling me it was pure coincident that you blurted out that name when you first saw me?" Treize had raised his coffee cup to his lips and was eying the younger man curiously from over the rim.
"I guess so," Milliardo replied evasively. "I must have thought you were someone else for a moment." It sounded rather lame, even to his own ears, and he could tell from the look on Treize's face that he wasn't buying it either. But what was he supposed to do; tell him that he mistook him for a long dead relative of his?
Luckily at that moment the phone in his pocket chimed, indicating that he had received a text message, giving him an excuse to interrupt their conversation.
"Repair shop," he said after checking the message. "My car is ready. I guess I should pick it up before they close; or I'll have to walk to school again tomorrow."
"Or…" Treize smirked a little."I could pick you up and give you a ride."
"Right!" Milliardo returned the smirk. "Now that would really get the rumor mill working. We leave together in the afternoon and come back together the next morning. Besides, I really do prefer my own wheels."
"Well, at least allow me to drive you home."
"That, I suppose I can accept."
#
"Thanks again, for the coffee and the ride."
"No problem at all," the other man assured him. He had not only driven the blond home, but also walked him to the door.
"I suppose I'll see you in school then, Professor." Milliardo had unlocked the door and stepped into the house with a last nod back in Treize's direction. But before he ever had a chance to turn around and close the door behind himself he felt a familiar gust of cool air rush past him. There was something different about it, though. He could have sworn the breeze was colder than usually, and it moved by him with such speed and force ripping the door handle right out of his hand and slamming the door close with a bang that startled the young man.
"Alexander!?" he exclaimed in a mixture of astonishment and alarm, but the ghostly presence had disappeared as swiftly as it came.
The blond turned quickly. The last thing he wanted was for Treize to leave, thinking that he, Milliardo, had slammed the door into his face. He reopened it, an apologetic and somewhat sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry about that. Must have left a window open somewhere, when I left this morning. It can get quite drafty."
"No problem," Treize smiled. "Good bye, again."
"Good bye." Making sure he had a good grip on the handle this time, Milliardo closed the door quietly behind himself. I wonder what that was about. Frowning slightly he walked through the entry and further down the hall. "Alexander?!"
He waited a few moments, giving the ghost a chance to make his presence known, but nothing happened. The young man checked his watch with an inward sigh. I guess I'll have to deal with this later. Jose said they are closing shop at 5 today. I won't make it if I don't leave now.
"Alexander, I'm leaving again. If I come back we'll have to talk." …we'll have to talk? What am I saying? It's not like I can sit down with him and have a conversation. It was strange, though. When he rushed past me I could almost feel anger and resentment. I'm just not sure if it was directed at me or the professor. For the first time Milliardo wondered if trying to live together with a ghost might not have been such a good idea after all.
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T.B.C.
Author's Note: I'm sorry it took such a long time for this chapter to be finished. Unfortunately it will take probably just as long for the next one to come out. I'm trying to squeeze in a little 13+5+6 story for Christmas before working on Portrait again. But the operative word is 'trying'. I can't promise it will get done on time.