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The Portrait

Part 19

Milliardo wasn't sure what woke him. He turned his head and slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the little black alarm clock on the nightstand. When he strained his hearing he could make out the soft rushing sound of the shower. Apparently, Treize was already up.

With a yawn the young man rolled out of bed. He pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, shuffled out of his bedroom and made his way into the kitchen.

The coffee maker was running, filling the glass carafe with its dark, aromatic brew, and a couple pieces of bread were browning in the toaster by the time Treize came walking down the stairs. The older man was already dressed, tie and all.

"Good morning," Milliardo greeted his new house mate with a little peck on the cheek.

"Good morning. I'm surprised you are up already; I thought you didn't have any classes today."

"I don't," the younger man confirmed. "I just thought I'd make some breakfast. After all, it's our first morning together in this house. How did you sleep by the way?"

"Wonderful. The new bed is quite comfortable."

"Is that so?" The blond gave a sly smile. "Perhaps someday you will let me test it."

The professor laughed quietly as he poured himself a cup of coffee and changed the subject. "So, what are your plans for the day?

"I have to finish up a paper, and I'm waiting for the electrician at noon, other than that, not much."

"Electrician? Is something wrong with the lights?"

"No, I just want to get an estimate on what it will cost to get the attic wired. I'm tired of having to use a flashlight or candle every time I go up there."

"Ah yes, that's right." Treize remembered now that they had talked about that.

"But what about you; how does your afternoon schedule look? I was thinking, if you have time we could take old man Harold's offer, visit him and see if he can tell us anything else."

"Sounds like an idea," Treize agreed as he reached for one of the toast slices. "I should be home by four latest. Would you pass the jam please? Oh yeah, we also need to stop by the supermarket today. I noticed your fridge looks a little… bare while the freezer almost bursts out of its seams."

"I guess I'm a frozen meal kind of guy. I do realize they are not exactly health food, but I love the convenience."

"Well that will change, now that I am here."

"You know how to cook?" Milliardo sounded impressed.

"No, but I'm willing to learn."

The younger man smiled. After watching Treize go from someone who had never touched a brush to an almost professional painter in the course of two weeks, he had no doubt that he would be cooking gourmet meals in no time at all. "Talking of learning…Did you learn anything from that article in the old newspaper?"

"Nothing in detail," the older man admitted. He had read the paper front to back and back to front again. It was a fascinating read to say the least, for a history buff like him. "Apparently your great-grandfather's wedding was quite the social event, though. It's only to expect that it took center stage in the news covering. Alexander's death is only mentioned in a small article on page 3. Just so much as that he had been found by an associate, in his house and the cause of death was still to be determined."

"Really?" Milliardo mused. "Say, back then who did determine the cause of someone's death?"

"Good question. Normally the family doctor would sign the death certificate. But I'm in a case like this when a young man in good health died suddenly and unexpectedly a doctor with a coroner's warrant would be called in for a coroner's inquiry. Of course I'm assuming here that Alexander was in good health and didn't actually die of an illness."

"Hmm…I might be worth asking Mister Harold about it. But didn't your family get a death certificate?"

"If they did it must have been lost since. I've never been able to find it with any of the others documents and personal items my family kept," Treize admitted. As he took another sip from his coffee his gaze fell onto his wrist watch. "Oh my, look what time it is. I'd better get going; or I'll have to put myself into detention for being tardy."

He downed the rest of the coffee in one long sip and started putting together his dishes.

"Leave those," Milliardo told him. "I'll clean up."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," the younger man confirmed. "Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to tell you. I'm planning on having Wufei and Duo over sometime next week, after I get paid; throw some steaks and burgers on the grill buy some beer etc. The two of them have been helping me a lot since before I moved in here."

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Treize nodded. "That will give a change to get to know your friends better, too. Well then, I'm off. See you in the afternoon."

"What, not even a kiss good-bye?" Milliardo complained.

"I'm sorry," the professor smirked as he stepped toward him and dipped his head for a brief but affectionate kiss. "I'm still getting used to this."

"Apology accepted." Milliardo returned the smirk. His eyes followed the older man as far as he could see him. Moments later he heard the front door open and then close again. Almost instantly he could feel Alexander's presence, and he huffed in amusement.

"Good morning. Are you purposely staying out of his way, or do even spirits oversleep occasionally?"

His ghostly houseguest whished around the kitchen to ruffle his hair. Milliardo realized that he could sense Alexander much more now that when they first 'met'. He could almost feel him standing at his side and he could follow his movements around the room. Perhaps, he mused. Our connection has become stronger. I wonder if it is only I who can feel him. I know Wufei and Duo don't; but what about Treize? The two are connected in some way, are they not? Maybe that's why he keeps his distance from Treize most of the time. For some reason he doesn't seem to be ready to 'reveal' himself to his great-grandson yet.

"You know I really wish you could talk to me," The young man sighed. "There are still so many unanswered questions about your life and your death of course."

###

Old man Harold, how Milliardo had come to call him, lived conveniently directly above his bookstore. He buzzed the two men in as they came to visit him, and greeted them upstairs at the door to his apartment.

"Perfect timing, Gentlemen. I just made Tea for us."

"Are you clairvoyant?" the blond laughed.

"No, but I can tell time," the old man replied, a sparkle of mirth in his eyes. "Mister Khushrenada here called me earlier to let me know that you would be coming."

"I see," Milliardo nodded as he gazed at the small box filled with fresh pastries Treize was carrying, "So that's why we stopped at the bakery on the way here."

The store owner let them into his living room and excused himself to finish the tea. A few minutes later, his grandson helped him to carry the tray from the kitchen.

"Would you mind pouring the tea, I'm afraid my hands are not the steadiest anymore." The old man put down his cane and lowered himself into a big, comfortable looking recliner. "So, you have more questions I take it."

"Yes," Treize confirmed as he filled the cups and handed the first of them to their host. "We had some time to think about what you told us already and it brought up a whole bunch of new questions."

"Good. I had time to think too, and I remembered a few more things I haven't told you about yet."

While they sipped their tea and savored the pastries Treize had brought along, the three men engaged in light conversation. Milliardo got the feeling that the old man very much enjoyed having company. From what he could tell only he and his grandson seemed to be living together, and as he knew from experience, teenagers weren't exactly the most avid conversation partners.

"Did Alexander have any other servants besides your mother?" Treize finally asked after a good while of small talk.

"Oh yes. There was the cook Marry-Ann who reigned over the kitchen, and Mister Elward. He lived in the house and took care of things even or especially when Master Alexander was at sea."

There was something about the way his expression changed when he spoke about Elward that indicated Little William might have not the best of relationships with the butler.

"You didn't like the man." Milliardo stated.

"It was more the other way around I'd say, but then I don't think Mister Elward liked anybody but himself. He was a difficult person to please and he looked down at the other servants and even some of Master Alexander's associates. Perhaps that's one reason why he was eventually let go."

"Speaking of associates," the younger man asked. "Do you remember ever meeting one of Alexander's friends, a young man named Octavian Peacecraft?"

"Mister Peacecraft, oh yes. Now that you mention it. He visited quite often…" The old man squinted slightly as he studied Milliardo thoroughly. "Are you related? I think I detect a certain resemblance."

"Indeed," the blond confirmed. "Octavian was my great-grandfather."

"Is that so? And here you are; the two of you friends just like your ancestors. That's quite incredible."

"Yes," Treize nodded, a soft smile curving his lips "I would say so. One more question, Mister Harold. This might be pushing it, but by any chance do you know if Alexander was ill or didn't feel well that day when he died?"

"I don't think so. I remember he came back from his last journey early and unexpected. But I don't believe that was because he was ill. I think he just didn't want to miss the wedding."

"Octavian's wedding?" Treize asked, somewhat surprised. Not only did Alexander know that Octavian was getting married but he was even invited and planning to attend the event. That was something he really hadn't expected.

"Yes, I remember him calling for me. He was in his dressing room, clad in an elegant brand new suit that had been delivered just that morning. He told me that he was going to be out late and to make sure that his dog was walked and locked into the kitchen when Mother and I left." The old man chuckled. "Peritas could get a bit destructive when he was alone, so the kitchen was the safest place to leave him."

"So, Alexander seemed fine?"

"Yes, and in a good mood as well. He even dabbed a few drops of his expensive cologne onto my shirt collar and gave me an extra penny. The carriage he had called for, arrived soon thereafter and that was…" the old man's face darkened with sadness. "… the last time I ever saw him. He died that night. Or so Mother told me the next day."

"Did she tell you how he died?"

"No, I don't think she even knew. It wasn't until a few days later that people started to talk about it. Some said it was an accident. He had fallen and hit his head. I believe that's pretty much the official version of what happened, but of course there were also rumors according to which he was either attacked and killed by his own dog or died from a beating. Both of which I find rather absurd. Peritas would have never turned on his master, and Master Alexander was well trained. I'm pretty sure he would have been able to take down anyone trying to attack him."

Fallen and hit his head? Is that how he died? Not impossible, I suppose, Milliardo had to admit, but it didn't answer the question why Alexander was still hanging around. And who was the 'associate' who found his body and called the authorities?

###

"So, you truly will not tell me how you were able to attain two tickets for opening night, Alexander?" Milliardo found himself sitting in what seemed to be the drawing room at his…no Alexander's house, dressed in a dark evening suit.

Across from him, Alexander laughed. "It was really just a manner of knowing the right people, my dear Octavian."

"I am just surprised how you ever get to know anyone, as little time as you spend on land."

The slight hint of gripe in his voice didn't escape the older man. "I apologize. Have I been neglecting you? I promise, I'll make it up to you soon."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and at Alexander's "Come in!" a young boy, slim and a little short of his age, entered the drawing room. He removed his wool paddock cap and gave a slight bow, first to Octavian then to Alexander.

"Mister Elward said you wanted to see me."

"That is correct, William. I will be out late tonight, so I want you to make sure Peritas gets a nice long walk before you go home today. Take him to the park and let him run. He has become a little lazy of late."

"Yes, Sir."

"Here, take this." Alexander handed the boy a little blue and white chocolate bar that had been sitting on the table. "Someone gave it to me yesterday," he huffed. "As though a grown man like myself would indulge in sweets."

William's eyes went wide. "Thank you, Sir."

Octavian/ Milliardo just smiled. He happened to know that the person who 'gave' that chocolate bar to Alexander was the clerk at the store where he had bought it, probably with William in mind.

"Now go," the tawny-haired man waved his hand. "What are you waiting for?"

"Yes Sir." As the boy dashed out of the room he nearly collided with a middle-aged man sporting an impressive handlebar mustache. –Mister Elward, presumable.

"Watch where you are going, lad! How many times have I told you not to run in the house?"

"I'm sorry." William quickly ducked, dodging a slap to the back of his head and weaseled out of sight.

"Boys will be boys, Albert." Alexander remarked nonchalantly.

"Yes, Sir, of course." The butler was carrying a small silver tray with a letter on it. "This was delivered for you a few moments ago, Sir."

"Thank you, Albert." The tawny haired man took the letter but put it down on the little round tea table without even opening it, while the older man retreated, closing the door behind himself quietly.

"Another brandy?!"

Octavian shook his head; the glass in his hand was still half full. "No thanks, I am fine."

"Shall I have Albert call for a carriage then? We could have the driver drop us a distance from the theater and walk the last few blocks. The evening is beautiful for a stroll, wouldn't you agree?"

"Are you not even going to open that letter?"

"There is no need, it's from the Fleet Admiral and I know already what it is about."

"No bad news I hope." Octavian wondered.

The other man shook his head. "No, I would not exactly call it bad news. I have been offered my own ship, a 2nd class escort cruiser."

"Your own ship. That is just wonderful…is it not?"

"I suppose it is," Alexander agreed. "But it also means I will have to extent my military service for at least another five years, and I would have even less time to spend with you. The captain has to be the first on board before every journey and the last person off when the ship returns home. Therefore I have decided t respectfully decline the promotion. Captain McCallahan is more than happy to keep me as his second in command."

"But…"

"No buts! I might have felt differently two years ago, before I met you. These days, however I'm looking forward to every moment we can be together…"

As usually, the dream faded suddenly and Milliardo found himself on the couch in the living room. The TV was running; Treize was still watching some kind of documentary on the history channel

No wonder I fell asleep, the young man thought with a hint of sarcasm as he opened his eyes and yawned.

"Are you alright?" Treize turned his head and looked back at him. "You were mumbling something in your sleep. I wasn't sure if you were having a nightmare and thought about waking you."

"I'm fine, thanks. I just have… well… strange dreams sometimes."

"What do you consider strange?" A ghost of a smirk crossed the professor's face. "You know it's quite normal for a healthy young man to dream about…"

With a snort Milliardo flung one of his pillows at the older man. "I said strange dreams, not wet dreams."

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T.B.C.

Author's Note: