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The Portrait
Part 23
"…if you ask me, I think it's kind of sweet?"
"Sweet?" Milliardo snorted as he turned off his car engine and pulled out the key. "Must be a girl thing."
He had called Lucrezia Noin on his way home from school to employ her help in the research of Alexander's death. As a journalistic major she probably had ways to find old news articles and reports. How and when the conversation had turned from that to his love life, however, he had not the slightest idea.
"He is just being a gentleman and trying not to rush you."
"Having sex at the first date is rushing it, Noin. Still not having gone all the way after three months… I would have to check, but I believe that's even against the Geneva Conventions."
On the other end of the line his friend laughed. "You never change, Miri. But hey, I have to go; class is starting in 10 minutes."
"Alright, catch you later." Milliardo waited for her to hang up before he too closed his phone and slipped it into his pocket. A soft smile on his lips, he grabbed the canvas bag that held his laptop and textbooks from the passenger seat and locked the car before walking up to the house.
"I'm home," the young man announced as he stepped through the front door, but didn't receive an answer.
As he kicked off his shoes his eyes fell upon some red dots on the stairs and a large, handwritten note at the bottom step. He could hear soft music coming from upstairs and for a moment he thought it was Alexander playing the piano but then he realized it came from the second floor A slight frown wrinkled the young man's forehead as he stepped closer only to recognize that those 'spots' were rose petals. He crocked his head to the left to read the note: "I'm waiting for you!"
Milliardo raised one eyebrow. Curious and intrigued he put down his bag and followed the trail of flower petals all the way up the stairs and into the major bathroom, where he found his housemate lighting the last of about two dozen aromatic candles.
Dressed only in a fluffy, pristine white robe the older man turned around with a smile. "Happy Anniversary!"
That was right; it had been exactly three months since they first had met. Not only did Treize remember, but apparently he had also planned a very special evening for the two of them.
"Happy Anniversary to you, too." Milliardo returned the smile. "Don't I fell…overdressed."
"Well, then, why don't you let me do something about that?" Treize asked, his voice soft and seductive, as he embraced the young man.
Milliardo's eyes caught the filled hot tub. Little swirls of steam rose from the water's surface then disappeared into the air. "Do you think it is okay to use it already?" he asked.
The older man nodded. "They said to wait 24 hours to let the grout dry. It's been nearly 72 hours, so it will be perfectly fine," he assured his lover before dipping his head and covering Milliardo's mouth with his own.
The young man moaned quietly. His lips parted invitingly allowing Treize to slip his tongue between them. While they kissed the older man slowly started to undress him. Nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it gently over his shoulders. Their lips parted and Treize placed a trail of soft butterfly kisses along Milliardo's chin and neck. He traced the young man's collarbone with his tongue, sending little waves of pleasure through his body.
Closing his eyes in delight, Milliardo felt like melting into the other man's gentle caresses, but in the very back of his brain a little part that hadn't fully clouded pleasure yet he suddenly remembered that they weren't the only ones in the house.
"Wait, Treize."
The tawny-haired man raised his head slightly, blue eyes burning with passion gazing upon his partner. "What is it, dear?"
"I don't know… Maybe we should…"
"If you are worried about Alexander walking in on us, don't be." Treize breathed into his ear, as though he could read the younger man's mind. "I've already taken care of it."
"What…" Another pleasant shiver went down Milliardo's spine as the professor's hot, wet tongue traced his ear. "What did you do?"
Treize gestured at a small peach-wood charm dangling from the door handle. "It's a protective charm. I asked Wufei help me finding one."
"It won't hurt or harm him, will it?" The blond looked back at the little round amulet.
"Of course not." The older man gently turned Milliardo's head back toward him, a soft smirk on his lips. "Just think of it as a 'do not disturb' sign for ghosts. Besides, it probably isn't needed anyway; a true gentleman wouldn't walk in on someone's private moment anyway."
"You think of everything, don't you?"
"Doing my best." The professor's smirk turned into a grin. "Now where were we?"
Milliardo's shirt finally dropped to the floor, and as the smell of lavender and sandalwood from the candles spread, Treize continued to undress the young man; slowly and tenderly peeling away his clothes one layer at a time while covering the newly exposed skin with hot passionate kisses.
"If you may?!" He extended his hand for assistance as Milliardo, completely nude and beautiful, stepped into the waiting hot tub.
The young man lowered himself into the water and closed his eyes in delight.
"The water isn't too hot is it?"
"It's perfect." Milliardo cracked open one eye. "Aren't you coming?"
"I am." Treize assured him as he quickly turned off the overhead lights, and slipped out of his bathrobe. He climbed into the tub and settled down across from Milliardo. In the soft light of the flickering candles the young man's hair sparkled like silver.
The professor reached out and pulled a bottle of champagne from a cooler sitting alongside two glasses on a small stool to his left. He filled both flutes and handed one off to his companion. "What shall we drink to?" he asked.
"Let's drink to our great-grandfathers and the wonderful coincidences that brought us together."
As the two men tapped the rims of their glasses together their eyes met, and just like that day when he invited Treize in for a cup of coffee, Milliardo felt mesmerized by the color and intensity in those blue orbs. He took a small sip from his drink before setting the glass down on the wide rim of the tub.
Treize was still studying him. He smiled softly, seductively. "Would you like a massage?" he offered as he put down his own glass.
"I'd like a lot more than just a massage," Milliardo replied, his voice deep and sultry.
"Is that so?" the professor asked while he reached out to pull the young man into his lap. "Why don't you tell me a little more about what you'd like?" he breathed into his ear.
"I can do you one better," Milliardo countered. "I'll show you."
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"You said we would always be together. You can't leave me…I need you, Alexander. You promised… don't leave me…"
Milliardo woke with a start. His heart was beating frantically. Keeping his eyes closed he tried to calm himself down. It was the third time tonight he had been having the same short flashback dream. And every time he woke he couldn't remember more than just a few seconds of it.
Beside him he could feel Treize stir. "Is everything alright, Milliardo?" The older man's voice was heavy with sleep. "You have been tossing and turning."
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you. I'm fine it's just…"
"Bad dream?"
"Yeah."
"Come here." The older man reached out, pulling him gently into his arms.
Gratefully, Milliardo nestled against his warm chest. "Thanks."
"Go back to sleep, dear. You have classes in the morning, don't you?" Kissing the top of his head, Treize wrapped the young man safely into his arms.
With a content sigh Milliardo closed his eyes. But sleep didn't come easy. No matter how hard he tried his mind keep wandering back to the little piece of his dream he could remember. He still could hear the desperation in Octavian's voice. Was this another flashback to something that had actually happened in the past, or was it just a nightmare born from his own imagination. He could not tell.
After what seemed forever the young man finally opened his eyes. Treize's breathing was deep and even, indicating that he had fallen asleep again. Mindful not to wake him, Milliardo slipped from the other man's embrace and out of bed. He grabbed one of the bathrobes, discarded on the floor last night, and pulled it on. With a last look back over his shoulder he sneaked out of the room and down the hall to his own bedroom where he changed into a pair of sweat pants and a long sleeved T-shirt.
#
When Treize woke again he found the other side of the bed empty, every last trace of body heat long gone. Milliardo must have left a while ago. With a yawn the tawny haired man pushed away his covers.
It was not only five o clock in the morning. Did Milliardo go back to his own bed, or was he up already?
"Milliardo?" he called out quietly as he headed downstairs a few minutes later, wearing a bathrobe over his silk pajama bottoms.
"In here." The young man's voice came from the living room, where Treize found him surrounded by papers and pictures on the carpet in front of the lit fireplace.
"How long have you been sitting here?"
"Couple of hours," Milliardo replied without even raising his head. "No use staying in bed if you can't sleep. Besides, there was something I wanted to check."
"Oh?" the professor asked, curiously.
"Yes, take a look at this!"
Treize stepped close enough to look over the young man's shoulder. "What am I looking at?" he asked.
"It's my great-grandparent's wedding painting."
"Yes, I can see that; but what about it made you pull it out in the middle of the night?"
"Take a real close look." Milliardo suggested.
"Hmm…" Bracing himself with one hand on the young man's shoulder, Treize leaned in closer and studied the painting thoroughly for a few moments. Suddenly his eyed widened. He drew a sharp breath. "That's…!?"
"Yes," the blond confirmed. "The moment Sheriff Bonaparte showed us that cufflink I knew I had seen it before somewhere, I just couldn't remember where."
"But wait," the professor walked around Milliardo and lowered himself onto the carpet across from him. "Even if the cufflink Octavian is wearing looks identical the one Alexander was clutching in his hand when he died… This is a painting. It is very unlikely that your grandparents took time out of their busy wedding day to sit model for it. So it was obviously painted later. Which means, if Octavian still had his cufflink by the time he was modeling for the picture, the one found at the crime scene couldn't have belonged to him."
"Unless, of course they didn't have to sit model," the young man pointed out.
Treize frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"In 1902 photography was still a far cry from what it is today and most of all only black and white….or gray in gray really. But I'm sure photos were defiantly taken at the wedding, and from one of those photographs the painting might have been later created. That's what I have been looking for," Milliardo explained, as he gestured at the photo albums and boxes around him. "Wanna give me a hand?"
"Sure, but tell me, Milliardo, what makes you so certain that Octavian was at the house that night. Do you really think he would have left his wife on their wedding night?"
"I don't know," the young man admitted. "It's just a feeling I have, but it worries me."
"Did you have any new…dreams again?"
Milliardo had told Treize about his 'flashbacks' and how he thought they were Alexander's way of communicating with him. Or perhaps Octavian's way, he hadn't fully figured it out yet.
"I'm not sure. I dreamed last night, but it was different. Usually when I wake up and remember the whole scene crystal clear. This time I can only recall small bits like broken pieces of a movie. Maybe… maybe they were just normal nightmares."
"What is it you do remember?"
"Octavian telling Alexander not to leave him, but I can't tell you where their conversation took place. However, I do have a feeling it was here at the house." Milliardo looked up at the other man. "Treize…Do you think it is possible that Octavian… I mean that he killed Alexander?"
"What makes you think that?" the professor asked softly.
"As I said, I don't know. But like they say, there is a fine line between love and hate. Something definitely happened that day at the wedding, something that made Alexander leave and decide to accept his promotion. What if Octavian went to him that night; to talk things over perhaps? What if they got into an argument that escalated…?"
Treize shook his head. "I don't believe it." There was no doubt in his voice. "Octavian wasn't that kind of person, not from what I have come to know about him. Besides, it was not him but his father who found the body."
"He could have called him. It wouldn't have been the first time and most certainly not the last time in history that a father tried to cover up his son's crime."
"Think about it, Milliardo. If Alexander was killed by Octavian, he had a whole lifetime to take 'revenge' while they lived here under the same roof. Does Alexander seem like a vengeful spirit to you?"
"Not really," the young man admitted.
"No," Treize confirmed with a slight smirk. "He is more like Casper the friendly ghost, or rather Casper the mischievous ghost." He had to duck his head quickly to avoid the rolled up newspaper that came hurling toward his head. "Yes, I knew you were here. And a good morning to you too."
The blond chuckled and turned his head toward where he too could feel Alexander's presence. "It's good to see you two getting along so nicely."
The ghost moved closer and then the photo album in Milliardo's lap closed. His brows narrowed in surprise. "Alexander?!"
"I think he is trying to tell you to let it go," Treize interpreted. "And for once I wholeheartedly agree with him."
"But…"
"Milliardo…Octavian was not a murderer!"
The young man sighed. "I wish you could tell us what really happened that night, Alexander."
"That would be convenient," the professor agreed. "But since it doesn't seem to be possible, we will have to find other ways. Tuesday afternoon, Mister Harold is coming by and we will see if he can tell us anything new. Do you think you will still recognize him, after all these years, Alexander?"
"Alright," Milliardo set aside the album and pushed himself up onto his feet. "I think I'll go make some coffee, I'll need two cups this morning if I want to make it through my classes."
"Oh yes, I'll take two cups too. You know, I'm really going to miss your coffee while I'm at my mother's house, next weekend."
"My coffee? That's all you are going to miss?"
"Of course not." Treize put on his most charming smile. "I'll miss YOU even more, and I'll think of you every minute that I'm gone."
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T.B.C.
Author's Note: Alright, this chapter is a little shorter than most but it's just the way it works out. The story is approaching the final stretch. Another 3 chapters (and a short epilogue) and it will be done.