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The Portrait

Part 26

"Thanks Pete. See you next weekend." Handing the driver a tip, Milliardo climbed out of the taxi and headed up the three little steps to the front door. Behind him, the car waited until he had pulled out his key and unlocked the door before driving off.

"I'm home." The young man would have been lying if he said that he wasn't a little disappointed that Treize hadn't come by the club to pick him up. But then again, he reminded himself, the other man was probably exhausted after his quite eventful weekend.

"Welcome home!"

The wide smile on his lover's face, as he stepped out of the living room to greet him, melted any remaining trace of disappointment quickly.

"I missed you so," he whispered as the two men embraced.

"I missed you more," Treize insisted before dipping his head for a drawn out, passionate kiss.

"When did you get home?" Milliardo asked once their lips finally parted.

"About two hours ago." The older man reached for his hand, pulling him along as he headed back into the living room. "Come on, I have something to show you."

"Oh?!" Curiously Milliardo followed. Sitting in the middle of the room was a box about the size of a mid-level skyscraper; its top decorated with a big golden bow. "For me?" he asked.

"Your graduation present," Treize told him.

"Do I have to wait until I actually graduate before I can open it?"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. In fact, you should open it right now."

That wasn't something Milliardo needed to be told twice. But after taking only two steps toward the large box he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong?"

"It moved!" He knew it sounded ridiculous but he could have sworn that the container was shaking just a second ago. "Alexander?!" No, he could feel his presence to his left near the fireplace.

"Just open it," Treize laughed. "I swear I didn't bring another ghost into the house."

Milliardo grinned. "That's a relief." He finally got down on his knees next to the box and pulled off the large bow. The lid was sitting loosely on top and as reached for it he felt something push against it from the inside. His jaw nearly dropped as a fluffy white head popped out of the box; a pair of blue eyes looking back at him from above a wet, black nose.

"It's… a…" Completely taken by surprise the young man seemed at a total loss of words.

"A dog?" Treize offered helpfully, his voice lazed with amusement.

"Actually, I was going to say puppy." Milliardo smirked at him as he picked up the little ball of fur and rose to his feet. "Oh my gosh, it's is the cutest little thing. What's its name?"

"He doesn't have one yet. Since he is yours it's only fair that you should name him."

The young man laughed as his face was being covered with wet puppy kisses. "What made you think of getting me a puppy, Treize?"

"You did," the older man replied. "I know you like dogs, you said that every house should have one, and you mentioned more than a few times how beautiful you thought Peritas was."

"Ah, so you do listen to my ramblings."

"Occasionally," Treize teased.

"He looks just like Peritas, too." Milliardo settled down in one of the leather chairs, the little dog still in his arms. "Are they related?"

"Hmm…If you trace back his pedigree far enough I'm sure you will find common ancestors."

"Where did you find him?"

"My family has been keeping Borzoi for generations," his lover reminded him. "Mother knows several breeders. I had them sent me videos of their litters and picked the one I thought you might like best, in looks and personality. So, what about a name; any ideas yet?" Treize squatted down in front of the chair and run his fingers through the puppy's white hair. It was soft and fluffy bit still relatively short, for a Borzoi doesn't develop its beautiful, wavy coat until later.

"Hmm… How about Cabal?"

"Cabal?" The older man echoed. "As in King Arthur's dog? I love it."

"Thanks. And I don't mean only for agreeing with me on the name. Come here!" Leaning in Milliardo captured his lover's lips in a deep and passionate kiss. "This is the best graduation present you could have given me."

"My pleasure."

"You must be tired; it's been a long day for you, hasn't it?"

"Actually I slept through most of the flight," Treize replied. "What about you? Have you gotten more sleep now that your finals are over with?"

"I have, and I did take a long nap before I went to work this afternoon as well. So, I'm not really tired either, but I wouldn't mind eating something."

"Me neither; the food on the flight was terrible. Let's have a little late night snack then, shall we?"

Milliardo laughed as he checked his watch. It was shortly after three o'clock. "More like a little early morning snack. You know, Pepe's is now delivering till 8 am."

"Really?" the older man asked. 'Pepe's' was a small restaurant in the campus area, catering mostly to the college crowd. They were closed most of the day but stayed open until nine in the morning to serve breakfast to those whose who just got up for early classes as well as those who were only getting home from a late night out. "A nice southern omelet does sound great right now."

"Agreed. I think I'll jump in the shower while we wait…" Milliardo sniffed the collar of his white dress shirt and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "…and change into something that doesn't reek of booze and cold smoke." He slowly rose to his feet, careful not to wake the white bundle of fur that had fallen asleep in his lap.

The older man huffed in amusement. "You don't have to carry him around 24/7, you know."

"You just saying that because you want me to leave him with you," his lover accused playfully as he headed upstairs. On the first landing he momentarily held his step. "Oh, by the way, have you checked your mail yet? I put the pile on the counter in the kitchen."

"No, not yet; anything interesting?"

"I think there is a letter from that friend of yours who works in forensics."

"Oh really?" Treize raised one eyebrow in surprise. "That was faster than expected. I wonder that's a good thing or a bad. But then again, if he didn't find anything he'd probably just called to let me know."

"Yeah, that's make sense. Well, let me know what it says when I get back."

"You didn't read it yet?"

"Of course not." Milliardo sounded almost offended by that suggestion. "The letter was addressed to you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I told him to send it to both of us."

#

As his lover went upstairs Treize walked into the kitchen to get the number for 'Pete's' from the list on the fridge. He called the restaurant to order two omelets and a fruit salad. By the time the tawny haired man hung up he could hear the shower running in the master bathroom.

Taking a quick look at the pile of post that had collected during the few days while he was gone, he sorted out several pieces of junk mail and tossed them into the trash without even opening, before he finally got to the letter Milliardo had been talking about. It was a large yellow envelope, stamped with the golden seal of the department it had been sent from.

Curiously as he was Treize didn't open the letter right away. Instead he poured himself a glass of red wine before settling down in the living room. As he finally opened the envelope he found two pieces of paper in it. The first was a typed note on a white sheet with an official letter head. Treize took a sip from his wine, draped one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair as he unfolded it. His eyes flew over the writing, and one of his eyebrows jumped up in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Quickly he pulled out the other piece of paper.

The second letter looked very different, almost like a very bad Xerox copy and even the paper itself felt strange under his fingertips. The script was faded and almost illegible in some spots, but from what he could tell it was most definitely Alexander's handwriting. The letter was dated the day he died and addressed to Octavian.

About half way through Treize could hear Milliardo's footsteps on the stairs, but he didn't actually raise his head until his lover's shadow fell over him.

"Anything interesting?" Milliardo was wearing a pair of jeans and a black shirt left unbuttoned. His towel damp hair smelled of sandalwood and freshness. The puppy was curled up and still asleep in his arms.

"Well, as you probably suspected, they weren't able to do much with the cufflink. But they found something rather interesting. I think you should read it yourself." The older man suggested as he handed him the piece of paper. "Apparently, the letter to the fleet admiral was not the only one Alexander wrote that night before he died. This one he must have written first."

His eyebrows narrowed into a surprised frown as Milliardo settled down on the carpet. "Where did they find it?"

"They didn't," Treize explained. "Alexander must have taken both pieces of paper from his desk when he sat down to write those letters. As he wrote the first note it left impressions on the sheet beneath, the one he later used to write to the fleet admiral. The forensic laboratory was able to recreate the missing letter from those impressions. Don't ask me how they did it exactly, though."

"That's amazing." Milliardo eyed the letter with slight hesitation; part of him unsure if he really wanted to know what Alexander wrote that night. But in the end curiosity took over.

My Dearest Octavian, he read

It's said that there is no greater fool but the fool who fools himself. If that is true, and I believe it is, I suppose that would make me king of fools.
I was trying so desperately to believe that nothing would change between us, even after you were married, and that you would always be mine. But seeing you in church today; side by side with your lovely bride I knew that I had lost you already. The two of you looked beautiful together, beautiful and in love. And thus, I knew I have no choice but to take my leave, while I still can with my pride intact.

By the time you will receive this letter I will have left town and I would like to ask of you, please do not try to find me. I have decided to take your advice and accept promotion and my own ship. My only hope is that you will forgive me for taking this cowardly way out instead of facing you in person to say my good-byes. Please, do not get this wrong. I still love you more than anything, and I always will. But I believe this is for the best and I hope that sooner or later you will realize it too.

Since I have no plans and desires to ever return to this town, I also have no need for this house any more. The thought of selling it and having someone else live in this place where I shared so many beautiful memories with you, however, is something I cannot bear. And thus, after leaving your party this evening I went to see my lawyer and sign the house over into your and your bride's name. Think of it as a slightly belated wedding gift, if you wish. I hope that the two of you will be as happy here as I have been , and decide to raise your family here. If nothing else, this way at least I will know where to find you, should I someday down the road ever muster the courage of visiting you.

For now I wish you all the best and hope that you will continue to think of me with fondness.

Lovingly yours,

Alexander

Milliardo swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to fight against the tears threatening to well up in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" His lover's voice was soft and tender.

He somehow managed a wry grin and an almost embarrassed snort. "I'm such an idiot, aren't I? Getting emotional about a letter written a hundred years ago…"

"Perhaps you are," Treize replied, a soft smile on his lips. "But it's one of the things I love about you. So, what do you think?"

"I'm more than just a little surprised." Milliardo admitted. "I would have never guessed that Alexander stepped aside so easily and without any fight."

"Is that what you were afraid of; that he and Octavian had gotten in some kind of argument at the wedding and there last words spoken to one another were in anger?"

"In a way, yes."

"Well, I suppose than this letter should make you feel better. As you can see, Octavian didn't even know Alexander was leaving him, and therefore had no reason to fight with him or even kill him." Now his father on the other hand… Perhaps Alexander sent the letter by messenger – it would certainly explain why it wasn't found by the police. He didn't want Octavian to receive the letter until the next day it seems, but maybe was delivered too early by mistake? If for any reason the elder Peacecraft got his hands on this letter and found out about his son's relationship with Alexander through it, he might have been angry enough to confront the duke about that. Could it be? And of course, there was the old lady across the street who claimed she saw the Peacecraft's carriage earlier in front of the duke's house. For a long moment Treize mused silently, unsure if he should share his theory with Milliardo or not.

"It's a pity that Octavian never had a chance to say good-bye to Alexander," he finally spoke.

"Maybe he did."

Treize gave his lover a questioning look. "You still believe Octavian was at the house that night?"

"I know he was."

He older man's brows furrowed slightly. "You had any new dreams?" It was a statement more than a question.

"I'm not sure if you can consider them dreams really." Milliardo admitted. "They are short flashbacks really… very short… and very hazy. I believe it was Octavian who found Alexander, still clinging to life.

"Hmm…" Treize's eyebrows narrowed even further. "I suppose it makes sense, in a way."

"What does?"

"Your flashbacks. We have always assumed that those dreams you are having are brought on by some sort of connection with Alexander, right?"

"Right."

"Keep in mind that Alexander was dying. He had a head wound and might have been drifted in and out of consciousness…"

Milliardo swallowed. As disturbing as the idea was, Treize was right; it did make sense.

"You sure you are alright?" the older man asked, his voice underlined with concern. "Perhaps we should talk about something else."

"I'm fine. It's just… Coming so close to losing you, I think I understand much better how Octavian must have felt."

"Hey," Treize smirked in an attempt to cheer up the blond. "There is no way I'd lose me that easily. Like it or not, you'll be stuck with me for a very long time. I'm indestructible, you know."

The younger man laughed. "Is that supposed to put me at ease or scare me?"

The sound of the door bell interrupted their playful squabble, and Milliardo was on his feet in a heartbeat. "I hope that's breakfast. I'm starving."

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T.B.C.

Author's Note: Well, this took long enough. For some reason the muses were giving me a very difficult time with this chapter. And in the end it was becoming much longer than expected. So I decided to split it and create a chapter 27. Hopefully I'll be able to finish that one a little faster.