How My Perfect Life Was Inverted II

Chapter Eighteen: New Pet

"I don't actually know where he lives," I stated casually as Flavio and I strolled arm in arm about the market square.

My maid, however, was too excited by the prospect of purchasing a caged parrot—an exotic pet that had belonged to a recently-hanged pirate, according to the vendor—to bother paying me any mind.

"Hmm?" he queried distractedly, poking a white finger enthusiastically through the bars and squeaking whenever it tried to bite him.

"For—Mr Forrester, of course. I don't actually know where he lives, I'm afraid."

"But you went to his house."

"Yes, but Jack took me there. I can't remember the way."

Flavio pulled his finger long enough out of the pecking reach of the parrot to turn and frown at me, the sun's rays slipping seamlessly, flatteringly into his fair strands, so I could no longer tell where it ended and his hair began. Even as a lady's maid, dressed in supposed hand-me-downs that actually belonged to him in the first place, his graceful, misleadingly feminine beauty was unmistakeable. I knew for a fact that the interested glances we had received were as much directed at him as they were at me, perhaps even more so. If he was a woman, if he was his sister, Cate, I'd have felt more than a little envious; but because he was, no matter how much he tried to deny it, a man, I merely felt embarrassment mingled with a deep-set resentment. If I was to be honest with myself, the reason I had confiscated the majority of his gowns was because I feared he would outshine me.

"You don't know the way to Mr Forrester's house?" he was asking me as I surreptitiously shook myself out of my thoughts. He took my action to be a reply, which I supposed it was, and tightened his pale, slender jaw in irritation.

"So what you are essentially attempting to convey in this nervous, avoidant manner of yours, is that we are, in fact, wondering about on a directionless goose chase."

"We are not!"

"Are too."

"Are—No, I refuse to get sucked into this again. Now come on Flavio, don't be such a baby; I need you to find me a guide."

Flavio's response was to cross his arms firmly over his realistically-padded chest and frowned. "Why do you expect me to do everything you ask me to?"

"Because you're in my employ, now let's g—No, Flavio, leave the parrot—For God's sake, don't try to steal it!" And with a final tug, I pulled him reluctantly away from the corner on which the parrot and his seller stood, my fingers pinched firmly on one ear.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" he whimpered as I dragged him relentlessly away.

"No birds for you," I said firmly. "Pets are only for good boys."

"But I'm a—"

"Oh, shut up," I snapped, and pushed firmly towards the bustling centre. "Now," I said, releasing his ear and stroking the much-abused lobe soothingly, "Flavio, listen to me carefully—Don't sulk, I didn't pull your ear that hard."

"I think you've lengthened it," Flavio pouted, slapping my hand away and crossing his arms in a sulk.

"Oh darling, don't be like that," I attempted to patch up, but he simply half-turned away so that I was staring at his profile.

"Come on Flavio," I said again, snaking an arm about his shoulder and nuzzling my nose affectionately into his shoulder. This action always had a positive response on a childhood friend-turned-boyfriend of mine, Julian, and I was hoping that it would have the same effect on his, um… replacement…ary… predecessor… if that makes any sense.

The blond's shoulders stiffened at my touch, the feel of my breath on his bare neck, before relaxing yet again; as I gently tightened my grip about his torso, his head rolled back slightly, and I caught the pleasant scent of his hair. This position felt oddly relaxing, oddly normal, somehow, and the only reason I pulled away was because I realised that people were staring.

"Forgive me?" I queried, widening my eyes in a way that worked wonders on a couple of my exes.

Even then, Flavio was hesitant; so I decided to try a different approach.

"You know, Flavio," I said, my fingers reaching up to trace patterns on his bare forearm, "that Pearl is a child, don't you? Sorry to patronise you, of course you did. But did you also know," I continued as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at me, "that many children… are like pets? And you do want a pet, don't you?"

Flavio's forehead furrowed at my words.

"…Is Si-Si saying," he said slowly, "that Flavio isn't allowed to have a parrot for a pet, but he—she!" he squeaked, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth in horror whilst I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smirking triumphantly, "—but Flavio is allowed to have a child for a pet?"

"…It'll be more like our pet; not just Flavio's," I corrected after a moment's thought, and watched him deflate. "But it's better, isn't it, to share a pet, rather than to not have one at all?" I added anxiously, watching as he mulled over the concept of sharing a pe—child.

"Alright then."

I blinked confusedly at this rather swift decision; I had been expecting more resistance than this. "…Is that a yes, Flavio?"

"Sì."

Apparently, it really was that easy, and I had to remind myself that Flavio wasn't like other men. "Good; now all we have to do is—" But Flavio's regally waving hand prematurely interrupted my suggestion.

"Don't patronise me," he said, clearly offended. "Flavio knows what to do; Flavio take Si-Si back to coach now." And he grabbed my arm and steered me forcefully back to the sensibly-guarded carriage.

"Wait here," he addressed as though talking to a child after he had rather unceremoniously thrown me in, wagging his finger authoritatively. "Flavio will be back soon." And he slammed the door shut and hurried back to the marketplace, leaving me to stare worriedly after him.

I think I sat there for a good half hour before he returned, a small, dirty creature dragged reluctantly behind him clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"…Flavio," I asked with forced calm as he proudly presented the semi-abducted street child with a flourish, "Flavio, who is that?"

Flavio's beam widened, if that was possible.

"She's our new pet," he answered happily, and I saw the boy wrinkle his dirty nose at being referred to by the wrong pronoun; but he was clearly too frightened to challenged this blond stranger, and who could blame him?

"Flavio, this isn't exactly what I meant."

"Why, what do you mean?" he queried with childish innocence, but I caught a smug flash of—something in his eyes, something that made me suspicious of this supposed inanity.

"Flavio, let the boy go—"

"No!" Flavio interrupted petulantly, pulling open the door and promptly plopping the stunned boy into the carriage with me. The child tried to scramble for freedom, bless him, but Flavio simply stepped into the carriage and pushed him back in, the door closing with a thump of finality that made the urchin shiver. The transvestite paid no heed to the child's palpable fear, sticking his head out of the window and asking the driver to return us to Governor Hale's mansion before settling comfortably down in the seat opposite me, evidently pleased with himself.

Narrowing my eyes, I reached forward, over the trembling boy's head, and dealt Flavio a resounding slap.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed as he whimpered and rubbed his cheek. "Kidnapping the poor boy like that, and—"

"I didn't kidnap him," Flavio sniffed haughtily. "I rescued him. From a beating, actually; he was trying to steal an apple, he was, and I saved his tender back from the justifiably-angry vendor. You must now view me as a great and romantic heroine."

I wrinkled my nose before turning to look down at the small creature, huddled up on the floor with his arms wrapped tightly about his knees, thin shoulders trembling with fear. He must have been about the same age as Pearl, and the same size, though I guessed from his long limbs that he was perhaps a little taller. His hair was dark, darker than mine, but lighter than Pearl's had been, and thicker too; the strands were long and straggly, badly cut, and fell over his terrified face, shielding his eyes. Looking at him, I guessed that his skin was dark, maybe as tanned as Jack's, though covered as he was in mud and dirt, the exact shade was hard to determine.

I felt a stab of pity as I looked at him, but there was something else too; something oddly… familiar about him, but for the life of me, I honestly couldn't figure out what.

"Flavio," I addressed stonily, "have you even considered the fact that this poor boy's—"

"Daniel," Flavio interrupted informatively.

"Yes, Daniel—have you ever thought that perhaps his parents would worry about him and his whereabouts?"

"Don't have any parents," a small, quiet voice said, and it took me a small moment to realise that it was the boy, Daniel, who had spoken.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Parents," Daniel said again, perhaps a little more shyly, a little more frightened than before, if that was possible. "Don't have 'em."

"…Oh," I said, noticing the look of triumph in Flavio's eyes. "Well then; were you… Are you being looked after by your… uncle? Aunt? The—the, um… the parish?"

Daniel shook his head, accidentally spraying a smattering of dried mud and dirt onto my immaculate skirt as he did so. As I looked at him, at his grubby nose, his grimy skin and lowered lashes—which, as far as I could see, were his only point of beauty, long, thick and dark, curling flatteringly on his muddied cheeks—I felt again that odd, twitching sensation: I know you, don't I?

"Well then, now we have to find Forrester," I said to Flavio as Daniel curled back up into himself. "He takes in orphaned and abandoned children, and Daniel honestly can't just remain as he is, roaming the streets unchecked and uncared for."

If Daniel's opinion differed from mine, he made no attempt to express it; instead, it seemed as though the boy was devoting every molecule of his being into fading into the coach's dark interior, clearly hoping that if he remained quiet and inconspicuous for long enough, these two strange adults would forget about him long enough that he can make good an escape. Watching him, I felt a pang of pity twist my gut, but before I could confront or meditate on the matter, Flavio interjected with a,

"There's no need: I talked to the fruit vendor whose apple was nearly stolen by the miniature rogue over there, and by strange and magical coincidence, the stall owner happens to know Mr Forrester's sister, who is a regular patron of the anonymous fruit seller's fruit stall, and he had very kindly agreed to pass a message on for us."

"Pass a message on for us?" I repeated sceptically, and he nodded his blond head enthusiastically, beaming triumphantly as Daniel attempted to sneak away across the small, cramped floor. "Stay," Flavio said firmly to the boy, and Daniel's shoulders shuddered, his back arching in cold, icy fear. "Good boy," the blond said approvingly, reaching down to pet Dan's dark, messy head.

My maid then proceeded to repeat the verbal message he had entrusted in the care of the anonymous fruit seller; of how he (Flavio, in the guise of Jeanne-Louise, of course) was a maid for a most benevolent and philanthropic French countess (me), of how the countess, on hearing of Mr Forrester's great and noble cause, wished to donate a rather hefty sum to the kind-hearted gentleman in the hope that it would aid him in his good and most Christian work; and how she would like to discuss this further with him, and was currently residing with her aunt and uncle, the Governor and Lady Hale; how—

"You just want me to go back home and be a good little countess, don't you?" I interrupted accusingly, and Flavio's eyes narrowed, peeved that his long-winded speech was so abruptly cut short.

"In short, yes. And look!" he added, pointing a semi-accusatory finger at the petrified Daniel. "Look! I have brought you a child as a form of placation."

"You expect Daniel to placate me?" I asked, puzzled and annoyed that Flavio had single-handedly ruined my attempts at meeting Forrester face-to-face as soon as possible. "Why would I need to be placated? Exactly how can Daniel placate me?"

The coach lurched unexpectedly forward over what I assumed was an upturned cobblestone, causing Daniel to squeak as he was suddenly tossed forward, face first, into my wide, (and hopefully, for his sake) soft skirts.

"Sierra," my maid began, wriggling about in the seat opposite me until he was comfortably, smoothing down his own skirts as he spoke, "Sierra, you and I both know that the only reason you're so desperate to find Pearl is simply because your mothering instincts are such that you need a child with you at all times to coo and fuss over, or your life shall cease to have purpose and you shall find yourself spiralling down into a pit of suicidal despair."

I narrowed my eyes at this, offended by his words. "That is not true!" I snapped, and hit him again whilst Daniel slowly backed away from my skirt. "How dare you say such a thing! Now you listen to me: the reason I loved Pearl so very, very much was because she was not like other children. Pearl was special; Pearl was unique; Pearl was sweet and amazing and intelligent and beautiful, and you dare to think you could just—replace her in my affections with the first boy you run into whilst walking down the street?"

Daniel was looking up at me now, his brown eyes wide with curiosity and fear.

"…Oh," I said, suddenly overcome with affection, "he's so cute…"

-x!x-

AN: Yes, I know; a short chapter, but at least I got to where I wanted to get to instead of writing pointless filler (unlike last time…). On a slightly irrelevant note, I'm writing an original story chronicling a random Steve/Sierra, um, 'adventure.' (I know from my hits count that there are readers out there who like this pairing!) A word of warning: there MAY be a few spoilers for this fic… The links can be found on my profile page.