As always, major thanks to my beta editor Lies, who now is working in an internship, so updates may be slower yet she still works as hard as ever! Praise be to her!

It had not even been twenty-four hours before Fantome's plans were set into action. That same night, the baker who had told Daisy about the rising price of loaves was assaulted by muggers. However, the villains had not gotten a cent or a crumb, as the red-themed vigilante had come across this scene, beaten the crooks senseless, and then was gone before he could be thanked. The baker told her husband, who told his friends, and a ripple of gossip affected society high and low. Then the next night, a new victim and more thieves were intervened by the Scarlet, and again the next night, and again the next.

The gossip became wildly exaggerated as the crimes weren't reported to the police, but to anyone who had a listening ear. Some went out of their way to describe the Scarlet as a kind of terrifying rouge who grabbed blood more than justice, while others painted him as a handsome hero who wanted nothing more than to clean the streets with his blade. Regardless of whom you believed, it was common knowledge in less than a week that the Scarlet was somehow always right at the scene of the crime before things got too dangerous. It had become such an entertaining piece of talk that even the revolutionaries found themselves talking more about him than their goals, which at their next Thursday meeting was severely irritating Max Geef.

The meetings always took place at the same location. In a rather clean part of the city was an aging winery that was running slow on business, especially since that the family that had started up the business was now down to just the daughter. She answered only to Peg, and to call her 'miss' or 'lady' earned you a kick out of her house. Otherwise, she stayed at the door, keeping an eye out and only letting the right people in when it was time for the meetings. It was deep down in her dank cellar that the revolutionaries gathered around a long worn out table, where they were supposed to be exchanging ideas about the future, but tonight could only discuss the present with the Scarlet. Daisy was the most annoying of them all, swooning with over the top admiration for the man she considered her one true love, and thought to be his in turn.

"Isn't he just magnifique?" Daisy cooed when the latest story had been wrapped up, resting her head on her hands as she reimagined their first meeting. "With him at our side, we'll knock down those upper class jerks. What a brave man! To risk his life every night, just to make the city safer for the likes of me! I just wish there was something I could do to thank him." She sighed, and then noticed Max raising his hand. "Oh, do you have an idea?"

"No." Max replied bitterly, and his angered voice managed to snap other members of the table from their daydreams as well. "I was just wondering when we stopped trying to have a revolution and started being The Scarlet fan club!" He slammed down a rolled up blueprint, standing up and almost knocking his chair over. "I've been trying to talk about my plans for hours, but all you guys can think about is some nut in a mask!"

The others went quiet, embarrassed at how they had let gossip control their minds, but Daisy was not so easily deterred. "First off, he's not a nut." She raised a wagging finger at him, though that only served to irritate him further. "Second off, you have no need to be jealous. He's one of us! He wants the same things we want, and he's helping us prove we're a force to be reckoned with. He's not only our aide, but our protector."

"Some protector!" Max snorted, beginning to roll out his blueprint across the table. A few members 'oooh'ed and 'ahhh'ed over plans they couldn't even begin to understand. "Where was he when we really needed him? Why did he only show up now? What about that gas leak that blew up that school those professors were building? I didn't see him saving anyone there!"

"So you're going to blame him for every crime he wasn't there for?" Daisy huffed, crossing her arms. Though she cared for Max like a brother, no one had the right to attack her future husband. "Look, I know you're still mad that your dad sent all of your saved blueprints and plans to that school, but he was just trying to help you get in. You need to let this go someday."

"Those were my blueprints!" People were beginning to sit back down, used to this tirade by the young pup. "I spent years working on them, I didn't have any back-ups, and he sent them all without even asking me! Do you have any idea how long it took just to do this?" He banged his fist on the table, but unlike others, including his own father, Daisy didn't back down from the tantrum. The fact that she was the only one who could stand his rants was what made them work so oddly well together.

"Well if they're so important…" Daisy ran her finger along the print on the table. "Then why don't you tell us all about it, Maximilian?"

"I've been trying to do that, but it's been Scarlet this, Scarlet that, we've been talking more about your imaginary boyfriend than how to pull the power from the rich!"

"He's not imaginary! He told me he loved me and everything! If Donald hadn't chased him off, he would have proposed to me right then and there!"

It was quite obvious that nothing was going to get done at this rate. While other members at the table were willing to accept this, one of them grew impatient, and climbed on top of the table, stomping hard as she did so. It managed to grab Daisy and Max's attention, and they looked at the black furred cat that was now hovering over them. Most revolutionaries only knew each other by a first name basis, and Katarina was no exception. Her maid uniform had seen at least ten lifetimes before her, judging by all the old patches and tears. She was probably a good few years older than both of the quarrelers, and a pretty sight as well, but she hadn't made this display to be admired. "If you two aren't actually going to discuss something, then I'll just bring the damn elephant to the middle of the room. And I don't mean Steve's cousin the elephant."

Max began trying to tug the blueprint out from under Katarina's feet, but Daisy had her full attention. "What are you talking about?"

"The traitor." Silence overtook the room, and no one dared to look at each other, as the weight of those two words was enough to keep everyone frozen in place. "Ever since those fake revolutionaries crashed McDuck's welcoming party, no one's wanted to talk about how they knew about us." She walked up and down the table, giving everyone a piercing glare, as if personally accusing each and every one of them. "Someone has been selling us out. If we don't weed out who it is, we may as well throw ourselves in jail now. We can't waste time with idolizing the new hero or trying to explain plans we can't understand."

Daisy was reluctant to admit Katarina had a point. More than just saying the right things, there had always been something Daisy just didn't like about her. She could never pinpoint what it was exactly, but Katarina's presence rubbed her the wrong way, and she looked forward to days when the cat couldn't attend the meetings. "So what do we suggest we do? We can't just interrogate everyone here, we have no way of finding out who it is… if there even is a traitor."

"And there's your problem exactly!" Katarina whirled around and pointed an accusatory finger at Daisy, one of her claw-like nails sticking out. "You treat this group like a family, and give everyone way too much trust! You can't just let anyone join us. What we need are stricter protocols! We need to do a full and thorough check of everyone who wants to join. You can't just accept them at face value." She then slowly withdrew her hand and looked around at the worried members. "If you can't even learn the last names of the people who work for you… then maybe you shouldn't be the leader."

And there was an excellent reason not to like Katarina. Daisy balled up her hands, determined to win the group back over to her side. "How dare you! I was the one who started this group, and I'm not giving up just because you don't like how it's run! This group relies on trusting each other… if we can't trust each other, who can we trust? What you're talking about will just separate us! That's exactly what the upper class wants us to do! I bet you don't even have a plan to actually help us get revenge on the elite!"

"As a matter of fact…" Katarina sat down at the edge of the table, allowing her legs to dangle over. "I was thinking we take the traitor role into our own hands. If they're sending someone to infiltrate us, we should do the same. We need to get someone in with the higher crowd and find out their secrets."

"Ha!" Daisy lifted her head high in contempt, feeling she had already won. "I knew you didn't have a real plan. It's impossible for us to infiltrate that kind of society. They can't even stand the sight of us. Isn't that right, Max?"

But when she smirked at him for confirmation, Max was thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he recalled something important in past conversation. "Didn't you just say Donald had interrupted your time with the Scarlet?"

"Oh, yes, that!" Daisy waved a hand dismissively in the air, not realizing the trouble she was about to land herself in. "What an ego on that guy! He thought he could buy my love! I've had to get rid of that loser twice, but he keeps at it. Honestly, I've never met a more stubborn snob so out of touch with…" She then began to notice all the eyes on her, and she didn't need Max's smarts to see what everyone in the room was thinking. "… Oooh no. No, no, no." She began to back up, holding her hands in front of her defensively until her back hit a wine barrel. "You can't be serious! What will happen if my beloved Scarlet finds out?"

"I'm sure he'll cry long into the night about it." Katarina's smile became another reason for Daisy to dislike her all the more.

Daisy looked from face to face, trying to find anyone who was objecting to the plan, but the agreement was unanimous. Defeated, she pulled the white ribbon out of her hair, and waved it in the air for her loss. "For the record, none of you are invited to our wedding."

Bright and early the next morning, Donald was in his uncle's vast library, waiting for his coffee to kick in. He was supposed to be meeting his uncle for breakfast for business lessons and finances and other stuff Donald couldn't even begin to wrap his head around, but the relative was running late for some reason. For now it was only Donald and Ducksworth, the latter quietly setting up a small table with fresh fruit and toast. Donald was passing the time by walking along the many book aisles, trying to learn a little more about his uncle. Before moving to the city to be with him, he had only heard about Scrooge from his parents, and whenever the rare occasion came that they did speak of him, it wasn't exactly filled with kind words.

There were books about markets and banking, which came as no surprise, along with some withered history books which still didn't come as any shock. Donald was interested to see that there were some adventure books and a few books of art, but the real surprise came in a book that was so clearly wrapped up like a birthday present. It had been opened partially, revealing this as a romance novel. The duck paused, and after a few silly guesses, came to the conclusion that love-driven Brigitta was behind the gift. Ah, love, that ever troublesome blessing and curse that plagued Donald even when he was trying to avoid thinking about it.

"Ducksworth?" Donald called for him when he returned the gift back in place. "What do you know about girls?"

"Most likely more than you do." Ducksworth was peeling an apple as he replied, droll as ever. "But I suspect that's not exactly what you're asking."

Donald kept looking at books, deciding not to rise to his temper. "… Say there's a girl you like. Well, not that I like one. See, I have this friend, and-"

"Before you continue, sir, may I remind you that in that my long and active life, I have never once met anyone who actually believed the 'I have this friend' routine."

Donald closed his book. Keeping his temper in this place was not going to be an easy feat. "Remind me why my uncle keeps you around."

"Because I make a good cup of coffee." Ducksworth finally turned around to look at him, finished with his current chores. "So you fancy a young lady but aren't quite sure how to win her affections, is that it?"

"Exactly!" Donald was easily excitable when it came to discussing his lady love. "Oh, you wouldn't believe her! Her name is Daisy…She's the most beautiful woman I've ever met, but I can't get her to like me. I've tried everything!" He walked around the room, pouring his heart out as he tried to explain just how deeply the pain of not having her at his side affected him. "I showed her who I was and who I'm related to her, I've tried to buy her things, I've told her about-"

"And what is Daisy's last name?" Ducksworth gently interrupted, and Donald stopped, his mouth open. The butler allowed the uncomfortable quiet to answer plenty of Donald's questions before he returned to the table. "As much as the idea may disturb you, the best person to ask for advice about courting a young woman is your uncle. The reason he's running late is no doubt because his three most successful captures are trying to capture him."

Speaking of the unlikely Casanova, the elder duck suddenly raced into the room, slamming the doors behind him, locking them, using his cane to bar the doors, and then shoving a chair in front of the doors for extra measures. "Madwomen!" He shouted to the pounding on the other side. "I'd marry any of the dukes before I ever put a ring on those fingers! Get out of my house!" After a few more moments huffing and puffing, he faced his nephew and butler, his clothes disheveled and his feathers ruffled out of place. "Please tell me that coffee is fresh."

"Of course, sir. That's why you keep me around."

Donald sighed heavily, hating to admit it but Ducksworth was right. In the short amount of time Donald had stayed there, one of the things he had learned about his uncle was that he was adored by more women than what should be reasonable for a man his age. He was about to close the last book in his hands when he saw that it was a photobook, and he was just about to pass by a picture of people with his mother. "Hey, who's this with mom?"

"Don't waste your time with that, we have work to discuss." Yet Scrooge still came over to Donald's side, looking over his shoulder to see the picture exactly. Donald's mother was standing side by side with a duck woman who looked fairly similar to her, but where his mother had short curly brown hair, the other woman had locks of yellow for hair, and was noticeably younger. The other woman was wearing a wedding gown, leaving Donald to guess his mother was playing the maid of honor or a bridesmaid. "… That would be your aunt Matilda. No wonder you don't remember her, she died when you and Della were just hatchlings."

"Mom had a sister?" Donald was so thrown back that he nearly knocked his head into his uncle's. Why in the world had she never been mentioned? "Hold on, she's getting married in this picture. Where's my other uncle?" He flipped the page over, and saw Matilda kissing the cheek of an embarrassed man with tufts of thinning hair around his head. She had sneakily taken away his spectacles, and a much taller but younger man was laughing in the background.

"That would be Ludwig Von Drake, her husband, also dead." The way Scrooge talked about it was oddly apathetic, like he was talking about complete strangers. "And that is Gyro Gearloose, his best man, also dead. Now put that book away and have some breakfast, we have much to talk about." Scrooge headed to the table, and while Donald slowly did put the book away, he was determined not to make this the last time they talked about this. He could have been more upset, but in all fairness, he hadn't even known he had Uncle Scrooge until just a few years ago. His family had a habit of keeping secrets.

Both ducks sat down at the table, and as Ducksworth poured them cups of coffee, he eyed Donald and the nephew understood, though he still wasn't ready to ask the most uncomfortable of questions to the most uncomfortable of people. "Um… Uncle Scrooge? How do you… get girls to like you?" Ugh, it even felt gross coming out of his throat.

Scrooge didn't appear to catch onto the nausea, raising an eyebrow as he thoughtfully sipped. "Thinking about girls already? I'd rather you see more attached to my money than any woman… but it would help you integrate into society better. I can't imagine you've spent too much time with the other sex."

"Mom and Della count, don't they?" Donald shrugged as he began to add copious amounts of sugar to his coffee. "I thought after spending my life with them that I'd have women down like my ABCs. All those times I had to play dress up and house with Della, and Mom always thought it was funny whenever Della was trying to make me wear a dress. And then there was the time we got into her make-up, I thought she was going to murder us in our sleep! Dad was always trying to toughen up Della a little, but if you ask me, she got into more fights than I ever did. Like this one time, there was a bully from the next farm over…"

Donald was more than happy to relay more stories of his childhood until he heard Scrooge tapping his spoon against his cup. When the uncle had the nephew's attention, Scrooge was looking decidedly unhappy, his eyes far away. "… The first lesson I can give to you is not to tell the young women about your history on the farm. Such ties are… uninteresting. Don't speak about it anymore." There was something distant about the way Scrooge had said 'uninteresting', perhaps not using the right word but not wanting to admit how he felt about the stories and the past. Donald tried to see Ducksworth and copy what the right response was, but the butler's calm expression had never changed. Donald added a few more lumps quietly, wondering if he really wanted to bring Daisy into this secretive and unhappy life.

Six in-depth scrubbings later and Minnie's carriage still bore a faint trace of Mortimer's wretched cologne. Still, she had no other way of travel, and so Minnie was returning home in the same carriage that made her stomach turn. She was leaving from another encounter with Mortimer, who had once again refused to take no for an answer or accept that no was even a position for her to take, who had dragged her to see a play that was so dull she fell asleep halfway. Thankfully she had managed to convince him that she could go home alone, with the only company being the horses, the carriage rider, and her conflicting thoughts.

Though she and Mickey had talked several times since his humiliation at Mortimer's hands, there was still awkwardness between them that they didn't dare speak of. His pride had been tarnished, and any help she had offered only seemed to offend him more. She was at a complete loss in knowing how to make her dearest friend feel better about himself. If only he could see himself the way she saw him, then he would never be upset again. But to make things worse, she was seeing another man the same way. She too had read the good deeds of the Scarlet, and he had proven as good as his word for the few times she had met him. He was handsome, he was brave, and he was protecting those who needed help. If only he could stop being too overly confident…

Therein lay the ultimate problem! If all of Mickey's faults were given to the Scarlet, he'd be perfect. If all of the Scarlet's faults were given to Mickey, he'd be perfect. But perfection was not attainable, and she would have to settle with two men who would never change, and her own fluttering feelings towards them. Such a cruel fate, she thought to herself, torn between two, and unable to have them both –

… Oh. Oh dear. Now that was a most unladylike thought, and she was suddenly very anxious to be rid of such thoughts, and to be rid of a face that was no doubt redder than the fake blood used in the play. She wished more than anything for a good distraction!

What she would give to take that wish back, as the carriage came to a sudden and violent halt, causing her to tumble out of her seat. "Ow… I've got to learn to be more specific with my wishes." She stood up, smoothing down her violet dress, and opened the door. "Rider, what's the matter?" No sooner had the question left her mouth than she was yanked out of the carriage by a burly man in black clothing, joined in turn by two others of similar build. She screamed in fright, and as the beagle-faced men began to run away with her, she could see the rider jumping away from the carriage and fleeing in fright. Minnie kicked and punched and bit, but all she got in return was an ugly choke hold as she was dragged into a decrepit alleyway.

The biggest of the men slapped a hand over her mouth in order to stifle her, though she still continued to yell as best she could. "Geez, this one's got a set of lungs on her. She's almost not worth the payment."

"Forget the payment!" One of the shorter ones grinned maliciously, leering at Minnie unhealthily. "Don't you morons see? This is the Duchess! We can earn twice… no, four times as much if we hold her hostage! Think about it!"

The third one didn't think about it, he had no time to. A red blur had already knocked him down flat on his face, and lo and behold, one of Minnie's troubles stood on the cold ground, his blade out and ready to fight. "Put. Her. Down. Now." What charm he had was replaced was fierce anger, and it was clear that the only reason that he had not personally smashed the other's heads in was because Minnie was still in their grasp.

Not the smartest of criminals, they dropped her in a heap onto the ground, figuring that for all the rumors of the Scarlet, many against one was still a way to win a fight. As for Minnie, it took her a moment to catch her breath and recover her senses, and while she did, she heard shouts of pain, terror, bodies being thrown, punches being met, and by the time she was able to look up, all three of the criminals were suffering from twisted limbs and wounds deeper than their cut pride. While she had been screaming seconds before, now there was no sound, but for the ever quieting of the frightened men's footsteps as they fled, and her own deep breathing combined with the beating of her heart, loud and hard in her ears. She slowly moved her eyes from where the men once were, to the only man that stood now, his back to her, silent. What was she supposed to do now? Once more she found herself at his mercy, saved by his good timing and amazing fighting ability. How was he always there when she needed him most? Who was the Scarlet... and why wasn't he saying anything?

The thieves were gone, but a fight was still raging - it was just inside Mickey's head. Battling evil doers was easy, confronting your desired crush was an entirely different matter. He struggled to steady his breath and settle his nerves. Once more he had surely impressed her with his moves, and perhaps moved closer to her heart. Still, there were mistakes he had learned from last time, and he needed to ensure they didn't happen , he smoothed down his wrinkled clothes, returned his blade to his scabbard, and turned around to face her.

Eyes met. Hers were of deep confusion, perhaps a dash of fear. His were of warmth, tenderness, and his own sense of fear. He cleared his throat, and began to stride up to her, gloved hand outstretched. "I trust you are all right?" Even with the microchip in his mouth, designed to alter his voice deeper, he found himself heavily stressing on his tone, not wanting her to recognize the squeak that was typically in his throat.

After a flicker of hesitation, she delicately took his hand, using it to steady herself up as she rose to her feet. "Yes, I..." She swallowed, unsure of how to speak, of what to say. Brushing away the previous tears on her face, she stood up straight, knowing she still had her family's image to maintain. "I'm fine, thanks to you. You saved my..." 'life' was omitted, now that she was getting a better look at him. Taking a cautious step forward, with eyes squinted just a smidgen, she dared to ask, based solely upon what she could see behind the mask, his eyes. "... Have we met before?" It was a ridiculous question, she knew, but her own curiosity couldn't be quieted.

For this mistake he had only himself to blame. He had been so eager to get out on patrol and help people that he had forgotten a crucial detail. The one time, the ONE time, he hadn't put in those color contacts per Gyro's instructions... Hoping the blood wasn't draining from his face, he managed to emit a laugh of nervousness. "Why... of course we have."

A slight frown, unsure. "Where?"

Time to put Ludwig's cheesy narrative quotes to the test. He placed his hand over his heart, taking a deep breath. "For every time you have witnessed justice done, for every time the rich and poor have worked together, for every time that evil has been vanquished, I am there... I am the spirit of France, I am her people's will. I am the terror that flaps in the night!" He cast a quick glance at her, but her expression wasn't quite favorable. His overconfidence was once again not earning him any favors. "...A bit much?"

"I'd lose the last bit."

"Yeah, it is pretty ridiculous."

At least that managed to get a smile out of her, most likely fighting a giggle. After composing herself, she grabbed her dress, and formerly curtsied. "As I was saying... you saved my life once again, and I am deeply grateful. I would... reward, you, but..." The frown returned with memories. "... My carriage has been ransacked, my horses gone." And that coward of a coachman had fled for his life when she was in danger. He was definitely getting a paycut.

"So, you have no way of getting home." A thoughtful tap of his finger to his chin.

A small shrug."I could... walk." Even saying it, she didn't quite believe it. All by herself? At this hour? With those men still on the loose?

"If I may." He offered his hand once more. "It would be my honor to escort you home, Duchess Minerva."

Ignoring the faint tint to her cheeks, she merely nodded. "... I accept your offer, with more of my gratitude."

His hand clasped around hers gently. "Before we go, I have but one question... are you afraid of heights?"

What an odd thing to ask, so clearly said the puzzlement on Minnie's face. "I... no?"

"Very good." Without any warning, she was suddenly scooped up into his arms, despite her yelp of surprise. He clicked the back of his feet together, and then ran to the back of the alley - and then, to Minnie's shock, they were going UP the alley wall, defying gravity, him zig-zagging in an unseen marathon, then leaping off, and landing on the roof of the left building. Not sparing time, he ran the second his feet touched the roof, now even faster than before - he jumped from the roof, to the next one ahead, and continued on this pattern, as if had entirely memorized this route already. The duchess threw her arms around the Scarlet's neck, shutting her eyes tightly. But his arms were safely around her, cradling her close, not allowing for any risk of losing her.

"Did I scare you, Minerva?" He asked, ever so calm, sliding with ease on tiles below. "My deepest apologies... this just happens to be the fastest way to get there."

"I-I-I-I'm fine!"Her face said into his shoulder. "Just... don't let me go!"

It was out before he planned it. "Not for anything in the world!"

As quickly as the journey had begun, it was over. He had landed on her iron black gates, and then hopped off close to her marble statue garden. With reluctance, he began to loosen his hold on her, setting her down. "Home at last." It took a few moments longer to get her to release his neck, but he wasn't complaining. Allowing herself to relax, she opened her eyes, and slid her hands down his chest, pulling back to look at him square in the face.

"How did you do that?" She exhaled all at once, still in disbelief it had even happened, despite being along for the ride.

A tip of his hat with a coy smile. "Trade secret, Minerva."

Biting on her lower lip, she realized where her hands were, and began to withdraw them. "That, you... Minnie, please. I'd much prefer Minnie."

"Minnie." He repeated, and then reached to push aside a stray bang from her brilliant eyes. "Or, perhaps, 'most precious'? I'm fond of that one." He had rehearsed that line and movement more times than he could count in his head, without ever actually thinking he'd have a chance to do it. Yet here the time was, and as his reward, her face became a red that could have rivaled his cape. He could have died happy right then and there, but, alas, there was plenty of more living to do, and he needed to report back to Ludwig and Gyro. He tipped his hat once more. "Adieu, most precious."

He had planned a good exit, too, on the way over. He would airily let go of his cape, letting if flap in the wind, while walking through the flowers, adding the falling petals to display, and never look back. Oh yes, it would be a great image to leave in her mind, full of mystery and intrigue, and he set forth to do it with one twist of his foot.

Minnie, however, had other ideas, yanking on his hand. "Wait a minute!"

He almost spun in response, losing his balance for a few ungraceful seconds, before managing to plant both feet firmly on the ground, and stared at her. "What?"

Her grip became less tight, but she did not let go. "I still haven't thanked you... not properly. There has to be some way to reward you."

There was a light attempt to free his arm. "There... there is no need, most precious. Your safety is what is most-"

"I can't just let this be, it isn't right!"

Ah, how he loved her for her honesty and kindness, and now it was to be a hindrance. "I really don't mind-"

"I have money-"

"Unnecessary-"

"I have jewelry-"

"Really, no-"

"Then as a woman!"

"As a..." He stopped resisting, not understanding the offer. "Pardonne et moi?" Excuse me?

Her hands were not longer on him, and were now clasped together, over her heart. "If you won't accept a reward of money, then let me thank you as a woman." With that, her eyes closed, her head tilted up slightly, and she waited. She was known for two things in the city – her aide to the less fortunate, and her stunning beauty. Since he wasn't accepting any charity, this would just have to be the next best thing to offer. Besides, it wasn't a 'real' kiss, so she convinced herself. Just a thank you kiss.

He still didn't understand, until he noticed her lips were pressed couldn't… She wouldn't possibly… but, what other reason could there be? Ludwig and Gyro were speaking to him but they may as well have been chirping crickets because Mickey had gone completely deaf to his surroundings. A kiss from Minnie. A KISS from MINNIE. Inside, he was doing cartwheels, holding a party, celebrating all the years he had pined and dreamed of this moment, now to be served to him on a silver platter. "You... You mean a...a kiss?"

Surprised at his surprise, one of her eyes opened. "Yes? Is that a problem?"

"NO!"He said far too loudly - his real personality and the Scarlet persona were flip flopped, his mind far too excited to control which was really dominant. "I, uh, that is, of course a kiss!"

The eye closed. "You just seem a little nerv-"

"Nervous, noooo, no no, I'm not nervous! It's just a kiss! ... No, not... not JUST a kiss, a kiss is great! Kissing is awesome! I've kissed tons of times! ... No, no, not TONS of times... Not that I've never had one... No, not - " Why was he still talking? He slapped himself hard on the cheeks, and then cleared his throat once again. He was cool. He was calm. He wasn't Mickey Mouse, the shy paperboy who didn't stand a chance with the Duchess. He was The Scarlet, seductive rogue of the night, stealing the heart of practically perfect in every way Minnie. "A kiss, from my most precious?" All but purring, he let a finger draw down her cheek, and then cupped her chin, leaning in forward, turning his voice to a whisper. "That is worth more than all the jewels of France..."

His own eyes were closed, and he readied his mind to save every single aspect of this event... His nose brushed against hers, she was delicately quivering under his touch… and then, of all the damned times, his conscience had to whisper a single solitary question that ruined the entire romantic atmosphere.

Wasn't this like lying to her?

"Monsieur Scarlet?"

"Just, uh, savoring the moment, most precious!"

But the damage had been done. In a sense, he was lying to her, and what would happen when she found out? Even if he didn't win her love, he could lose her friendship, which would be worst of all. If she couldn't love him for him, as the real him, the paperboy who could give her nothing but his own love in return, then what was the point? He didn't want a love based on lies, based on something he really wasn't. Hoping to conceal the hurt in his heart, he moved his hand away from her face...

Back at the gates, the coachman had finally stopped running, glad to be home, nearly tripping over a child's ball, left behind by street urchins. He gripped the iron bars in relief, only to then gasp in horror, seeing up ahead, his mistress! How had she managed to get back before him? He was going to be in such big trouble! Moaning in despair, he let his rage fuel by kicking the ball. Off it bounced - far, into the gardens, smacking back and forth between statues and walls, picking up speed...

Strangely disappointed, Minnie opened her eyes. "Still savoring?" But she was taken aback at the sorrow she could see, almost heart-breaking in its depth.

He touched her hair for the briefest of moments. "Forgive me... I..."

BONK!

Somehow, for all the reflexes that Gyro and Ludwig had enhanced on Mickey's being, the boy had not noticed the rapid ball soaring his way until it smacked right into the back of his head, pushing him forward until his mouth was squarely on top of Minnie's. The ball rolled off, now innocent of any crime, while the mice were locked in the forced embrace. The Duchess decided that the Scarlet was just playing more of his games, and, accepting this as an actual kiss, returned it with initial timidness. It wasn't a bad kiss, no, it was warm, tasteful, and soft. Yet, for the man who had won nearly all the women's hearts of France, there was innocence about it. As if he were afraid to move, or just couldn't.

But if she was going to properly thank him, then she would have to make this more than just an ordinary kiss, wouldn't she? She managed to grab hold of his shoulders, and pressed back as deeply as she could make it, no expert in kissing but assuming that the more power given, the more meaning it had. Nor did she know how long a kiss was supposed to be, so she counted the seconds away in the back of her head, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. Wasn't the guy supposed to do something? Anything? Was she really going to do all the work? Maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.

She was the one to break it off, going backwards, her breath light, eyelashes waving. She wet her lips before speaking again, a murmur. "Thank you." High heels clicked as she continued walking backwards and then, all at once, she spun around, and made a desperate run for the front door of her mansion.

It was probably a good thing she never turned around or even opened her eyes during the kiss. It might have damaged his reputation just a bit if she had seen his wide open eyes and his slumped composure. It was possible to say his brain had shut down when their lips first met, but then she had not only reacted, but reciprocated, and then his mind shut down further and further, if such a thing was possible. It had become such a complete climax of bliss and shock that he did not know what to do. He didn't even question when or how she learned to kiss like that. Even though Minnie was now long gone, he could still feel those working lips on him, and… and boy, did they work…

When he finally regained the feeling in his legs, which was a miracle in and of itself, he only managed three steps before flopping face first in a daze of completely happy stupor.

Gyro was torn between laughing or groaning at what had just happened. "I think separating them has just gotten a lot harder."

Ludwig had chosen the laughing route. "Leave it to me, Gyro! The professor will fix this!"

End of Chapter Five.