He hesitated, staring down at Alfred, before looking away. 'He wishes to know my story then?' It wasn't something he'd told to anyone here… it was his own private cross to bear. He asked no others for the details of their lives; for it was a barrier Francis did not feel it was wise to cross. Small things had come out of course, snippets here and there… but never in such depth as he felt Alfred was looking for now. Letting out a tiny hum, Francis cocked his head to the side, letting his hair fall over his shoulder in a tantalizing display of thinking this over. Casting his blue eyes back to the agent lying at his side, he was almost unprepared for the look on Alfred's face.
'Who knew he could look so… patient?'
In the silence between them, in the too comfortable warmth that pooled between their bodies, Francis knew he could easily become lost in this. Sitting here, no reason to hurry away, with someone who wanted him close, who wanted to know him… when had he last had such as this? When was the last time he'd felt so… well, he could admit it, no? He felt rather comfortable, sitting here so close to Alfred, sitting and letting the other watch him and wait on his words. A tiny emotion stirred inside of him. His words… how long since someone had wanted him for his words alone?
'Ah… but perhaps if he learns my tale it shall help his case… that is the only reason he would ask, no?'
Leaning over, reaching out to stroke Alfred's cheek, Francis marveled at the way the agent accepted it. Alfred didn't pull away, didn't flinch. There was a tiny sigh; a sound that could have meant so very much, yet a sound Francis decided would be nothing more than a stifled yawn. It was, well, for the best. He shifted so he could relax back a bit, his hands supporting him up as he cast his gaze to the ceiling.
"Well, if you think it will help your case, I'd be more than happy to tell you. I've already made it clear I'll help you any way that I can." He kept his gaze fixed upwards, mind sinking back to memories that were frustratingly mixed between good and bad. He heard Alfred stir, heard him wince as he shifted and sought to be more comfortable.
"You don't have to tell me… I mean if it's really painful for ya but…" Hesitation, what was hidden in that space between words now? "If you could tell me, I want to hear it."
Francis nodded and took in a deep breath, preparing to tell a tale that he'd stopped letting roam through his mind for the most part. A tale where only a few pieces brought him joy, a joy that took him directly into this desperate hell. "As with many great men, dear Alfred, I found my downfall at the hands of a woman." He chuckled, shaking his head as the vision of his younger self sauntered before his mind's eye. "Though, to be honest in my case it was three… though… it will take some explaining."
Shifting yet again on the bed, working to become as comfortable as possible, Francis allowed his arm to come to rest against Alfred. The agent was a soothing sort of warm, and weren't physical comforts the best kind? If the way Alfred seemed to just slightly shift closer was any indication, the other blond perhaps agreed. Francis cleared his throat and spoke once more. "My family was wealthy. Not tremendously so… we weren't so rich that we'd catch the public eye, weren't rich enough to own vacation homes the world over. Nothing of the sort. What we were was wealthy enough to let a foolish son travel about and party away his days until he'd take his place managing as head of the family."
Francis couldn't help but smile fondly at his former self, seeing him in his memories so very clearly. "We were rich enough for me to get into trouble, to plunge blindly about with little common sense… and just rich enough to seem valuable to those who knew it was better to exploit those in our financial range if they didn't wish to be caught." Francis shook his head, a bitter feeling sitting in his chest. "Not that such a thought ever crossed my mind of course. Why, I must admit that I scarcely thought of much more than amorous pursuits"
"So you're still the same then, huh?" Alfred's little jibe caused Francis to stare down at him with a frown. He reached over, pinching Alfred's arm and gaining a whine of protest.
"You're a terrible audience, you know that?" Alfred flashed that stupidly bright grin at him, his eyes seeming a bit more alert and less drowsy than they'd been moments before.
"This was starting to sound a bit serious. I'm more of an action or comedy guy ya know?" Francis was actually puzzled for a moment, wondering if Alfred wasn't taking anything he was saying here seriously. It was… almost offensive. This was a sensitive subject after all. But the more he gazed at Alfred, tried to figure him out, the more he thought he understood this. Alfred wasn't mocking him; he was just… trying to keep his spirits up. Things weren't so terrible if you could laugh about them… or so some people thought. Alfred must have been one of those people. Francis sighed, trying to appreciate the gesture as he flopped down onto the bed. He pressed a finger to Alfred's lips as he settled next to the other comfortably.
"Shush now, no more comments, hmm? It's time to broaden your horizons." Alfred smirked and nodded his head, and Francis shifted so that he had an arm draped carelessly over Alfred's back, his finger tracing meaningless patterns as he fell into his tale.
"Ah… such parties I used to go to… oh the clubs and the bars I would waste away the nights in! I was the king of the nightlife, a veritable god of love amongst mere mortals! Oh Alfred… the world was mine… as was anyone I ever wanted. There was not a beauty that could resist me as I prowled the nightlife, as I hopped not only from club to club but country to country! A shallow life, perhaps… yes… shamelessly hedonistic… but it certainly makes my days here pale in comparison.
"Of course, do not think I traveled about alone. Why… I had two very good friends, and our trio was so very well known at the places we frequented! Celebrities in our own right… the 'bad friends'… or sometimes 'bad touch trio'… that's how they referred to us." Francis's eyes took on a distant twinkle, recalling the faces of his 'partners in crime', wondering not for the first time what they'd been doing all these years. "I wonder if they even remember me now…" The light within his eyes diminished for but a moment before blond tresses were tossed about with the shake of his head. He continued his tale; voice ever composed as he'd learned to keep it.
"Have you ever heard of the islands of Seychelles Alfred?" He paused and watched as Alfred's face scrunched up in thought, the agent mulling it over before slowly shaking his head 'no'. Francis simply smiled and shrugged. "I'd certainly recommend the trip… beautiful really… I'd decided to go on a bit of a getaway you see… just alone, without my companions. They weren't rich, and it wasn't as though I always desired to pay for them to come along."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The couple laughed, hands dancing across skin as they twined their limbs together, a thin blanket the only thing keeping the sand from dusting their naked bodies. The smooth fairness of Francis's skin contrasted with the heavenly chocolate of his companion, light and dark, opposites even when it came to their hair. Still, as their lips met, as caresses became less playful and far more heated, Francis would have sworn that her dark eyes sparkled much more brightly than his blue orbs ever could. Illuminated only by the moon and the stars, nothing but the night air to clothe and hide them, the pair ignored the world.
Her voice was as music, a lyrical song to the sound of ocean waves, free and flowing, without shame, without fear. Francis could only try to drink it up, to fill himself with her song as they kissed, as they embraced, as they shared their primal dance for not the first time in his stay. She was no goddess, she was not the embodiment of feminine perfection in form… yet she was impossibly clever… somehow she'd tied a string to his heart, caught him in her fisher's net for the whole of his stay. He moved with her in their passion, and his mind cared not that he'd been almost faithful this trip, he spared no thought to the blindness he'd had to all others since she'd caught his eye.
Was it witchcraft? Was it some power that wove a spell over him, that made him yearn for her like a fever? Truthfully, Francis didn't care. He would ravish her until the end of his trip, he would delight in everything she had to offer… and he would leave knowing she'd wanted as much from him as he'd wanted from her. A fantasy, a severed moment from reality, painted in lust and longing. No attachments, she never asked for any way to contact him, and he was quite certain he'd never return to her…
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"So beautiful Alfred… so very beautiful… yet I never once yearned for her after I left." Part of him felt that he should feel something against her… some childish part of him that he'd long since parted with wished to return. It wanted to hold a grudge… but he couldn't. Perhaps she was indeed the first of the three fates that brought him to the Gallery, but he held no ill will towards her. Not even for what came next.
"My Aphrodite of the island," he mused poetically, still able to imagine her so clearly if he wished to. "I never exactly forgot her… but I'd never expected that in a year, she would find me." He grinned sheepishly at the agent, who watched him with devout attention. "Our passions had left us… careless… and… well of course… these things do happen. It must have been very difficult for her to track me down, though with the reputation I left behind me, certainly not impossible…"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
He held the letter in his fingertips, hardly believing the words that adorned the page, as if the black ink couldn't possibly be there. For a moment he felt anger, betrayal. What… what was this? His father had, of course, warned him of something like this happening. He'd told his son that if he continued the lifestyle that he did, that if he was so very careless to his identity and means, that a scandal would find him in time. Even so, it was bitter to have such a reality forced before his eyes. Had it not been for the carefully chosen words the young man would have most certainly torn the letter to shreds right then and there. His fingers shook with the desire to do so.
But… but this wasn't blackmail. His mind began to uncoil from the initial rage and… yes, fear… that'd possessed it. Reason, rationality. Those aspects started to sink in, and though Francis had needed to pour himself a glass of wine before continuing, he read the letter once more. This so very simple letter, written as honestly, as kindly, and without any threats. This letter from the island goddess.
Francis,
Forgive me for writing to you, forgive me for breaking the unspoken desire we both shared when it came to our time together. I never had any intention of contacting you, no more than you wished to see me. I have no illusions, I know exactly what it was we had together, and that was what I wanted as well. Please believe me in this.
However… the situation I find myself in… is difficult. Times are very hard for me, Francis, and though I am doing everything I can I find myself… struggling. Struggling to make ends meet, and struggling to care for my precious baby girl.
… our baby girl.
I am sick with shame to write this Francis, and if you have torn this letter up, tossed it to the fire already I wouldn't blame you. I am not blaming you for my situation, I was as careless as you, an equal partner in what we shared. You may have your doubts, you may believe I have conjured you to be the father in part because of all the wealth you boasted of having. However, I know without fail that you are the father of my daughter; there is no question possible in my mind.
I am not asking you to be her father… and to be honest… I do not see our lives intertwining. You have no obligations and duty to me, or to her. It is just… if perhaps you were so inclined… a small bit of help would be… appreciated. I am disgusted with myself for this… but I must find a way to take care of my child… and if I must make a beggar of myself I will do so. There is nothing a mother should not give… even a small piece of my pride is a small price to pay.
I… please know I will never write to you again, nor will I expect anything from you. I will only hope. I am sorry…
Francis folded the letter, mixed emotions running through him. His aversion to this entire situation was fierce, and he truly did wish to follow through with her suggestions to burn or rip the note. Perhaps he could do both! Honestly… writing such a letter to him… did she have no dignity! It certainly wasn't his fault she had no money, that she'd fallen on whatever hard times she'd fallen upon. No… nothing was his fault! Well… nothing except for this child… supposedly. Was he just to take her word on this? This tale screamed of a scam, and if he were to do the smart thing he'd simply trash this letter and be done with the situation.
He shifted the letter in his fingers, rubbing the paper and finally taking note of the additional slip included. Flicking it up before his eyes like a playing card, Francis narrowed his eyes, frowning. It was a photo… a photo of this little child he was supposed to care for, of what was supposedly his daughter! He couldn't help but scoff openly, shaking his head. It looked nothing like him, nothing at all! It was ludicrous to believe you could perceive any sort of distinguishing features on the face of a baby. Why, the little things all looked the same!
His blue eyes looked at the picture of the baby, smiling up at the camera with big brown eyes and a fuzz of brown hair coating her head. 'Hmph, you cannot see anything upon this child to connect to me.' He looked at the pudgy cheeks, at the round little arms that held a fuzzy fish doll (of all things!) to her chest in happy contentment. No, this little thing, it simply could not be his. This was not his daughter. This was not his child. Francis sneered and tossed the letter into the trash… though he couldn't quite bring himself to toss the photograph as well. That would simply be cruel, throwing a baby picture into the garbage.
-.-.-.-
Of course… he couldn't exactly explain to himself why he still stared at the picture the next morning. He relaxed on top of his bed, his days idle as ever. He turned the picture this way and that, staring at it, watching it, fixated in a way that was absolutely annoying. There was a disgusting feeling in his chest, tight and bitter and painful, constricting his breathing as his thoughts roamed through his head in angry circles. Of course he didn't doubt that there was the chance that he'd sired a child or two in his days… one couldn't live such a playboy lifestyle and not perhaps leave behind a bastard or so… but to suddenly be confronted by the fact… and in such a way!
It was blackmail, it had to be. It was greed wrapped up in words to make him seem like the villain, and her the poor victim! If he gave her nothing he would be the one who looked cruel… he would be the one who was in the wrong. Scowling, Francis knew there was no way he could allow this to get out of hand. If his father caught wind of this he might have his inheritance jeopardized! Sighing rather dramatically, he wondered just what his father would advise him to do. It was not as though the Bonnefoy men were known to be angels after all.
"He would probably buy her silence… one payment then… one lump sum to silence her and be done with this." He had wealth; he could make this very small concession to a woman who'd left him with such fond fantasies to think back to. Yes… this would be fine; this would be over all too soon.
He fished her letter from the rubbish, extracted her mailing address, and composed his reply, a generous payment included to her. His letter was not so long as hers, succinct, to the point, and very clear that this would be all he would send to her. It was just before he folded the letter to seal it… just before he put down his pen, that a sudden whim bewitched his fingers, tricked them into writing one simple inquiry when he should not have been inviting her to ever write to him again.
"What is her name?"
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"Did she write back?" Alfred's eyes were almost like a child's, his voice drawing Francis back from the past. The older blond nodded, a rich chuckle in his throat.
"Indeed she did… a simple letter full of thanks, of heartfelt appreciation, another photograph and… of course… her name…" He stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes, memories slowly sifting up towards the present. He could feel the question burning on the tip of Alfred's tongue, yet he took his time in answering the question, setting his own pace, letting his story unfold without hurry. "Angelique… a gorgeous name, mm?"
Alfred simply nodded.
"Well… I suppose something within her letter eased the tension inside of me. She was so happy for what I'd done… and she… she apologized that she imposed once more, and she promised that she expected nothing else. We were even, no obligations… it was done. Yet… as the days went by… I found I wasn't finished. I will admit that for many months I expected to receive a letter. I didn't completely trust her. When no letters came though, even after I knew she must have used all of the money I'd sent… well… I wouldn't say I worried over her and the child… certainly Francis Bonnefoy, the lord of lovers, would not do such a thing…"
He trailed off before shaking his head. "I did such a thing. It must have been witchcraft, cast not from the mother but from the daughter. I had no logical reason to Alfred, yet I worried over the little baby. My daughter, a life I'd never even held in my arms. She did not send a second request… I sent another contribution of my own free will. I sent it on my own… and continued to do so until…"
Alfred did not seem to miss the shadow that fell over Francis, for though the agent was aching and sore, exhausted to his core no doubt, the young man shifted his body. He moved to wrap his arms around Francis, the gesture skirting the dangerous line between platonic comfort and something more. Neither man cared to comment on it, they simply accepted the gesture for what it was. Francis soaked in the warmth that radiated from Alfred, and prepared to speak again. He'd introduced the first two fates… it was time to speak of the final woman who'd threaded his destiny.
"My life continued on as ever… for though I now had a daughter, I had no reason to change my ways any further than being more cautious in protection…"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Where had they gotten to… his friends had certainly been seated at the bar only moments ago, hadn't they? Francis flicked his hair over his shoulder, eyes scanning the dance floor. Well… he couldn't be too angry… he'd disappeared on them for a while now, hadn't he? Ah but he couldn't help it, when beauty cried out, begging to be praised as only he could, was it right to ignore it? No, of course not. To deprive the world of his love would be cruel.
It'd not truly gone anywhere though, and Francis leaned against the bar as he set his mind to finding a new companion for the night. Or, perhaps, companions. It was as he examined the writhing dancing crowd that she approached, long silvery hair painted in the rainbow of the club lights. She walked towards him with precision, with grace, with an upward curve of the lips that promised of so very much. It was not an innocent gaze that reached out to him from this petite beauty. This woman, she was not a doe, waiting to be caught. She was a minx, she was a hunter just as much as Francis. He offered her a winning smile, and she left no room between them as she came to his side.
"You will buy me a drink, before we leave," the utter authority in her tone wasn't new to Francis; he'd had far too many partners to find any approaches new. However it was always refreshing to have such a strong willed woman come to his side. Love could bloom in so very many different shades and variations, all with such delicious results. He brushed his fingers over her shoulder, sweeping her hair from her ear and leaning down to whisper to her through the music.
"Ah, but I do not even know your name…" She grasped his hand, bringing it down to rest upon her chest as she captured him with her eyes. It wasn't fire that smoldered in her gaze, no… it was something breathless and chilling, passionate without a flame.
"But I know yours…" Intrigued, Francis could only smile. She was a predator indeed.
-.-.-.-
"Who is this?" Francis looked up from where he was lying, lounging in a pile of sheets and blankets, his body flushed and comfortable from their shared passions. His consort for this night, Natalia as she'd informed him between heady kisses, was sitting up and flicking through his wallet. He had to smirk at her nerve, for the woman certainly seemed certain of herself in all things. It was as though she'd take arguments from no one, as though she was entirely free to do everything and anything she wished to do. It was rather fun in a way, and it'd led to quite a few kinky twists for them.
Shifting and oh so subtly pulling the sheet she'd wrapped about her body down, Francis peered at what she was holding. It caught him a bit off guard when he realized what it was, mostly as he hadn't realized he hadn't removed it before heading out to the club. "Ah… that is my daughter…"
Natalia stiffened, and Francis couldn't truly blame her. There was always something off putting about finding out you'd slept with someone with children. Natalia turned a curious gaze towards him, though Francis had failed to notice how calculating it was, far more interested in enjoying his companion's physical beauty. "I did not know you were married…"
"I'm not…" he murmured as he kissed along her shoulder, moving in to grace her neck as well. She tilted her head to the side, inviting the gesture yet not relaxing into the moment. Francis could tell her mind was miles away, her mood completely contrasting to his own. "Does this bother you?"
Natalia merely shook her head, shifting slightly so she could peer at him far too seriously. Francis leaned back, arching his eyebrows, an invitation to ask about whatever was on her mind. "Do you love her? This little girl?"
Well… it certainly seemed as though their lovemaking was at an end. Francis rose from the bed gracefully, stepping away to pull on a robe, holding one out for Natalia to take as well. When one lived as Francis did, it only made sense to have clothes of the sort for guests. Taking a seat so they could converse comfortably, the young man nodded. "I suppose you could say I do. Truthfully, I have never seen her, never even held her. Yet… somehow… I've come to care for her. Supporting her from afar."
There was something strange about Natalia's smile, about the way her finger seemed to rub against the photo in her hand. "I see… so you would not wish to see any harm come to her… right?"
Francis could feel an uncomfortable twitch develop between his eyes, distinctly unsettled by the direction this conversation was flowing to. Something in his gut told him to lie, something inside warned him that he was in danger. His eyes flicked towards the door to the room, an accidental gesture that Natalia didn't seem to miss. Still, even as she rose to move to her own clothes, she waited patiently on the answer. Guarded, Francis answered her at last.
"I do not wish harm to come to anyone; I shouldn't think many people would…" Her back to him, Francis was grateful he couldn't see her face, only forced to hear the laughter that spilled from her lips. High sharp laughter, filled with scorn and malice. Triumphant laughter that froze the man to the core, left him paralyzed where he sat. He could feel his muscles seize and tense when she turned, having drawn a knife from the folds of her discarded clothes. He sucked in a breath, mouth going painfully dry.
"My brother was only too right… as he always is. You are the perfect target for us." She advanced towards him slowly, closing the distance by mere centimeters at a time it seemed. The knife was held in her hand, such a casual companion familiar to her fingertips. "Oh we had already planned so very many ways to make you do as we wished… but to think you would give us something more… something much more lasting…"
A flushed sort of pleasure came to her face, far more passionate than she'd been during their lovemaking. "Brother will be so pleased…" A shuddering sigh escaped her lips, the sigh of a woman enraptured in adoration.
Francis's eyes darted about, seeking a way out, as his body rose, belatedly working to create space between himself and this unstable woman. She pounced on him in an instant however, knife flashing forward as she pinned him savagely to the bed sheets. While having a woman on top was always thrilling, this was decidedly not the way it was supposed to be. Like a shroud her hair fell and pooled around them, as if cutting them off from the rest of the world as she brought her face so very close to his. The point of the knife at his throat kept him still but not silent.
"What is this, what do you want?" He sneered at her, knowing all too well the answer. "Money no doubt."
Natalia smiled though there was no sweetness to the gesture. "Of course. My brother has big plans… and such plans require funding. You will be donating your fortune to him… and now I think so much more. You should be happy you get to help him like this… you should be happy to know you will be saving your daughter from a terrible… terrible… life…
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Alfred's arms were tense around him, and Francis could feel the accelerated rate of the younger man's heart. His own was beating rapidly as well, how could it not? This… this was the part of his past he hated. This was the moment he regretted. With a resigned sigh that could never convey just how futile this all seemed, Francis offered Alfred a wan smile. "I suppose you can certainly guess at what came next. While they'd originally only intended to strong arm me into giving away my family's fortunes… once they saw another potential bargaining chip they… upped the stakes.
"They promised me that if I came here… if I became a host and continued to help them profit… they wouldn't touch my darling Angelique. They promised they would even continue to send her payments as if everything was fine. They assured me… they promised me… though the threats they made were much more effective. How could I Alfred… even if she were a stranger… how could I think to sacrifice anyone to this sort of life? A child now… still protected by her youth… but… I could not allow them to claim her."
He shook his head, a bitter feeling swelling above his heart. "I did as they wished Alfred… I gave them all of my family's money, which of course pleased my father! He… well… I suppose I should no longer call myself a Bonnefoy, if his final words to me over the matter mean anything."
Shifting in Alfred's arms slightly, he stared into eyes that carried pain and outrage, strong emotions all on his behalf. It made Francis want to curl into the other man's embrace, for once since this whole ordeal had happened let someone comfort him over this. He almost did, his body moving closer, his head leaning closer so he could drink in the embrace of the other for at least a few moments more. He had only wished it to be a minute, but Alfred pulled him closer, the strength of his conviction radiating through strong arms.
Of course Francis didn't cry, but he let out a broken cough, letting his hands clutch to Alfred for now, taking solace in the agent. It was so nice at last… he was always providing comfort to the other hosts, always helping them through things. He never asked for the same treatment, never would, even if he knew some of them would gladly offer it to him. 'I am responsible for them…' He wasn't certain anymore why he'd become so in the very beginning, but he would never give up this brotherly role.
Carefully he pulled from Alfred's arms, so very reluctant to do so, but knowing he must. He could not deny the closeness forming between them, but he would be careful with it. Too much was at stake. "There may be no one waiting for me out there Alfred… no family wondering where I am, no daughter confused about never seeing her father. My disappearance from the outside means nothing… but the others… they all have someone waiting for them… seeking them out."
Bowing his head, Francis couldn't meet the other's eyes. He let his lids slide shut, feeling suddenly so very weary, no doubt the talk of his past draining him. "Use me any way you can Alfred, there is nothing I won't do for this…" He would repeat those words, that sentiment, a thousand times… he'd say it every time he spoke to Alfred if he had to. Rising from the bed, he turned away. If Alfred succeeded, he'd also be saving his Angelique, removing a threat that loomed over her head without the little girl ever knowing. "Now get some rest…"
He needed to leave. It wasn't truly a safe place, but he needed the solitude of his room for now, so that he could sort his memories back where they belonged. He'd almost made it to the door when Alfred called out to him, stopping him for a moment. "Your friends…"
Francis leveled him with a confused smile, and Alfred forced his body to sit up, trying to hide the pain that was all too obvious. "My friends…?"
"The other members of your trio thing… I'm sure they're waiting for you." Despite how sure Alfred sounded of this, Francis simply shook his head.
"I doubt it…" Alfred cut him off.
"But they were with you the night Natalia got to you, right? Didn't they get in contact with you after that? Before you got dragged into… into... this? Even if it was just to complain about you ditching them at the club?" The agent seemed determined for this to be true, though Francis only shook his head.
"You make it seem as though that was not a common thing for me to do. No Alfred… I'm certain they must have forgotten me… yes… yes it only seems right that they would have by now." Alfred frowned, gritting his teeth but giving up for the moment. It was a bittersweet way for the two to part, the door clicking shut softly sounding as morose as both men no doubt felt.
x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0x
Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the tap on his shoulder, hand instinctively reaching for his firearm even though he wasn't wearing it at the moment. His heart racing, he turned angry eyes at the figure that'd shocked him. Yes yes, it was a bit juvenile to get angry at someone for accidentally scaring you, he really should have been paying better attention to things, but it was a natural reaction. He couldn't help it. Matthew shrunk back away from him, though the young man was long since used to this sort of reaction from Arthur.
"Oh… I… when did you get here?" Smoothing down the folds of his shirt, Arthur stepped a bit away, leading Matthew towards the clothing with the bugging devices so carefully sewn in.
"Just a moment ago," Matthew said, biting back a comment about how silly it would have been to loiter here without letting Arthur know. Instead he took in the look of Arthur's current residence, wincing at the sight of lace doilies and floral prints.
It was, of course, dangerous for any of the agents to come to Arthur's (or rather Gareth's) home in person, but Matthew could be trusted to do it without fail. It had always been the young man's specialty, and while any of the others could quite possibly be trailed no matter how careful they were, Matthew just seemed to have a talent for this. Going about places unseen… he was the perfect spy, the perfect complement to his brother. There was a reason the two were a team in their field.
"How are things going with the others? Any progress since we last were in communication?" Arthur watched as Matthew carefully tucked the clothes away in a messenger bag, the younger man looking up once done and shaking his head.
"Not so well. Ludwig's run into some pretty impressive security measures, so he's trying to call in a few favors. It's tough… it is our group's assignment after all… his contacts are all busy on their own cases." Hefting the bag over his shoulder, Matthew politely declined Arthur's silent offer of tea. He was anxious to get back, begin analyzing the interview for any clues. "Antonio actually left the store… one of his contacts thinks he might know something about this 'Poland' that you spoke of, though he didn't seem terribly hopeful about the lead."
Matthew shrugged softly, gaze trailing down to the floor. "He promised to be back before your, ahem, meeting…"
Arthur coughed, nodding his head. Yes… his 'meeting'. He could see Matthew begin to fidget, and a small smile found its way to Arthur's face. "It'll be alright, lad. I promise, we'll get your fool of a brother out safely."
Matthew met his gaze, only the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Do you actually think there's a chance your meeting will be with him? And… what if it isn't? What will you do then, eh?"
Arthur walked forward, putting a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder, squeezing it gently as a show of support. There were so many possibilities ahead of them with this little appointment at the Gallery… so many scenarios that could happen. Arthur knew he was taking a risk, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Alfred had jumped in without a thought… certainly Arthur could handle the situation if he went in prepared.
"If it's not Alfred I'll deal with the situation. Considering my cover story, I don't think it'd be terribly unlikely for Gareth to lose his nerve over this. Of course, it was quite a bit of money to pay for this appointment… but they seem rather determined to please the clients they accept… I'm certain I can use this to my advantage."
Matthew nodded at him, trusting Arthur to be perfectly capable. With a stern look in his eye, the younger man had one last request before leaving back to their base. "If you do end up seeing Alfred… give him a punch to the arm for me, eh? For worrying us all with his heroics."
Arthur laughed, nodded his head. "Oh don't worry… I'll be certain to properly chastise the git. You can be sure of that."
A/N:
So… there we go… Francis's tale. Seychelles's mother is just a random OC, hence my total refusal to even name her, haha. And heeeey… vague FrBelarus but not, lol.
Can we all guess which character will (eventually) be entering our little tale here, eh? Trio forever! Ha.
For those wondering (if you've noticed) why this fic changed to having Alfred and Arthur listed as the characters now (instead of Francis as it was), allow me to explain. It was very kindly pointed out that I have essentially two stories/main narratives running here… Alfred's on the inside and Arthur's on the outside. Honestly I wish I could list all 3… but yes… that's the reason for the change. I updated the description to show that of course, this story remains FrUS! Not USUK (thouuuuuugh… next chapter… haha…)
Thank you as always for the reviews, I adore you my wonderful reviewers. You all have earned free memberships to Gallery Nine!