Here is part six - lots of Wu Fei in this one. Hope you enjoy it. Almost all of chapter 7 is written, so I expect to have that out tomorrow.
Huge thanks go to Tzigane and Kat for their help with characterization for this part of the fic. *GLOMP!* Got you ounnas!
As always, C&C is welcome with open arms.
DISCLAIMER: The GW characters are not mine. They belong to Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. This work is for entertainment only.
WARNINGS: Shonen-ai scenes, angst, MAJOR SPOILERS for the second half of the series.
Hadley was having a headache.
There were people, he knew, who had describe the Princess of Sank as sweet-natured. Others had used similar adjectives: well-mannered, ladylike, charming, and even dainty. But in Hadley's brief exposure to her, he found himself at a distressing level of disagreement with the those loving critics. The fact of the matter was that Hadley did not like the Princess - did not like her in the least.
It had all begun after lunch. He was in the dining room, about to polish the silver that would be used at table that evening. The tools of the butler's trade were laid out before him: a small jar of Wilkins' silver creme (it was always Wilkins' - Hadley wouldn't trust silver to anyone else), a dish of water, several soft, white cloths, and five brushes in an array of sizes and bristle-softnesses. He found polishing supremely relaxing and had just settled down for a good two-hour job when Veronica, the housemaid (an outspoken young woman of 23 years), stopped outside the hallway.
She paused at the door and Hadley found himself praying, discreetly but fervently nonetheless, that she would think better of disturbing him. She didn't and as she took a seat in the chair opposite him he sadly bid his two-hours of relaxation good bye.
"She's *impossible*, you know," the young woman said, fixing her gaze on the butler.
There was an expectant pause so Hadley, keeping his eyes on a tarnished fork in his hands, murmured, "Is she?"
"She is indeed," Veronica confirmed. "It was bad enough, her criticizing my cleaning methods this morning, not to mention the fact that yesterday she insisted that I take all of her clothing - which I had unpacked and put away mind you - out of the wardrobe and put it all back in while she watched." Veronica was warming to her subject, and Hadley found himself almost entertained at the picture the maid was painting of the young royal. That is, he *would* have been almost entertained, if the complaints didn't seem so familiar.
"When she rang for chocolate a midnight, did I object?" Hadley opened his mouth to say something, but Veronica was making things simple by answering her own questions. "I did not," she said. "And when she asked me to rehang all of her suits, did I complain?" Hadley, wisely, was silent. "I did not," Veronica answered again, "and that isn't even *mentioning* the disgraceful behavior she showed when I failed to put her stuffed bear back on the *bed* instead of the *dressing table.* But did I say a thing?" Hadley could have pointed out that she just had, but thought better of it and kept quiet. "I did NOT," she ended dramatically with a firm hand on the table. Luckily Hadley's reaction time was lightning quick, as usual, and his hand was firmly on the water dish when the maid's gesture appeared.
Holding the dish for the briefest of moments, he then picked up a brush while murmuring, "*Very* professional of you, Veronica." It didn't appease her.
"But when it comes to asking me to *lie* to the new Master, I simply won't have it."
The movement of the brush over an ornate knife handle stopped abruptly and soft brown eyes were raised to look at the maid for the first time since she'd come into the room. Veronica had finally succeeded in getting Hadley's attention.
"Veronica, whatever are you talking about?"
"It's true, Mr. Hadley - not 15 minutes ago! I was putting the fresh linen away in the cedar closet when she walked up to me and said that she wanted me to inform cook that there would be a guest coming for after dinner. She said she wanted to make sure that if there anything being prepared for that time, that cook should count in one more. And then *I* said, very pleasantly, 'One of your friends, your highness?' and then she got all flustered and told me not to say a word to anyone about it, '*especially* my brother', she said." Veronica finished the story and raised her eyebrows significantly, waiting for Hadley's response.
The knife Hadley had been holding throughout the maid's monologue was finally laid to rest on the polishing tray. He regarded the young woman across from him for a moment, weighing what he knew of her honesty and character against that what he knew of the Princess' behavior. At last he neatly removed his polishing gloves, laid them on the tray with the knife, and pushed the whole thing back away from the edge of the table. "Did she say anything more to you?" he ventured.
Veronica looked distinctly uncomfortable. "She said that the person who was coming was someone the master wouldn't want to see. I told her that seemed a bad idea, but she took no notice of anything *I* said. She was too wrapped up in what she wanted to do. No I don't know the new master well, but he seemed a nice enough young gentleman to me, and I don't take kindly to being asked to hide things from him." She sat back, a look of determination on her face before adding, "Lying to people was not in the description of my duties. If I'd wanted that I'd have gone into politics."
"Oh yes, quite," Hadley murmured, smiling inwardly at the thought. The matter, however, was a serious one which needed to be dealt with directly and soon. He stood up and Veronica followed suit. "No don't worry about it, Veronica," he said in comforting tones. "I'll have a talk with the Princess and find out what she intends to do. As for you having to hide things from the master -well, why don't we have you work on the third floor until this business is straightened out. You won't run into him there, so the problem will be moot."
"The third floor?" the maid said hesitantly. "But - yes, all right. I'll go straight away."
Hadley watched her as she left the dining room, a small frown on his usually impassive face. A scheming princess was trouble enough, he didn't need superstitious domestics as well.
The master of the house, whose cause Hadley was preparing to champion, was, at that moment, on a crowded tourist boat, passing under Tower Bridge. The boat lived up to its label. There were tourists in tour groups, tourists alone, tourists in families, and a mass of French schoolgirls, all dressed in their navy blue school uniforms and all inclined to giggle loudly.
The girls had targeted Duo and Wu Fei at once, beginning at first with blushing comments to each other behind their hands. Then they grew more bold, finding excuses to slip past the boys on the crowded deck of the stern, running back to their friends with red faces and more giggles when they'd carried it off successfully. Duo was soaking it all up, grinning at them and winking now and then. Wu Fei merely suffered through it and glared.
Zechs had tolerated it all, giving a silent prayer of thanks for being older and of an intimidating height, but when the young ladies began making kissing noises at his two companions he felt the need to escape. "I'm going to have a look off the bow," he murmured, causing Duo to break off in the middle of a particularly mischievous grin and turn his way. The tall blond was already walking towards the front of the boat, however, and Duo could only watch as his lover was swallowed up by the crowd.
"Hope he's not mad at me," the braided boy murmured.
Wu Fei gave a sidelong glance at Duo. "I really don't understand why you care what he thinks," the dark-haired boy muttered. But he, too, had followed Zechs' progress towards the front of the ship and in doing so had found thoughts in his head that he'd believed to be long gone. /Damn. I haven't done this for a year - thought of myself as nothing but small and ugly, no one that anyone could ever want. But all I have to do is look at him once and it all comes back.../
"Besides," Wu Fei said when Duo remained silent, "what has *he* got to be mad about?" Wu Fei muttered, glaring at one of the schoolgirls who was waving at him.
"Oh, just me," Duo said with a self-deprecating grin. "He's not a guy who's used to having his plans being changed."
"Yes, I'm sure he wants everything done his own way." Wu Fei's tone was almost derisive and it made the American look over at him, puzzled at the barely hidden hostility.
"Wu Fei, it's not like that at all. I'm just saying that when *he and I* plan something it takes him a little time to adjust if I go changing things on him."
A trio of French brunettes, none of them older than 12, were huddled in a group, batting their eyelashes hopefully at Duo. He gave them a quick wink and they dissolved into giggles.
"We're both getting better at it, I think," he observed, looking off towards the direction Zechs had gone. "He's getting to be more spontaneous and I'm beginning to see some value in planning ahead."
"I hope you're not becoming like him," Wu Fei said quietly, looking out across the Thames.
Once again, Duo's gaze moved to the Chinese boy. He wondered at the bitterness beneath Wu Fei's usual gruff exterior. "I think," he said slowly, "that we're both starting to appreciate our differences." He kept his eyes on Wu Fei as he spoke. "And when two people so that, then they really start learning from each other."
There was a pause and then Wu Fei turned to Duo. "Why do you like him so much?" he said. His dark, ebony eyes held anger but also, Duo thought, confusion and maybe, deep down, fear.
The braided boy frowned a bit, searching his friend's face for clues to his bad mood. "Why do you hate him so much?" he asked softly.
Wu Fei looked startled and at first said nothing. Duo continued. "I mean, it it's the war, well - you need to come to terms with that Wu Fei. The fact is the war is over. Zechs isn't our enemy, any more than we are his."
"It's not the war," Wu Fei answered, his voice tight. "Not really." He looked as if he were about to say something more but then seemed to think better of it and turned away.
"What then?" Duo asked. "What else could he have possibly done to you?"
For a long time Wu Fei said nothing. Then, in a low voice, "He killed someone I loved."
Duo's eyes widened. He stared at his friend for several moments, then said, "Wu Fei... what are you talking about?"
Hadley found Relena in the sitting room. She was at the small table in the corner of the room, going through her personal messages on the comm unit.
"Excuse me, Your Highness," Hadley said in a low, calm voice. "May I have a word with you please?"
The princess frowned, without looking up. "Yes Hadley? What is it?"
Closing the door behind him, Hadley stepped further into the room. "It has come to my attention, Your Highness, that we are to expect a guest after dinner - is that correct?"
If the butler had not been such a good-hearted man, he might just have taken some small pleasure in the way the princesses face paled at the question. Instead, he simply took it as a 'yes' and continued. "I also understand the the guest in question is one of which Mr. Marquise would not likely approve."
Relena stood, indignant. "Veronica told you didn't she? And after I explicitly asked her -"
"To *lie*, Your Highness?" The look on Hadley's face was eloquence itself and Relena swallowed thickly, not at all happy with the prospect of explaining Dorothy Catalonia to this intimidating man.
She turned to the window, her back now facing him. "Not *lying* exactly. It's just..." She trailed off and Hadley raised a cultured eyebrow.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Well, *I* want to see her," Relena began, then added almost to herself, "although I don't know quite why, and Zechs really *should* see her." The princess looked over her shoulder at the butler, who did not look at all convinced. "Well it's true," she ended, defiantly, and turned back to the window in silence.
When Hadley finally spoke, his voice was low. "It's not my place, Your Highness, to assess whether meeting this person would be good or bad for Mr. Marquise. But I do know this: he is the master of this house and as the master, he has the last word on who is to be allowed to visit." The butler looked at Relena, trying to assess the impact of his words on her. "That rule, Your Highness, has been an inviolate characteristic of English households for centuries. It must never be abandoned or else chaos and a nation in ruins will result. I ask that you kindly remember that in future."
Relena scowled, crossing her arms in front of her, but eventually she managed a brief nod.
"Now," said Hadley, "since the invitation has already been issued, this evening's visit can hardly be canceled. Therefore, it will be necessary for me to speak with this person when she arrives before I can let her into the house proper."
"Speak with her? Before she can come in? Oh, Hadley, surely this isn't necessary."
But Hadley was not to be moved. "I take my job very seriously, Your Highness. I *will* speak to this person and she will be admitted to the house only if I determine she is not going to disrupt Mr. Marquise's enjoyment of the evening." He turned to go, then stopped and looked back at the girl by the window. "And as for asking servants to lie to their masters, there will be no more of that, will there?" He arched an eyebrow meaningfully at Relena.
"No," she said uncomfortably. "No, of course not."
Hadley nodded slightly in her direction and left the room. As he walked toward the dining room to take up his polishing again he thought about the conversation. Relena Peacecraft may be a formidable young woman, but she was no match for the Perfect English Butler.
"I understand you wanted to see me." Mouse jumped a bit at the voice. It was low and comforting, very much like Duo's was. Turning towards the sound, he gasped and closed his eyes quickly on the man standing at the foot of his bed. He was barely recognizable as human, so bad was the damage to his body. But the reassuring voice gave Mouse the courage to finally open his eyes.
"Yes," Mouse said, his own voice a bit shaky. "I need some help from someone - someone who knew you when you were alive and I was hoping that you could help me convince him that I really can see people like you." The man was silent for a few moments, the sat down at Mouse's desk chair.
"What would you like to know?" the ghost said softly.
Mouse took a deep breath. "Tell me something that only you and he would know." As he waited for the answer, he moved his gaze away from the battered, bloodied face and fixed on the sooty but still prominent preist's collar that the apparition wore.
End of Part 6
(:./kumiko/2road23)
