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"Baby Series 3"Written By: Karina Rating: PG Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Milliardo + Wu Fei Notes: Challenge 169. Baby Series 3 #282. Takes place following Real Ghosts. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Do You Believe "Ghost stories." Yuy snorted in amusement. "The woman in the Victorian era gown who walks the East wing after midnight. The moaning in the hallways of the eastern end of the central range. I've overheard the maids talking about the children who run around the gardens at night and the way they whisper about it not being `safe' to go up into the attics. Its all just superstition and rubbish. What?" Yuy was suddenly aware of the eyes focused on him, three pairs, bright with interest and he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "What is so odd about me knowing all of that? I'm with the security and intelligence divisions, remember? It is my business to know every rumour that circulates around the palace, be it ghostly children, creaking hallways or a sheet flapping against the wind. I have found the native inhabitants of New Port city, and particularly the mountain folk, to be highly superstitious." Maxwell and Chang exchanged glances and Milliardo smiled into his cup, seemingly highly amused by the conversation. The King had not contributed much to the conversation, Yuy realised, but he did look entertained. "So you know about cold spots, groaning walls and ghostly children." "Yes, Duo, I do. As I said, no house is draught proof, hence cold spots, and the primary source of the creaks and groans in the eastern end of the central range is where the two wings of the house intersect, so it is to be expected there would be settling noises. As for the ghostly Victorian era apparition, it happened once during one of the Alliance Governors masque's. Once. I venture to suggest it was a female guest playing ghost as the building did not exist in Victorian times and she was either coming from, or going to, a midnight assignation or, given the times, she might have been a spy on a mission. Nothing ghostly about it." Duo studied Yuy for a long moment and he looked anything but convinced. "And the children?" "I have had security deal with three instances of servant's children playing in the restricted gardens in the past twelve months, around or after midnight." "So as far as you are concerned, that's it? No such thing as ghosts, eh?" "Exactly, Duo. There are no such thing as ghosts." "Well, I'm not as closed minded as you. Not after… well, not after what happened during the Run and… well, there have been other incidents." Milliardo arched an eyebrow, studying Duo thoughtfully. Yuy snorted, dismissing the comments out of hand, he really could not believe the naïveté of some people. Wu Fei, however, studied his hands cupped around his mug with sudden interest. "Let's have it then." Yuy slapped his mug on to table and glared across the distance at Maxwell, ready and willing to shoot him down. "No." Duo shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think so. You'd just see it as a cold draught, so I'm not going to ask your opinion. But Yuy, I'm telling you that place is haunted. Cold draughts don't exude blinding anger, and I wasn't the only one to feel it, but that's okay. We'll look into it ourselves." "You are being ridiculous." "Says you, but that's your opinion and whilst I might respect it I don't have to agree with you. You see some pretty weird shit on the streets of L2 and you learn to be a bit more open minded. I wasn't trained by Dr J and they say Sweepers are a superstitious lot, but I prefer to make my own judgements. Let's agree to leave it at that, shall we? Don't know about you, but I'm gonna try to get a couple of hours sleep before we have to be sociable again. Night all." Without another word Duo deposited his mug in the sink and with a casual inclination of his head to Milliardo he strode from the kitchen. —————————————— It had proven to be an entertaining evening and he was more relaxed than he had expected to be given the stress of the day. He had been more stressed from speaking in front of the Assembly than he had been before flying into the teeth of a fire fight during the war. All a matter of perspective, really. He had been younger then, and despite the formal training and military mind set he had been trained to use, he had still been nothing more than a teenager. Teenagers had little to no fear of death touching them, even teenagers who had witnessed massacre up close and personal. You knew it was there, you might have seen it, but it would not touch you. That was a ghost, a spectre of a different kind to be dealt with. Only age and experience could bring you the understanding and fear of death. Maxwell had retired from the kitchen, and Yuy had followed a few less than comfortable minutes after him. His departure had lent a comfortable quiet to the kitchen. He had finished his chocolate in companionable silence with Chang and on unspoken agreement they had placed their cups in the sink and made their way through the manor together. It was odd how comfortable he was with Chang. The man seemed to understand him far more than any other since Treize had died. Around them the house creaked gently, nothing threatening about the sound and the soft footfalls were the security patrol, no ghostly haunt in progress. "Do you believe there are ghosts?" After a moment Chang clarified his question. "Of the supernatural variety." There were some days that he wondered he slept at all in Sanc, and this city had witnessed its share of death and destruction in the past. This manor house had witnessed violence and tragedy, not that he would mention it, but Sanc was full of ghosts and few of those ghosts were a comfort to him. When he looked out of a window there, toward the ruins that once had been his childhood home, he had no trouble seeing them. They were not memories of that night when he, like so many others, had run in terror and confusion. Then men, women and far too many children had been flushed from the palace and butchered, their blood soaking into the ground, colouring the stones of the façade, splattering against the trees, watering the lawns and flower beds. He saw that scene too often in his nightmares and knew it for what it was; memory. He did not need to see the never ending cycle repeated when he was awake, but it was not the repeat of the blood bath that he witnessed when he stared out of a window. Night or day it did not matter, the ghosts of the past walked the Castle's grounds restlessly. They did not run in terror as their living flesh had done, sobbing or screaming. They did not rattle chains that weighed them down with their transgressions, holding them back from moving forward. They did not hover before him to point accusing fingers at him, blaming him for what had befallen their beloved Sanc. The ghosts he saw wandered as though in a daze through the rubble and debris that still littered the ruins. Those ghosts who looked at him did so with confused or sorrowful eyes, but none of them held anger. None of them blamed him. Not even the one who followed him so closely, always a steadying presence, a hovering hand never quite touching him, eyes so remarkably blue reminding him of what might have been and silently apologising for taking it away. That one looked at him with the expectation he continue on. He was not so strong as Treize. He held regret. He lived with sorrow. But he would go on and he would make a difference. It was what they had wanted. "Have you ever looked into the nursery in the small hours of the morning?" Chang looked at him in confusion, but he could only smile as they paused at a branching of the hallway. "It was more noticeable when Stephen was in the cradle. It would rock when no one was near it." "I… No. No, I have never seen it." "It might be anyone, an old Nanny perhaps, but I prefer to think Noin watches over him. Why should she not? I don't think it should be spoken of though. It might be uneven floor boards." Chang snorted. "Good night, Milliardo." "Good night, Wu Fei." It was alright. The ghosts belonged to another time but who was to say that remnants did not exist into the future? Until the dead were ready to move on it would remain so. Sometimes it was even a comfort to know that they were there, that he was not alone… but it was small comfort to feel the cold presence when all he ached for was the warmth of the living. Going to his bed, sliding between the cool sheets in this strange house, it was a comfort to know he was not alone. "Good night." The lightest touch of a cold draught caressed his cheek… Yes, old houses had uncountable draughts. ~ * ~ |
