Fantasy A Little Night Music by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Her answer followed a long kiss.

"I came here with my family. I'll stay by them."

Troy returned the previous kiss before replying.

"Even if that means welcoming Helen into it?"

Susan's next kiss was briefer than the first.

"I suppose I'd get Maria and Stavro in that deal. Let me meet her first before committing to a statement."

They looked down at each other's bodies. Both liked what they saw; however, both had also done quite a lot about it on the way there, and were too tired to do anything further about it now.

Troy had taught Susan how lovers who Do What They Do; and trusted each other completely, like he and Julie, and now Susan did; could always "command" one another to have "one more in them." It was how, no matter how many friends they'd brought to the bedroom, Troy and Julie always had their "last dance" together at the end of the night; Julie riding Troy to their simultaneous, earth- shattering orgasm.

But even that had a limit. One three-day weekend before they'd met Susan, he and Julie decided to order two large pizzas and put them, two gallons of Gatorade, and a case of bottled water next to the bed, and see how long they could safely push each other. With pizza and bathroom breaks, they'd made it 31 hours. The remaining 41 hours of the weekend had consisted of sleeping, ice packs, giggling followed by groaning, lotions, massages, and old cartoons; along with a unanimous decision to never try that again.

"Better in the morning?" Troy asked her.

"Better in the morning." Susan agreed, reaching over him to turn the nightstand lamp off.

They snuggled in silence a moment.

"Just thinking," Susan said after a while. "About the last time you promised a woman morning sex. You don't have any other super-rich friends with their own countries that someone might try to kill, do you?"

Troy cocked his head for a moment, acting like he was thinking about it.

"Nah, I don't talk to that guy anymore, he's more an acquaintance."

She smiled. They closed their eyes.

* * *

Although the blinds had been closed on all the windows at Byroni Medina Memorial Emergency Medical Center, a sliver of light from the outside made it onto a mirror as a door swung open, and into the room containing Contessa Helena de San Finzione. It lit onto the sleeping face of Julie Equals, who pressed her foot against the wall and nudged the recliner a couple of inches over to escape it.

The noise caused Helen to open her eyes. She was on a morphine drip now, so she was no longer restrained in her bed. The brace still held her left arm and shoulder, and she could see fresh gauze wrapped around her abdomen when she peeked beneath her gown. A smaller patch of it covered part of her right breast. She touched that one, and although the morphine kept it from hurting, the sensation told her that it should have.

Looking up from the gown, the blurriness of trying to see any distance eventually came into focus, and she made out Julie's sleeping face at the right side of the foot of the bed. She'd positioned the recliner to be facing Helen.

Helen could have swung her foot out and kicked Julie before she remembered why she was in the hospital and decided not to risk it.

"Hey," she weakly called out through parched and drugged lips. "Hey, wake up, you skanky cow."

Julie's response was to murmur "'kin cnt," and turn to the other side, pulling the blanket up over her shoulder. A couple of seconds later, she registered whose voice she'd heard and turned back to open her eyes.

"Hey, Girl!" Julie said to her, the happiness on her face coming through in her voice, as well.

"Hey, Also Girl!" Helen thirstily, but just as happily responded. Julie hit the call button and scooped a paper cup of ice chips from half-melted pitcher of them on a table next to the bed. She'd canceled her command to the doctors and nurses to ignore Helena, so the nurse responded as Julie was putting a couple of chips in Helen's mouth.

"You shouldn't try to move, Contessa," the nurse told her. "I'll inform the doctor that you're awake. He'll be able to tell you more about your injuries."

"How long have..." Helen was starting to remember things through the drugs. "Was there a bomb?"

Julie carefully placed her right hand on Helena's.

"The Generalissimo got everyone out in time. It went off, but nobody was hurt. The bomb squad was still on the way when it happened; the building was empty."

"That's nice." Helena sighed. When the nurse left the room, Julie bent down and kissed her on the lips.

"Thanks for waking up." Julie said with another smile.

Helena weakly raised her right arm and pulled Julie back down to her lips for a deeper kiss before responding.

"I had to," Helena replied, groggily. "Someone told me there was a skanky cow hovering outside the room."

Julie's smile got bigger.

"I'd punch you, bitch, but I wouldn't want you to pull anything and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't feel it anyway."

Helen's eyes found a clock and noticed it was 6:32.

"How long have I been out?"

"You came out of the anesthetic around eleven last night," Julie said, pulling a blanket over her. "You freaked out a bit, I had to Do What We Do to stop you from doing something dangerous." Julie paused for a moment. "We won't go into everything. They say it happens to everybody."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Julie was tired too, and it took her a moment to remember that she hadn't fully answered the question.

"My head's still on Seattle time, and Math Boy's back at castle with Susan and Maria, but my admittedly exhausted math says it's been eighteen hours."

Julie's phone had died in the night, and she went back to her chair to take it off the charge cord. "Yeah, that sounds right. I guess I should let people know you're awake, but Ramirez just went home a couple hours ago."

Helena got to use another of her favorite smiles: The Julie Smile. Helena regretted that although Troy was the first boy she'd ever loved, he had certainly not been her first. Julie, on the other hand, was both the first girl that Helena loved, and the first she'd been with. They'd shared their love with others, like Troy and Julie now did in their marriage; but from their earliest "girls' only" slumber parties, to sleepovers involving screaming into pillows, to no longer being able to tell themselves that what they were doing was "experimenting with someone who, OK, IS my friend; and yes, also happens to be a GIRL; and of course, I love her with all my heart and soul, but that doesn't make us...," until Madrid, it was always Julie. The smile reserved for that beautiful Sunflower hair and that oh-so expressive face.

"Is Maria all right?" Helena asked.

"Good, I hear. Really good. She gave a speech, I've been too preoccupied to turn on a TV, but I hear the hospital staff saying it was great. Like she was all 'Grr,'" Julie mimed a tiger's claw. "'I'm the Contessa now! You got a problem with that? Get fucked! I'm off to go Contessa the shit outta this little tourist trap!'"

Helena laughed, past experience telling her that Julie's account may not have been 100% accurate.

"I always knew she would." She thought through the drugs for a moment.

"Damn, the emergency protocols. Maria can't come see me now. Not until I can go home." Another moment's thought. "Hey, I don't know Susan well enough to ask, but you think she'd mind hanging out with Maria until I can come home? I'd love to really meet her." Helena gestured down the length of her body. "But, you know, not like this. Maria's got Stavro, and I hope they get married someday, because we need another heir, and I can't just..." Helena realized her thoughts were drifting and got back on topic. "But I've been where she is, and she also needs real friends, like you guys, and I'd just be more comfortable meeting her at the castle than in a hospital bed, you know?"

Julie nodded.

"I'm sure she'd agree to that. She likes Maria."

"Then I think we can let them all get some sleep. You certainly look like you could use it too."

Julie was too tired to give a comeback. She moved the recliner closer to the bed so that she could reach Helena's hand. Then she took it away and picked up the bag Troy had left.

"Oh, yeah, we brought this. Now, Troy told me to make this absolutely clear: He wants it back."

Julie produced a red velvet smoking jacket from the bag and carefully dbangd it over Helen. Helen took hold of it and tried to pull the garment up to her nose with her left arm, when her shoulder reminded her through the morphine that it was a bad idea, and used her right instead. She took a deep sniff of the fabric.

It smelled a bit like Troy. But more importantly, it still smelled like HIM! Like old tobacco, and olive oil, and Ice Blue Aqua Velva, and Metaxa, and...

[Ramesh_Rocky]

And Propappou.

Julie closed her eyes and sat back in the recliner. She turned her face away and pretended not to hear Helena's sobbing, but rested her hand on the side of the bed in case it was needed. Helen nuzzled the smoking jacket; the one that the man she regarded as "my true father" always wore around the house, like a teddy bear and reached out for Julie's hand. Julie raised her hand up so Helen could take it, but otherwise continued to pretend to already be asleep.

Helen continued to sniff the jacket and sob until the mix of drugs and emotions sent her back to sleep. As her thoughts slowed, she briefly reflected on her life. She was glad to be alive, honored to be Contessa Helena de San Finzione. If they hadn't saved her; if she'd gone to be with Vincenzo, she would have been honored to introduce her husband to her father with that name.

Fading into dreams of seeing Propappou again, the scent reminded her of how happy she knew she would have been; how she would have been just as proud and honored, if she could have been his daughter or Troy's wife; and when they met again, her name had been Helena Medina.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 18

"Storm the Master Marathon, I'll fly through.
By flash and thunderfire, I'll survive.
(I'll survive, I'll survive, I'll survive, I'll survive.)
Then I'll defy the Laws of Nature and come out alive!
Then I'll get you!"
-Queen, "The Seven Seas of Rhye"



By noon, the media was reporting that Contessa Helena de San Finzione's condition had changed from "Serious" to "Fair." The donor liver had gone on to someone who needed it, and she was expected to recover in time. The man who'd received the organ, which had been on standby in case she'd needed it, made local newspapers as "The Man with A Liver Fit For A Contessa."

Images played of the Candlelight Vigil outside the hospital the night before. Followed by video of Contessa Maria starting to address the nation before hearing of the bomb and telling them that she had better things to do than address them.

Helena smiled at her and turned off the television, her only company now that she'd sent Julie Equals back to the castle. The morphine was still flowing through her system, but she was lucid now, which she needed to be for this meeting. The two Ultimados standing guard outside her door saluted Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez; coming down the hall with the Prefect of security officer and the Minister of Intelligence. Ramirez returned the salute and instructed them to guard the end of the hall for the moment.

She stuffed Propappou's smoking jacket under the blanket before they entered. Ramirez asked how Helena was feeling.

"Doped up enough to enjoy daytime TV, but not so much that we can't talk now."

Once the door closed behind them, the Minister of Intelligence took a device from his pocket and walked around the room, checking it. He declared the room free of listening devices or cameras, and La Contessa nodded.

The three men gave their reports. Ramirez shared the information that Allaine had gathered as well. Helena took it all in, sharing her own thoughts; omitting that they'd come to her in what she was choosing to call "a dream," for the moment.

"Your friend is pretty astute, Ramirez. Whoever is behind all of this is throwing us a bone here. We have no choice but to follow his bread crumb trail; he knows we can't and won't stop looking for him. With the 'Jimenez was a crazy stalker' story, we get the media off our backs while we do it."

"So, we go with the lie?" asked the Prefect.

"It's that," Helena responded. "Or talk to cameras about what's taking so long on 'Day 178 of The Hunt for The Real Mastermind.'"

The Prefect nodded.

"I shall have my men smash up some alarm clocks, borrow some demo charges from SWAT. That should be enough to sell the bomb story."

"I like your anti-science literature idea, too, Ramirez," Helena mused. "Ooh! Make it Anti-Vaxxers! Fucking smug pricks, endangering children." La Contessa composed herself. "Now, I'm afraid the other matters we have to discuss are above your clearance, Martin. I'll leave you to your evidence-planting."

The Prefect saluted and left. As a precaution, the Minister swept the room again.

"Now," La Contessa said, turning to Ramirez. "Miguel and his people are all right?"

"Si, Contessa. They had retreated to a safe distance before the explosion."

"That's a relief. As soon as they're able to, I need them to get back to the project. It's more important now than ever that we know the truth about Springheel."

"What about the Morgan angle," the Minister of Intelligence asked. "Should we have the wife and children detained?"

"No," Helen replied. "When I can travel, I'd like a word with them. Put them under discreet protective surveillance, though. This guy plays with innocent lives. And he thinks he's clever. If we move too quickly, he might get spooked and burn the trail, and them with it. Going with his cover story will make it seem like we're admitting he's too clever for us. It'll buy us some time while he gloats, or whacks off, or composes his taunting letter, or whatever he'll do to celebrate. I certainly can't do anything overt until my friends leave."

"If Springheel means this much to him, he will certainly try again." Ramirez commented.

"Yes, this won't be the end of it," Helena asserted. "He attacked me to prevent me from looking into Springheel. To kill me before I consulted experts about it. The attack on the Ministry afterwards means one of two things: Either he knows it's NOT real and didn't want them finding out, or he knows it IS real and didn't want them finding out. If he didn't intend to kill me, he certainly intended to pique my interest. In that, he has succeeded."

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Princess Susan of Bailey sang out another cry of glory for Good Sir Knight Troilus as he thrust into her again and again, demonstrating the same savage ferocity with which he'd slain the fearsome dragon Chadwick. Again, and again, she sang his praises as she took every last inch of his lance into her weeping pool of gratitude.

Princess Mesmera lay sleeping beside them, too tired from her long night's visit to the Plague Center to see the Evil Queen to join in their revelry. But she most lasciviously gave her good blessing to their sport before retiring, so Good Sir Troilus and Princess Susan carried on, soft mewlings coming from Princess Mesmera's lips as she watched them and made movements beneath her royal blankets until sleep came for her.

Princess Susan cried out in triumphant joy once more as her Good Sir Knight's shaft found its target yet again, and an explosion of glory was shared by both. As they collapsed onto the bed, there came a knocking at the chamber. Covering themselves in the royal blankets, Sir Troilus bid the entrant welcome.

Jeanne, the servant girl, brought in Princess Susan's washing from the night before. She gazed upon Princess Susan, Sir Troilus, and the slumbering Princess Mesmera in the bed for a moment.

"Quel Français," the servant girl softly said with a smile. She said other words, but neither Princess Susan nor Sir Troilus knew the language of the Franks; and Princess Mesmera was in deep slumber. However, they knew the names of Contessa Maria and Good Sir Stavro, and since the Frankish word for "brunch" was also "brunch," they deduced her meaning and thanked her.

She took her leave as Sir Troilus held his fair lady and stroked her hair for a while. Reality itself slowly shifted, until Susan Bailey was playing with Troy Equals' hair in response.

"Yeah," she said to him softly, remembering that Julie Equals was sleeping next to them. "Better in the morning."

Memories came to both of them. Things Julie had told them before settling in to watch and finger herself to sleep, but that they could wait until they were done to remember: That Helen was awake and that Troy may have a fight getting Propappou's smoking jacket back from her. She'd been scheduling a meeting with the Generalissimo and some people when she finally kicked Julie out of the room, but was probably up to a visitor afterwards. Julie also relayed the message to Susan, asking that she stay by Maria until Helen came home from the hospital. Susan agreed without hesitation.

Since Julie had gotten to bed sometime within the past hour, they decided to let her sleep, showered, and got changed. Susan only had three outfits with her. She'd worn the blue dress when she arrived at the castle, and that only left her a clubbing dress, jeans, and a t-shirt; none of which said "guest of The Countess" to her. Troy suggested the blue dress for brunch.

"If Maria can spare you for a couple hours," he told Susan as he put on his college clothes, making him look, except for missing the glasses and pens in his pocket, like an accountant about to grab his briefcase and kiss her, calling her 'honey' on his way out the door to his 1950s sitcom office, where they just manufactured 'Business.' "I can take you to the Marketplace. Couple big name clothing stores; we might regret not taking Helen up on the ten grand."

That thought made Susan pause. She plopped down on the bed, remembered that Julie was still sleeping, and saw that her part of the bed hadn't moved at all. The thought "Just like those commercials with the bowling ball and the wineglass..." threatened to take her head over before she remembered what had been weighing on her since she realized it on the plane here.

"Troy," Susan asked plaintively. "When I signed that thing for the passport, I became one of Helen's subjects, didn't I? Like, do I have to call her 'La Contessa' now or get thrown in her dungeon?"

Troy leaned forward and gave her a little kiss on the tip of her nose.

"She's closed the dungeons; I know better than to ask why. And you're still an American; you've got dual-citizenship now. She can give you orders, but you can refuse them. Plus, I get to do all-new tax stuff for you."

Susan smiled a little. Patriotism wasn't a big thing for her, unless it meant Helen couldn't order her around.

"Julie's too tired for you to start talking finance, and we shouldn't keep Maria waiting. But I haven't renounced anything?"

Troy shook his head no as he helped Susan off the bed.

"Helen had to do that to become Contessa. If you're not marrying into the royal family, it's entirely optional."

Susan gave a sigh of relief and put on her shoes, realizing that her only shoe choices were sneakers and a pair of strappy heels, one of which was now bent ninety degrees from being used as a door knocker. She looked at her shoes, looked at her other two outfits on the bed, then looked around at the opulent guest bedroom of Castle Finzione where she'd just spent the night and a morning of mind-control enhanced love-making.

"Right about now," she said aloud to Troy and also no one in particular. "I figured I'd be at Beth's Café with the girls, trying my hardest NOT to Do What We Do to get them to come to the Science Fiction Museum with me."

"Life takes funny turns, sometimes, doesn't it?" Troy replied, taking hold of her arm. "Now, c'mon, let's go have a fabulous palace brunch with our dear friend who's technically The Queen, before I take you on a whirlwind shopping spree to stores you probably didn't know existed; then return you to the castle and go visit my injured first girlfriend, who is ALSO The Queen."

Susan laughed and opened the door.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The Ultimados flanking the door outside Contessa Helena de San Finzione's room stood at attention. One of them knocked on it. La Contessa bid him open the door.

A hand holding a vase containing a dozen Julie Andrews Roses appeared in the doorway. Helen smiled at it. A few seconds later, another hand holding a small, white, arrow-shaped sign on a tiny stick with "Free Helen Seed" on it appeared, and pointed the arrow at the flowers.

Helen laughed, the morphine adding to her amusement. As Troy entered the room, he froze in mid-air and made a "Ding" sound with his mouth.

"Troy Equals: Mathematicus Sheepfuckius." Helen said aloud.

Troy continued walking toward Helen, trying not to laugh; when she, too, froze and went "Ding."

"Contessa Helena de San Finzione: Wickedstepmothericus Fuckyouhelenus." Came his reply.

He set the flowers on the nightstand next to her, couldn't come up with a hugging scenario that he felt he could safely get around her stitches and fractured left shoulder, and settled for a kiss. With her right hand, Helen grabbed the back of his head and held his lips to hers until they parted to let her tongue in. After a few seconds, they broke the kiss.

"Hey, Girl." Troy said.

"Hey, Boy."

"How're you doing?" He asked.

Helena motioned with her head that he should close the door. She waited for it to close to give her reply as Troy took the recliner that was still in the room from Julie's stay with her and pulled it back up to the bed to hold her hand.

"Really needing a smoke."

Troy patted her hand.

"Julie was worried that the one you took there," Troy said, pointing to the spot on Helena's breast that was bandaged and covered by the gown. "Might've gotten your lung."

Helena picked up a pen and started holding it the way she'd hold a cigarette.

"Nobody kills these fuckers but me," she said thumping her chest, then wincing a bit as she felt it through the drugs.

"Well, still, I guess after something like this, I'm not taking you home today."

Helen shook her head, and felt more not-quite pain down her shoulder and arm, becoming acutely aware of how interconnected the parts of her body were.

"They say if it looks good tomorrow, the next day would be possible."

Troy looked at her cautiously.

"You didn't do anything foolish to make them put a rush on that decision, did you?"

She almost nodded "no" again, before remembering how it felt before, and met his look instead.

"No. If I was doing The Thing to the doctors, I'd be smoking by now. Some of the care team will be staying at the castle to give me round-the-clock care; I imagine, until I start charging them for their stay." Helen changed the subject. "So, where's Susan?"

"At the marketplace. We didn't really have time to pack, so she needed clothes. Should've known better than 'We'll just stop for a couple of hours.' Stavro's looking after her while Maria's busy."

"Well, that's why I left the money."

"Oh, she didn't take it. I've been investing for her too, so as long as Stavro can keep her from spending too long at the Armani shop, she'll have no problems. She's been concerned that accepting the passport makes her one of your 'subjects' now."

Helen smiled at the thought.

"No more so than you or Julie would be. She won't get drafted."

Helen could tell from the look on Troy's face that the conversation was about to shift gears.

"Helen, someone tried to kill you. I told the Generalissimo I wouldn't ask him about it, or make him tell me. I wasn't going to ask at all but he said you were concerned by it, and you said it was what all this was about: Springheel."

Helen's eyes widened at his use of the word. Troy sensed that it had affected her and tried to calm her down.

"Hey, hey, it's just a word you said while you were delirious. Only him, Julie, and I heard it. He already knows, and Julie thinks you were rambling about this season's new shoe line. You know, 'spring heels.'"

"Troilus," Helen said, trying to sit up as best she could without hurting herself. "I need you to let this go. For me, please. I know he's your hero, but don't try to be James Bond."

"Julie DID give me her dad's Walther PPK for an anniversary. Not the wedding, another."

Troy saw by the look in Helen's eyes that the joke wasn't working.

"Seriously, Troy, I can't tell you what it's about, it's classified to the highest levels for a reason. At least one person, that I know of, has already died over it. It's what the assassin was sent after me about, and why whoever's behind this planted the bomb."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Yeah," Troy responded. "The assassin that couldn't hear. So, whoever it is, they know about What We Do."

"No, they know about The Thing That I Do. I know you don't want anyone knowing about you, Julie, and Susan. I do whatever I can to keep you out of things."

"Except, ya know, buying our hotel, having Royal Balls in our honor, giving Julie a Ferrari, having Ultimados watch our house..."

Helen cut him off.

"Hey, buying hotels and turning them into Società Finzione resorts is something I do anyway. Fortune called me "The Real-Life Monopoly Maven" for a reason. Everything else has been because I love you guys. And that's why you can't know about Springheel. I know I'll tell you eventually, just not now."

She slumped a little, exhausted from dealing with people since that morning.

"Please don't force me to make it a command, Troy."

Troy patted her hand some more.

"Ok, Petalouda, ok. I should let you rest."

"No, stay," Helen said, pulling Propappou's smoking jacket out from where she'd stashed it and trying to bring it up to snuggle with again. "At least until I fall asleep."

He helped her with the jacket, then sat back down and took hold of her hand again.

"Sure," he replied. "Julie told you I'm gonna want that back, right."

"Mmhmm," Helen replied, closing her eyes. "And you know what you and Julie are going to have to do to get it back."

"I'm sure you won't be in any condition for that before we have to leave."

"No, dumbass, the other thing."

"Oh. That."

"Yep," she said, fading. "The OTHER, other, other thing I want from you."

Troy's response was a reluctant grunt. Helen fell asleep a few moments later. He stayed for another hour.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 19

"There was a castle by a waterfall, with a pink and purple wall,

and a princess living there.

She had no parents and was all alone. She got by her own,

and she liked it pretty well.

Cause she never wore her socks. She had a pet snake.

She bought a red guitar, and she ate a whole cake.

And there wasn't anybody there to tell her what to do,

so she did what she wanted to.

And everybody knew the story of The Princess Who Saved Herself."

-Jonathan Coulton, "The Princess Who Saved Herself"

The Route 500 bus dropped Denise Cole off at the SeaTac Mall transit center in Federal Way. She walked through the rain, over to the comic shop, and picked up the Equals household's hold boxes; then grabbed a coffee on the way back to take the connecting bus to their house. As a teenage girl with a distant, sad look on her face, wearing a backpack and carrying a coffee; she blended in perfectly with the bus crowd until she came to their stop.

She walked down their street, looking at the houses. It was nicer than the part of Tacoma where she lived, certainly. It was always when she got to their house that she stopped for a moment. It had been a big house when they'd bought it, and the addition of the four-car garage and library made it bigger than any other on the street. She looked across the road, where Rob, one of the neighbors, was wearing a raincoat and had and waxing his car.

"In the rain?" Denise thought, then dismissed it. Lots of people did unusual stuff in the rain in Washington, simply because if they waited for it to stop, the things would never get done. The yellow rain gear that he wore, like the girl on the salt can, told Denise they hadn't lived in Washington long.

While she walked over to their mailbox, Eric, the other neighbor, came out of the house. He started toward her, when Rob called out his name. That made Denise look too, and she saw Rob giving him a gesture and saying something she couldn't hear in the rain from across the street, but the idea she got from it was that he was telling his husband "Dude, it's Denise, calm down."

She waved to them while she got the mail. Eric calmed down and they both waved back before he went back inside and Rob went back to his waxing. It made her smile a little to know that their neighbors cared enough to watch out for their place while they were gone. They looked like strong guys, too. Between them and what Julie, Susan, and Troy could do, Denise didn't envy anyone looking to steal Julie's jewelry collection.

Denise retrieved the hidden key, brought in the newspaper, and turned off the alarm. She set the mail, comics, and newspaper on their kitchen table, and picked up the three hundred-dollar bills that were sitting on a note reading:

Denise, (probably)

Gotta run. Thanks for doing all this.

If we're gone more than a week, there'll be more.

Anything in the fridge is yours. (Except the booze! )

Two friends over, max. Keep them out of the bedrooms, please.

Believe in the Ruins?

Julie

Denise dumped the cold pot of coffee from yesterday that had been made on a timer after everyone had left in a hurry. She replaced the filter, unplugged the machine, and washed out the pot. She then filled a pitcher with water and went around the house, watering the plants. They were paying her a lot to come by every couple of days for this, but then, the Equals and Susan were just cool like that.

The day they'd met, Julie had talked Denise out of a plan to kill herself when a girl she'd been attracted to had threatened to out her as a lesbian to her parents and everyone at college. Later, Julie talked to the girl and convinced her to forget about the whole thing; then came to Denise's house and had a word with her parents; at the end of which, coming out to them had been easier than she'd ever imagined, and they accepted who their daughter was with open arms.

She also found out that first day that Julie was a lifelong friend of a woman she truly admired; a beautiful, powerful woman who took shit from no one, and whom she only admired more when Julie told Denise that she also liked girls. She was into guys too, but nobody's perfect. Someone smart enough to run her own country and beautiful enough to be the face of its tourism campaigns. Someone whom Julie had prank-called on Denise's phone and whose number was still in it, but she was always too scared to call after the woman had yelled at them the first time. She figured her number had to have been blocked by now anyway.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The woman that they'd rushed out of the house and onto a flight for Europe, so they could be by her side after some psycho had stabbed her. She watched the video in horror on TV and worried until Troy called her to tell her what was happening. Knowing how much Denise admired her, Julie had provided occasional text updates since.

Walking through the house, Denise took notice of the photos on the walls and shelves. There was a cute photo collage that Julie had told her was part of a video played at their wedding, showing her and Troy sleeping in each other's arms, starting as babies. One showed them at the age of four, Julie's feet covered with mud that had gotten all over the sheets and blankets, snuggled up to also-four-year-old Troy. Pictures from camping trips where they'd pushed their sleeping bags together, asleep in the back seat of someone's car; sitting up, but still snuggled together. In the center was the last photo from the video: the one that had been taken by Susan on the morning of the wedding day; always with Julie snuggled up to Troy and his arms wrapped around her.

And interspersed amongst the photos of their life together, a second girl who always kept her dark hair cut short. Her clothes weren't as nice as Julie's; until in the teenage photos, where the other girl started wearing Julie's clothes from previous pictures. And as they got older in the photos, there was a change in her smile. The younger version of the dark-haired girl's smile had always been genuine, but there was a dread about her smile. An impression that, whatever happy occasion going on in the photo, the girl knew that any good feelings that she was having right then would end as soon as she left. Only in the photos of her with the old, bearded man in the red smoking jacket, who looked like a Greek version of Santa Claus, did she ever seem to completely drop her guard and "allow" herself happiness.

The smile in the later photos; the ones where Denise suspected the girl was around her own age, told a different story. One where the shadow that loomed over the younger girl's soul seemed to have been conquered. It had left its mark on her forever, but the thing that had marked her was gone and would never return. And the world that she saw now held promise. One that took pride in each picture showing her with yet another college language club trophy. It was in the surprising number of those pictures that Denise thought she looked happiest.

Denise continued her task, looking at the three friends in the picture, and hoping that on the other side of the world, they were all smiling now.

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

That evening, back at the castle; Troy, Julie, Susan, Maria, Stavro, and Colleen's work/sleep/activity schedules had finally synchronized to the point that everyone could gather for dinner and conversation. They invited Generalissimo Ramirez to join them, however, he informed them that "the other woman besides La Contessa whose wrath he fears" would rather have him home for dinner on time for once.

They gathered in the front third of the dining hall; the remaining two-thirds of the large room not being needed for such a small number of guests. Therefore, the lights in the other two-thirds of the room were off to conserve electricity, causing the long banquet table to seem to disappear off into the darkness. Maria had asked the chefs to prepare a tasting menu of local dishes for Susan's first proper dinner in San Finzione. Jeanne served the small group; getting unrequested, but she knew to be well-meaning and unavoidable, assistance from Stavro. He proudly pointed out that the meat for the dishes had been provided by his father's shop.

"Thanks for this," Susan said, gesturing to the table and the six of them. "It's been a lot to take in, and I'm happy to see 'just you guys,' you know?" She turned to Maria. "You have every room on the Clue board in this place; did you know that?"

"Oh, si," Maria responded. "I laugh at the picture you send, where you are pretending to hit Troy with a candlestick in the Conservatory."

"Oh, aye," Colleen added. "Feck live chess, let's play live Cluedo!"

Julie hadn't seen the picture and started laughing first, which got everyone going.

"My God," Julie exclaimed. "You're right! There's even a fucking secret passage in the Study!" She turned to Troy. "Ok, you GOTTA get one with me and the rope in there!" She got up to show the picture to Jeanne and let her in on the joke in French.

"I'm glad you're in a good mood, Mistress," Troy replied. "Because Helen told me what we'd have to do to get Propappou's smoking jacket back."

Julie turned at that. Troy's great-grandfather had always worn a red velvet smoking jacket around the house; having been convinced by 1930s and 40s movies that smoking jackets were what successful American businessmen wore when they got home from a long day's work. It was in that jacket that he'd found his Propappou's old pocket watch, which he gave to Julie instead of the traditional ring, due to their shared life-long obsession with hypnosis and mind control that had led to them discovering the secret of how to do it in reality. It was that obsession that led to the habit, developed years before they became lovers, of calling each other "Master" and "Mistress" as pet names.

"Is she going to be all right to do that before we leave?"

"No, Mistress, the other thing."

"Well, which other thing," Julie asked. "There's like, five of them."

"The one that's probably going to keep us both busy most of the day tomorrow. I had to go shopping for supplies after the hospital." He looked down at the floor. "And a nice suit."

Julie's eyes widened as she realized what Helen wanted in exchange for the jacket's safe return. Troy walked over to the light switches as she responded.

"No, dammit! She can't do this!"

"Dearest One," Troy said back. "It's Helen. We both know she can, and she will. And before I left her, she said to tell you that if you're thinking about doing a half-ass job, I'm supposed to show you where she's going to hang it."

"I can fucking well tell you where she can hang..."

Troy flipped the switches that lit up the other two-thirds of the room. When the far end was visible, Julie could see what Troy was trying to show her, causing the insult to trail away.

A chair was placed some distance away from the table, facing the far wall. Next to it was a small table with an ash tray and a box of Kleenex tissues on top of it, and a small wastebasket underneath.

On the wall that the chair faced were two paintings, which looked small from where they were standing, but they could make out the subjects. The one on the right was a painting of Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione, Maria's great-grandfather and Helen's late husband. To his left was a painting that had clearly been based on a photograph, taken of an old Greek man with a bushy, white beard, who might have looked like Santa Claus with his red velvet smoking jacket on, if he'd been wearing the cap and red pants instead of tan. It was the same man whose name was on the building where Helen was currently recuperating.

Byroni Medina, Troy's Propappou. He'd been the first adult to understand that Helen's home was not a safe place for a little girl, and the first person to call her "Helena." He'd loved her like his own daughter and fought in the courts to get her away from Wade and adopt her, but lost every time. By the time Wade had killed her mother and been locked away, the courts had declared him too old to take care of her.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Although, like everyone except them, Propappou had known that Troy and Julie's hearts belonged to each other, he had hoped that Troy and Helena might one day marry, so that she could be his great-granddaughter at least. Unfortunately, she too had noticed the obvious attraction that Troy and Julie had lived in denial of until a little over a year ago.

To the left of Propappou's painting was an empty space on the wall, quite clearly reserved for a third painting. Julie walked to the end of the room to sit at the chair. Troy followed a few steps behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. The others watched from where they'd been seated.

* * *

A tear was forming in Julie's eye as she looked at them. Troy handed her a Kleenex.

"She said she needs it to complete the collection: The only three men she's ever really loved."

Julie wiped away the tear and exhaled.

"That fucking cunt," she said, slowly and evenly; not in anger, simply substituting the words for Helen's name. "Has been asking for me to do a portrait of you since we were last here, Master. She could have said it was for something like this."

"No, she couldn't, Mistress. That's not how she works. It involved an emotion that she couldn't play off."

They'd lost touch with Helen after she and Julie had met The Count in Madrid, while touring Europe after high college graduation. Their relationship had just ended badly, and Helen had decided to go back to the bar, to see if that rich-looking man who'd claimed to be a count was still there.

Julie's knowledge that Helena had the wherewithal and the lack of scruples to take the old man for everything led to the final argument that ended their relationship. As she packed her things to return to America and pursue her degree, Helen and The Count departed for his suite.

Julie had been on the plane home that night, when, after the sex turned out to be better that Helen had expected, and she and the older man with the surprising stamina started talking to each other. A talk that occupied the rest of the night and continued through breakfast; past "getting to know you" stories, and into serious tales of their pasts.

His tales of burying his wife at a young age. Seeing his children and grandchildren fall prey to the decadent excesses of the idle rich, telling her that "Lamborghini and Cocaine have killed more San Finziones than the entire Renaissance." How the once-proud Familia de San Finzione was now only "greedy and spoiled distant relations, with one eye on my blood pressure and the other on the throne." And of the great-granddaughter that he felt was La Familia's last hope, "the last little piece of me that will remain in this world after I am gone."

The stories reminded Helen of Propappou's stories of the people he'd buried in his own long life; both of his wives, and Troy's grandparents and parents. And soon her own stories started flowing. Stories of climbing out her bedroom window and running from the house in the middle of the night to escape Wade's rampages. Of the wonderful old man who took one look at her and understood that her home was a Hell to be escaped, and loved her like the father she never had. Her story of seeing Wade beat her mother to death reminded him of hearing the Nazis broadcast his father's execution live over the radio for failing to give up the Resistance cell that was hiding young Lord Vincenzo.

They discovered more things in common, and the weekend became a week; during which, Helen noticed that she'd hardly done The Thing to the handsome old man at all. Which became an invitation for the beautiful woman who was more intelligent, confident, and a better fuck than any he'd known in decades to come home to San Finzione with him. Which quickly became the kind of whirlwind romance and marriage that both of them had previously thought only existed in movies. And, as sometimes also happened in movies, came to a sudden end.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

After they'd left San Finzione before, she'd opened up to Troy about it. When they first reunited at his bachelor party, Helen had tried to downplay her grief by pretending to be callous about Vincenzo's death. Once she'd told Troy more of the story, he informed her that he'd seen her pictures with the Count on TV, that he knew what Helen In Love looked like, and had hoped that their prank would bring her out of her shell.

Because of how she and Julie had parted in Madrid, they avoided talking about that time and Vincenzo. Sitting here now, seeing that Helena had hung the Count's portrait on the same wall with Propappou had told Julie more than she ever had.

Julie looked around the chair. The little table had room for a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a drink to go next to the ashtray and box of Kleenex. She looked straight ahead at Propappou, then right at Vincenzo.

"She spends hours here." Julie said, looking over at the blank spot where she saw now that a painting of Troy should be. "You said you got everything, Master?"

"Art supply shops at the marketplace had all your brands, Mistress. I got you some color choices, we can go back down there in the morning with your eye if you don't like what I got.

Julie opened her mouth to insult Helen again, but the insult died in her throat.

"I'm sure you got the right supplies. We can start when there's decent light in the garden. She'll want you in front of the..." Julie bristled. "Rose bushes."

"She doesn't love them to make fun of you, Sunflower. She loves them because they remind her of you."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm counting this as a prank."

"Hon," Troy said. "She's injured."

"And I was naked on stage for her last one. She gets home the day after tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Troy said, suspiciously. "But we're gonna be busy with this all day tomorrow."

"Oh, I know," Julie said, looking back down the table, where everyone else had decided to let them be and continued their conversation. "She'll get her portrait of my husband. We'll get it done in time, and it'll be a piece worthy of its place amongst these two other great men." She got up and took Troy's hand.

They started walking back toward the others.

"Doesn't mean fucking with her's off the table, though." She said.

* * *

"So," Susan asked, Maria, enjoying the coffee that Jeanne had prepared for after the meal. "When Helen gets home, will you both be Contessas or will she be Contessa again and you're back to Lady Maria?"

"I am not so lucky," Maria said, tired from her long day. "I shall still be Contessa-In-Reggenza until Great-Grandmama feels ready to resume her duties, and then there is a very small ceremony. I will put on the tiara and take the scepter out of its case, and we will go out onto the Speaking Balcony overlooking the Courtyard, we will say a few words to each other, I will hand her the scepter, remove the tiara and place it on her head, and then we will go back inside and she will put the scepter and tiara back in their cases and be Contessa once more."

"Sounds kind of boring," Susan replied.

"Si," came Maria's answer. "Over the centuries, very few of the Counts or Contessas, once power transferred to them, willingly gave it back."

"Good thing ya canceled tha' fitting appointment, then," Colleen replied. "If you're only going to be wearing it a few minutes."

"And I'm guessing it's all in Italian, so I won't get it anyway." Susan thought aloud as Troy and Julie re-entered conversational range.

"Great-Grandmama has to make the decision to return to duty and declare it first. At that time, I will cheerfully return the tiara and scepter to her."

Julie stepped into the conversation.

"How's she getting home? I mean, this is Helena here. She's not going to want to leave the hospital in a wheelchair, surrounded by cameras and reporters."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Maria stopped to think.

"I suppose she could take the helicopter. If she is all right to fly at that time."

Julie beckoned Maria over to the corner and whispered something to her.

"Si, we do have one," Maria responded curiously. "It is in the museum, though. No San Finzione has used it in over six hundred years."

"No San Finzione has needed to be 'gotten' by me as much in over six hundred years either."

"We would have to see if it is even still serviceable. But she would be so..."

"She'll think it was my idea, anyway. Or that I made you do it. I wouldn't do that to you, though. Ya know, unless you wanted me to, in order to sell the story."

"No, no. The more I think of it, the funnier it sounds."

"So, you're in?"

"Si, why not?"

The two laughed and hugged each other before rejoining the group to tell them the plan.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 20

"Big men often tremble,
as they step aside.
I thought I was big once.
She changed my mind.
She's actual size, but she seems much bigger to me.
I've never known anybody like her.
She's actual size. Nationwide, believe." -They Might Be Giants, "She's Actual Size"

The next day passed quickly. While Julie painted Troy's portrait during the day, and Maria continued taking on the business of running the country, Colleen showed Susan around the city. Stavro had returned to work at the Citizens' Grievance Office, which had surprisingly little to handle that day. Even the regulars, who showed up with a new complaint or the same one every day, seemed to understand that La Contessa-In-Reggenza had enough to deal with at the moment, and their neighbor's yappy dog could be dealt with another time.

In the evening, Troy and Julie visited Helen together. The doctors agreed that the prognosis was good enough for Dr. Maisson, Jeanne, and a couple of temporary resident nurses to continue her recovery back at the castle. Barring anything happening in the night, she would be released for in-home care the next day.

Helen had gotten Troy and Julie to wheel her down to the cafeteria for a cigarette, and was enjoying every drag. She was wearing Propappou's red smoking jacket, her head and right hand poking out of the garment that was far too big for her. Her left arm was in a sling, completely concealed under the robe; and her right stuck out of a bunched-up sleeve, holding her smoke.

Helen's morale had been improved by the knowledge that the portrait was done. Julie gave her a message from Maria, followed by insulting Helena for not just saying why she wanted Troy's portrait so badly. Helena thanked her for the message and insulted her back about why It wasn't enough that Julie knew she wanted it so badly, and then normal conversation was able to continue.

"How's Susan doing?" Helena asked them, taking a puff.

"Now that she's not having to keep us from going to pieces," Julie said, taking a sip of the orange soda that she'd bought with dinner. "It's kind of an adventure for her. She got Ramirez to take her to the..." Julie paused, trying to think of a better word than "assassin" or "Guy who tried to kill you." She settled on "The Fucker's motel room, and she caught some important details for them."

Helena smiled.

"Ramirez told me. It sounds like she's coming along really well with The Thing, then. I mean, observation is, like, a third of it. And from what he said, it took a lot of confidence to say the things she did."

Troy took a sip of Julie's soda before replying.

"If it wasn't so hokey, I'd say something about how she's always had it inside her..."

"It is, Master," Julie said, cutting him off. "So, please don't. Unless you were building up to a sex joke, in which case, sorry." Julie tried to think of a decent sex joke of her own to make, but the moment had passed, so she continued. "But yeah, she got me through the worst day since The Houses were sold." She thought for a moment. "Wait, no! The worst day since the LAST time we thought you were dead, bitch!"

She thought another moment, and Helen was about to respond when Julie raised her hand.

"You didn't go to all this to get me to paint the fucking portrait, did you?"

Helen looked down at her abdomen, at the area that was beneath a hospital gown and the folds of Propappou's jacket; where she could feel the bandages covering her wounds. She pulled down the neck of her gown to show the stitched cut on her right breast, then tilted her neck to show them the cut on it.

"The tourism ad campaign after the Festival ends is going to be 'Visit Our Lovely Beaches.' As soon as Maisson says I'm able, I'm going to shoot a commercial in a two-piece thong bikini, playing volleyball with a bunch of supermodels. I'm supposed to dive into the sand to return a serve, then stand up, turn to the camera, lower my sunglasses, wink, smile, and give JUST enough nipple poke-through and boob bounce for the talking head shows to make a 'controversy' out of it and give us loads of free advertising. Then, I'm supposed to say 'And you never know WHO you'll meet on the beach!' And after we get it right, I have to do the whole thing again in nineteen other languages. I'm going to have to get the scars removed for that, Julie. I want to see all three of the most important men in my life, not join the other two!"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Helen took a deep drag and pulled a thick manila envelope from within the depths of the smoking jacket.

"Besides, I'd never ask an artist to work for free. I've always intended to pay you."

"You know I don't want money, Helena."

"I said 'pay,' not 'insult.' Those will always be on the house for you, Hon." She tossed the envelope onto the table, toward her. It landed with a jingling noise. "I know the day The Houses sold was the saddest day of your life. You were so sad, in fact, that you never stopped to think 'Who the fuck would pay asking price for both your parents' houses, a few hours apart, on the same day?'"

Julie gave Helen a shocked look, letting her know that she really hadn't thought about it much. She let out a small "fu..." sound before stopping herself. Helen continued.

"They were my home too, you know. Deed and keys to your new summer place in Anchorage are in there. It's one property, now that I finally got that tunnel we always talked about put in. Now, don't pull that shit again."

Troy and Julie smiled in silence, but they gave each other a shocked and happy look at the mention of the secret tunnel they'd talked about digging between their two houses since they were all kids.

"Well fuck, thanks, Helena! I'd show you how grateful I am, but I don't think you'll be up to it before we have to go home." Julie looked at her phone. "We'd better get back and see how Susan's day's been. We'll try to be here to wheel you home in the morning."

"No." Helen replied. "I can't be seen leaving the hospital in a wheelchair. I have to show that this fucker hasn't gotten to me in the slightest."

"You were stabbed." Troy commented. "And everyone leaves the hospital in a wheelchair. I think it's a law or something."

"Troy," Helen asked the man that she thought of as "The first boy I ever truly loved." "Who do you think is the most hated woman in the world?"

"Hilary Cli-"

"Second."

"You." Troy answered without hesitation.

"Exactly," Helen replied. "You'd have liked Vincenzo, Troy. He believed that kindness could work, too. Do you know just how many people's agendas that very concept; that kindness can work in this world, fucks with? San Finzione is converting to 100% solar and wind power within the next three years. We're expected to generate a surplus that we can sell to our neighbors. How many oil and nuclear power companies do you think that idea sits well with? The government and Società Finzione have a true working partnership that benefits both, but always puts The People's needs first. How many industries do you think would just shut down if Vincenzo's ideals took hold in America? With the warlords scattered and in retreat, our troops in Uongo are helping the Uongoians take back their homeland; like the proud, strong people that they'd always been, and I knew that they could be again with a little help from their friends. Anything you do in Africa, good or bad, pisses off somebody. Our minimum wage, retirement, and disabled pensions pay enough to survive with dignity. Do we have people on TV arguing that the poor should die, simply for BEING poor! That part happens here, too. But we sure as fuck don't give someone like that power!

"The man who stabbed me was NOT the only person in the world to wake up that morning, plotting my death. He got through, but Maria can show you the Ultimados' after-action reports about the couple of hundred that they've taken down since Vincenzo and I announced our engagement. Sometimes, I don't even learn about them until I read about it in the next morning's report."

Helen took a breath before continuing.

"Lately, especially after our talks the last time you guys came here; I've remembered the importance of his vision. Propappou would have liked it, and someone told me he wouldn't appreciate how I got where I am today."

Troy looked down, remembering telling her that, before learning more of her side of the story. She turned to Julie.

"Yeah, you thought I'd really fucked an old man to death to get his crown. It was one of the first things you said to me after all that time." The look on her face was too sad to match the anger in her words, as was her voice. "And I encouraged it in you, I admit; because I'd rather have your disgust than your sadness, Julie. I got enough of that when we were kids."

She turned to look at the pair of them, wincing.

"So, no, I can't afford to allow myself weakness, even in the eyes of the people that I love the most. Those other people who get to leave in a wheelchair aren't surrounded by cameras when they do it; or have enemies constantly seeking any advantage to exploit. I could take the helicopter, but the doctors are concerned about my stitches and turbulence. Yes, it's about image; however, no, it's not about my ego."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Julie gave an understanding nod, then received a text.

"Well, I'm certain we can come up with something befitting you, Helena. Just a sec."

Julie typed a response. Under her breath, she muttered as she typed.

"Hey! Yeah, we're with her right now." She hit Send and looked back up.

"Hmm," Helen hummed curiously. "Who was that?"

"Oh, Denise. Young friend I met recently. Helped her out with a problem. Thanks to you, actually." Julie got a reply. "Denise says to get well soon, by the way. She's taking care of the house while we're gone. Huge fan of yours, you 'talked to her' once."

Julie grinned. Helen immediately knew what the grin and emphasis were about.

"Well, 'stop giving out my fucking number' aside, if I've re-learned anything recently, it's that your choice in friends means she's got to be pretty special. Tell me about her."

* * *

The following day, Contessa Helena de San Finzione was ready to leave the hospital. Dr. Tenente Paul Maisson of La Squadra de Ultimados wheeled her into the elevator.

"The electric one's ready at the castle?" She asked in French, wearing Propappou's bathrobe over the pajamas that had been brought for her. "Not that I'm not grateful for the extra security of an Ultimado at my back, just that however long you want me in this thing, I'd rather get myself around."

Because she had both internal and external stitching to be concerned with, Maisson had ordered her to be on bed rest for the next two weeks, depending on how she was healing. Helena wasn't going to do The Thing to her doctor for not liking his advice, so they negotiated and met at "wheelchair-bound, with close monitoring."

"Oui, Contessa," Dr. Maisson replied. "Everything has arrived and is set up at the castle."

Maisson had given La Contessa a list of the medical equipment and supplies that would be needed for her recuperation to continue back at the castle, and she arranged for the newest models to be ordered from the manufacturers, so that she could donate the equipment to the hospital afterwards.

"Good." She said with a nod as the elevator came to the ground floor. Helen picked up her phone with her right hand, her left arm still in a sling, and activated the microphone.

"Message to Jeanne: Hey, Jeanne, I need to put together a special gift bag when I get home. Different from the usual ones, I'm probably going to send you to the marketplace with a list." She looked up at Dr. Tenente Maisson. "Also, can't believe I've never thought to look into this myself; can you find out if I get to knight people? Always wondered about that. Thanks."

He wheeled her through back corridors toward the ambulance garage.

"Thought Troy and Julie were going to be here." She told Maisson.

"They may not have anticipated the traffic. The main road from the hospital to the castle is closed to vehicle traffic for your journey home."

Helen nodded at that. They entered the garage, where an ambulance was parked.

"I'm leaving in one of those?" Helen asked. "That's worse than being seen in the wheelchair!"

"Non, Contessa," Maisson replied. "Contessa-In-Reggenza Maria said that your transport home should be more... er... 'becoming of you.'"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Helen looked at him curiously.

"She sent the carriage and horses?"

"Not quite, Contessa."

He wheeled her around the ambulance, to reveal her ride home.

Helen looked it over in amusement.

"I'm pretty fucking sure this wasn't Contessa Maria's idea, Maisson." She wheeled to the door, and Maisson helped her into the conveyance. "But something tells me that the person whose it was wouldn't do it if you didn't say it was safe. And I'm not going to give that skanky cow the satisfaction of backing down. See you back at the castle, Doc."

* * *

At a table in an outdoor café outside the San Finzione Marketplace, The Yia-Yia sat with her vino. Today, however, she was not alone.

A young couple, about Tessa's age, had stopped by her table. When they offered to buy her another bottle, she remembered them from about a year ago. The Greek Boy and his new American Bride. They'd been on their honeymoon and had something to do with that funny business in the park. They'd brought a second woman with them this time, who didn't speak Greek, not even on Mrs. Greek Boy's "American, but trying so hard, God bless her" level; so they didn't have much to say to each other. She didn't ask, but from what she could see of the three of them together, the Greek Boy and his wife had some kind of 'French' arrangement with the other woman, and they all seemed happy.

As they talked, the Yia-Yia noticed that there were no cars passing the corner where the café stood. The sidewalks, on the other hand, were crowded with people holding signs and watching the street. The three seated with her glanced toward the street, occasionally. They appeared to be waiting for something, like all the others; but they'd taken time to stop and have a drink with her, so that made them good kids, like Tessa. She wondered if they were friends of hers.

Soon, the crowd around them seemed to perk up, as if someone had spotted the thing they were all waiting for. The youngsters turned toward the street, phones at the ready, just like every young person these days. The noise of the crowd turned to cheering, and it looked like they were throwing confetti into the streets.

A slow-moving security officer car was the first thing the Yia-Yia saw. Even she might have been able to catch up with it at the speed it was driving. It was followed by four soldiers with their automatic rifles at the ready. The young people kept filming as the next sight appeared.

Eight oiled, muscular men; wearing nothing but loincloths, were carrying a litter on two poles. Mounted atop the poles was an antique carriage for a single occupant. Ornately carved, the carriage was inlaid with gold and silver trim, and studded with emeralds. The side doors bore the crest of La Familia de San Finzione.

The Yia-Yia only saw the occupant's face for a moment, but could have sworn that the woman inside the carriage was Tessa. Then she thought against it. Tessa wasn't like that woman. Tessa wouldn't have pointed accusingly at the Greek Boy's wife, or given her a look that was equal parts love, anger, and amusement. Maybe it was that woman who sort of looked like Tessa, from the posters some of the young people were still carrying. If she remembered by the time she saw Tessa again, she'd have to tell her about this aristocratic snob who bore a bit of a resemblance to her.

The three younger people had to leave soon after she passed. They said goodbye quickly, but politely, then started running in the direction that the marchers had been going last night. The Yia-Yia watched as the Greek Boy and his wife grabbed each other's hand before they ran across the street and out of sight.

The Yia-Yia wondered what was so interesting in that direction, and considered getting up and following them to see, when the waiter came and refilled her wine glass.

Yeah, why change a good thing now?

* * *

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Contessa Helena de San Finzione tried to will her cheeks not to redden and waved to the crowds while the eight Ultimados carried her through the streets. The signs that people were carrying, as the men ran her from the hospital to the castle, were mostly positive ones about her; rather than the usual 50-50 ratio.

Seeing so many of The People take to the streets to wish her well reminded Helen that even Julie couldn't have arranged all this without Maria's participation. And she wouldn't do The Thing to Maria for the sake of a prank, so Maria must have thought it would be funny and agreed to it. By the time they'd reached the bottom of the hill up to the castle, the smile on Helen's face had changed from the one she used for waving to crowds to the real one she used when she was proud of Maria.

"Welcome, Dearest One," Helen thought to herself. "To MY family now."

The Ultimados took her through the castle gates, which closed behind them. They continued the journey to the main entrance, where Maria, Stavro, Jeanne, Troy, Julie, Susan, Colleen, Maisson, Generalissimo Ramirez, his wife and two children; were applauding her entrance. The Ultimados gently set the litter down in front of them, where a motorized wheelchair was waiting. Troy, Stavro, and Maisson stepped forward to help her out of the litter and into the wheelchair.

"How did you guys beat me here," she asked Troy. "They would've had to close the roads for this."

"Turns out we know someone who owns a helicopter," he answered. "Caught a lift with Dr. Tenente Maisson."

The three men backed away quickly, aware that someone else had top hugging priority. Maria ran up to her Great-Grandmama, then stopped as she tried to figure out how to hug her without hurting her. Troy helped guide Maria's hands to where it would be safe to wrap her arms around her and begin the hug. Nobody bothered to note how long it lasted; however, it went on for some time, and many tears and whispered words in Italian were involved.

Troy and Stavro's hugs were next, due to their immediate proximity afterwards. Julie gave Colleen her spot in line because she hadn't been able to get to the hospital, so had gone the longest without seeing Helen. Julie went next, and while Jeanne thought over whether or not she should hug her mistress in public, Violeta and the children took her turn. Afterwards, Helena motioned for Jeanne to come for one as well, and she complied. The Generalissimo and Maisson settled for salutes, which Helena returned.

That left one member of the group. The others stood back as Helen gave the control stick on her chair a few experimental tries before wheeling over to Susan; still standing by Ramirez. A few seconds passed, neither of them knowing what to say first. Helen broke the silence by extending her right hand.

"Hi." Helen said.

Susan reached out and took her hand.

"Hi." Susan responded.

They shook twice and stopped, both of their eyes conveying the message to each other "We have a lot more to talk about, but this is not the place." Susan looked up from Helen to see everyone else with their backs turned, talking amongst themselves about things they should go take care of right now.

Helen started to look, before her left shoulder reminded her not to turn her head too far for a while. She turned the control stick on the chair to see everyone pointedly looking away from the two of them, over-casually walking off in groups.

"It would seem," Helen said to Susan, as the castle entrance was clearing. "That we're being left with some free time here. Give me an hour or so to get cleaned up and into something besides a hospital gown or jammies, and meet me in the ballroom?"

Susan thought it odd that Helen would want to meet her in the place where she'd been stabbed, but agreed. Helen tried not to look too far over her shoulder to call for Maisson and Jeanne.

"I imagine I'm going to need some help with all that for a while." Helen explained. "That's why I say an hour or so."

Susan agreed again, and went into the castle to find something to do until then. She decided to begin the hike to the ballroom.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

A Little Night Music Ch. 21

"I can see her lookin' fast in her faded jeans.
She's a hard-lovin' woman, got me feelin' mean.
Sometimes, I think it's a shame,
when I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losin' again.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin' round my back stair.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin' round my back stair.
Sometimes, I think it's a sin,
when I feel like I'm winning, and I'm losing again."
-Gordon Lightfoot, "Sundown"

Susan Bailey explored a bit more to kill time before entering the Grand Ballroom of Castle Finzione about an hour later. Wikipedia had stated that construction on the Grand Ballroom began in 1658; however, the security officer tape around about a quarter of the room was almost certainly a more recent addition.

"Mademoiselle Bailey," One of La Policia's officers, who were guarding the cordoned-off portion of the large room that had been designated the crime scene, said when she entered. "La Contessa is waiting for you on the patio." He pointed to one of the sets of French doors at the other end of the room.

"Thanks," Susan said, having never been called Mademoiselle before that moment. She thought she recognized the officer. "Hey, weren't you at the motel a couple days ago?"

"Oui." The officer said, with a smile. "I heard your conversation with Le Prefect. I was telling the other officers about it."

He turned to the other officers, gave Susan a pat on the shoulder that would have made her uncomfortable, if the intent hadn't been so obviously friendly; and said something to the other security officermen in French. Susan gathered from her name and their applause that the message was "This is that woman I was just telling you about, the one who got in the Prefect's face."

Her time in San Finzione was teaching her the value of learning a second language. Susan had concluded that Klingon might not have been the best choice for hers, and that she should learn a third. Troy had told her that Italian would be the most useful for getting around San Finzione, as that was the primary of the four official languages of the country. Most citizens spoke at least one of the other three, as well; English, Spanish, or French. He'd said the tourism brochures often boasted "if the person you're talking to can't help you, the person next to them probably can".

Troy also pointed out that with Helen's gift for languages, she would be an excellent teacher, and probably happy to help. The conversation she was about to walk into would determine that possibility.

She looked over at the spot where outlines in tape showed where Helen and the assassin's bodies fell. Susan felt a little chill as she crossed the Grand Ballroom to the patio and stepped out onto it.

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in her wheelchair on the patio, looked at the garden below, and smoked. She heard the French doors behind her open, turned her head, and her shoulder made her instantly regret it. She winced and turned the chair around instead, to face Susan. Susan determined by the butts already in the ash tray that she hadn't needed as much time to clean up and change as she'd estimated, and Helen had been waiting out here a while.

"Weird choice for a place to talk," said Susan. "Having to go right by where that happened a few days ago."

"I couldn't avoid it forever." Helen responded, putting out her cigarette. "The last time they were here, Julie and I talked out on this patio. Things that needed to be said got said, and we... well, we're where we are today as a result. I'm hoping that maybe, this turns out to be a lucky spot."

Susan nodded her understanding. Helen wheeled over to the table with the two chairs where she and Julie sat and moved the chair in her spot aside to wheel up to the table. She gestured to the tray on the table.

"I wasn't sure what you drink," Helen explained. "So, Jeanne made tea."

"That sounds nice," Susan replied, and sat down. Since Helen was operating with one hand, Susan poured her a cup before her own. "Here ya go..." Susan had to stop herself before she added the "hon" and "anything else for you, sweetie," and sat back down, slightly flushed.

"Hey," Helen said with a tiny smile as she took out another cigarette. "If anyone understands old habits."

She put it in her mouth, and as she was bringing the lighter up to it, stopped herself. Helen took the cigarette out of her mouth and made a "do you mind" gesture to Susan. Her response was a mixture of a turn of her head and a shrug, so Helen nodded and resumed lighting it.

A few seconds of silence passed as Helen smoked and Susan sipped before Helen spoke again.

"I should be the one to start. I hope that I haven't already said it so much that it comes off as a line; however, it feels like the best place to begin. I am deeply sorry and thoroughly regret what I did and how I treated you, Susan. Not knowing what you'd been through before excuses nothing. You didn't deserve it, and it is entirely my fault."

Susan listened while she drank, then set her cup down.

"And I sincerely thank you, Helen. I must admit, it did feel like a line the first time, and that has certainly colored things. The video you made helped me see that. You were right about the poor choice of words."

Helen nodded in response, took a puff of her cigarette, then set it in an ash tray so she could pick up her own cup and take a drink.

"I really should have known better. Someday, I may tell just how much."

"In all fairness," Susan told her. "Troy and Julie hadn't told me a lot about you before we met. And the things they had to say... weren't bad, but certainly not good. I didn't even know your name until that moment, just that there was 'someone else out there who can Do What We Do.'"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"God," Helen replied. "They prepared you for Dr. Doom!" She thought for a moment. "Ok, yeah. I totally see that. After Julie and I parted in Madrid, I didn't really talk to them for a while; except for the odd 'I've got a problem that only you and Troy can understand, and can't or don't want to bug Troy about it' call. They always answered those, and so did I. Whatever you come away thinking of me, Susan, I hope you know that you've got that, too. I wish I'd been better about doing it back then."

Helen resumed smoking as Susan replied.

"I know. And I hope I've proved it as well." Helen nodded and Susan continued. "I know that a big part of this has to do with me, too. Chad always seemed to sense when he was about to push me to the point of leaving him or telling someone who'd listen about the things he did to me. And suddenly, he'd bring home flowers, or order pizza and let me pick a movie, even 'that nerd stuff you like.' And he'd be nice for a day or two before starting back up again."

"Yeah, if Wade did anything nice or slightly loving, it was a setup for later." Helen thought for a drag, and coughed a bit on the exhale as something dawned on her. "Oh, fuck! Oh, Susan! I made you feel lesser, and then tossed you a big bag of expensive gifts! No wonder you thought that of me! Knowing that now still forgives nothing; however, I hope that I can at least explain who I was back then. Not out of any effort to excuse or garner pity, simply so that you can measure it against who I've been working to be since then. I would hope you don't know as much as I do about probation and parole hearings. That said, it's the procedure to which I'm most accustomed."

Susan agreed. Helen finished her cup. Susan got up to pour her another, but she insisted on doing it herself. After a couple of fumbles with sugar cubes, Susan finished the job for her.

"Eh, I loosened it for ya," Helen said with a smile. Susan had heard her say that before and got a kick out of it. "Well, I guess it all starts with Troy & Julie."

"Most things do, yeah." Susan replied. Helen stirred her cup, looked down at the ground, then back up at Susan before speaking.

"I love those two so fucking much. I always have. I'm not going to bore you with the 'daddy beat me' shit; you know all about that. I respect you too much to try to 'play that card,' like it's my note from Mommy, excusing me from The Human Race."

Susan nodded and commented.

"Yeah. Someone warned me once about laying all our tragedy cards on the table and seeing who wins."

Helen leaned forward and cupped her forehead in her right hand. The motion of her neck was felt in her shoulder, but she didn't care.

"You weren't insulting me when you said I was a bitch, just being really accurate. What I will say, is that I know I would have died long ago without them and Propappou. Through most of my childhood and teen years, they saved my life again and again. They taught me The Thing because Wade just decided one night, "time to kill the little bitch.' Wade and Marion Parker were not my family, they were. In as real a way as I know that they're yours, too, Susan. They love you, like I know they love me. But they were always sad and scared for me along with it. And then they were worried about the lengths that I might go to with The Thing. They had good reason, too. I figured Life fucking owed me for dumping me into the Parker family, and I used The Thing to collect on that debt."

"Like seducing and marrying your way to the throne?" Susan asked.

Helen's reaction wasn't hurt or angry, so much as "Yeah, I figured that was coming eventually."

"That's the popular version, and the one I chose to let them believe. When I first met my husband, Julie and I had just had our 'final argument,' and... well, Vincenzo was quite a handsome old fellow. I'm not a total Silver Fox Hound, but you know how they say that women are attracted to men who remind us of our fathers? Well, the man I regard as my father fought in World War I. And I won't lie and say that I didn't have little cartoon dollar signs shooting out of my eyes and hear a cash register noise when I approached him, but can't one thing become another? Can't you meet someone who sees right through the façade you put on for everyone else and just... reaches into your heart and pulls out the person you wish you were?"

"That can certainly happen, yes." Susan mused, remembering how a trip to the library to use the computer had changed her entire life.

"Before him, I had met exactly two men, in the entire world, that I would describe as 'good.' One was denied me by Wade and the courts, the other by the fact that his heart belonged to the girl I'd just broken up with; because I knew her heart belonged to him, too; even if both of them were too blind to see it."

"They were a couple when I met them," Susan commented. "And they just immediately and completely welcomed me into their lives. As far as having a man in my life, I went from Chad to Troy, with no stops in-between."

"That's got to be the complete opposite ends of the spectrum as far as men go." Helen replied with a laugh. Susan laughed too, and Helen avoided watching her breasts bounce as she did. Even though Susan was fully dressed, Helen could still picture Suzy-Q's body under her dress. Suzy-Q had said that she and 'the others' all looked exactly like Susan, and caught herself wondering how accurate the statement had been.

Susan broke the silence after the laughter died down, and before it had time to get awkward.

"My one experience with another woman before I'd met them had been a disaster. Julie totally opened my eyes there. Well, Claire did first, then Julie. I've never seen two people as much in love as her and Troy, and I am honored that they share it with me.