Title: The Conscience of a Prince

Author: Birgitt Schuknecht

Fandom: due South

Rating: PG

Pairing: none

Category: drama

Disclaimer: The characters used in the following story are not mine. I do not make any money out of this. It's written for fun and for the fans of the show.

Spoilers: inspired by "The Deal" (sequel to "Conscience of a Knight")

By Birgitt Schuknecht.

"Frankie! Frankie!" I can hear my sister calling my name, but I don't have any intention to answer her. It's quite all right to lie on my bed, waiting. She will come up eventually. What would be the point to get up? I'm still tired, although I've slept for nearly twelve hours. I look over to the alarm clock, it's a quarter past ten. Sunshine streams into my room through the closed shutters, creating strange patterns on the walls. I close my eyes again.

Now I can hear my sister's steps on the stairs. She will be here any moment now. When she sees that I'm still in bed, she'll drag me out of it. Irene is two years younger than me, but she is quite determined for such a little girl. Sometimes I think she's the only person in the world who does not fear me - apart from my father and Charlie, of course. But even the thought of Irene pulling me out of my bed does not give me enough strength to get out of this... safe place on my own. Perhaps I'm just waiting for her to make me leave my bed and my room.

As long as I stay in bed I won't have to face my father. I know that he wants to see me. And I know that he has discussed everything that happened last night with Charlie. They will have a plan ready. Maybe they've even carried it out by now. Charlie is quite... efficient.

He works for my father. And he is the only one my father trusts completely. Sometimes I think he likes Charlie better than me. But I am his only son! I couldn't stand if he liked Charlie better than me. I'd love to know for certain... But Father never tells me. All he says is. "Remember, Francesco, one day you'll be responsible here. I expect you to follow your destination. You will have to give up many things other children have, in order to become the man I want you to become. But you will gain power. Power and influence. Would you like that?"

It's only now that I understand what he means with those words. The first time I heard them was when I became a student at the local school. I didn't answer him then, because I had no answer. All I could do was staring at him and feeling small and lonely. I did not want to go to school, I'd preferred to stay at home. People at home did everything I wanted them to do. My nanny, my mother, all the servants in the house. Father's employees, too. Except Charlie and Irene of course. And I wanted it to stay it that way. Going to school meant that I had to face new people who wouldn't treat me... properly.

But after a few days at school I realised how wrong I had been. And it gave me a first impression what Father had meant with his words. The other kids and also the teachers treated me with respect. And they feared what I could do to them. I don't know how it worked, but it did, even if I didn't understand it. All people seemed eager to please me.

Well, not all. There was one who didn't respect me. And he still doesn't. Ray Vecchio. The thought of him brings me back to the present. I'll have to get down eventually. And Irene will be here in a minute, I hear her steps in the hallway now. The moment the door opens I'm getting dressed. I finish closing the last buttons of my white shirt and tuck it into my jeans.

My sister's face is slightly flushed and she has difficulties to catch her breath. She must have run most of way up. Finally she brings out, "F... Frankie, Father wants to see y... you. Now, he said." I bend down to put on my sneakers. When I'm all ready I go over to Irene who still stands at the open door.

"I know he's waiting. But I was so tired..." I interrupt myself, annoyed that I try to explain my behaviour to my little sister. Irene ever has this effect on me. Then I usually get angry with myself, and her of course. But she never fears me when I yell at her. And I don't dare to slap her, or something. After all, she is a Zuko.

I take her by her shoulders and steer her out of the room. We go down to our father's study in silence. Maybe she feels that I'm quite nervous now. She once told me that she doesn't like to go into Father's rooms. They are so dark and large. And she doesn't like Charlie. Although she never shows her fear. Sometimes I cannot avoid admiring her courage.

"You do not need to come with me," I tell her now, but I like the idea that she will stay with me all the same. And I'm not disappointed. She shakes her head and looks up to me. Her dark hair is a bit unruly, but that doesn't do any harm to her prettiness. All the time there is a sparkle in her equally dark eyes. I have seen her crying only once, and in the wake of it, the sparkle in her eyes was gone for some time. That was when our mother died, three years ago. I cried myself then and the night after Irene came into my room. I let her into my bed, pretending to be her caring big brother. But I was glad she came. I feared to sleep, because I hated to have nightmares.

I have nightmares quite often. Not every night, no. But every time my father holds me a lecture. He says that it's part of my education. All his employees spy on me and report to him afterwards. And the most... observant man is Charlie. There's nothing I can hide from him. And then I have to face my father again. His green eyes seem to look into my very heart and soul. And his look chills me. And I always have nightmares afterwards.

That is another reason for me to feel uncomfortable Ray Vecchio. I know it's kind of silly, but Ray has green eyes - like my father. No, that's not right. They are different, very different. My father's eyes are kind of dead compared to Ray's. His eyes sparkle with golden specks in them. But they are green and that reminds me of my father. And then Ray's behaviour. He's in the same class with me. At first I thought he would be my friend like all the others were. But he rejected me right from the start.

I couldn't allow this. I'm Frankie Zuko. I'm not to be ignored. And that's what Ray tried to do. But I showed him different. And I would have won him over in the end weren't it for the betrayal of Marco Mitrani. This little shit. Both of them. If they'd treated me different yesterday wouldn't have happened. I'm not to blame for it. I had to defend my rights. And I'm sure Father will see this. He was angry last night when I told him what happened at the school yard. At first I thought he'd slap me. But he didn't. He just sent me to bed. I had difficulties to sleep. I feared to have nightmares. But in the end I must have dozed off. And I didn't have a nightmare.

Now! This is curious. It's just now that I realise that I slept well. No dreams or even nightmares I could remember. When I woke this morning I was still a little tired, but not exhausted from tossing the whole night. I glance over to Irene as we go down the stairs, both of us walking very slowly. I stop and Irene turns to look at me. "What is it, Frankie?" Her voice is calm, shows no strain at all. Again I'm forced to wonder where she gets all her spirit from.

"Nothing, I'm just thinking." With that I settle down on the next step. And Irene sits down beside me, leaning her head on my right arm. I try to concentrate. No nightmares. I had no nightmares. After what I did to Marco. After my father lectured on me. No nightmares. Maybe... Just maybe everything I did last night was right. Slowly I nod. Yes. Those two little creeps wouldn't dare to challenge me again. Not Marco. And not Ray. Both should know their place now. If Marco lives that is. Perhaps I was a little hard on him. But he deserved it. And after I'd started to bash him I could not stop before I saw his eyes go dead.

What did I feel? Didn't I feel right? Well, at first, I didn't think at all. No, it was just a... an instinct to snatch the ball from Carlo and attack Marco. But when I saw Marco's eyes losing contact with reality I felt... good. Powerful. I could decide if I wanted to kill him. Or not. I controlled his life. And Ray could not stop me. I silenced him as well. When I was finished with Marco I looked up at Ray. His eyes were wide open. He stared at Marco, I think, but I do not believe that he was taking in what he was staring at. I remember that a little shudder ran down my spine. Just for a moment. Then I felt good again.

I decided to leave and stood. The basketball was still in my hands. I went over to Ray and pressed the ball on him. He snatched it, automatically I guess, since his eyes were still on Marco. There was nothing more I had to do. I scanned the faces of the other kids. All seemed to have the same expression. Shock. And fear. Even Carlo. Especially Carlo. He was the only one who dared to speak to me. "Why did ya do that, Frankie? Ya killed him. We must call an ambulance." When he tried to go for help, I held him back with ease. "Carlo, don't. They will be found. Eventually. That does not have to bother us." I remember clearly now the calmness of my voice. That seemed to break the spell the kids were under. They gathered before me. "We go now. All of us." I made a little pause. "Well, nearly all of us." With a smile on my lips I made my way to the gates. And all the time I was sure that the others would follow me. And so they did.

I crossed the basketball field, the others in tow. Then I saw the janitor. My heart gave a little start, but I regained control almost in the next second. He's nothing to you, Frankie, I told myself. When I came up to him, I saw that he was trembling. And his face showed shock and fear. I was pleased that he was no different from the kids behind me. Good. Very good. "Good evening, Mr. Putrami. You might call the ambulance. There has been a little accident." I went on, never looking back.

The air of triumph did not leave me when I came home. I went straight to my father's study, knowing that he would be there. He was surprised to see me, when I entered, after he answered my knock. He was alone for once. That was very well with me. Carefully I closed the door.

"What happened, Francesco? How do you dare come in here dirty and sweaty? You look as if you're just coming from a basketball game." I noted with satisfaction that he did know about my favourite sport. "I do, Father. I had some business with Marco Mitrani and Ray Vecchio."

"Business? What business?" I could tell by the impatience in his voice that he wasn't very interested. He even looked down again on the papers in his hand that he had been reading when I entered. Well, he would be interested soon. I cleared my throat and explained what happened. With satisfaction I registered that his eyes looked at me intently.

When I finished I still felt... content. That would show my father that I could take care of my own matters. But my father seemed to think different. He stood slowly and came around the desk he had been sitting behind. He towered over me. And than the yelling started. It was like blows. I tried to bring up my arms for protection, but he gripped them hard with one hand and with the other hand he made me face him, cupping my chin, lifting thus my head. It hurt.

But more so did the yelling. I did not try to understand what it was he yelled, I only hoped that he would stop. I have no idea how long it took. Suddenly he was behind his desk again, but not sitting down. His voice was calm now, and it was if that outburst of rage never had happened.

"Francesco, I'll take over now. You go to bed. I will talk with Charlie and we will think of a way to set things right. Do you understand what that can cost me? Us? Our family? You should know that Marco's father is an business associate. You should know this. But you don't. Why is that? Why don't you accept your heritage and start to live with the responsibilities you have as my son? Go now. We will talk in the morning."

I do not know how I left his study or how I ended up in bed, undressed and ready to sleep. I do remember lying there, staring into nothingness, trying to digest my father's reaction. Couldn't he see what I had achieved? I feared to sleep. Surely I'd have more nightmares. And when I woke up this morning I still had this feeling of dread. I feared to face my father again.

But now, after I recalled the feeling of triumph from last night, after I taught Marco and Ray a lesson, I do not understand why Father yelled at me and what he told me about Marco's father. I was right in my doing. I, Frankie Zuko had to prove that I'm to be respected. No matter the price. And I will show my father, too. I stand up and start down the stairs again. Irene nearly falls down from them. I forgot that she was leaning on me. I just catch her in time.

"I go alone, Irene. I have to do this on my own. And don't worry, I will be all right." I give her what I think is an encouraging smile and leave her behind me. "Frankie?" Her voice sounds full of astonishment. I halt and turn to her. "Show him!" And then she smiles and her eyes sparkle as I have never seen it before.

"What?" I ask. Her smile even intensifies. "You know." And with that she turns and runs up the stairs. I stand still for another moment and the warmth I feel in me reaches my heart and my very soul. For the first time in my whole life I feel right. And Father will have to see it, too.

***

As I expected Charlie is with him. He stands a few steps to the left of my father, arms behind his back, ready to fall into action, whenever it was needed. But I do not mind him being there. It's easy to ignore him this time. I look at my father, sitting behind his desk, his arms crossed before him. Although it's a brilliant day outside, the room is dark as usual. Some curtains are drawn before the great window behind my father. After entering I need some moments to get used to the sparse light.

All the time my father waits. He does not speak a single word. He does not move. He just waits. I know what he is waiting for. An apology. After waking up this morning the thought had me panic somewhat but now I'm sure what I have to say. And I am grateful that my father leaves it to me to open our "talk".

"Father, I am sorry about yesterday." I believe that I see the beginnings of a smile flicker in his eyes, but I cannot be sure with the little light in this room. For the first time I wonder if this a deliberate set-up. "When I came to you to tell you about what happened at the basketball court I gave you the wrong impression about the... 'incident'." I know this will surprise him. And I'm proven right by the tone with which he speaks his next words. "How so, Francesco? I thought that you described it quite adequately."

I shake my head, determined to show my father that I and also he were wrong about exactly this point. "No, Father. Before I came to you last night, I felt I had done the right thing. But standing here to answer you made me unsure about it. And your yelling even worsened it. But I did think about it. Now I know it was the right thing to do. It wasn't an outburst of rage. Although I admit that I was... upset." Let's see how he takes this in.

Not well, I have to admit. "What are you trying to tell me, Francesco? You nearly killed another boy and you feel that is was the right thing to do?" With an effort he keeps his voice calm. "But you may try to explain to me why bashing Marco Mitrani was the right thing to do!" He leans back in his chair, placing his hands in his neck and waits for my answer.

I shoot a short look over to Charlie. No reaction as far as I can see. As if I should have expected anything else... "As I said, it was no mere outburst of rage. He deserved it. He and Ray Vecchio. Maybe putting Ray into place was even more important. Those two don't respect me. And when they disrespect me, they do so with the whole Zuko family. I - we - can't allow that. I had to set things right. And I did. I'm no longer a kid, father. I am a man and what's more, I'm a Zuko. You told me to accept my responsibility, my future in this family, and in the... business. I'm learning now what all this means. And last night was only the beginning." I stop myself. More words would have come easily, but I do not want to fall into babbling. Enough is said. Now it's my father's turn.

During my little speech I took a few steps towards the desk before me and placed my hands upon it, slightly leaning forward. Now I straighten my back again and wait for my father to answer. He does not change his posture. For a while he just looks at me. Than he swivels his chair until I face its back. His voice sounds strangled. "You are right. The report you gave me yesterday gave me a wrong impression about it. And about you, Francesco. I need some time to think about what you just told me. You may leave now."

This is victory. He didn't yell at me again, what had surely been a possibility. He has to think about it. I impressed him. With an effort I suppress a smile and turn to leave. When I reach the door Charlie speaks up. "Wait, Francesco! Mr. Zuko, won't you inform your son about the steps you'd taken so far in this matter?" I dare not to believe my ears. Charlie seems to have accepted my new role as my father's true son.

Time passes with another quality in my father's study. It seems like ages before he answers. Slowly he swivels his chair, facing me. I close the door I already opened and go back to stand before him. "Charlie's right, of course. You have... the right to know what's going on. When you left for bed yesterday I sent some of my men over to the precinct. They would have known by that time. And they did. I had them informed that I take a personal interest in the horrible incident. They are looking now for clues to press charges against Raymond Vecchio. And any connection to our family will be ignored, apart from my genuine concern for the safety in this neighbourhood."

I know he expects a comment from me on this. "I see. What good is it to us, if they press charges against Ray? If Marco survives he will testify and Ray's name will be cleared. Marco will testify against me." It's the first time that I think about Marco's state at all. If he survives... It means nothing to me. "And there's other evidence. The basketball..."

"That you left behind. Well, as I said, any connection with you will be ignored. People will know the truth eventually, but that shouldn't bother you. There will be no one standing up in court to testify against you or us. You should know that by now. Not even Marco, if he survives. His condition is still serious, As is Ray's. I called the hospital two hours ago." He hesitates a moment before going on. "I will speak with Marco's father. The Mitranis will leave Chicago. With or without their son, depending on his survival. I truly regret this, Mitrani was a reliable partner. But there are other places where he will be of advantage for this family. Luckily for us his influence in the last years has quite lessened. You might remember, Francesco, that he could make me keeping you away from his son and his friend some years ago. Now he will do my bidding in this matter."

I nod, try to keep my anger back. If I could have dealt with those kids five years ago, this would never have happened. "But you asked another question, and the answer is much more important. There is something you do not know. You have to know now. Sit." He gestures to the chair that stands a few steps behind me. I pull it over and sit down, eager to hear what he has to tell me. It's the first time in my life that I sit in the presence of my father.

"The Zukos and the Vecchios have a history. Both families lived here in Chicago since several generations. And the Vecchio men worked for the Zuko family. Ernesto Vecchio, Ray's father, was no exception. But he was different from his forefathers who had been loyal to us without question. Ernesto... was different. He tried to... how would he have phrased it, Charlie?" turning to the man behind him at those words. Charlie smiles humourlessly at my father: "He tried to play in a different league, Mr. Zuko." My father imitates Charlie's smile, nodding to himself. "Yes, that's the way he would have described it. Francesco, you and Ray were only four years old, when Ernesto Vecchio grabbed at a piece from the cake that wasn't meant for him. I had to take certain actions. That is, Charlie took those actions. After that Ernesto became rapidly the lowlife that you know now, Francesco. And now he pays the respect that's due to our family. But I see the same... rebelliousness in his son now. I will stop this before history repeats itself. You are right that showing Ray Vecchio his place was more important than frightening off Marco."

"Then you accept what I said about yesterday?" I cannot retain myself any longer. With a jump I rise from the chair, triumph swinging in my voice. "NO!" The loudness of his yell makes me step back. "Sorry, Francesco, I did not mean to yell. You have to see that bashing people does not set things right. There are other means, as you will see. I am sure now that you will be able to learn those things. And that is more I could expect from you. I will be open to you, Francesco. I feared you would disappoint me. But you showed me your potential. Not yesterday, not by bashing Marco. No, you showed my this morning, standing up for your belief. Although I still think it was wrong what you did... or better, how you did it. But we have to use this... situation to our advantage now. Which in this case means that we got a hold on Ray Vecchio."

Contradicting feelings are running wild through my mind. I'm proud to hear my father talking like this to me. He accepts me as his son and heir. But I struggle with what he has to say about Ray. It makes me... jealous. What's so important about him? He's just another kid from the neighbourhood. No, maybe not quite so... Somehow I have been fascinated by him from the first time he rejected me in school. Nonetheless, "I have to know what's so important about Ray. He's just a kid. And he shouldn't be a threat anymore."

Charlie gives a short laugh. My father looks at him sternly and he falls silent. "Francesco, don't you think that he will testify against you?" I try to remember the state Ray was in when I left him with Marco. No way. "Father, when you had seen him... No, I don't think so. And you said yourself he still isn't stable yet. Maybe he never will be."

"Maybe he won't. But what I know of Ray Vecchio tells me he is a fighter. And there's a good chance that he will make it. And then he will testify. There's a sure way to lessen the impact such a testimony would have. It's a great difference between the testimony of a witness and that of a defendant..." My father gives me time to draw my own conclusions. I ponder about it. He's right. About Ray, about what people would think... Poor Ray. That would... Oh God. I get excited.

"Father, now I see what you meant with other means, right? I do not have to use my own hands, getting dirty in consequence. Of course, there are other means... And you plan to use those on Ray? Maybe even setting an example for others? They would know what happens to challenge the Zukos..." My father started nodding as I slowly come out with my thoughts. Now he gives me a radiant smile. "That's it, Francesco, finally you see..." He stands and comes round the desk to pull me into a hug. It's the first time in my life that he hugs me. This day is full of first times... My father pulls back in the next moment, taking my head in his hands. He places a kiss on my forehead. "Why don't you go to your room and rest for a while. This was hard on you and you'll have to do a lot of thinking still. We will see each other quite often in the time to come. I will join you and your sister at one. We will eat together. Maybe we can go out..."

I am thrilled. "That... I'd love to. And Irene too. What do you think, can we go to Scarpetta's?" He gives me another hug: "Scarpetta's it is. Now go."

***

Going to my room was out of the question. This is a day to enjoy the beauty of life. I informed Irene about the plans for lunch and she was all game. She took off to find her nanny to discuss what she would wear for the occasion. I went out into the garden behind the house, lying down on the grass.

Now I try to cope with this morning's outcome. It's going to be hard, but it's worth the effort to live up to my father's expectations. A few hours ago I feared to speak to him, now I am accepted as what I really am. His only son and heir. I marvel at the power he has. That I will have one day.

Involuntarily my thoughts wander off to Ray. I cannot explain what brings me ever back to him. Marco was never important. Of course he was my rival in basketball, being the better player than Ray. He angered me, but not in the way Ray Vecchio got under my skin. And Ray still does. My father is right about him. He's a fighter. Too much for his own good. All the times he got himself into trouble... he has a twisted sense of justice. Ray is convinced that only the weak had to be protected from injustice, not the mighty, as he said once. He never would stand up for me, but he does for others on countless occasions. And a testimony against me would be just another example of his bravado in those things...

Ray... When my father's plans work he will go down. Finally... There were thousand of times when I just wished that: Ray Vecchio down. But a part of me feels different. And it's a strong feeling. I do not want him hurt. At first, in school, all I wanted was becoming friends with him. There is something about him that fascinates me. I have difficulties to put this into coherent thoughts or even words. Ray Vecchio has a lot of reason to guard himself, to be bottled up, to keep himself from the company of others. Nonetheless when I look into his face all I see there is openness. He tries to isolate himself, even from Marco at some times. But a look into his eyes and you can see into his very soul. He cannot hide his desires a little bit. I remember all those days when he tried to keep himself away from the basketball court, pretending to study. But his eyes, those gorgeous green eyes showed what he really wanted... But he never spoke about it.

That courage impressed me then and that courage is still in him. Ray Vecchio is the most alive and vibrant person I ever met. And even when he opposes me the fire in him warms my soul. I dare not to imagine the possibilities we would have if we were friends. But that is never to be. Not when my father is finished with Ray Vecchio.

The end

of this story