>part five<
Leon didn�t gift the Count with annoyance this time, he stared at him with all the numbness he felt evident in his eyes. And D became still, smile dropping like an illusion.
�Please tell me what is wrong,� he whispered.
�Is she still alive?�
All edges on D�s face slipped away, that glimmer in his eyes seemingly swallowed up by the colour. It had been a long time since Leon had seen this particular expression. But this time he hated it, this time he almost couldn�t bear it. �She is alive.�
�And is she well?�
�She is well.� But the Count�s eyes suddenly swung to him, and there was nothing polite or pleasant about them. �You�feel something for this woman. You uttered her name as you slept. You laid in my lap and called *her* name.�
Leon rose to his feet with a sigh, began to stalk back and forth, but not with agitation. �It�s not like that, Count. She�s my case and it�s my job to find her.�
�She is not your case, your attachment to this woman is written in your words.---�
�O yeah. Tell me how that can be when I�ve never met the woman.�
D looked away, his features falling back into casual attention. If it had been anyone else, Leon might have believed he was upset. Listening to the words that had just passed between them, he was confused by his own responses.
�I do not know, Detective, but it is.�
�I can�t believe it! You�re actually jealous!� Leon threw his head back and laughed, placing his hands on his hips.
Count D stared at the table quietly a moment, then turned cold, calm eyes up to him. �That pleases you. The idea that I am jealous of your affection for some woman�Should I explain what that says, Detective?�
Leon stopped laughing, stared at the ceiling but it was clear that he saw nothing. �I don�t understand what you�re getting at,� he finally breathed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and began pacing again. It gave him something to do besides face the evidence D was trying to lay out before him.
�Of course not,� D sighed. �What you see is not jealousy over this woman, it is concern for you. There is a fine line between affection and obsession. Do you understand that?� the Count stood up causing Leon to stumble over the table, for a moment he couldn�t find his feet and his arms flailed almost comically. D quietly slipped a hand under his elbow and kept him from falling over completely.
�Uh, thanks,� Leon mumbled, stepping back so that the Count�s fingers slid over his sleeve then away, his long nails momentarily creating trails in the cloth. D said nothing, stared at him.
�You�are afraid of me?� he whispered, eyes narrowing and then widening suddenly. �Why?� He advanced a step, but nothing more. The set of his mouth was almost beseeching. Leon seemed to draw in, to straighten.
�I am not afraid of you,� he replied, voice careful.
�Yes. Yes, you are,� the Count answered him. �There is a circle around you and as soon as I step within its bounds---your eyes quiver with fear. If I touch you,� he grasped Leon�s elbow, held it even as the American attempted to shake him off, �you act as if I am hurting you.�
Leon pulled back, took several steps to try and put distance between him and the smaller man. But D followed almost blindly, eyes that moved, that intently studied. And then he drew in a quick breath.
�Detective, I was jealous�I am jealous. Here, I cradled you, stroked your hair as you slept�and the name you uttered was not mine. Jealousy comes in all forms, even under the guise of concern . . .Do you understand this?�
Leon was already shaking his head, but ceased. His wide eyes stopped searching for escape and then finally took in what was being said. He nodded, just a small almost obscure motion, but D hesitated. Blinked.
�You . . .understand?�
What was it Leon now heard in that quiet, silky voice? Something new, something almost uncertain and begging for clarification. Staring down at him, he couldn�t name what he saw, what had propelled his outburst. Pain. The fact that Leon feared him caused him pain.
But Leon didn�t really fear him. No, his real fear was that if the Count got too close . . .he might actually brush against the truth. What the �truth� was exactly, he didn�t know. But he could feel it swimming through his veins. He didn�t want D to know that it even existed.
�I don�t know what, but I understand.�
D sighed, released the Detective�s arm. �No, but it was all as I expected.� With that the Count turned gracefully on his heel as if preparing to retreat.
Leon let the idea sink into him, but tried not to think about it too hard. Thoughts had a way of weaving a screen of denial, brought the thousand and one reasons why it was all wrong and not him at all. He reached out on impulse and grasped D�s shoulders, watched with some form of strange pleasure as the Count�s face changed, took on an expression of mild surprise. Leon bit his tongue, focused on the pain to keep his hands from shaking. Instead he pushed D gently toward the couch.
�De---tective?�
Leon shook his head with a small, nearly uncertain smile. Turning him about, he forced the Count to sit then stared down at him. �Shall we try this again?� he said after a long pause.
�I�do not know what you are asking.�
Leon continued to stare, then closed his eyes and seemed to steady himself. Placing a hand on the back of the couch he then lowered onto it, positioned himself so that his head rested lightly in D�s lap. Blue eyes gazed up intently, realized that the Count was still so elegant from any angle. D became still, as if the disbelief had crystalized in his veins. In the silence that ensued Leon took up his hand, studied the long white fingers, the powder blue nails, then laid them against his hair. Knowing the blue would almost glow against the gold.
�Go ahead,� he whispered, �I swear to you I won�t call out her name this time.�
D did not respond for a short expanse of time, and then his lashes fluttered closed, black lace against his cheek. His fingers raised then traced a strand of blonde, danced across his brow and lightly over his eyes. �Shall I speak those words that I said as you slept?� the Count asked softly. Leon remained silent then nodded hesitantly.
�Close your eyes then and feign sleep, Detective.�
Leon obeyed for once, his eyes falling almost thoughtlessly. In that quiet world inside�he felt the Count�s warmth and softness---he wondered why he had never noticed how soothing he could be---Because he hadn�t wanted to think that way, he hadn�t wanted to let the Count move beyond the threshold. But now he could feel him breathe; and he suddenly wanted to press his ear to his breast and here the beat of his heart.. It was like finally realizing something was indeed alive.
D�s finger traced lightly over Leon�s lip, started from one corner then came to a rest on the other. �You,� he breathed, �are beautiful.�
Leon sputtered, laughed. �You didn�t say that.�
�But I did, Detective. And you are. You do not believe I would lie, do you?�
Leon�s eyes snapped open, he stared up at D and he stared back, only the violet eye visible. Time passed, he didn�t know how much, but under that warm gaze he could do nothing but shake his head. And then he finally found the voice that had escaped him. �You may covet the truth at times, but you do not lie.�
D smiled, began separating the strands of gold hair, working his fingers through them until they came loose from their binding. Noiselessly he spread the silken locks around Leon�s face, sighed. �I have always wanted to take your hair down . . . I knew it would be such a beautiful frame for your eyes.�
Leon blushed; he couldn�t help it. No one had ever spoken to him in such a way before, it seemed that no one ever spoke that way at all�to anyone. He didn�t know what he wanted from D anymore, it was only so short a time ago that he had accepted their friendship . . .how they had come to this he wasn�t certain.
The Count�s hand became still in his hair, eyebrows drawing together just slightly. �You are regretting your decision.�
Leon shook his head furiously, then slowly ceased. �Regretting, no . . .Wondering how things moved so fast, yes.�
D chuckled, his hand resting softly over Leon�s heart. �This, Detective, has been in the making for months and months. A less patient heart would have broken by now.�
Leon�s gaze lowered, studied the tiny buttons along the front of the Count�s dress . . .he never could remember what D called those exotic things he wore, only that they were beautiful. He ran his fingers lightly over those buttons, felt the silk glide of the material beneathe. D grasped his hand then laced his fingers through his, brought the back of it to his lips and kissed it lightly. It left a faint burgundy smudge. Leon stared up at him and tried not to swallow.
�You are not ready for that, Detective,� the Count smiled, �I know that when one discovers something they feel the need to explore it completely. But first you must realize *what* you have discovered,� D maneuvered Leon into a sitting position then raised, attempted to smooth out his cheongsam. But Leon held onto his hand stubbornly.
D shook his head, putting a blue nail to the Detective�s lips, �Come back to me,� he whispered, �when you can name what it is you have discovered.� With that he disengaged his fingers and moved to his own chair.
Leon stared after him with tints of child-like disappointment, as if he had been shown a beautifully wrapped gift . . .then told that he couldn�t unwrap it until Christmas. D glanced up at him from over his teacup, then laughed.
�If the world could be your mirror, Detective!�
At that point, Leon�s cell phone had the grace to ring. He jumped as if stung, then fished it out of his pocket. Casting almost shy eyes away from the maddeningly content Count.
�Yes?�hehe, is that so?� Leon grinned at the phone. �Did you tell him I was questioning Catherine Owens? O? Tell him I�m off duty now and free to �harass� anybody I want.� Leon fell back against the couch and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, retaining his amused expression. There was a long pause, �Tonight? Well, if my lady demands it---ow! Ow! Okay!� He pressed the button on the phone then turned quietly to his host.
�Jill demands her dinner�I�must be going.�
D nodded, a slight smile playing along his lips as he watched the American leave. �Return, Detective,� he whispered, �when you have your answers.�