(no subject)

[palacechristian]

Private entry



Christian dumped his duffel bag on the floor of the Blue Suite and sighed. He really didn’t feel like unpacking right now. There was little enough of it, to be sure, but even so, the thought of this afternoon weighed heavily on his shoulders and he couldn’t settle.

Even though he didn’t expect to see his father the moment he came back, knowing he was in the building would be enough and his trepidation was growing. Need to get out, he thought. Maybe a stroll around the building would do the trick.

He quickly checked his appearance in the nearest mirror. Orlando’s couch had been kind to him, he didn’t look too bad, at least not as scruffy and as trail-worn as he had done when he’d first arrived. Last night’s shower had taken off the worst of the dust and the sofa hadn’t made his drying hair stick up in all directions. Needed cutting, though and a shave was probably a good idea too. Not right now, though. Now he’d go for a walk.

The worn denim and the hiking boots, the soft flannel shirt would mark him out as not in Service but were anonymous enough that he’d not be mistaken for a client either. A workman, he thought as he gently tugged the door closed behind him. I look like a gardener or handyman. The thought gave him no little cause for amusement.

How things change; it was uppermost in his mind as he wandered absently along the corridor toward the West Wing. Once upon a very long time ago, you’d have wished yourself struck dead by lightning rather than be seen in anything less than formal clothes, or at the least a nice expensive set of shirt and pants! Now look at you!

He stopped a couple of times, once to look out over the gardens to the rear of the building, the second time toward the front, out over the city of Balize below and beyond, to the harbor and the soaring mountains on the far side of the bay. He missed the mountains, he realized. Was glad to be home, but was already missing the freedom and the camaraderie that had characterized his five years with the Rangers. You haven’t grown soft, Christian, he told himself, you’ve grown hard. And he could only hope that his father approved of the change and found it to be for the better.

The Rangers weren’t about to take any shit from some jumped up little prince, he’d found and he’d soon dropped all his pretensions, finally abandoning them for good in the aftermath of his first fire-fight. The prince who used to insist on correct forms of address and argue with his father for hours over points of ceremony and regal obligations was long gone. He knew what it was like to laugh and to love, to live and die in a battle zone. Had received the generosity of and witnessed the nobility of spirit in the poor and downtrodden, found honor in the battle-scarred faces of his compatriots and had been forever changed the first time he’d killed a man and watched the life fade from his eyes.

Now all he wanted was to be reconciled with Marton. He didn’t want kingship, he wanted kinship, the closeness he and his father had once shared. But he suspected it would not be easy.

What had driven them apart in the first place still remained and probably always would. He had no counter, no excuse that could stand as defense for his actions at the time, his mistaken assumptions. Moving past it would be a challenge, but challenges were something Christian had learned to relish.

But he and Marton were so alike that it would be difficult. It wouldn’t be pride or arrogance that kept them from reconciliation, neither man was prey to that kind of conceit. More likely it would be an issue of trust, a slow process of rebuilding bridges and trying to recover the closeness, the sense of kinship they’d once shared.

Christian drew to a halt, suddenly realizing that he’d lost his way. Not truly lost, because he knew precisely where in the building he was, more that he’d not noticed the direction his footsteps were taking having been too caught up in his own thoughts. The staircase leading down was at the end of this hallway around the corner and he decided to go to the cafeteria and grab a cup of coffee and something to eat.

When he came around the corner, he spotted a man leaning against one of the window embrasures. Christian didn’t slow his pace as he drew closer. The man looked lost in thought and he didn't want to disturb him. However, he turned as Christian got closer and smiled politely, so he nodded and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too." Dark eyes, dark hair. An imposing and handsome man. The smile was warm and friendly so Christian stopped and smiled again. "Lovely morning." he added, with a nod out the window. "You're new, aren't you?” He'd not seen him before so he had have arrived sometime in the last year. Chiding himself for his lack of manners, he offered his hand. "I'm Chris." he said.

The man smiled warmly, subtlety scrutinizing him, "I'm Eric, and yeah, I'm new. You don't look like a servitor, what are you doing here?" He paused, "Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound rude."

Eric? The name didn't ring any bells, but he filed it away into his prodigious memory just the same. Eric looked worried, or perhaps anxious and, for a moment, Christian was tempted to leave him to his thoughts, sorry that he'd intruded. But the affable smile spoke of someone requiring distraction and, God knows, he could use a little himself, so he leaned back against the wall and pressed his palms to the timber. "Not rude at all," he smiled. "And no, I'm not in Service. I've been away. Just got back last night. Reacquainting myself with the place." he explained his presence.

"What kind of re-acquaintance?" Eric said. "You glad to be back?"

"Half and half." Christian admitted, somewhat ruefully. "I was here last year but my time was so short, I kind of spent it all with my family. Speaking of family bought his father's imminent return to mind and he firmly pushed it aside. "So," he asked. "what do you think of it?" He waved his hand, indicating the building.

"I think this place is okay." Eric answered. "Getting used to it now, feeling more conditioned to the lifestyle. It was a big change from my old one."

"Oh?" Christian folded his arms across his chest and leaned further into the window until he was sitting on the sill. "Where were you before?"

Eric watched him as he positioned himself on the windowsill, "I was in a place called Sedat, not sure if you'd have heard of it..."

"Ahh." Christian smiled. "Yes I have." The smile grew broader, into a grin. "Not a patch on this place." he said. "But I'll admit to being a little . . . biased."

Just then, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Harry Sinclair heading their way. Oh well, there goes the nice, anonymous little chat, he thought.

Eric looked over, saw Harry coming towards them and smiled. They knew each other then.

Harry smiled back at Eric. "Eric, morning! I see you've met." Harry turned to Christian. "You were already gone when I got up this morning. Just glad that I've got more on than a sheet this time, Sire." Harry gave Christian a wink as he stopped to stand beside them.

"So am I, Harry." Christian shot Eric a look to apologize for his little deception but stopped when he realized Eric had apparently not noticed the appellation. "So am I." The smile he gave Harry was still a little reserved but, after reading David's email this morning, he felt a tad better about his brother's latest . . . love.

Eric looked confused, as if there were something going on that he'd missed, and intrigued by it as well. "How do you two know each other then?"

Harry grinned at Eric. "Christian is Orlando's brother. He arrived last night, and dropped by Orlando's room to crash." He turned to look at Christian. "Your timing could have been a little better, my Lord, but then again, it could also have been a lot worse."

Eric grinned. "How... interesting," he answered, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice. He turned eyes bright with amusement in Christian’s direction and said, "Poor you, that must have been awful. No-one should ever have to see Harry in a state of undress."

Christian remembered David's description of Harry's directness and the teasing voices he heard coming from behind closed doors last night and decided to allow the older man a little leeway. He smiled at Eric's wisecrack. "I have to agree with you," he told him. "Luckily, I hadn't eaten."

"That was lucky." Eric smiled, seemingly enjoying teasing Harry to this extent. Looking over at him he said, "Why are you skulking the halls anyway? Shouldn't you be with Orlando somewhere, or at work?"

Christian observed the interplay between the pair of them. He hadn't decided quite what to make of Eric. He'd taken absolutely no notice of Christian's station, which was refreshing and he seemed quite self-assured now that whatever had been bothering him had taken a back seat. Christian quite liked it. He returned his attention to the conversation taking place before him.

Harry was rolling his eyes at the both of them, deciding to ignore the comments obviously. "He's already at work with Sean, the fucking slave driver, and I'll get to work when I get there. Not in a big rush to be hanging around the office with just Elijah for company."

Christian saw Eric wince at the mention and Harry’s small shrug of apology and decided he’d best leave the two of them alone. "Time to continue down memory lane.” He said as he levered himself off the wall and stepped away.

"Okay then, Sire." Eric said. "Nice to have met you." So he had noticed. And was not comfortable with it, Christian saw. He hid another smile.

"And you." Christian offered his hand. "I'll see you again, I'm sure." He turned to Harry and nodded politely. "Harry." he said.

Harry nodded back and Christian stepped smoothly around them and away. He raised his hand in a final farewell as he started down the stairs and they both waved in return. Interesting dynamic there, he thought and very interesting to see Harry away from his brother. He’d heard the affection in Harry’s voice each time he’d spoken Orlando’s name which was very reassuring. And Eric, he was a fascinating character as well. Glad of something else to occupy his mind, he pushed open the fire door at the base of the stairwell and went in search of coffee.