The Painting in the Parlor

Mannd

~*~

AN:I only own the story, not the characters, although the idea has been used over and over many times. This story came out of hunting through my apartment for something to write about, for a Christmas Character One shot on Slytherin Mafia. Anyway, it is based on my two favorite computer games, (Ravenhurst and Scratches) and an excellent movie starting Lindsay Wagner and Marc Singer called The Two Worlds of Jennie Logan. The DoveFlight Manor is based on my mental picture of the house in Scratches. 1915-16 Slang translations are at the bottom of the fic. I know that Quatre is supposed to be Arabian, but for my fic he had to be English.

~*~ Dec 22 ~*~

Trowa got out of his truck, glared at the large lock on the gate, the wind whipping his uni-banged brown hair in his green eyes. With a grimace, he sighed and pulled out the small ring of keys that he had been given by his commander, Lady Une. He looked back at the lock, then snorted as he looked at the keys. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the one large heavy key was for the large old-fashioned lock. He pushed his way through the nearly knee deep snow, fitting the key in the padlock and fighting with it for a few seconds smirked with success as the lock opened. He removed the lock, then heavy chain from around the ornate gate. Then pushing on it, he was relieved when it swung open, the filigree work on the gate allowing most of the snow to fall through instead of acting like a wall. He waded back to his four-wheel drive truck and threw the lock and chain on the passenger seat, backed up several feet, and hit the gas. The tires spun for a second then he was forward, through the gate and up the unplowed drive. He came to a jarring stop, with cloud of airborne snow just a few feet from the old porch of the house, smiling at himself in satisfaction.

Trowa opened his door and had to push against the snow. He reached in the back to get his duffle, two paper grocery bags and box of canned goods, and made his way to the porch steps. A movement in the upper right window caught his eye, a flash of white and a movement of fabric, but when Trowa turned his full attention up, there was nothing there. "Hello, little ghost," he murmured to himself as he finally stomped up the stairs, partly to shake the snow off his jeans, and partially to break the nearly deafening silence that seemed to surround the mansion.

Trowa pulled the key ring from his pocket and began trying the various smaller keys in the lock. He cursed silently under his breath when the sixth key didn't work. He pulled it out and frowned. He put the first key in the lock again, the door opened before he could turn it. He stared at the door and shrugging to himself, went into the house, closing and locking the door behind him, flicked on his small flashlight.

He whistled in appreciation of the old wood and marble staircase that swept gracefully from the left of the entrance to the right of the second floor. He put his belongings down and glanced around the open parlor on the right and the front hall that he could see in the shadows. A candelabra was on a side table by the front door with most of the candles broken or missing. Trowa was able to light the few remaining candles, pocketed his flashlight. He held it up and whistled again, the parlor was beautifully, if stiffly, decorated. He moved around the room, lighting a few candles in wall brackets. He moved to the fireplace and after several unsuccessful attempts finally got a small fire going. He took several candles down from their brackets, filled the candelabra and moved through a door. An old study complete with an antique desk and one wall completely filled with dusty books met the candlelight. He moved on through two sliding doors.

The dining room was old and musty. A tablecloth, now just a moth eaten fabric, covered a table with a bowl at it center of what once must have been flowers. Trowa glanced around the room, noting the two armoires on either side of a swinging door which he pushed through. This led him to a back hall and another door as well as a set of stairs going up on his left. Trowa considered the steps for a moment then moved on through the hall to the door and finally nodded at the old kitchen. The table was filthy from dust. Trowa hoped that the water worked in the sink. Three additional doors were in the room. The one facing Trowa led outside to the rapidly darkening back yard and two on his right. He opened the first and blinked in surprise at the dismal servant quarters. The mattress looked moth eaten and stained. Trowa vowed that if he didn't find a better bed on the second floor he was going to sleep on the parlor couch. A quick look further in led to a disgusting bathroom. Trowa hastily backed out then with a sigh opened another door. This led to a narrow set of stairs that led down and Trowa followed them, grinned in delight as he found the fuse box.

Trowa left the candelabra and raced back up the stairs, through the darkening rooms to the front, opened his duffle and pulled out a small tool kit. He moved back the way he came, quickly changed fuses and feeling foolish, crossed his fingers and pulled the switch. Lady Une had promised to have the electricity and water turned on during the two weeks he was to be here. He smiled when the ancient light bulb began to flicker then came on casting a harsh light that filled the room with shadows. 'See Trowa, crossing your fingers always works,' the smug Duo voice said in his head. He rolled his green eyes, chuckled to himself as he blew out the candles and looked around the cluttered room.

A very old fashioned furnace stood at the far end, Trowa eyed it, decided to give it up for a lost cause, at least for tonight. He might look at it tomorrow, for tonight fire in the fireplaces would have to keep him warm enough. He walked back up the stairs and was delighted when the refrigerator was humming softly. He quickly walked back through the rooms and paused in the entrance hall. A Christmas tree sat under the curve of the staircase; its limbs limp and sad with old and broken ornaments. He was positive a tree hadn't been there when he had walked into the room. The tree was huge and would have been very hard to miss. He warily glanced at it, picked up the paper bags and box, went back into the kitchen and quickly and efficiently put the groceries away. He vowed to scrub out the appliance tomorrow, hoping, with a small shuddered, that none of the mold that was growing on the lower shelves would decide to crawl up to the top and attack his food.

After adding a few more logs on the fire, Trowa decided to go up stairs and explore. At the top of the stairs, he was met with three doors and an archway at the end of the hall. The door on the right was a small bedroom with a connecting small bath. Trowa knew that a small fire would quickly warm the room, retrieved his duffle from the main floor and put it on the bed, then started a fire. He left the room, closing the door firmly behind him to keep the heat in. Walking down the hall, he opened the double doors on the right. An art gallery/studio met his gaze. Several easels were covered in moth eaten cloths. Several pieces of unframed art were leaning against the wall. He closed the door and looked into the room across from it. The master bedroom looked stiff, cold and uninviting. Trowa was glad he had found the other bedroom first. A quick glance around and he was out in the hall moving towards the archway. Another set of stairs led upwards. The third story revealed the attic stairs and contained three rooms; a partially finished bathroom and two rooms filled with tools and construction materials. Trowa frowned as he moved back to the room he had claimed as his own. There was supposed to have been a son, where was his room?

He opened his duffle and pulled out a leather notebook. He went back down the stairs to the parlor where he sat on the formal sofa, put his feet up on the aged velvet and began going through the files that Une had given him.

Agent Barton,

Iria Winner, the last of the Winner family and previous owner, has recently bequeathed DoveFlight Manor to us. The house has had a few tenants over the passed 90 years, but none have stayed longer than a few days, most citing ghostly activities. Ms. Winner's great uncle, Quatre Winner disappeared almost one hundred and twenty years ago on Christmas Eve. Many claim his ghost haunts the place. I know you are a World War I buff, so the fact that Q. Winner was a fighter pilot for the British air corps is a bonus. I am sending you to see if the home would be a fit safe house for vacationing agents.

I know that it is Christmas, but with your sister Catherine and the circus on L2, I didn't think you would mind doing this for me.

Thank you

Anne Une

Commander of Preventers

Trowa flipped through the file of papers, which consisted mainly of tenants breaking their leases within a few days of moving in over noises, bumps in the night, and cold drafts. When the fire in the fireplace began sputtering, Trowa blinked in surprised and glanced at his watch. It was late, later than he realized. He yawned, put the papers away, banked the fire, blew out the remaining candles, quickly walked through the downstairs to make sure all the lights were off, then trooped upstairs. He laid down on the bare mattress, and noted the pillow gave off a slight scent of musty lavender. He pulled his coat on top of him to act as a blanket and quickly fell asleep.

~*~

The grandfather clock in the parlor struck three. Trowa shivered slightly in his sleep as his coat slipped off his shoulder and pooled at his back. A blond haired man stood at the end of his bed dressed in a World War I airman's uniform watching the sleeping agent curiously. With a soft smile, the man put a blanket on Trowa. He backed away from the bed as Trowa stirred slightly. When Trowa opened bleary eyes and looked around there was no one in the room.

AN2: This is mostly unbeta'd as I swamped my betas at the last second with it, but I wanted to start posting it on the days when it was suppose to happen. The second chapter is written and will be posted tomorrow. This is for a Christmas Contest on C-I and will be posted as a one shot there, but posted on FanFic as multi chapter on the days it pertains to, which is from now until the 26th. A beta'd version of this will be posted when my beta's get back to me.

Comments and Criticisms welcomed.