---

Part 1

Constance Greene sat in her favorite chair in the mansion at 891 Riverside Drive; she was writing in her journal. Categorizing the events of her day and the emotions that came with them. She heard the front door close; Aloysius Pendergast was home and she heard his shoes drop to the floor.

But wait— She thought. If he’s wearing them why did they drop? They wouldn’t drop if he was wearing them, only if he was carrying them and then let them fall or if—

Constance shut her journal and rose, poking her head cautiously out the door, finding nothing in the immediately hallway, she crossed to the banister overlooking the foyer. Pendergast stood in the hall, his jacket wrapped around a willowy boy with pale blue hair. He held the boy in his arms while Proctor took a backpack from his shoulder and sat it by the door.

“I thought she’d like to stay with me for a little while,” Pendergast whispered, carefully unwrapping the figure Constance had thought to be a boy. But now that she could see better she noticed the full red lips and long dark lashes; not a boy child but a rather androgynous young woman.

“Did she fall asleep during the ride here, Sir?” Proctor asked.

“Yes, I didn’t have the heart to wake her. I’ll take her upstairs to sleep awhile, Proctor, just put her things here. I’ll be back down to get them in a bit.”

Pendergast came up the stairs and at the movements, Constance saw the woman put her arms around his shoulders and lean into his neck. Pendergast kissed the woman’s hair before he noticed Constance standing at the top of the stairs and watching him.

“Good evening, Constance,” He greeted her softly, whispering to avoid waking the person in his arms.

“Good evening, Aloysius. Who is this you’re carrying?”

Pendergast didn’t so mach as blink. “She’s my... friend. Her name’s Kellie, I’ll introduce you formally later, for now, excuse us.”

Constance stepped to the side, glaring between his shoulder blades. First that wretched woman Viola and now this boyish girl with cotton-candy hair. Where will it end? When will he realize he still has me?

...

I peeled down the covers of my bed and laid Kel gently on the mattress, covering her up to her chin and again kissing the top of her head. Her hair was a paler shade of blue than it had been a few days ago, not indigo but almost sky-blue or cotton-candy. It still smelt of strawberries.

Before I could pull away, Kel’s arms encircled my neck, pulling me down for a long and exploring kiss. I let my left arm support me as I leant over her to return the kiss, her hands moved up my arms and into my hair, pulling me closer.

I stroked her cheek. “How do you feel?” I asked and sat beside her. When I had shown up at her house she had been lying on her couch, half asleep and running a fever. I had asked her to come home with me so I could take care of her.

Kel moved onto her side, resting a hand on my leg. “Better than I was, still a little hot and clammy.”

I reached out and laid a hand on her forehead, the skin there was too hot and dampened with sweat. I smoothed the blue curls from her dark green eyes. I kissed her again.

“I’ll turn up the air-conditioner, just sleep here.” I said. “I have a few things to do, rest here and when I’m done and you feel better, we’ll find something fun to do.”

Kel smiled up at me, sleep hazed eyes growing hazier as she started to drift off, lying back against the pillow. She didn’t say anything to me, then her eyes slowly closed and she slept.

...

The woman’s backpack was propped against her shoes; Constance strained her hearing, trying to hear how close Pendergast was. He wasn’t anywhere near the ground level, but she could hear him moving around in the study next to his room. She smoothed her dress over her legs and knelt in front of the bag, opening its zipper and peering inside. A toothbrush, hairbrush and other various things and articles of clothing were inside the first pouch. Constance opened the second; she found a small journal and a rectangular pillbox and bottle. She read the label on the bottle; the pills were the woman’s and if Constance interpreted correctly, the pills were prescribed for a form of brain cancer.

Constance quickly put everything back in the backpack, hands shaking. Her guardian’s latest companion was dying, she thought of Pendergast carrying the woman up the stairs, how his face hadn’t been concerned in the least and she came to a conclusion. He didn’t know.

...

I went about my normal routine; I shaved and washed my face, looking in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom before I went back to Kel. But for a moment I just stood there looking at my reflection. I felt tired but it didn’t show in my skin or eyes, both of which looked bright and healthy. I looked back though the adjacent door and into my room at Kel asleep in my bed, blue hair tousled on the black pillow. It was even more striking than when my white-blonde hair was on the satin pillowcase. For another moment I stood there, hands resting on the countertop; thinking but I couldn’t decide about what exactly. Whatever it was, I was sure to think of it later.

I switched off the light and walked the short distance to my bed, lying on my side next to Kel. I didn’t get beneath the blankets, just laid atop them, my head on the pillow next to hers, trying not to crowd her too much. I had thought her asleep but suddenly her small, slender hand rose and stroked my hair, petting me like I was a cat.

“Aren’t you cold?” She asked.

I was always cold when the ardeur slept. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I am sleeping,” Even thought her face was covered and pointed toward my chest I could hear the smile.

Kel liked to play games, and usually, I did too, but I was just so tired. “You’re not sleeping because you’re talking to me and moving around.”

“Some people talk and move around in their sleep,”

“You do not.” I countered. “You sleep like the dead.” I realized only a second later that the comment might not have been appropriate for her current state of mind and her views on death in general since her brother had overdosed a few years before we met. “I’m sorry—”

“I know you’re cold, come under here, it’s really warm.” She told me, able to erase from her memory and her hearing range the things that bothered or upset her.

“You’re running a fever, Kel, I’m sure it’s very warm under the covers.”

“Aloysius, please, come under here and hold me.” She said rapidly, softly.

Of all the things she could have said, she said that, the one thing she knew I wouldn’t refuse. It had always been in my nature to help people, a compulsion really, but Kel was the only person I had ever met that used it against me. And I didn’t care, not even a little. I slipped in beside her, held out my arms and she looked up at me as her arms went around my middle gratefully.

There was something needy about her tonight, not demanding, not invalid, something I couldn’t put a name to but still wanted to take away. I had to fix—to make better whatever it was that she was feeling that made her ask me to hold her in desperation.

“Are you alright?” I asked finally, I was able to feel the heat of the fever through my clothes.

“No,” She whispered. “I’m still too cold, my head hurts, but I feel better whenever you touch me.”

“It’s not me that is making you feel better,” I said. “It’s the ardeur; it’s as much a healing power as a sexual one.”

“I don’t care, it’s still apart of you. Aloysius?”

“Yes, Kel?”

She was silent, her hands massaging me through my shirt, just above my belt. “Will...” She hesitated. “Will you tell me about Helen? I can see how much you miss her and I....just want to know about her.”

...

Constance listened at the door, kneeling down close to the floor and out of sight. She could imagine Pendergast lying in his bed in only his black slacks and white dress shirt, no tie, shoes or suit coat. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had seen him in his bed, truthfully there had been times when she’d stood at the side and watched him sleep. But it was the first time she had seen him sharing his bed with someone else; this blue haired girl.

She could hear them talking amiably, could hear her teasing him lightly. And then she heard the woman ask the forbidden question, the one Constance had quickly learned was taboo.

“Will you tell me about Helen? I can see how much you miss her and I....just want to know about her.” The woman asked and Constance closed her eyes, waiting for the reply that demand she leave. But the command did not come.

“I... That’s a sensitive subject for me Kel.” Constance heard him say, it was his usual reply but this time he said much softer.

Constance was appalled to hear the sound of their lips touch, even though she had only kissed one man in her life, she was familiar with the sound.

“Then you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can ease into that topic like with my brother. Sound good?” She told him.

Constance didn’t know that Pendergast had said nearly the same thing to Kel less than a week before. And again she awaited his reply to the woman, and again she didn’t hear the one she had expected.

“No, I should tell you.” She heard them kiss again, and then saw Pendergast lie on his back, arms no longer around Kel. “We met when I was in college, she had long dark hair and darker eyes...She fed the ardeur for me from time to time and I fell in love. I asked her to marry me the year she graduated. It doesn’t seem so romantic now as to when it actually happened but it was...I don’t want to talk about her any more Kel, I just.... I like it better when she’s in my inner thoughts. Do you understand?”

“Yep, I understand Aloysius.” The woman said. “Maybe we should sleep and just forget I asked.”

“I won’t forget you asked, I’ll forget nothing, but I would like to sleep.” Pendergast said.

“So sleep then, but hold me again first.” That was when Constance went to her own room.

---