Disclaimer: Berusaiyu no Bara & all characters © ® All Rights Reserved Ikeda 
             Productions 1972-1973, Tokyo Movie   Shinsha Co. 1979-1980.
	     Except faux Oscar	



Part 6: Simple Things 
By Aria(crune@coqui.net)


	It was always the simple things that mattered. Lis believed strongly 
in that. More than anything, her impersonation had been a success due to the 
fact that she copied most of Oscar's mannerisms--little gestures, things many
people took for granted. Little things always mattered, for instance, that 
tiny mistake of leaving the window to her room unlocked almost cost her life.
She wasn't thinking about those sort of little things though, the only thing 
Lis' mind was worried about at the moment was the fact that somehow during 
the little get-together she had with her wannabe assassins, her towel had 
fallen off. 

	No one likes to be naked, after a particularly harsh fight. Naked 
means vulnerable and a person does *not* need to look vulnerable at that 
instant. Never mind the many bruises and small cuts--those don't help either.

	Lis wanted her towel back and she wanted it *now*. 

	But Andre didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon and Lis 
was getting really impatient. She then did what she was used to doing, stood 
up and got it herself--then for good measure closed the door behind Andre. 
After all, what would anyone think if they saw four dead bodies scattered 
around her room? It was then that she added sprained ankle to her list of 
wounds, suppressing a groan of pain when she used it. 

	Towel in place for a vestige of mock-modesty and ignoring the pangs 
that ran from her right ankle to her calf, she sat on the bed and examined 
her wounds, waiting for Andre to recover. The bruises, she paid no mind to, 
though her left knee would probably be swollen tomorrow. The times she had 
landed on it would cost her. There was also that nasty looking superficial 
cut on her left shoulder. Apart from that she had gotten off lucky, the 
assassins had been amateurs, they had relied too much on strength in their
numbers and had underestimated her.
 
	Surprisingly, it didn't take Andre nearly as long as she thought to
recover. However, his reaction was not exactly what she expected. 

	"Would you take that damn sword out of my face, please?" She asked 
with irritation. 

	He didn't say anything. 

	"Look Andre, can't you do this tomorrow or something? As you can 
tell," she gestured around the room, "I had visitors to attend and now I'm 
tired."

	He didn't move. Lis extended her hand and Andre slashed upwards. She 
felt the burning pain of sword cutting through flesh and gasped. Bright blood 
gushed from her palm and dripped from her fingers onto the floor. When Lis 
saw the two-inch long gash on the middle of her palm she swore harshly. 

	That's going to leave a scar... 


	Almost out of reflex, she extended her wounded hand and gave Andre a 
sharp slap, ignoring the pain and taking immense pleasure both out of his 
expression of surprise and disgust as well as the sight of her crimson blood 
staining his right cheek. 

	He recovered fast and slashed forward with the sword. Lis stood up
and moved out of the way, favoring her right leg. She risked a quick look for
a suitable weapon, a mistake--she tripped over one of the bodies and landed 
on her right ankle. Giving a small cry of pain she crumpled to the ground. 
When she looked, the point of the bloodstained sword was pressing insistently against 
her throat. 

	Andre spoke to her for the first time in days, "This is Oscar's 
sword."

	Her mind tried to work out a way to escape. As if reading her mind, 
Andre gave her a light scratch with the sword. "You won't get out of it this 
time."

	She smiled smugly, "Of what? Of your pathetic attempts at murder? Oh 
please, give a nine year old girl a knife and she'd be just as good."

	He mocked her smile, something she found disturbing. "I assume you 
were the nine year old girl they gave a knife to?" 

	I know this game, she thought. "I might have been," she smiled 
unpleasantly. 

	Andre made a face of disgust and threw the sword to the side; it 
landed with a muffled 'clang' on top of one of the bodies. Lis stood up and 
arched an eyebrow. 

	"You don't deserve the honor of dying by a sword"; he said and then 
pulled out a gun. 

	Or he would have, except that Lis had already confiscated it by 
sleight of hand when she reached behind him to close the door, slipping it 
underneath the curtains. 

	She gloated, seeing him confused. She knew he couldn't go looking for
it then. "You know Andre, I have a sprained ankle. You just might reach the 
sword you just threw away before I do--I have a feeling that you're missing a 
weapon," she said wearing her smug smile. 

	He paled with rage and picked up the rapier that Lis had thrown at 
her last assailant and flung it at her with great force. To her credit she 
tried to move away, but her effort was clumsy due to her sprained ankle.  In 
a flash of acute pain she felt the rapier pierce her skin near her stomach. 
The force of the impact made her lose her balance and land on her back.

	She looked down at the rapier with a surprised smile. "Well what do 
you know..." It was buried inside her to the hilt. Her voice sounded strange 
to her ears. With a groan of pain, she removed the rapier, letting it fall 
from her hands and pressed her wound trying to lessen the blood flow. 

	"How does it feel like to die?" 

	Lis smiled her usual smile.  I didn't think he had it in him...  

	"It's funny," she said. 

	She walked towards him, swaying like a drunk. "And you know...what 
else, Andre," she said, realizing that speech was becoming a bit difficult. 
"I never thought you...could be capable of this. You know..." she winced, 
"we'll both...pay for my...slight miscalculation." 

	She was almost near him then. Only a few steps to go. 

	"It's...obvious...how...I...will pay, but...you...you see..." her 
voice was getting so loud, she thought. "...You see...Oscar...isn't...dead...
I know where," she took a deep breath though it hurt, "...where she is...
she'll die...if I do."

	She was in front of Andre, but couldn't see his face--everything was 
so blurry... 

	She did feel his hands on her shoulders and the way he shook her 
which made her cry out in pain. She could hear him as if from a great 
distance. 

	"Tell me! Tell me where she is! Damn you!" He cursed at her. 

	"If you...get me to...live...I swear...I will...take you...to her", 
she said haltingly, her voice almost inaudible. Then she leaned forward and 
collapsed in his arms. The blood from her wound seeping into his clothes. 

					***

	There was no time to think.  Oscar was alive; he had to save the 
girl! 

	He screamed for one of the maids as he placed the impostor on the bed, 
ripping the sheets to press them against the wound on her side. At least the 
blood wasn't black...she had to live! 

	The maid arrived and knocked at the door. 

	"Don't come in, dead bodies are in the room! Lady Oscar's been 
stabbed! Get a doctor *now* or she will die! Hurry!" He shouted frantically, 
hearing the rapid footsteps of the maid, now running to spread the news. 

	The girl *had* to live. 

					***
 
	Due to Andre's quick actions, Lis regained consciousness after five 
days. Nana saw her stir and moan weakly when she came to fold Oscar's clothes.

	Lis didn't even open her eyes. 

	"Andre," she whispered feebly through dry lips, "get Andre." 
The Nana dropped the garments and ran, calling out hoarsely for Andre. He 
arrived almost instantly. The Nana noticed curiously how, for all his speed 
in reaching Oscar, he stood almost detachedly from her, once inside the room.
Andre noticed the Nana's stare and neared the bed reaching for the impostor's
hand. 
	
	"I'm here." 

	"Do not say anything to anyone in the palace about my condition. It's
important", she whispered without preambles. "The killers--they'll come back 
to finish the job when they find I live." 

	Out of the corner of his eye, Andre saw the Nana watching him. He 
squeezed the impostor's hand. "I will." 

	"Andre?" 

	"Yes?" This time, he was surprised to feel her squeeze his hand. 

	"Will I live?" 

	"Yes, you will--the knife missed all the vital organs. The doctor 
said you would recover soon."

	She sighed tiredly, "Thank you." Her hand fell limply from his. 

					***
 
	Andre paced in front of the impostor's room. After the past days' 
events, the impostor was given a new room. No one knew what to make of the 
occurrences. Finally the General Jarjayes simply said that the murderers had 
to have been associates of the 'impostor' that had been executed. Not many 
disagreed. 

	Andre tried not to think of the impostor at all. Instead, he thought 
of Oscar. He had waited impatiently for the impostor to regain consciousness 
and now he just wondered when she'd finally be able to take him to Oscar. 

	He found it curious that he had accepted the impostor's words so 
quickly--but was he to throw away the smallest chance at seeing Oscar again? 
God help her if she had lied. As it was, oddly enough he felt no regret at 
almost killing her. That girl...she was poison, he could not call it anything 
else. Desperately, he avoided thinking of the night in which he had almost--
 
	No, she was poison, plain and simple. Andre could only hope that 
after she led him to Oscar, she'd leave. 

					*** 

	Lis woke up with a start. She winced, feeling sharp pains all over 
her body.  Almost immediately, she tried to orient herself. 

	She looked at her wounds. The wounds from her fight with her would-be
assassins were almost healed. The one which had merited a bandage wrapped 
around her waist was still sore and more than a bit painful. 

	I'm alive though, she thought. 

	Once again it had been too close. She had gotten extremely careless. 

	What's wrong with me? She thought, I used to think that I could take 
care of anything logically. 

	"How are you feeling?" Andre asked conversationally from her side. 

	She turned her head sharply, amazed that she hadn't felt his presence.
She was getting very sloppy indeed. 

	She hid her uneasiness with her usual edgy smile. "Other than this 
horrible headache, I'm feeling well." 

	He smiled an obviously fake smile, "That's wonderful." 

	"Oh, I bet it is for you." she said, "you can't wait for me to take 
you to Oscar."

	"Of course." 

	"So can you tell me something? I'm a bit curious--how long have you 
two been...involved?" 

	Andre blushed faintly and Lis couldn't help but laugh. 

	"Oh, I'm sorry," she said mock-contritely, "So it's been...platonic." 

	"I don't need to tell you anything." 

	She scrutinized his expression. "You're right, because everything is 
written on your face, no matter how much you might try to hide it." 

	He said nothing. 

	Lis pushed away the sheets away and stood. Only to have her legs give
out, Andre caught her. 

	Annoyance flickered in Lis' dark blue eyes. "Get the hell away from 
me." 

	He didn't though; he picked her up and placed her on the bed like one
would a spoiled child. 

	"Don't be an idiot," he said acidly, "the last thing I need is you to
 worsen your wound." 

	"I don't need your help," she retaliated. 

	"That's perfect, because I'm not thrilled at giving it--so attempt to 
take care of yourself." 

	She tried once more to stand and had more success. 

	He smiled mockingly, "It's not a smart thing to stand right away 
after being unconscious for five days."

	Lis glared at him and tried to walk. The exercise caused her pain, 
but not as much as she feared. 

	"Provided that your Oscar knows how to ration, she'll be fine for 
now."

	"What does that mean?" He asked in a dark tone. 

	She shrugged. "Just that, anyway judging by how I feel today, I can 
maybe take you to her tomorrow." 

	He leaned against the wall, deceptively at ease. "Tell me where she 
is."

	Lis waved her index finger, "The condition was that I would take you 
to her, not that you could play the knight in shinning armor." 

	"Don't you know when to shut up?" 

	"As opposed to you who doesn't know when to talk. Let me refresh your
mind, if you had recognized who your best friend was you wouldn't be in this 
mess." 

	"I hate you"; his words were devoid of emotion, but carried power all
the same. 

	"Oh, I'm hurt," she said sarcastically, "after all it was my duty in 
life to get you to like me." 

	He made his way towards the door and turned back to her suddenly, "I 
hope you can ride tomorrow, if not I'll take the carriage--you *will* take me
to Oscar tomorrow. Afterwards, I want you out of both our lives. If not, I 
swear to God you won't live to regret it. Also", he paused looking at her 
with an undeciphrable expression on his face, "I pity you for the empty, 
heartless, cold bitch you are." 

	He closed the door behind him before she had the time to reply. Not 
that she was actually going to, only after he left did she realize that her 
hands were balled tightly into fists, so much that her knuckles were white. 

					*** 
	
	There was no concept of time any more. At least *she* had no concept 
of time anymore. The room, though spacious, had no windows through which she 
could see whether it was night or day. 

	Her captor hadn't come in days. Oscar was getting impatient. 

	Hadn't that distinctly feminine voice said that it wouldn't be for 
long? Oscar began to pace around the room, like she had grown used to doing 
those past days. Even her 'food', the bread and water was almost gone. True, 
she hadn't gone hungry yet--but when was she going to get out? 

	Her captor had pleaded that she stay until she set her free. She had 
been polite, however Oscar hadn't seen her face. She remembered a sharp pain 
on her head after the trial and darkness...then seeing a figure in a cloak 
near the door and feeling that her feet had been tied together. Any attempt 
to set herself free while she was there, the figure said, she'd simply leave 
and lock the door without any explanation. So, without any other prudent 
choice, Oscar listened as the figure with her soft voice had explained that 
her life was in danger. 

	Oscar hadn't trusted her captor. She had wanted to see her, but the 
room was dark and the girl had been wearing a hood. Oscar had, immediately 
after she left, looked for an opening--anywhere. She had considered attacking
the girl the next time, she came into the room...and yet.. 

	The girl hadn't shown up after that initial visit. She left a cup in 
the room along with the bread and water. Oscar hadn't even touched it, 
however she remembered the girl's words. 

	"I know it can get...maddening being locked in a room. Inside that 
cup is a release from everything around you--an extremely deep 
dreamless sleep." 

	Oscar had interrupted the girl, "Forget it, don't waste your breath." 

	She had been skeptical that she might want such a thing, Oscar had 
never made a habit of fleeing from her problems. Still, she really didn't 
know how long it had been. She *had* been resting uneasily waiting for the 
figure to arrive. She had tried to figure out what was going on. 

	As the days passed, she became more confused--why had someone stolen 
Marie Antoniette's ring, why had someone try to impersonate her? She had so 
many unanswered questions and as the number increased, so did her desire to 
drink from the cup and be rid of them, if only for a little while. 

	Oscar finally reached her breaking point. Without thinking it twice 
she picked up the cup and drank all in it. She didn't even taste what was in 
it. 

	Walking to the small bed at the corner of the room, she lied down 
starring at the ceiling. 

	I wonder how long does it take to act, she thought. 



to be continued...
END part 6


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