Who: Anthony Goldstein and Louis Rye (thank you, Gwen) What: Anthony travels to France to help the Resistance Where: Calais and then Nice When: March 3rd, 1998 Rating: PG Status: closed, complete
Anthony nervously shuffled in his seat as the train began to slow down. He'd never been through the Channel Tunnel before and wasn't likely to repeat the experience anytime soon. The thought of rushing underneath the ocean hadn't been a comforting thought before he boarded the train and experiencing it hadn't been much better. When the call came to disembark Anthony shouldered his bag and followed the rest of the passengers off the train. He'd been instructed to pack light to make it look like he was simply a day tripper. He glanced around the crowded station, no one was paying any attention to him and there really wasn't any reason that they should. He spent the next few minutes having a look around the station before he found the vendor that he'd been instructed to purchase a strawberry and mango slush from. He ordered the frozen treat and sat at a small wrought iron table near a fountain. He supposed that the slush would be some sort of signal. It didn't feel very cloak and dagger though.
The man walked straight up to the table as if the blurred pink and orange ice was a signal fire, his eyes clinging to it for a moment before he said, "Mind if I sit down." It wasn't truly a question, more an assertion as he hovered near the table, hand bracing the back of the chair.
Anthony eyed the man for a moment before nodding. He swallowed a spoonful of the icy concoction and winced. It was much too sweet. The man looked at him expectantly and it was then that Anthony realized that he'd forgotten the secret phrase. "I'm traveling to Nice. Is it nice in Nice this time of year?"
"Could they think of anything more fake?" A hand crossed pale brown hair, with a muttered laugh as he said, his voice flat, "I hear the rain in Spain is better." Then, his mouth puckered, he added petulantly. "Weasley has the worst sense of humor but at least I've you sorted. You don't do this often."
No, he didn't do this often. Or at all. He hadn't even been out of school very long...not that he was about to admit that. Anthony shrugged. "I blame him more for making me order this dessert," he muttered as he dropped it into a nearby waste bin. "We can speak in French if you're more comfortable with that," he said, easily switching languages.
"Please," he sighed as he dropped into the chair, accent turning more fluid. "English is such a pretentious language. And harsh. It feels like swallowing rocks."
Anthony had to smile. The French were notoriously snobbish when it came to their language. Anything else was immediately deemed decidedly inferior. "I take it that you don't enjoy speaking German then. What do we do now? I'm fairly certain that I'm not forgetting any secret hand signals or handshakes."
"I'm supposed to show you around." He leaned forward, light smile playing across his lips. "And no, I despise German. Worse than English although I suppose one must give them points for efficiency." His eyes danced across Anthony's face, then said, "Have they given you one of those silly codenames?"
Anthony nodded and chuckled. "You have to respect the fact that they can cram six different words together to make a brand new one." He sighed and looked from the man's face to the crowd milling about behind him. "My codename is the Ant," he said lowering his voice. "I'd ask your name but I think the woman behind you is trying to listen to our conversation."
His head whipped around as he glanced at the woman. "I'd say that a little quieter if I were you."
Standing quickly, he said, his voice altogether too casual, "Let's take a walk. I need to get some air."
His head whipped around as he glanced at the woman. "I'd say that a little quieter if I were you."
Standing quickly, he said, his voice altogether too casual, "Let's take a walk. I need to get some air."
Anthony nodded and followed closely behind the man as they weaved and bobbed through the crowd. He'd obviously done this sort of thing before. He was glad for it. All he had to do was follow in the taller man's wake as the crowds of people parted for him.
His body pressed through the crowds, not stopping until they'd reached a quiet point. Leaning in closer to the other man, he murmured, "That woman - I didn't see her face clearly. Before you look, try to be casual about it. Don't turn your head sharply. Don't jerk. Is she here?"
He gave the man a bare discernible nod before slowly looking around the room. He kept his eyes on the walls, pretending to look for a clock. He found one and the woman standing beneath it. Pretending to set his watch to match the clock he turned back to the man and gave him a wide grin to try and add to the air of casualness. "She's there," he muttered between his teeth.
"Which one is she?" The man leaned against the wall, his hand resting flat against it as if he was saying something mildly flirtatious. A grin wrinkled his mouth as he said, his tone deceptively light, "I might know her from other encounters, you realize."
It was a brilliant ploy really. If she thought they were flirting she could simply think that they were two horny guys looking for a quick and easy screw. Besides, Anthony seemed anything but straight. He decided to play along and ran the palm of his hand against the other man's jaw. "She's the bint in a long black dress with the long black hair," he said, keeping the easy smile plastered on his face.
The touch seemed to startle the other man.
His mouth remaining in a singular line, he murmured, "Nice" as his eyes drifted over to her for a moment, then turned back to Anthony. "They've always the black hair, had you noticed?"
Anthony jerked his hand away. He'd obviously made the man uncomfortable. "Sorry, I was just trying to play along."
"I've noticed that too. Unless your last name happens to be Malfoy." He sighed and checked his watch. "Maybe we should get out of here," he muttered, jerking his head toward the men's room while giving him a salacious grin.
"Maybe," he said, following Anthony inside, his eyes tracing the ceiling cautiously. After a long moment of silence, he said, "Louis. My name's Louis. They call me the Gnome though. I hate it but secrecy's important, so they say, and given that woman out there, I understand." His fingers drummed against the wall for a moment, before he said quietly, "Why are you doing this?"
Anthony snorted. "I'm not going to even ask why they call you the Gnome." He whipped out his wand and sent the heavy metal trashcan flying through the air to rest in front of the door. That'd at least slow someone down. "Because it's important," he said with a shrug. "My parents are muggles and I'm not just going to sit by and hope for the best." He smiled suddenly. "Besides, I speak excellent French. Why are you doing this?"
"I want to be a hero," he smiled. "Always did, even as a child. I suppose I saw too many films. I, too, have muggles in the blood." Louis brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, then said, "It's not many who get to be heroes, however. Generally speaking, you have to die and I don't plan to."
Anthony smiled. It wasn't the answer he was expecting but it was a good one. "Well fancy that. I don't plan on dying or letting anyone else die on my watch either." Louis reminded him strongly of a Gryffindor which meant that he'd need looking after. "I just finished my medic training. When all of this is over I plan to become a Healer." He eyed the door and decided it would be prudent to move away from it. "Should we, um, go? I was told that you'd take me back to headquarters or whatever."
"Close your eyes and we'll Apparate." With a slight cocking of his head, Louis said, "People make the same faces during Apparation they do during sex. No sense in sharing that, I assume. Take my hand and I'll get you to headquarters."
"I've never heard that before." He shrugged and gently held onto Louis' hand. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable so his grip was light and easy. "Okay, ready."
It was only a moment and they were there. Louis quickly walked over to a window and cracked it open, the air of the room so close it was almost stifling on immediate impact. He glanced over at the other man, then said, "It's not much. Then again, there's little of the war being fought on this side of the Channel."
The room was very hot and Anthony could hear the vague sound of waves splashing on a beach. "Well at least it's close to the ocean." He paused to fan himself with his hand. "I'm guess we're in the south of France. It wasn't nearly this warm up north."
"You'd be right. Whoever thought up the code phrase was hardly original." He glanced out the window, adding, "I'll give you the tour but there's not a lot here." With a slight flourish of his hand, Louis began to lead Anthony towards the stairs. "We have rooms for sleeping here, a wireless, a few books. This isn't a place people stay for long but sometimes we use it as... a... holding cell." His jaw tightened.
Anthony followed him around, taking it all in. He shrugged off his hooded sweatshirt and glanced out the window. "Holding cell? I'm not being...held am I?"
"Not unless you want to be," he simply lifted an eyebrow, then pointed to the bars in the corner of the room. "There's going to be a time.. when we have to take prisoners."
Anthony stopped and stared for a moment. The conversation had taken an odd path at some point and he couldn't quite figure out how or why it had done so. "I'm sorry. What?"
"You heard me." Louis' eyes looked weary as he breathed. "Prisoners. We'll have to take them. The world's not full of easy answers, Ant." Ant. What an odd name for such a man. He found a chair and leaned into it, saying, "We trust people too easily now. Yourself included."
"I'm aware of that." He wondered what they did with their prisoners after they were done with them but didn't ask. "Are you alright? You keep looking at me strangely. I'm sorry about touching you before but I just thought that I'd go along with the ruse. I wasn't...you know, throwing myself at you. You're, um, obviously not that sort anyway." He laughed suddenly and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "God, I'm so lame."
There was a long pause before he said, glancing away, "No, I'm not obviously that sort, am I?"
Anthony shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't think so. It isn't any of my business. I'm sorry." He couldn't remember the last time he's apologized so much in one conversation...not even with his mother. The woman could make you feel guilty curing cancer.
"You should be careful to make assumptions in our line of work." Louis said, standing quietly. "Especially when they're generally wrong." With that, he turned, walking to the stairs and ascending, his step almost inaudible as he disappeared.