Chapter Text
Cedric knows he ought to be happy that Maurice has started visiting the infirmary more and more often. That’s exactly what he wanted, after all, to be able to spend more time with the beautiful foreigner, stare at him smiling as Cedric pours the tea, listen to him laugh at his jokes.
Cedric was thrilled, at first, to see Maurice smile and laugh more, after being so quiet and withdrawn during his first few visits. He’s eating more, as well, rather than merely taking a few polite bites of a muffin or biscuit.
Still, something seems just a little off. Maurice’s smile doesn’t always seem to extend to his blue eyes, and the few times Cedric has gone to get something and then been able to look at him without Maurice realizing he’s being looked at, his face goes entirely flat and blank.
Cedric can’t think what he might have done wrong. Was it the flower? Cedric didn’t mean anything by it, nothing that he could put into words, in any case. He had given it to Maurice without even thinking, moved by some strange desire he can’t exactly name.
He wanted to show Maurice that there could be beauty in England too, he supposes.
But he must have taken it the wrong way, and as the most junior instructor at St. Daniel’s, perhaps Maurice felt it would be inappropriate to turn down Cedric’s standing invitation, even if Cedric was the most junior member of the staff after him.
“How are the children treating you?” Cedric asks, trying to find his way back to wherever they had been before he put things wrong.
“Fine,” Maurice says brightly, but his eyes stay cold. “The preparations for the concert are going well. They’re a very talented group of boys.”
“Well, now they finally have someone they look up to enough to try,” Cedric says.
Maurice blushes a little, with a small but more genuine smile. “I...I’m not…” he says faintly, looking down at his hands.
“Nonsense,” Cedric says firmly, setting another biscuit on Maurice’s plate—Maurice reaches out a split second too early and their fingers brush. Cedric pulls his hand away quickly. “I know they take advantage when they can,” he continues, hoping what he’s feeling doesn’t show in his voice. Most inappropriate, the things he’s thinking, and about a colleague! He shoves the images down. “They’re only excited since they know they won’t get caned for it, but they really do love you.”
Brushing a few stray strands of hair back behind his ear, Maurice reaches for his teacup, still without looking up at Cedric. “I try,” he says.
He seems to have shifted closer to the way he was when they first met. Cedric feels like this must be an improvement, that he’s willing to show his natural shyness rather than force a vivacity he doesn’t actually feel. Hopefully, this means Cedric still has a chance to deepen their friendship.
“I...I wonder,” Cedric begins cautiously, hoping he isn’t pressing his luck too much. “Er. The Latin master is sending the boys with the top marks to see a cricket match, next weekend. He asked me to chaperone them for him, but there really ought to be two. Would you like to go? The weather should be nice.”
Maurice blinks as he takes a dainty bite of the biscuit. “Oh.”
His eyebrows tilt a little and Cedric’s heart sinks. He thought this was the most proper kind of outing he could ask Maurice on, without giving him any wrong ideas, but perhaps even that was a little bit much.
“Certainly,” Maurice says finally.
“Oh! Wonderful, I’m sure you’ll love it,” Cedric says in a rush. “The train tickets and all that are already sorted, you just need to meet us at the gate. Saturday morning at eight. I’ll pack a lunch for the two of us,” he adds, emboldened by the way Maurice is looking at him.
“That sounds delightful,” Maurice smiles. “Tea was lovely but I must get back to class. Thank you so much.”
“Any time,” Cedric says, holding the door open for him as he leaves.
“Cricket?” Cedric hears through the door once he closes it. “Que diable est cricket?”
The day of the school outing dawns clear and sunny, though there are clouds looming in the distance. Silver almost decides, at the last minute, to claim he’s ill and remain in Amber House. The excuse wouldn't even be far from reality; being on a full day’s outing alone, nearly unarmed, among real people, with no way for Rey to intervene if things go wrong...just thinking about it makes his chest tight with panic.
Rey isn’t there, having left Silver’s room long before dawn to continue his work. But it’s easy to predict what Rey would say if he was there, of course. “What’s the matter? It’s only a few hours. The more that doctor trusts you—” Silver knows he’s mentioned Cedric’s name before, but Rey never uses it. “—the more secure our position will be at the school.”
And the imaginary Rey is correct, naturally, so Silver forces himself to breathe evenly, makes sure his knife is comfortingly placed in his vest pocket, and heads to the gate.
“Maurice!” Cedric calls from the middle of the group of boys. “Bonjour!”
Silver laughs at how the word sounds in Cedric’s solid English accent as he runs to join them. “Good morning,” he replies, emphasizing his own French pronunciation in turn.
“So glad you’re here—Dennis! You are not bringing those marbles on the train! Give them here, I’ll hold them for you until we get back—So glad you’re here,” Cedric repeats, beaming. “I was afraid I’d scared you off. Jack! Edmond! We will not be shoving like that!” He sighs and pushes his hair back out of his face. “I’m sure they’ll settle down once we’re on the train,” he says with an apologetic shrug.
“Of course—oh!” Silver jumps as a pair of small arms are thrown around his waist from behind.
“Master LeBlanc!”
“Lewis?” Silver extricates himself and turns around to see Lewis beaming up at him.
“Young Martins is a regular Cicero—aren’t you?” Cedric says, laughing as Lewis ducks back behind Silver again. “Don’t trip him up, now.”
After a last headcount, they set off for the train station, with Cedric taking the lead, followed by the ten students, and Silver as rearguard. Lewis hangs towards the back of the group, chattering animatedly, and Silver tries not to sound too distracted even though he barely follows one word in ten.
Silver has never ridden a train before coming to England, not that he can remember, in any case. But he finds no difficulty in navigating the station or ushering the boys through the crowded train car to their compartment. He must have been someone who rode trains once, he concludes as he sits down across from Cedric.
Lewis immediately climbs into the seat next to him. Cedric looks a little annoyed, and Silver starts to push Lewis away towards the other boys across the corridor, then pauses. They’re all much older than Lewis, and Silver knows that he’s mostly ignored by the other students in music class and in Amber House.
They sit for perhaps ten minutes in silence, apart from the faint chatter of the other boys in the adjacent compartment. Silver watches the scenery go by, wondering where he picked up Latin, and why the vocabulary he has in it is so odd. Lewis draws in a small leatherbound sketchbook he takes out of his schoolbag. Cedric watches Silver look out the window, except when he realizes Silver notices him doing it.
“You actually like children, don’t you,” Cedric says after a while.
Silver looks away from the blurry fields. “Is that such a surprise?” he says, confused. “I work at a school.”
Cedric shrugs. “Most of the other teachers don’t. They're here for the money—the children are an unfortunate side effect.”
“Oh...what a shame,” he replies. More of a shame than Cedric can know—Silver is only pretending to like the boys, after all. Though, he realizes after thinking for a moment, somehow it’s become more than just a pretense. Or perhaps these feelings have been there the whole time, and Silver never had a chance to notice them before. He tries to think of the last time he had any interactions with a child. Sophie’s establishments—the bar in Italy, the can-can cabaret in Paris—naturally had only adult customers.
And if he likes children, is comfortable with them, what does that mean? Perhaps he really was a teacher once. Or...could the man Silver once was have had children? If so, what happened to them? He had been alone when Rey found him—a child could never have survived similar injuries—
“Maurice? Maurice, are you—ow!”
Silver snaps back into focus. He’s sitting in the train car. Cedric is staring at him from inches away, eyes wide.
Cedric’s wrist is gripped in his hand.
Silver stares at him for a moment, too frozen to even remember to let go. “...So sorry,” he says finally. His heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest, and he suddenly feels frozen. God, he can’t be discovered at a time like this. There are too many people around: too many people would have to die, and in broad daylight.
And the children.
“That’s...that’s quite alright,” Cedric says, wringing his hand as Silver releases him. “You’re stronger than you look. Comes of practicing piano so much, I suppose.”
“Ah...yes,” Silver agrees. “Practicing.”
Cedric keeps staring at him once he sits back on the opposite bench, an odd look on his face. “Lewis, why don’t you go sit with the other boys for the rest of the trip?” he says, not looking away from Silver.
“But…”
“Go on, chum, there’s a good lad.”
The door of the compartment shuts, and Silver clutches the knife in his pocket as Cedric moves to sit beside him.