I'm very nervous because this is my first attempt at English fanfiction. I really hope I haven't made too many mistakes, but my English grammar isn't quite as good as I would like it to be.
Anyway, hope you like it, let me know what you think!
This is the translation of one of my French fanfictions, Le Papillon d'Ivoire
Disclaimer: I don't own anything :(
He had met her before.
He had met her and she didn't remember.
It was for the best.
The circumstances of their first encounter… He wasn't proud of them. A rebellious teenager, he had fled from the place he was working in under his father's orders in the middle of a show. He had made a choice a few weeks earlier: he didn't want to earn money that was going to be wasted on games and drinks anymore. He didn't want to live this unsteady and unfair life anymore. So he had left in the middle of telling a young woman about her dead husband, because he knew nothing could enrage his father more. And he had hoped the rage would be enough to get him thrown out of his father's life.
Running away, he had run into something and fallen unceremoniously to the floor, landing in the dust with a muffled sound. He had gotten back up after the few seconds it had taken him to get some oxygen back into his lungs, and he'd had to lower his gaze in order to see what had knocked the wind out of him. To say he had been surprise to find a small girl would have been an understatement. She hadn't budged in the slightest when he was still trying to find his breath back.
"Watch where you're going!" she had scowled.
He'd been about to reply with the same angry voice when his observational skills had suddenly kicked in. In a flash, he'd noticed the black hair and the bangs that almost hid the emerald gaze, a shield protecting her from the world. Noticed the sorrow written all over her face. Noticed the lips, bitterly sealed, but not because she was still mad at being run into. Noticed the small hand she was holding, a hand that belonged to a younger boy with the same green eyes. Noticed the two other kids standing very close to her side, obviously depending on her. Noticed the ivory butterfly-shaped brooch, way too conspicuous for a girl her age, and the golden cross hanging from her neck, two pieces of jewelry meant to remind her of someone, no doubt about it. Noticed the obviously drunk man stumbling towards them. Among all those things he'd noticed, it was the sorrow that made him lean towards her to whisper in her hear:
_She loved you. She still does. Be happy. For her.
Then he'd stolen a glance behind him to see his father trying to catch up with him, and he'd started running again, hoping he had helped this nameless girl he thought he'd never see again as much as he could.
Over twenty years later, he could still remember that day. It had been a turning point in his life, and this encounter with a twelve-year-old Teresa Lisbon had been eye-opening. He had realized he could do more than scam people. He could lie for good reasons. He could use his gifts to bring hope into troubled lives.
He hadn't seen her again until much later, after those tragic events he could never forget, and he had fallen back into that gaze like you'd hold onto a life-belt in the middle of a storm. The sorrow was still there, but it was balanced out by a strength he hadn't seen very often, in anyone. The bitterness was still lurking behind the surface, but it was drowned out by her will to make the world a better place. The loss she had suffered still made her who she was, but it had made her more human. Very different from what it had done to him, who had lost all humanity.
Until he had made her smile for the first time and he had realized his heart was not quite as cold as he wanted it to be.
He had always wondered if his words had affected her life in any way. If he'd been right in assuming she had lost her mother. If she had managed to be happy, somewhere in between the missions, the criminals, and the family fallouts. If she had believed him. Today, he could find out, yet he couldn't seem to bring himself to ask.
A glanced towards her office brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. Her eyes were vague and lost, and for a second he wondered what she was thinking about. Sometimes, he wished he could really read minds.
She had met him before.
She had met him and he didn't remember.
It was for the best.
The circumstances of their first encounter… She wasn't proud of them. A mourning teenager, she had been weak, and she had found the strength she needed to face the hard years to come in a stranger's few words. She was as ashamed to have believed him as she was of having ever needed any kind of help.
Ever since that day, she had closed herself off to any support that was offered to her, she had managed everything by herself, she had hidden herself behind a confident smile. She never wanted to feel this need for help again, even if it was just for a few seconds.
The email she had just gotten from her brother had brought back memories she would rather keep buried. The slideshow he was making for her birthday party had some childhood pictures in it, and more precisely a picture she had never wanted to see again. A carnival, a poster with a psychic boy, their first family evening out since their mother's death. The first time she had seen her brothers smile since the accident. The first time she had realized they were now depending on her. The first time she had let go of her hopes for a normal life.
Until this unexpected encounter that had shattered all of her beliefs. A boy had given her the only thing she desperately needed: he had made her want to keep living.
These few seconds were still clear as day in her mind, she had remembered them until the day she had seen him on TV, a psychic on the rise, a young man who had just been offered his very own weekly show. The way he looked so deeply into a person's eyes, the comforting smile, the bewitching gaze… She had understood after seeing the fake tear that had rolled down his cheek as he was pretending to be talking to a dead sister that it was all part of the show.
The scene had brought her back to that day, years earlier, when she had believed him.
She shook her head and got back to work, trying to concentrate on the important report she needed to finish before tomorrow. But of course, her consultant had other things in mind. Always one to notice her slightest changes in demeanor, even when he wasn't in the same room as her. He showed up at her door, knocked, and came in without waiting for her to answer. He took place in the chair across from her and bluntly asked:
"What's wrong?"
"Everything's fine."
His eyebrows shot up, expressing his disbelief more than words could have, and she let out a defeated sigh. A few years ago, when she had started working with him, she would have fought him. She wouldn't have answered. She would have tried to get him out of her office, threatened him with bodily harm if she had to. But she had grown up. Trying to get rid of him was a waste of time, as he always ended up knowing everything anyway. Besides, her current musings weren't as secretive or embarrassing as they could have been, she could tell him about them without fearing he would use them against her later. So she answered truthfully:
"Just some troubling memories."
"What kind of memories?"
She realized with surprise that he seemed to actually care, that he wasn't just asking so that he could find a weak spot in her armor. Still suspicious, she reluctantly replied:
"The family kind. A night out with my brothers right after my mother's death, and a meeting which left me quite confused for a while."
He smiled a little at her half confession and he saw her frown, probably thinking his reaction wasn't as respectful as she wished it would be. But he couldn't help himself. He'd just realized that in spite of what he had always thought, she did remember. However, her rather vague answer meant she didn't want to say too much, probably because she thought he didn't. Deciding he needed to prove her wrong, he said lightly:
"You don't wear the brooch anymore."
"What?"
He smiled again at her stupefaction and ignored her in order to add:
"You wear the cross, but not the brooch, the ivory butterfly. Why?"
"What the…"
"It was way too big for a little girl, but it would look great on you now."
He saw her swallow hard as she tried to process what he'd just said. He not only remembered, he remembered in great details. After a minute of silence, she seemed to decide she wasn't going to ask and she just explained:
"I had to sell it after my father's death. It was worth a small fortune. The cross isn't."
"I'm sorry", he said, using his most soothing voice.
For a while, she looked as though she was trying to decide whether he was serious. In the end, she nodded her thanks, and he left after casting her one last sympathetic glance. He knew how painful memories could be, and the only thing he could give her was a silent support. He couldn't show her too much or she would close up again. He had just resigned himself to another boring day when an idea suddenly crossed his mind. He changed his path from his couch to Van Pelt's desk and said:
"I need a favor. There's something I need to find."
She breathed deeply in and out before ringing the bell. She knew what to expect, at the very least her brother had had the decency to warn her, but that didn't mean she was happy about it. She had been dreading this day for weeks. She had never been a big fan of big gatherings, but for some reason, the few family members who still cared had decided she couldn't turn thirty-five without some kind of party. She finally rang the bell, and as soon as her smiling and very pregnant sister-in-law opened the door, she heard loud music and conversations. Her brother's wife hugged her briefly and shouted:
"Birthday girl's here!"
Shouts and hugs greeted her, and she managed to go along for a few hours, thanking the guests and smiling almost convincingly when all she really wanted was to be home alone. She couldn't blame them. They just wanted to make her happy.
When it was time for the most dreaded gifts opening, her brother walked over to her, gave her a small wooden box and explained, looking strangely perplexed:
"I found this in the mail a few days ago, along with a note saying I should give this to you on your birthday. Nobody knows what this is or who it's from. I'm giving it to you first because we're all dying to find out", he added with a smile.
Startled, she frowned and took the box hesitantly. Her suspicious nature kicked in as she briefly wondered if this was a bad joke or worse, but curiosity got the better of her and she opened the box. What she saw then had her hand fly to her mouth in an attempt to hold back the grateful sob.
Delicately resting against the black velvet was an ivory butterfly she hadn't seen in two decades.
The end