A/N: Hullo, and welcome to my first Dark Shadows fanfic! I fell in love with this pairing upon watching the movie, and I couldn't resist writing a ficlet about it. If everything goes as planned, it should only be two or three chapters long, but nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. PLEASE REVIEW! I would gladly love to hear your thoughts on this.
(This is a re- posting from the original Dark Shadows archive at the TV Shows section.)
"So often, they looked at me with love, and I returned nothing but hatred. I was blinded by my fury that my rejection of you caused. And so, through the years, we battled and fought-and I never guessed that, beneath my rage, I felt a love as strong as yours. "
Chapter 1
Angelique Bouchard was not a woman to be held back- from the very day she was born, she was told to mind her place, to accept the fact that she was to be confined to the social status which she had been born into, and yet she had never listened. A sharp tug at the ear, a slap across the cheek, harsh belittlements- they were small prices to pay for her disobedience.
She took the Collins boy as a friend. He was certainly nice enough to her upon their first meeting, unlike the other snobbish nobles who would turn their noses up at the servant girl. Barnabas Collins was intrigued at the way she went about doing her chores, and often chattered noisily to her while she hurried around the house to complete her work. When she finished them, he would pester her ceaselessly to play with him for awhile, for he was a lonely boy, and she was the only child around his age to entertain his fancies. Mindful of her parents' - and his parents'- disapproval but continuously finding herself more and more willing to accept his friendship, Angelique would concede and they would spend hours playing catch and climbing the trees in the forest behind Collinswood.
Angelique, although bereft of any formal education due to her status as a servant girl, was certainly bright, and always hungry for knowledge. When the two of them were older - 9 or 10, they would often be squirreled away in the deepest corner of the library, poring over dusty tomes filled with wise teachings from the old. It was also here that Angelique pestered Barnabas to teach her everything he was learning, and by watching from a distance while he took his etiquette lessons, learned how to properly behave in society. By the time both of them were 15, it was clear that Angelique was turning into a most beautiful young woman, and often caught the appraising eyes of other nobles who dined at the Collins manor. She conducted herself with grace and maturity, and seemed to possess an air of aristocracy which made her stand out from the rest. Even young women of the highest breeding were seldom as matured or as well- poised as she was, and Barnabas couldn't help but feel proud as he watched her manoeuvre the crowds elegantly, collecting the trays from the tables and balancing them beautifully on her hands as she strode in and out of the kitchens.
At the age of 16, Barnabas met Josette Du Pres for the first time, and it was love at first sight as he took in her 'fertile birthing hips', her curly honey- golden tresses, and her wide- doe eyes which captivated him with their swirling pools of chocolate- brown.
At the age of 16, Angelique was selected as handmaiden for the future Lady Collins, and whilst she found the young girl to be of a sweet, docile nature, she was, like any other noble, just as susceptible to the occasional temper tantrums, and Angelique often bore the brunt of these tantrums as Josette would throw her slippers at her (her quick reflexes enabled her to duck most of them) and demand for the deft seamstress to make her new dresses immediately. She also refused to let Angelique touch her hair or get her out of bed on her bad days, despite Angelique's numerous pleas- 'My lady, please, you have to get out of bed, it is high time past noon, and the young master is waiting for you!'
Barnabas never saw Josette in her fits, for he only saw her when she was decked out head to toe in gracious finery and perfection- something which Angelique had spent painstaking hours preparing Josette for. She wondered, quite bitterly, what Barnabas would think if he had known what his wife- to- be was like, but she bit her tongue and refrained herself from telling him, for he was entranced by Josette's naivety and innocence, her refreshing youth and surprise at everything previously unknown to her, and Angelique did not wish to spoil it for him.
At 17, Angelique met Judah Zachary, quite by chance at the marketplace, and he took her under his wing, teaching her all he knew of the dark arts and of sorcery. She would never forget what her mentor had said to her at their very last meeting before he was prosecuted by the church- "Angelique, you have the face of an angel and the body of a temptress. Your future, however, is anything but bright. I see hardships and struggles in the lines of your fate, and an undying love which crosses the centuries. Soon, you'll lose the very blood that makes you human, but I do pray for you, my dear child, that you do not lose your faith or your heart in love, no matter what treachery or rejection you have to endure." The words had chilled her to the bone, and even more so when Judah was burned at the stake not a day later.
At 17, a few weeks before Barnabas was due to marry Josette, he became increasingly paranoid. There was a sort of sickening thud- drop to his heart when he thought about marrying her. Not that he didn't want to, heavens no, but he didn't understand why there was a niggling feeling at the bottom of his heart that told him she wasn't his one true love. In desperation, he turned to his childhood friend Angelique, and she had laughed at him cheerily, telling him that he was merely getting pre- wedding jitters, and assuring him that all will be fine. Her eyes, however, didn't twinkle a merry blue when she laughed, and he wondered what it was that made her distance herself from him of late. He asked her, and she refused to tell him why she always seemed to be preoccupied all afternoon, and in a sudden act of fervour and pent- up frustration, he had kissed her, and from there on, everything was a downward spiral. Angelique was utterly dazzling when they were making love- on the piano, the chaise longue, the floor- she made everything brighter, made every feeling heightened, and she was absolutely exquisite every time she came. Barnabas was nothing short of bewitched, and Angelique was enchanted by his love and the thrill of a forbidden relationship between servant and master.
A week before the wedding, Josette went to Barnabas privately and confessed her own trepidation about the wedding night, and Barnabas felt an overwhelming guilt start to eat him from the inside out. That evening, instead of meeting Angelique like he had promised, he stayed with Josette and professed his undying love and adoration for her- "We'll be together, forever?" Josette had asked, her cherubic features shining with innocence and her eyes full of wonder. "Always, my love. Always." He had kissed her without any hesitations, his affections for Angelique discarded like a piece of paper, and so he failed to see the contempt in Angelique's face as she watched the happy couple from her position on the floor- scrubbing it on her hands and knees, like a servant should. A mere servant girl- that was all she was to him, She had never been held back in her life, and Angelique was not about to make an exception for this. Josette Du Pres was about to have her innocence tarnished, and Barnabas would regret ever refusing her love.
She killed the Lord and the Lady Collins the next day. Certainly, she did feel guilty- after all, they had always been a friendly sort of people who didn't possess such a sense of superiority, but it was necessary to let Barnabas experience just a modicum of the pain that his rejection had caused her. Yes, a modicum. She didn't think anyone would EVER be able to imagine the pain she felt as she watched the love she thought she had possessed crumble to dust at her feet. It was pain beyond comprehension. She suffered from sleepless nights for a whole month, and had to apply more powder than usual in the morning to cover up the dark circles. She refused to speak to Barnabas or to anyone that wasn't in her family, and was soon degraded to the silent and morose servant girl that she was meant to be.
"Angelique, did you hear what I said? I ordered for you to bring my pearl slippers, Barnabas tells me they look best on my feet." Josette tutted in annoyance, her pretty features contorting into an ugly, scrunched up one. The Alder wood twig Angelique was playing with in her hands snapped in two, and Angelique tucked them into the pocket of her frock before hurrying to get Josette the slippers she was asking for. As she helped Josette tie up the silky ties of the slippers, she decided that that night was to be the very night she would exact her revenge on Barnabas, by killing his love and condemning him to an eternal hellish night. That night, she watched as Barnabas screamed in anguish, and her heart started to heal at the sound of his heart breaking.
He didn't let his damnation deter him for long, Angelique observed with a grudging admiration- within weeks, he was back on his feet and business at the fishery went on as usual. He was strong. She never doubted he would recover, she just didn't expect that it would take him such a short time to. Perhaps he had less feeling for her mistress than she thought, Angelique mused. When the fishery was at the top of its line of business, Angelique decided that Barnabas had more than enough peace for the time being, and led another revolt against him. This time, he was cursed to be buried alive, and she couldn't help but give him a sly wink as she slammed the lid shut on his coffin. The look of pure furor on his face as he was resigned to being locked up for a good century or two was enough drive for Angelique to work at exceeding herself- through the years, she built up her own fishery, got her portrait painted, feigned her death, feigned her birth, feigned her image, but she never changed her name. Deep down, Angelique Bouchard would always be Angelique Bouchard, and she refused to give herself another name- rather, she swapped images as the eras flew by, and on occasion when she had the time to breathe and a moment of privacy to herself, she found herself wondering about his loneliness in his coffin, and a sad smile would overcome her features.
Despite how much she missed him (not that she would never admit it out loud), she never visited the site of his grave. She knew she couldn't. She wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to dig him out if not. Instead, she dissipated this temptation with hatred, with curses upon the Collins family, and watched as their numbers dwindled to little but four over the years. A motley crew, but a strong bunch, she had observed. All except that sly bastard Roger, but even he had the resilience of a particularly vicious virus. It runs in the family, she had laughed to herself one day, and it definitely was a trait to be admired.
Everything changed, however, come the year 1972. "There had been an incident last night off Route 9 which killed 11 men." The sentence had roused no suspicion whatsoever in her, until - "It was no accident, they all had their throats ripped out." She turned at this, her heart thudding faster than it had for two centuries, and she immediately barked - "Where off Route 9?"
She didn't provide an explanation, merely rushed off from the factory to the burial spot, and despite seeing many things over her years of living, still nearly fainted at the sight. A gaping hole where his coffin had been- that was all that was left of it. Cursing under her breath, she hurried to her Barracuda and sped to Collinswood, the establishment just as grand as it was in the 1700s.
"Take me to Barnabas Collins." She demanded, scoffing at the idiocy of the manservant.
"Angie. What a surprise." Elizabeth Collins was a handsome looking lady, well- kept for her age, and definitely to be respected. Angelique held little opinion of her, however- she held little opinion of anyone, especially since her immortality gave her the wisdom no one else had. Hardly anyone impressed her anymore, and there was only ever one being that did- "Barnabas, meet Angie." - "Hello. My name is Angie Bouchard." As Barnabas grabbed her hand, a jolt of realization shot through him, and he hissed between his fangs- "Angelique."
Her eyes widened but she concealed the surprise well. To see him again after two centuries...it was shocking and she found herself rather breathless. As he led her into the drawing room -their drawing room- she grabbed him by the lapels of his suit and crushed his figure to hers, only to taste the familiar addiction of his lips on hers again. Woody, musky and tasting faintly of a rich wine- just like that, she was enchanted once more.
"Locked up for TWO HUNDRED YEARS!" He thundered furiously, despite the fact that his undead heart felt like it was thudding hardly again in his chest after the kiss she had given him.
"Don't exaggerate, darling. It was only a hundred and ninety- six." And she had counted every passing year with longing in her heart.
"Remember all the fun we had here- " She purred, drawing her fingers over the stately grand piano- "and...here?" she drew her boot over the italian marbled floor- "and even...here" she reclined on the chaise lounge comfortably, smirking up at the forlorn look on Barnabas' face and the smudge of her lipstick still on his lips.
"You witch! You cursed me into eternal damnation and you dare laugh!"
Angelique pursed her lips in a show of thoughtfulness, before letting loose another laugh from her throat- loud and raucous but light. Barnabas delighted at the sound- it was raw and real and not at all ladylike, but it was still so decidedly Angelique that he couldn't help but relish it. He quickly temped down any positive feeling he had of her, however, and instead summoned his annoyance at her nonchalance.
"It's good to see you again, Barnabas, and I dare say we'll get reacquainted with each other real soon." Angelique threw a kiss over her shoulder as she left, her hips swaying and her confidence at its highest.
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