Hey guys its been a while. This story might not just be a oneshot but who knows? Feel free to tell me what you think :)
Dakar, Senegal 1954
THROUGH the small rounded window, sunlight passed into the cabin as Erik prepared himself for a long, arduous 6 hour flight to Paris. He found a fresh lead on Schmidt that led him to a small town by the sea. A goose chase, quite possibly, but beggars can't be choosers.
Erik sighed as he surveyed the interior of the contraption that was to be his metaphorical, and quite possibly, literal, airborne coffin to France. It was one of the regular commercial planes with two passengers' seats on either side of an isle in the center. Seats were covered in a dark velvet fabric, comfortably spaced in between each pair. A small semi-circular wooden counter was attached to the end of the aisle, where drinks will later on be served, with archways on either side of it, leading to the cockpit. The cabin itself had a dull beige color that complimented the overall interior design.
Passengers were slowly filing in on either side, mostly white men, businessmen, he assumed, in their crisp gray suits being entertained by the airline's stewardesses. One of which, he noticed, sent him a rather coquettish smile. He leafed through his in-flight pamphlet, completely ignoring the woman.
He was a good looking man, above average at best, he knew. Erik wasn't as thick as to pass by the looks the women sent him while in his travels. Naturally, with his talents, seduction was a game he played rather well: a little whisper here, a small touch there, all in good business and fun, he'd usually end up having his way. But not today, he thought, he wasn't in the mood for such frivolities. There was a chance he was this close to getting to Schmidt, this close to avenging his mother, this close to—
"Excuse me." Snapping out of his spiraling thoughts, Erik looked up to acknowledge the sound. A young woman met his gaze. She appeared to be around his age, if not younger, with short curled dark auburn hair, almost red against the sunlight, and impish features highlighting some of her undoubtedly French heritage.
"Yes?" He slowly replied.
She smiled pleasantly, visibly relaxing her grip on her carry-on as she slipped into the seat beside him. "I was worried I'd be sitting next to a mad man for 6 hours. You seemed to hold much contempt for pamphlets." Eric loosened his hold on the sheet, just noticing the paleness of his knuckles subsiding. He was alone when he boarded the plane and expected to remain as such for the duration of the flight. Not many could afford flying these days and most chose not to, thus leaving him without a seatmate in many of his flight experiences.
"I didn't peg you as one who judges, madame." She was a quaint little thing, barely reaching his shoulders, by his estimate, not as stunning, as compared to the stewardess a few minutes ago, but fair, nonetheless. A Parisian, he deduced, justified by her rounded shoulders instead of the traditional padded ones.
"Isn't it the judgement of the many and powerful that dictate society, monseur?" She replied with a tinge of irony. Quirking a brow, Erik replied, "That may be true but as of the moment, I do not see many passing judgement on my sanity, madame."
She replied haughtily with mirth in her eyes,"Then I must be one of the powerful."
It wasn't everyday a woman acted so freely around him. Erik found it refreshing. Her French was deep and she spoke it fluently like any native speaker. But there was a tinge of something there, a small hitch in her accent he couldn't quite place that intrugued him even more. She laughed, noting his silence.
"Pardon me, I was merely humoring myself. Lara Monette, a pleasure to meet you." Taking her outstretched hand, Erik placed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. "Max Eisendhart, the pleasure is all mine."
The intercom took everyone's attention as a stewardess instructed them on putting on their seatbelts. Complicated contraptions, Erik thought, but doable with practice. Meanwhile, as the plane had started moving and sped up along the runway, Erik noticed the same stewardess stealing glances of him as she made her routine checks before the plane took off. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her, he noticed his seatmate, Lara, as he just recently discovered, had a teasing smirk painted across her face as she appeared to be busy securing her carry-on on a buckle by the floor. Just as he was about to make a snide comment, the familiar flipping feeling one gets as the plane left the ground paralyzed him.
If there were any parts of flying he disliked it was this. And the landing, which was much worse. Man was not built to fly, then again, he was not initially made to control metal either but that was besides the point.
Out the window he could see the houses and cars getting smaller and smaller until they looked like mere pieces of tile scattered across a floor of green and blue. Despite his apprehension of flight, heights never appeared to be a problem for Erik, the new perspective fascinated him.
"It takes great courage to look through that window at this height, Monseur Eisendhart." Lara murmured from beside him. Erik turned to her and settled back into his seat as the plane continued to ascend "Do you not like heights, Madame Monette?" He noticed that she had closed her eyes. She wore light make-up with pale colors and a light shade of red graced her lips accentuating the slight curve of muscle at the corner that made her appear to have a soft natural pout. It was an endearing feature, he thought, the beauty of a simple woman that he could appreciate.
"A necessary evil but yes, it doesn't quite tickle my fancy." She sighed, slowly opening her eyes as the plane reached its designated cruising altitude. "And you, monseur? Take-off didn't seem quite pleasant for you." Lara finally smiled and faced him with bright gray eyes.
"As you said madame, a necessary evil." Both chucked at their silly banter. Erik was surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had held an interesting conversation with him, he thought, this might even be the first, who knows? Lara looked at him with clear conscience, only the desire to interact with this obviously strange man with a vendetta against pamphlets and Erik liked that. The 6-hour flight wouldn't be as dreary as he thought after all.
Then again, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, what if this "cultured woman" was in league with Schmidt? What if she happened to know something about him? The reality of his situation came back to him. He wasn't in this godforsaken metal death tube to do petty talk, he was on a mission to kill a man.
"May I call you Max?" Lara's voice once again brought him back to the present. She had a book in her hand. Jean Eyre. Erik stared at it for a while, mulling over his previous thoughts. "I do not mean any disrespect. I simply thought it would be more convenient than "Monseur Eisendhart". We are stuck with each other for 6 hours, after all. You can call me Lara, as well, if you wish." Finally noticing her partner's state of awareness, she moved her fingers slightly against her book "Monseur Eisendhart?"
Erik blinked, a tad embarrassed, stiffly smiling back at her "Yes, forgive me, Lara. It seems I had too many things to think about." He coughed, unbuttoning his outer jacket and removing his seatbelt to get comfortable. He'd mention it to her, just to make sure, Erik finally thought, seeing the stewardess approach their row. "Drinks, monseur? Madame?"
"A glass of champagne for the miss and I, please." Erik said, raising his brow to the aformentioned miss for her consent.
Taking a few sips of champagne and a few sentences of Chapter 6 later, Lara finally said. "The things you were thinking about must be quite a burden, to put you in such a state of stupor, Max." She smiled, gently raising her glass against her lips, leaving a faint red mark.
"But it is these profound mullings that make life interesting, yes?" Erik jousted, finishing his own glass as he looked over to her. She faintly nodded with the smile still intact, flipping the page to read the next verse.
"Your accent is unique." He mentioned, setting down his glass "You speak beautiful French but I can hear a hitch there. It is very intriguing." Maybe he'd learn more about her this way, he thought. Her place of birth perhaps? The feeling was quite odd to Erik. The desire to know more about another person simply because of sheer curiosity.
Lara placed a baby pink ribbon against the page she was reading and closed her book. Resting her elbow on the armrest and, in turn ,her cheek against her palm as she faced him "Why would a proper lady tell you that, monseur? You are but a mere stranger."
Erik noticed the teasing tone in her voice and the slight glimmer in her eyes. A challenge, he thought. Erik Lhensherr has never backed down from a challenge. "You wound me, Lara, I thought we were friends." Feigning hurt, Erik rested his head against the plane wall to fully face her, the sunlight dancing against her skin.
Her laugh was light, a pleasant sound to him, he discovered. "You are an interesting man, Max, I think I might enjoy your company today. I was actually preparing myself for the worst after that pamphlet fiasco."
Ignoring her friendly jab at his ego he replied in good humor "Indeed. To be honest, I'm not quite like this with other people." Erik paused. What had he just said? "Not like this with other people"? Why did he say that? Did he want her to have the wrong idea? The least he needed right now was another broad he had to shake off once he got back to his mission.
"You seem quite alarmed." She chuckled, still carefully studying his features "You are such a queer man, you know. I, too, do not normally feel the need to be this social. Just what is it about you, Max Eisendhart, that I find so... intriguing."
Lara shrugged as she leaned back into her seat fingering a magazine that was handed to her by a passing stewardess who, in Erik's expense, was the same stewardess that sent him looks during take-off. He noticed that the smell of cigar and alcohol thickened this past hour. "Well hello there, my beautiful flower." A drunk passenger, slurring in Russian, as Erik heard, reached over to them from the back seat. "Isn't it fate that brings us together a mere row apart." The disturbing stench of alcohol wafted over Lara slightly distorting her calm features as she was forced to scooch away, covering her nose. "I see you have no ring on your finger" The drunken bald man continued "And yet you're so cozy with another man. Tut Tut, such a baaad girllll."
Erik looked back, he took no heed of it before but she was ringless. And she didn't appear to have boarded with a friend or relative. Did that mean she traveled alone? How odd, he thought. If ever there were women passengers on flights, they were always with a partner or a spouse, never alone. This Lara Monette was just as queer as she claimed him to be.
"I do not believe a ring defines a woman, no?" Lara replied fluently in the man's native tongue. "I would greatly appreciate it, sir, if you could sit back down. You are disturbing my partner and I."
Ah, so this was the hitch he couldn't place. Interesting. Her Russian, although not as deep as her French, was just as good as his. Erik wasn't a man who was easily impressed, though, the tongue of the French and Russian weren't the only languages at his disposal. But she was intriguing, a curious little creature, Erik thought, as she watched her huff, composing herself, settling back into her seat as the drunkard surprisingly retreated.
Lara looked at him through the corner of her eye, curiously, he noted, "A gentleman would have defended a lady in such a situation." A twitch at the corner of her lip gave away her amusement.
"Ah, but you didn't seem to need defending, dear Lara." Erik chuckled as he made himself comfortable and took out a pocketbook from his coat pocket "A true gentleman would not have underestimated a lady's ability to fend for herself. I do not believe women to be as weak as the world makes them appear to be." Seeing the smile dance accross her face made Erik's ego swell. Quite the contrary to his statement, there was a part in Erik that believed women, or more specifically, human women were the weakest of the species. But his 6-hour friend didn't have to know that. That didn't quite explain the satisfaction he felt after pleasing her, though.
The stewardess that Erik preferrably ignored approached their row "Would you like another glass of champagne, monseur?" She smile sweetly. Erik noticed the hostess' choice of ignoring his seatmate and that bothered him. "Yes please, and one as well for my partner" He said graciously, saying the word "partner" with a drawl as he looked at Lara wtih a coy smile. Seeming to get the gist of the mood, Lara smirked back, lacing her fingers through his on top of the arm rest as she continued reading her page of Jean Eyre. Her hands weren't as soft as he expected, Erik thought, they were calloused, not as much as his though. He also felt a few light scars near her wrist as her hand occupied his face-down. Did she try to kill herself in the past? Did she still have that notion now? What could possibly make her try to commit such a sin against life? These questions briefly fleeted through Erik, furrowing his brow, as the stewardess quickly did her job and excused herself.
As the stewardess was at a safe distance from their seats, Lara giggled and slipped her hand out of Erik's hold. "It isn't everyday that you meet a man with such contempt for gorgeous women and pamphlets." She laughed even more, horribly trying to muffle her voice against her hand. "You are so strange, Max."
Erik, deciding against asking her about the scars, he smiled back "I am a lover of all things beautiful, madame," Lara skeptically, teasingly, raised her brow "but a man knows when such beauty might eventually turn into a nuisance when too often appreciated."
Fishing another bout of laughter from the lady, Erik let out a chucke or two himself. He was enjoying her company. Perhaps in another life, Erik thought, he would seriously consider getting to know this woman. As a friend or a lover, he couldn't say, but definitely as someone who he knew intimately. Seeing her calm down from her fit, as she looked at him with such mirth and amusement, Erik internally sighed. In another life.
"Is that in English?" Lara leaned over. She smelled nice, like olives and greenery, and a small tinge of perfume dabbed here and there. Erik seemed to like many of this woman's features, he discovered.
"Yes. My English isn't at my best yet so I tend to take notes whenever I encounter words with difficult pronunciation." Erik didn't see the harm of showing her. The pocketbook he carried around was a copy of an old English riddle book he bought at a bazaar one day. On every space on a page were his little notes in German, reminding him of a certain English word's pronunciation.
Lara grinned, "You're multi-lingual! Amazing!" She exclaimed in perfect German. Erik quickly rcovered from his shock and replied, "It seems you are, too."
"What other languages do you know?" Lara, still in German, asked excitedly.
And just like that was how the two seemingly temporary friends passed the remaining 2 hours of their flight, not feeling the tiniest bit doozy. The stench of smoke and liquor stuck to their clothes but neither seemed to care, both calmly sitting back against the soft velvet, they talked about the languages they knew, the things they liked, even goofily practicing their English with eachother where Lara seemed to be a tiny bit more proficient in. Neither asked for the reason of their travels nor about their lives before the flight. It was here, one of the rarest moments of his life, that Erik forgot about Schmidt, Auschwitz, his anger and hate, even about his own family that had passed. All he thought about was the here and now, how this woman he met a mere four hours ago captivated him in such a profound, curious manner that he couldn't quite place. How their silly banter appealed to him in some way.
The flight eventually had to end, landing quite roughly, at Erik's expense and Lara's amusement. They both left the cabin hand-in-hand as they passed by the stewardess that Erik seemed to unfairly dislike and finally snickered when they got closer to the airport. "That was not very gentlemanly." Lara laughed, her tongue in German. "And yet you went along with it." Erik jested, his, in turn, in rough English, continuing their in-flight game as he cradled her arm, leading them both to the exit.
He would miss this, Erik thought, recalling his plans for his stay in Paris, his eyes hardening. In another life, he thought, there might have been a chance, this feeling of normalcy.
She had an upbeat skip to her step, her head reaching just below his shoulders, validating his estimate when they first met. They passed under a large archway, greeted by the Parisian sunset, as they exited the building. She was a pretty little thing, not stunning, far from it, Erik thought, but she was fair. They wordlessly stood by the exit, neither truly willing to step out of their little world of jokes and jests.
Would she still have been that interested in him if she found out about the things he'd done, he wondered. Probably not.
"This is where we part." Lara untangled her arm from his, repositioning her luggage more comfortably. Erik didn't ask where she'd go and neither did she, him. It was an unspoken agreement and respect, both knowing that whatever this was between them, was simply something that couldn't be. "I enjoyed my time with you, Monseur Max Eisendhart."
"And I, you, Madame Lara Monette." Erik took her free hand gently kissed her knuckles. "May your travels continue to be as safe and... extraordinary as this." Lara chuckled, "And may gorgeous women and pamphlets continue to tremble in your wake as you mount your mighty steed into the sunset." She teased earning her a half-meant roll of the eyes from her partner.
Stepping down from the stairs, Lara looked up at the strange man she met on a plane. "Until next time, Max." She said unable to really say goodbye.
"Until next time... Lara."