I don't own Tokyo mew mew, I only wish I did.
Isabelle= Ichigo, Richard=Ryou, Kiefer= Keiichiro, Matthew=Masaya, Madia= Minto, Luciana= Lettuce.
~nightfall26
Someday, surely, I'll reach
the place that will be able to heal my lonesome heart.
My eyes reflect that place before me as I stare upwards into the sky.
I've gathered the fragments of my sadness.
Eternity is so endless and suffocating.
~Tsubasa Wo Daite
Introduction
I remembered flashes.
They were the only things left of the life I had once known so very well.
They came in nightmares, in echoes that screamed in my mind and threatened to disturb my fragile sanity.
When I was smaller, I lived with my family in a little one-room house out in the countryside of France. It was only me and my parents; my father was a woodcutter, and my mother was a housewife. We had few neighbors, but I grew to be fast friends with the boy down the street named Matthew. He was practically angelic, he was so kind. I was a happy child, always smiling and bouncing about.
"Watch the butterflies with me, Matthew!"
But everything changed when I was sent away to a girl's school in the city. I left my parents, Matthew, and everything I knew behind.
"Don't forget us; we'll be with you the whole time. The city can be scary, but I know you can handle it."
The school taught me how to be a lady. I powdered my hair and my face white each day; and the dresses I wore were ballooned out to ridiculous sizes.
I was taken out one day for a stroll about the nicer parts of Paris with a couple of friends. We dressed up that day; giggling over the makeup and the shoes and the hair ribbons we'd wear. We all linked arms, careful not to muss our skirts, and set off.
It was then that I met Richard.
He was walking towards us in a slow sort of way, his eyes focused somewhere above our heads.
"Isn't he adorable? I'm sure he'd be wonderful to get to know..."
He didn't notice the other girls. He didn't even glance at them. But as soon as he saw me, drunk with excitement and laughing harder than them all, his eyes focused sharply on me.
"Oh, he's looking at you, Isabelle!"
We passed him on the street; the girls soon forgot him. But I couldn't. His piercing blue eyes stayed burning into my mind for the rest of the day. He did end up visiting me at school, eventually, and then introducing me to his friend Kiefer. The two of them weren't much older then I was, and they took good care of me. Life was good- they took me to dinner every night, brought me to fancy parties every weekend. Things were better then they ever had been; or so I thought.
And then my life was turned upside down when Richard informed me of an experiment he and his father were working on.
"This experiment was my father's life work. I would be honored if you would assist us with it."
After that, things weren't so clear. I went to visit my parents- and Matthew- one last time before leaving them forever.
Matthew had confessed his love for me. The refusal I uttered to him was filled with hurt. If I had not become friends with these men, perhaps could I have lived a carefree life?
"I can't stay here, Matthew, no matter how much I want to..."
My parents wept as I left in happiness at what they thought I had become.
When I clambered back in the carriage, Richard slipped his arm around my shoulders and allowed me to rest my head on his chest. I fell into a fitful sleep until we arrived back in Paris. Kiefer greeted me with a smile, ushered me inside, and showed me proudly the cake he had baked me. It was topped with my favorite fruit.
"In celebration." He had said.
I could still taste the strawberries on my tongue, if I concentrated hard enough.
The next few weeks were spent inside the lavish, four bedroom apartment. They had made me a room of my own; pink, at my request. And so I settled in nicely, waiting for the day they would actually need my support. Richard's father had perfected the experiment, and I had agreed to helping with it, even though I had no idea of the 'help' I would be giving.
So I played the part of the ditsy girl wonderfully- I didn't know a lick about science, nor anything about mathematics. I ran errands for them, delivered letters, and generally ran about being a silly woman. It seemed like an easy enough job.
What I found out later was that Richard begged to be the test subject, so that I wouldn't be harmed in the process. On the day of his operation, I hid in my room, shuddering with terror that he would die and leave me here. They had told me he needed some tests run then- I had no idea what was going to happen to him.
I would whimper like a lost kitten when I heard him scream in pain. His pain had been my pain. I refused to eat, to sleep, to live until I saw him; and so, Kiefer allowed me into the room where he was recovering. Kiefer was drawn and pale; most likely after witnessing the damage Richard's own father had done to his son.
He was barely awake, but he smiled blearily at me, called me an idiot for worrying, and held me.
The night of December 12, 1798, the DNA of a cat were inserted inside me. Richard's father had taken me out for a walk in a nearby park that night- to talk, he had said. But it was far from that. The man's 'life work' had become his insanity, his obsession. He needed it like he needed air to breathe. I had no idea was was going to happen to me.
"My dear Isabelle, it's time for you to start helping me."
He commented on a sculpture nearby, and when I turned to look- like the stupid girl I had been back then- he stabbed a giant needle into my jugular vein. The pain was unimaginable- like fire, burning through every inch of my body.
When I awoke, I found grisly scars decorating my shaved head and my back. Dried blood crusted the wounds, and thick string held the flesh together.
I screamed the first time I looked in the mirror. Richard rushed into the room, his expression wild with pain. He had enveloped me in a tight embrace, cradled me, and promised me it would be alright.
"What did you do to me?"
I only remember flashes of the hell I went through after that.
Current Day- April 26, 1864
The corset was bitingly itchy. All I wanted to do was twist around in this seat, yank the ties off of the dratted thing, and do some much needed scratching.
I couldn't exactly do that now, though. I'd worn corsets for nearly ninety years- another hour or so couldn't hurt. My heart was pulsing in my chest as it was- I was positive everyone around her could hear it quite well. Once, I cleared my throat, much to the horror of the woman next to me.
"Be quiet." The woman snapped, sticking her nose in the air and smoothing down her black muslin skirts. Her bodice was ruffled in such a way to be flattering to the woman's figure; and I had to give her tailor credit, it didn't look easy to flatter someone like her.
I bit down on my tongue. How very rude of me to think such things! And so loudly, too. Could everyone else in the room hear my thoughts as well?
"I implore you all to help yourself to some refreshments. It pleases me that you have all shown such compassion in arriving here today- my father would be so overjoyed to see the smiling faces."
The room was silent.
The woman smiled falteringly before gathering her heavy black skirts and melting in with the crowd.
"It was a lovely service." A girl nearby me sniffed, her face mostly hidden by an enormous, jade green hankerchief. Embroidered around the edges was the letter L.
"I suppose." Another girl joined them, her eyes peering about in a bored fashion.
"I thought it was decent." I muttered, casting my gaze to the ground modestly. The snobbish girl in blue huffed audibly.
"And who, may I ask, are you?" She jeered, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. I swallowed once before speaking the words.
"Isabelle. Isabelle Nuit." I gave a short curtsy before grinning widely and offering up my hand to be shaken.
"Hello...Isabelle. I'm...I'm Luciana." The girl with the hankerchief whispered. When the girl in blue didn't shake the offered hand, I reached over to Luciana and shook hers instead, smiling wildly at her.
"It's quite lovely to meet some women my age. I'm so excited!" I enthused, bouncing on my toes a couple times.
"Don't get overly excited. We happen to be, currently, in the state of mourning." The girl in blue said with a carefully planned sneer. I raised an eyebrow at her; and how she wasn't wearing any black on her person. Luciana sighed softly, fiddling with the lace flounces on her dress.
"If you're in mourning, shouldn't you be wearing black?" I blurted, before I could stop the words from exiting my mouth. The snobby girl was silent, her eyes turning colder still; if that was possible. She paused for a moment- dramatic effect, I assumed.
"If you should ever meet me again, in order not to be rude, you are to call me Madia. I shouldn't think that I'd ever be acquantences with the likes of you peasants, so this is where I depart. Farewell." With that, she strutted away. Luciana exhaled heavily before floating away after the snobbish girl.
"Well, that certainly was extremely stress inducing." I commented, patting the array of deep red curls on my head. As the people around me began to coast towards the table piled with various cakes, I decided now was the best time to escape.
As I donned my cloak and gloves, I cast a final look at the oil painting of the man who had helped me become who I was today. It hung near the altar, decorated with various flowers and candles. I smiled; a little sadly, a little from remembering, a little in amusement.
"They didn't do you justice, old friend." I murmured, lifting my hand in a final goodbye.
Once I was safely away in my carriage, I sat back against the seat to immerse myself in memories. How long had it been since I'd seen him? 40 years? 50 years, even? It had been so long that I could barely remember his face. But the important things- his character, his laughter, the cakes he used to bake for me. I remembered them all so vividly.
It was a half hour drive back to my home in the center of Paris, a half hour I devoted entirely to recalling each precious memory of my deceased friend.
But once I exited the carriage, I had bid them all goodbye.
A note was pinned to my front door, and when I reached it, I groaned as I recognized the handwriting. With a wrench, the note came free of the wood, and I unlocked the door. Once entering, I untied my cloak, stripped off my jacket and gloves, and went into the drawing room to read the letter.
"Why couldn't he just send me a letter the conventional way?" I complained, sitting down fluidly. I ripped my nail through the envelope's seal and slipped out the letter.
"Dear Isabelle. It grieves me to know of my good friend's death- and yet, you realize why I cannot attend his memorial. I'm sure you understand. I'll come make sure you're not doing anything rash or stupid when I'm next in the area. Richard." As I read on, I felt anger growing in a heated ball of fury in my stomach.
"How dare he! How dare he act like he doesn't even care about his best friend's death! And now he's too busy to visit me! Ugh. The nerve!" I grumbled, jolting up from where I sat to stomp into my bedroom. There, pinned innocently on the faded pink wall, was a small painting of a group of people.
There was a tall man with long brown hair, wearing a chef hat and apron. Flour decorated his cheeks, as well as flecking his hair. He held a small cake in one hand, and the other was resting on the shoulder of a girl. She was petite, with long red curls and big brown eyes. That was me. I wore a modest dress; baby pink, edged in white lace. Beside me stood an even taller man, slender and lean. His messy blonde hair fell about his face in chunks of disorder. A pair of glittering blue eyes smouldered at me from underneath long lashes.
That was Richard.
I sighed once at the picture before turning away. Sometimes I couldn't deal with the burdens I was faced with. Sometimes I couldn't deal with anything at all. It had seemed like just yesterday that the three of us were doing everything together.
Playing together, eating together, working together...
Growing old together.
But now, that wasn't the same any longer. I cast a glance at myself in the mirror, at the long skirts that hindered my every movement. They draped around me in swaths of black, embroidered gently with patterns of white and pink roses. With another sigh, I closed my eyes against the image- the image that would remain forever- and removed the black veil from my head.
The next time I opened my eyes, a pair of cat ears twitched avidly on the sides of my head.
I had gotten used to seeing them- they had been a part of my life since the day I had turned seventeen. Richard's father had performed the experiments for adding the genes of animals into humans. I remembered the months of pain I'd had- writhing around on that narrow cot whenever the ears would give me a migraine, or my back would ache terribly. Richard would lay a cool cloth on my forehead and whispered that it would go away.
The only answer I had ever received for why I was this way was that I would 'save the world' someday. I had been young, naiive, and trustful of the two people who had finally perfected the procedure. My life had been in their hands.
"What did you do to me?"
One of them, Richard, was still around. The other, the man in the picture, was the man who had died today. Kiefer had been very dear to me, and at one point in time, he had only been 5 years older than I. He had died an old man, however.
Suddenly, a violent knock at my door startled me out of my thoughts. I shook myself once, standing as gracefully as I could manage before collecting the scraps of my calm and walking to the door. Once my hand slipped around the handle, whoever was outside began knocking again.
"I'm coming! For goodness sakes... Stop the endless abuse of my door!" I shrieked. When I opened the door, expecting to give the knocker quite the verbal bashing, I was stunned into silence.
Richard stood beyond the door, a top hat cocked down over his eyes and his hands burrowed in the pockets of his jacket. He was solemn; much to my surprise. It was his hobby to tease me.
"May I come in, Isabelle?" He asked softly, not meeting my gaze. I nodded slowly, backing up to allow him passage in through the door. He staggered in- a little unsteady on his feet- and hung his hat on the coatrack. A few more wobbly paces later, he collapsed in a chair in my drawing room.
"What do you want?" I asked tentatively, sitting in the chair beside him. It didn't come out as I wanted it to- all the rudeness had completely vanished from my tone. I was, instead, tranfixed by what had rendered him so silent.
"I had to go today. I just had to. I couldn't not go... I had to say goodbye." He mumbled, rubbing a hand through his already unruly hair. I gasped softly, pressing a hand to my mouth.
"How could you expose yourself like that? You were far more widely known than I was in his world." I chastised gently, crossing my legs. Richard glanced up to glare at me stonily.
"He was my best friend all my life; until the last few years of his, you idiot. How could I not 'expose myself' and go to his service?" He snapped, which only made me stiffen with irritation.
"I only wanted to make sure you were alright and not found out. Or I shall not bother caring about you?" I hissed, pushing myself to my feet to walk out.
"Idiot." He muttered. That was his favorite thing to call me; it had long ceased being endearing. Perhaps that had to do with the tone of which he used to say it- now it was insulting. I stopped in my tracks, halting for a moment to stifle a sudden wave of sadness. My dear friend was dead; my other friend had resorted to showing himself in public to say goodbye to the friend he had seen as a brother.
I spun on my heel, throwing myself at the broken man who sat in my chair. Sobs began to wrack my chest; and Richard, as he had in a different, more carefree time, wrapped his arms around me and whispered that it would be alright.
But this time, I could feel his tears falling to land on my cheeks.
Some time later, the tears stopped, and he helped me to my feet. The clear blue eyes that stared back at me were troubled with emotions that echoed in my heart. Gentle fingers wiped away the tears cascading down my cheeks.
"Don't cry, Isabelle, you know he'd hate to see you cry." Richard said quietly, the words kinder than anything he had written or uttered to me in such a long, long time...
"Why did this have to happen to us? Why couldn't he have performed the experiment..Without the horrible serum that makes us...makes us..." I stumbled through the words, my speech blurred by the intense sorrow that pulsed through my heart.
"I don't know." Somehow, he could understand the gibberish that flowed from my tongue.
"I don't want to keep going on like this, Richard. I've outlived my parents, my friends, and now Kiefer. What else is there for me?" I could feel the emotion beginning to surge deep within me, the insanity trickling through my veins.
"We are gathered here in memorium of Matthew Lourge..."
"And you think it's any easier for me? My mother died when I was young, and my own father left me!" His voice turned to a low snap, and I bit down on my bottom lip. I could feel chagrin reddening my cheeks.
"We're the only ones in this world that will get to see the end of the world, Isabelle. There's nothing like us- and never will be." Richard turned away from me, dropping his head into the palm of his hand.
"We live forever." I murmured, turning to look at the two of us in the gigantic mirror nearby.
"Look at us." I called to him, facing our reflection. With a clenched jaw, he turned.
"We alone have been burdened with this fate. Or damned. Whichever you'd prefer." He bared his teeth in a soundless snarl; a jeer that unnerved me.
I observed the picture of us without another word. He, a tall man in his early twenties, and I, a petite red head at seventeen. I had been this age for 75 years; as had Richard.
The strange experiment had been both confusing and complex; I didn't even understand half of it. The only thing I knew was that when it was time for me to do my job, I would know what to do. When I was embarrassed, I'd transform into a cat, I could make cat ears pop out at will.
And finally, I was frozen at the age of seventeen forever. The horrible man hadn't just created a cat-woman. He'd made a serum that induced immortality as well. Wouldn't the women around here love to get ahold of that?
The image of the woman in the mirror was burned into my mind. I stroked a hand along my skull, feeling the slight bumps where the scars remained from the procedure.
"Richard, do you have powers like I'm supposed to?" My voice was low and solemn.
"Do you remember how happy you used to be, Isabelle? You were always running about with a smile on your face." Richard said wistfully, not hearing my question. I glanced down at the floor, sighing a little.
"Yes, Richard, and then this happened to me." I said bitterly.
"It's never been hard for you before." He commented, blinking lazily. I wrinkled my nose at him.
"Kiefer wasn't just your friend." I muttered lowly before leaving the room.
It was always like this. He'd come by, we'd have a lovely time, and then something would yank us apart again. Whether it be an argument, a cold statement, or even forgetting to come visit, one of us would always irritate the other. Any dreams I had ever had of us being any sort of friends were crushed; again and again, time after time. When I had first met him, he had been a sweetheart, always asking if I was alright, always caring. But after the procedure, he'd hardened... he'd become cold.
I stood in the hallway, trembling with emotion, refusing to apologize to Richard. If he wanted to talk to me, he couldn't make those sort of comments. This life was hard enough without his snide statements.
"Isabelle." I hadn't heard him come up behind me; I jumped a little.
"What do you want?" I huffed, crossing my arms.
"Isabelle, I'm sorry."
A little gasp escaped my lips. In all the time I'd known this man, he'd never once said that he was sorry. His hands rested on my shoulders, skimming down to my elbows to spin me around slowly. His eyes were haunted; the quiet cerulean depths hollow with pain.
"You're the only one left." He whispered. As I stared up at him- in awe- he bent down to rest his head on my shoulder. A sort of calm spread over me, and I smiled softly before resting my cheek against his hair. I reached up slowly to tangle my fingers in his hair- the buttery gold locks that were flecked with sunlight.
"Do you remember how close we used to be?" I murmured, closing my eyes gently.
"Yes." The word came out slightly muffled- his face was buried in my hair.
"And I hope and beg and pray everyday that we can somehow become that close again." I had to strain to hear that sentence- which sent thrills down my spine.
"I do too." I replied- embarrassed that my voice shook a little. I could feel him smile.
We stood there in the hallway, in that simple embrace, for what seemed like hours.
"I've got to get back- I need to make sure that the house is safe." Richard said softly, not making a move to disentangle himself from me. I nodded, removing my hand from his hair and taking a slow step back.
"You should do that." I said softly.
"May I come back tomorrow?" He asked, straightening up and donning his hat. I nodded, a slow smile curving the corners of my mouth upward. Richard grinned crookedly- just the way I remembered- and turned to walk out the door.
As the door shut behind him, I giggled a little to myself.
I suddenly felt as giddy as I had when I was younger. Perhaps things would change- perhaps we could really make this life work.
Perhaps I wouldn't have to be alone.
The Next Day
I woke up late, having been able to sleep for the first time in a long time.
For the first time in 75 years, I didn't have a single nightmare.
I stretched my arms above my head luxuriously, yawning like a cat. My strawberry red curls were a tousled mess that hung about my slim shoulders. A pair of sleepy brown eyes stared back at me in the mirror across the room. I slipped out of bed, buttoned on a pink robe, and descended the stairs to find myself some breakfast.
As soon as I arrived at the base of the stairs, someone began knocking. I grinned; and my heart began to pound excitedly in my chest.
"I'm coming!" I sang gloriously, opening the door with laughter bubbling to my lips.
Laughter that was soon replaced by a frown.
"What's wrong, Richard?" My eyes were wide with fright at the appearance of the man before me. His head was bare- the crown of blonde tousled and messy- and dark circles adorned his usually bright eyes.
"New information." He mumbled, walking past me into the house. His clothes were the same ones from yesterday; a black jacket embroidered with silver leaves, a white button-up shirt, his best cumberbund and pin, and black slacks.
"What's happened?" I asked frantically, hurrying along behind him as he stormed down the hallway to the library. The door was wrenched open, and Richard sat down heavily on a lounge chair.
"Kiefer left me a note underneath some old books; I used to read them all the time, but then I got tired of the stories. He must have known I'd read them sooner or later..." His voice faded off, and I sat down next to him to shake his arm.
"What did the note say?"
Richard was silent, shaking his head over and over in a wordless mantra.
"Richard, tell me, what did it say?"
Nothing.
"For god's sake, you idiot man, TELL ME!" I shrieked, giving him a good shake. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, finally focusing a little, and he swallowed noisily.
"It told me that... he found my father. And that the crazy old man had performed the same experiment... on four other women." Richard choked, dropping his head into his hands miserably. I gasped a little before inching closer.
"When? How?" I pressed. Richard glanced up at me, his eyes filled with anguish, and sighed.
"After he left us- so all in all, about 70 years ago. He knew how to do it from performing it on both of us, so it was easy. All he had to do was find the four people who fit the DNA, and he could do it easily. The oldest is my age- and the youngest about 12. How could he...?" Richard swayed, dropping his head on my shoulder with another weary sigh. I stroked his hair silently, feeling tears dew in my eyes. How could that man doom four other human beings to the same fate as us?
Every night I had the same nightmare- of waking up screaming, a bloody pulp of a girl, and feeling such pain that I could hardly bear it. Were they the same?
"What did you do to me?"
Richard reached over, dropping a crumpled slip of paper in my lap, and effectively dragging me out of the dark memories that replayed over and over in my mind.
"Read it." He muttered, burying his face deeper in the crook of my neck. I smoothed the paper out, my eyes skimming the penned words with a practised eye. They were detailed descriptions of the four girls- and I recognized two especially from the funeral.
The snobby girl, Madia, and her companion, Luciana. They were Italian, it said. The other two were the oldest, Zilda, and the youngest, Petunia. The information soon became too much for me to handle, and I allowed myself to set the paper on the nearby coffee table.
Had they screamed like I had?
Had they been in pain?
"Isabelle...Promise me that we'll be able to get through this together." Richard whispered, sounding more vulnerable than I had ever heard him before.
"Of course we can. I promise." I was barely able to get the words out amongst all the sadness that dwelled in my heart.
"And... promise me one more thing." His voice was quieter still. I nodded.
"Promise me that you'll stay by my side forever."
With that soft whisper, he lifted his head off of my shoulder. I was stunned into silence, my eyes wide with wonder and awe and beautiful jubilation.
His fingers swept along my jawbone before coming to rest at the base of my skull. He tipped his head down again- as if to rest his head back on my shoulder- but instead, pressed his lips down softly upon my own.
Surprise froze me for half a moment before I responded, kissing him back with a fevor I didn't know I possessed. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were darkened with an emotion I couldn't comprehend.
"Isabelle, say you'll stay with me. Say you'll help me find these girls and give them a home." He murmured, accentuating each word with a light kiss. I smiled shakily, a nervous titter escaping my barely parted lips.
"Where else am I going to go?" I whispered, as he tugged me back for another kiss.
And for the first time in my life- surely not the last- I faded into a blissful peace that relaxed my limbs and allowed me to live again.
Please review.
~nightfall26