A/N: So, finally I have gotten around to updating this fic and getting you all - *cough* Brittany *cough* - the first official chapter. ;p I just had to catch up on my GG fics, so people didn't get bored, lol, not that I'm getting review there either…*clears throat* Please review! ;)
Ch.1—Keep it Secret
The next morning too early to tell, Miquel met up with Jorge Aldaya in the dank, dark alleyways of west Barcelona. There was a mist that sat heavy amongst the buildings, and Miquel could barely make out Jorge in the shadows of an abandoned building at the end of a dirty block.
"Why here?" he whispered, looking around him cautiously should anything jump out at them when they were unaware.
"Because no one would expect it," Jorge responded, his voice equally quiet. He straightened himself and pushed the creaky door beside him open. With a gesture of his head, he motioned for Miquel to follow him into the deserted home. Miquel analyzed the house from top to bottom and tried to ignore the eerie feeling he felt as he followed his friend inside.
"I don't like this," he said, walking as close to Jorge as personal space would allow. His comrade had shut the door behind them and it was pure darkness on the inside. It occurred to Miquel right then that Jorge must have been there before. He grabbed a candle sitting on a dusty ledge along the wall and lit it with a few matches he had brought along in his pocket. Miquel didn't ask questions, though he was blown away by what his friend clearly had hidden from them all, Julian included.
Jorge didn't answer him, only stopped half-way down the second hallway and turned to the right into a room with another creaky door. He looked around the room as if searching for something. Miquel followed his unsteady gaze, jumping when the door suddenly closed behind them. His eyes widened in fear, but Jorge found his gaze – still as a ghost.
"Wind," he said, gesturing once again with his head, this time towards the open windows which fluttered the curtains hanging over them on the far side of the room. Miquel nodded, somewhat relieved. He looked back towards the direction at which Jorge found himself searching and moved across the room to gather the dusty chairs with cracked leather on their seat. Jorge quickly snapped to attention and helped carry the chairs to the middle of the room. Once they were seated, he rose again once spotting a desolate fireplace. There was a pile of logs in a gray worn bag to the left of the fireplace, and he stuffed a few of them into what would become a fiery blaze. Luckily, the few matches left in his pocket brought it to life and satisfied, he walked back to his seat across from Miquel, who sat mesmerized gazing at the orange and yellow flames.
"Miquel," he said, drawing his friend back to attention. The boy flinched at the sound of his name and eased as he turned towards his friend who now sported a smile at how enraptured Miquel had been with his handy work.
"What is this all about?" Miquel asked, still confused at the sudden meaning. "You said it had something to do with your sister and Julian. So, what else is new?" he smirked, leaning back in his chair, grateful that it did not break on instant. Jorge was silent for awhile and it worried Miquel. Finally his lips parted and his eyes flashed to his friend's.
"I think something happened last night."
Miquel raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"
He sighed. "I'm not sure exactly."
Miquel blinked. "You brought me here to discuss something…you're not sure of?" His confusion revived itself – not that it had really been discarded before – and he was on the point of being angry. His father may have been unaware of him slipping out at five in the morning, but he could have spotted him, and it would have been hard to come up with an excuse. Miquel was horrible at coming up with excuses.
Jorge leaned forward on his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. The wood creaked a little, but he took no notice of it. "Listen, what I tell you here, I need you to not tell anybody."
Miquel nodded slowly, unsure, though willing to go along with the request.
"Not even Julian."
His lips parted. He was his best friend.
"Miquel—"
"I think my sister might be in trouble."
He swallowed hard. He had never thought much of Jorge's sister, Penelope, but he knew Julian had. If anything, she was what Julian thought of the most. It was no secret among the four of them who he spent the most time with.
"What do you mean?" he asked, uncertain of what this had to do with him.
"She spent all night crying," he shivered as he said it. Miquel swallowed hard. "She wouldn't even let Jacinta into her room." He couldn't lift his gaze from the floor, and only with very forced strength could he bring his eyes to set themselves on his fidgeting fingers. Miquel couldn't bring himself to speak, but somehow he predicted the next words that slipped out between his friend's lips.
"I think Julian had something to do with it," his eyes raised to Miquel's finally, whose eyebrows had narrowed.
"Jorge, I don't know what you think, but Julian wouldn't hurt a fly – he even brought that creep, Fumero, into our little group!" Jorge nodded silently, annoyed at Miquel's defense, even if it was brought upon from only half of what he had planned on telling him. "And certainly not Penelope," he finished. Jorge looked back at him, having turned away in the midst of Miquel's rant. "You know he loves her."
Jorge nodded. "I do."
Miquel looked at him, scrutinizing every move on his friend's mysterious face. Exhaustion from the effort suddenly over took him and he sighed, leaning back in his chair again and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, his fingers closing lazily across his mouth. "Then what?" he asked, his eyes back to scanning the room.
"You know something."
Miquel's eyes flashed to his. "What?"
"You know something I don't know."
His eyes narrowed.
"And you're not going to tell me, are you?" he scoffed.
Miquel took a deep breath, deciding not to take the road of treacherous betrayal. They were good friends after all. "It's for your own good."
Jorge leaned forward in his chair and looked him dead in the eye, making Miquel uneasy with the intensity of how deeply he looked at him. "You need to tell me, Miquel," he swallowed hard. "Something happened last night," his breath caught in his throat. "And if—"
Miquel held a hand up for him to stop, and he rose to his feet, the chair making a squeaking noise as it slid backwards. "I swore to secrecy. I made him swear to it as well. It'll do no good to spread it around."
His eyebrows narrowed. "We're all friends, Miquel."
He shook his head, almost laughing. "You don't get it. Our little group of friends can't…" he sighed, "can't know." Jorge's lips pursed, and he stood to his feet.
"If something happened to my sister…and you know what it is…"
Miquel moved past him towards the door, ignoring his plea.
"Miquel!" Jorge called after him, grabbing hold of his arm before he reached the door, his hand just having grasped hold of the tarnished gold doorknob. "It's not just for my sister that I worry, but for my whole family. This could ruin us. My father is one of the richest—"
Miquel turned around, snapping his arm away. "—businessmen in Barcelona," he spat. "Yes, I know, and I'm sorry," his eyes softened as he looked at Miquel's frightened, desperate face. "But this, I can't tell even you."
His fears of the house vanished as he made it back down the dark hallways and breathed a sigh of relief on exiting the deteriorating building. He heard Jorge call after him one more time but he made no effort to go back inside or to acknowledge the approaching figure. The fog was still thick and it would be hard to find his way, but soon enough the main street lie before his feet and he hailed a cab to go back home.
Miquel breathed in the cold, damp air as he walked out of the school building, relieved to have finished his final class of the day. He was still weary from the bizarre experience he had with Jorge earlier that morning, and when he spotted Julian across the courtyard a mix of lightness and fear weighed down on him. The boy's sandy blonde hair fell almost across his eyes, and his head was downcast. He smiled a little when he saw him, walking over just a little quicker than usual as the stone ground grew to a close.
"Miquel," he said softly, still supported that sad tiny smile.
"You look pale," he said, analyzing his features. Something had happened. Julian shrugged it off.
"It's nothing," he said. Miquel nodded, but then gulped in his inability to hold back the secrets he'd bottled up all day.
"Something with you last night? With Penelope?"
Julian's fiery golden brown eyes hit his instantly. "Who told you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing but only in confusion. Miquel shook his head.
"Jorge."
Julian sighed in relief, and Miquel's gaze shot back to him. "Better than her father, huh?" Julian nodded, almost laughing.
"Definitely."
Miquel stopped, pursing his lips. It took a moment for Julian to realize, but soon enough he returned to his friend's side. "Jorge knows something happened. I've still got the tickets, and everything is ready to go for Friday. All your dreams…"
Julian smiled softly at the thought of being with Penelope forever. Miquel shook his head and cleared his throat.
"If something happened, Julian," he placed his hand on his shoulder, "You have to tell me. You know I won't tell a soul. I didn't even tell Jorge about Paris this morning when he begged me to in this creepy old building," he shuddered, trying to laugh it all. Julian smirked a little, but it did not reach his eyes. "Julian…" he pleaded.
His gaze fell to the ground, his sandy blonde clocks floating in the expanded air between his forehead. He fidgeted with his hands and eventually stuffed them into his pockets. Everything was happening so fast, and it seemed the whole world was threatening the carefully planned out escape with his beloved.
Their eyes met again.
"Mrs. Aldaya walked in on us last night."
Miquel's piercing gaze stayed glued to his friend's. He tried to imagine all the scenarios the vain, older woman could have stumbled into. Kissing came to mind. It was the lesser version of what he feared. Any less activity would not prove threatening in the least. "Julian," he said, his mind going blank after the name slipped off his tongue.
"We weren't going to see each other six, now five, days, Miquel…"
His eyes closed in sadness. It was the greatest offense. Premarital sex was hardly heard of, and when it was, it was the greatest scandal. Maybe Julian and Penelope would marry and it could be forgotten. Mr. Aldaya had loved him like his own son from the moment he met him in the Hatter's shop. But Julian had changed. He had shifted to the personality and character Mr. Aldaya wanted. It was not hard to pick up on his excitement for accounting, for the qualities of a true businessman. Julian befriended his son, Jorge, as well. He was charming and polite, and very entertaining with his morbid stories that he drew the intensity out of in the presence of Mrs. Aldaya. Though the woman hardly cared what the boy said, or what he did, but she was vain. She knew a scandal approaching when she saw one. Her husband was one of the richest businessmen in Barcelona, and something like this…
…it might just destroy them.
So, when Julian told him Mrs. Aldaya walked in on us last night, Miquel knew nothing good could come out of it. His mouth went dry, and to prevent from sobbing at the tragedy that he knew was steadily approaching, he grew angry. With fiery eyes he rested his gaze on Julian's features.
"I told you to stay away from there," he shook his head. "I said," he ground out, "that it would cause suspicion."
Julian sighed, ignorant of his best friend's anger. He turned and started to walk again, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. Without thinking, Miquel followed. "Six days, Miquel?" he turned to him, and his friend's anger dissolved immediately when he saw the tears threatening to fall. He could not understand the intensity with which Julian loved Penelope, but he saw the effects of it. It was breathtaking and seemed unreachable with anyone else. They're too young, anyone would say. Nineteen and seventeen? Impossible. But Miquel didn't even think twice when hints of eloping slipped into their conversation over the past few months.
"I've hardly been away from her a single day since the moment we met. I know that it is less than a week, and that then we'd be together forever, but…"
Miquel nodded, still in mourning, but starting to understand. Penelope was Julian's breath of fresh air. She was his all…his reason for everything he did, even his stories.
"I'll find a way, Julian," he sighed. Immediately his friend perked up and a smile finally reached his eyes. It would be a long, treacherous and complicated road, but he never doubted Miquel for a second. "I don't know how," Miquel chuckled, shaking his head. "But there has got to be a way."
Julian just looked at him, in wait for anything that could be done on his end.
"Don't tell anyone," he said, very seriously. "This information doesn't go anywhere but where it is right now, between us, exactly where it came from."
Julian nodded rapidly, immediately confirming the demand as second nature and an instinct from that moment on. It made Miquel smile and he shook his head again.
"And for God's sake, man, don't go back to her house!" he chuckled. Julian smirked, though inside he was dying just a little bit more. Six days? He said nothing to that request, just laughed it off to his friend. But that didn't mean he was blind. A part of him knew very well it would be suicide going back into that house, especially now that Jorge was skeptical. Besides that, Julian was well aware, just as Miquel was, that Mrs. Aldaya couldn't keep a secret like the one she had walked in on secret for long.
The view from the window showed no sign of Julian, and she knew it was only for their best interest that they remain parted until the coming Sunday. Still, she missed him, and as the day grew darker so much further did her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. She could not help the shudders that ran through her when she heard the light tapping of her father's knuckles on the door paneling going into her room.
"Father," she greeted, covering up any anxiety she might have felt in the last few moments. As far as she could tell, her father was unaware of what had happened the night before. She didn't know how long this would last – her mother was a both a mystery and the most easily read puzzle to predict.
"My beloved Penelope," he smiled, enveloping her in his arms. She ducked her head into the folds of his shirt. She wondered if this would be one of the few times he would hold her like this, with warmth and not vengeance. It occurred to her that she could be overdramatizing things in her head and she could even wed Julian in Barcelona if she wished, but when she backed away from his father and saw his adoring gaze on her pristine facial features, she knew that was not the case.
"You didn't come out much today," he said concerned, his eyebrows furrowing. Her lips parted, aching to confide in him. She so desired that he be an understanding father, regardless of his business and his attachment to a Julian he never really knew. She smiled weakly.
"I was tired," she said.
"Reading books?" he quirked an eyebrow. She nodded, honestly not knowing what else she could do. She hadn't read a single book all day, which would be strange coming from her. She lived to read, but not this day. Wherever her thoughts were would not stay focused for less than a minute before retreating back to Julian.
"You usually read in the library, dear," he said, trying to decipher her thoughts without asking them of her. He wasn't usually one to pry, and as far as he was concerned, life was at its highest. He needn't interfere with anything that didn't affect him directly.
"It's been so long since I've read in my room, father."
"Ah yes, of course," he murmured, seeming to accept the fabricated fact. He nodded briefly at her once he had come out from amidst his ponderings and willed him back into real life. "Goodnight, Penelope," he said smiling at her, closing the door just a little on his way out.
"Goodnight, father," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Less than five minutes later, she felt a presence slip into her room and close the door behind him. For a moment she prayed her hopes were true and that it was Julian who had suddenly made it into the house. When she turned around she spotted her brother standing awkwardly about two feet into the room.
"Jorge," she said, confusedly. "What is it?" she asked, blinking. He said nothing at first and just walked towards her.
"Something's happened, hasn't it?"
Her eyes narrowed in on him, offended. As far as she was concerned, he knew nothing of her activities with Julian the night before. He was quite aware of the state of relationship she shared with him, but he never spoke of anything openly when their parents or others who might be in business with them would be around. Some sort of sibling bond, she guessed. She was grateful for it. Still, she wondered how he'd known…or what he even knew to begin with.
"What do you want to know?" she asked calmly, crossing the room to sit down on her bed and flatten her skirt.
"You know what I want to know," he said, determined. He never was one to beat around the bush. Sometimes she hated that about him.
"Do I?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.
He sighed testily, pressing his hand to his forehead where it was starting to ache. He knew his sister well enough that she wouldn't tell him straight out what had happened, especially if it had some degree of intimacy involved along with it, and that could only mean it involved Julian.
"Julian was here last night," he said. She blinked. He moved towards the bed and sat beside her on it. "Look, I know we're not the closest two people in the world, but I've kept your secret, and if something happened that might…" he paused, fishing through his head to find the appropriate words, "well, I think you should tell me."
"Why does it matter to you?" she asked, turning to him aghast. Her thoughts had spilled over inside of her and it was as if right then she realized what scandal the slipping out of her little secret would cause. "I was just tired last night. Nothing happened."
He watched her, analyzing every movement – every twitch on her face. There was still something she wasn't telling him. He breathed in deep and clenched her covers in his hands. "If you don't tell me what happened, I'm going to find out somewhere else." He stood to his feet, looking away towards the door. Her eyes widened, and she reached for his arm, cursing her actions for how they made her unravel. His eyes darted back to hers.
"Mother walked in on us last night."
He swallowed hard, knowing exactly what she was implying. She released his arm and brought her hand to her face, allowing it to soak in the tears that were slowly spilling out. He sat back on her bed and held her close to him. He should have been furious – at her, at Julian, at Miquel who probably knew about it early that morning when he'd approached him first. But his sister's tears got him all choked up, and he knew a worse fate would drown her should his father believe the words their mother would no doubt share with him, for her sake if not for the entire family.
"What were you thinking, Penny?" he whispered, reverting back to his childhood nickname for her. His breaths swallowed up the fear that erupted in him. He knew now why such things should not be shared, even among brothers – not until those in question were safe from society's deadly grasp. She shuddered in his embrace and that only made him hold her closer, rocking her with soothing words as if she was a small child in his care.
Hours later he woke up curled against his sister at the edge of her bed. The experience had exhausted him, but there was no doubt in his mind on what he had to do next. He rose from the bed and gently moved her higher up the bed, tucking the blankets over her from the outside in. He swept the auburn strands softly to the side of her face so it would not prove an irritation to her, even as she slept. Then he moved across the room and out the door, flying down the steps to reach the phone attached in almost complete darkness to the wall in the foyer. He completely missed the quiet presence of Penelope's governess, Jacinta, standing in the shadows beside his sister's room.
"Mrs. Carax?" Jacinta heard him ask into the telephone. "Is Julian there?"
The governess closed her eyes in sadness and then moved from her spot to peer into Penelope's room. She lay soundly asleep in the middle of her bed, her precious angel. For all the horror that her life was, Jacinta had been given Penelope, the very light of her life and what she believed was her reason for living, her reward for not perishing through such horrific experiences.
"Could you tell him to call me as soon as he gets home? Please?"
He sounded desperate, and he shouldn't have, but from the muffled sounds Jacinta had heard from Penelope's room hours earlier, he very well had the right to be.
A/N: Hmm, well, I'm feeling uneasy about my ending there, but hopefully it wasn't too awful. XD Let me know! Please review! ;p (Oh, and this story takes place in Barcelona, Italy 1919, if that clears up anything you might find peculiar that is certainly not the case in today's day and age. ;D)
