Hello everyone! It has been a time filled with very very hard work. Despite that fact I managed to somehow write it. Unfortunately, my dearest darling beta has been sick (and tired of beting and whatever betas usually do). So, here's the chapter, late as ever. Thank you for your warm 12 follows (Thrift shop playing in the distance), absolutely staggering 4 favourites and endearing 4 reviews which were, as we say in Polish, honey for my ears. Thanks, ScareCrow, TheBeldam27 and fandelivres!
Here's her apologies, whatever
The beta is extremely sorry for the delay and would like to profusely apologise (however, it is not as if the author was terribly quick in actually writing this chapter, so you know)
Twenty years ago in a private room of the most modern Seattle hospital, the Lewis family gathered around Victoria's bed. Her husband Henry and his sister had stood guard over her. Not because of some dreadful incident, oh no. They had been celebrating birth of a new family member. This person was currently cuddled by Victoria – little Candice Lewis.
Since that very moment it had been quite obvious, that the girl would live a life everyone dreamed about. She had unbelievable luck to be born as Henry and Victoria Lewis' daughter, one of the truly selfless people that remained on the planet. The couple had been awaiting Candice for a long time, who was to be yet another testimony to their love. Candy's luck included not only a loving family – Henry's company was supposed to become very successful, and, what follows, incredibly wealthy, soon. Also, as is often the case, money came together with beauty. Candice's delicate hair had shined like gold since the moment of birth and her baby blue eyes were meant to stay this way forever.
Despite the fact that many would describe this life as perfect, Candy thought it was just plain boring.
The only thing which protected her from jumping into the abyss was ballet. At the age of 4, Candy, like every little girl, wanted to become a ballerina. Her obsession began after the Barbie movie and rose with each visit to the theatre. No wonder that the following year she started to attend ballet classes. Candy's stories evoked envy in her friends, and soon almost every daughter of Lewis' acquaintances learned how to dance. However, at the end of the senior year the only still practicing were Candy and her best friend Margaret. Lots of demanding work and ever-changing interests of young girls had made the number of students decrease. Some had simply given up on the childhood dream, some had had to learn the family business. Others just hadn't been able to stand the mental and physical pressure. But that wasn't Candice. She had always had luck.
This is why the morning after the not-so-pleasant adventure the woman still couldn't calm herself down.
Candy nibbled at a slice of capriciossa leftovers. The family dinner seemed to be so far away, as if it happened a few years ago, not the previous day. She suffered a nearly restless night, and despite not having had any nightmares she didn't feel the beneficial effects of sleep. It wasn't as much of a hardship for her as some might've thought – she had had some experience with sleep deprivation. Mornings still were difficult, but she had gained the ability to mechanically go through the motions of showering and eating. But this day, Candy felt even more torpid than usual.
The woman took a look at the radio and checked the time. She had some time for herself yet, but she needed to start eating, for which she wasn't in the mood. It was not to be discussed, though. The body demanded energy. If she fainted, she couldn't possibly explain to her boss, monsieur Chavann, that even a thought of yesterday's happenings made her stomach shrink. She was just taking the first bite, when she heard the doorbell ring. Her arm froze halfway to her mouth.
Lewis family lived in a luxurious apartment in the Metropolitan Tower. Their penthouse was surrounded by comparably elegant quarters inhabited by similarly wealthy people. However, it wasn't the richness that suddenly brought Candy up short. Definitely not. It was the height. The height meant passing a doorkeeper and a long elevator journey. No one could've reached their door by mistake. It left only one possibility, and even though the idea was completely absurd, she had to consider it. With each fleeting second she grew more certain that behind the door stood one of the men she had had a dubious pleasure to meet. Candy quickly eliminated her would-be rapist – it surprised her to even see him get up after so many hits. It had to be the mysterious man.
The thought process took her no more than a few seconds, but she heard the doorbell again. The visitor had to be really impatient. Candy, however, did not move. Rationally, she knew that it could not be him: he had no idea where she lived and he didn't have a reason to look for her. But her heart refused to listen. If her luck deserted her the day before, then anything could happen. Nevertheless, she would not let herself sit idly and ignore the anonymous guest. She didn't want one memory to control all her life. Candy carefully tip-toed to the kitchen and without a second thought took the biggest knife out of a drawer. She had to check who was there. Even if it turned out to be him. Resolute and armed, Candy went to the front door. For the umpteenth time, she regretted not having a peep-hole.
"I know you're in there" The subdued male voice could be heard. Candy felt her heart pounding in her chest. She squeezed the knife so hard that she dug her nails into her sensitive skin.
"Candy…" The mysterious man drawled. Catching the sound of her name, the girl's mind started to fill with panic. Her breathing sped up and her heartbeat picked up the speed. Her knees weakened. Oh god, he found her!
"Either you take these clothes or I throw them away!"
This sentence made her wake up. Still with the knife in her hand, she reached for the doorknob. Candy opened it slightly to see that, indeed, it was a man. Her friend Michael, with arms full of her clothes. She let him in, shaking her head. How silly.
"Doesn't your new iPhone have the popular 'answer a call' function?" He asked, hanging her clothes on the doorknob. He then proceeded to take off his jacket which he carelessly threw on the floor along with his muddy Chuck Taylor's.
"You called?" Candy furrowed her brows and reached into a pocket… only to find it empty. Her heart skipped a beat and then started to work twice as hard. She quickly checked other pockets, which unfortunately also did not hide anything. She cursed under her breath.
"I may have lost it."
"Or someone has stolen it" Michael howled like a ghost.
Or someone had stolen it. He could've imperceptibly slipped a hand into the coat's pocket and take out the phone, along with all the personal data, photos…
"Don't be ridiculous!" She scolded both Michael and the voice in her head. She couldn't recall having any close contact with her savior. He only touched her arms. Just the memory of it brought the pain to her wrists back.
"I think I haven't even taken it to the club. Yes, I definitely have not. Wait."
Jumping three steps at a time, Candy climbed onto her floor. After a while, she came back with the phone in her hand. She could've easily avoided such a fear – it would be enough if she stopped forgetting about the little things. Then she could've answered Michael's call and calmly waited for him to come. Her face brightened up, and a wide smile said all about her relief. However, her relaxed mood quickly faded away. She sat next to Michael, who managed to make himself at home.
"What's up?" He asked, seeing her worried face.
That was when Candy told him about yesterday's incident. She began calmly, but with every sentence became more and more agitated. She used almost all of her emotions – from regret through anger to fear. As soon as she finished, she felt liberated. She was only surprised to notice that the choleric Michael hadn't interrupted her. While it would've made her happy in any other circumstances, this once it only added to her anxiety. His lips formed a thin line. His olive skin paled. Suddenly, he leaped up, knocking over a chair. Soon, he was out of the room.
"Michael!" Candy squealed, following him. It was abnormal for him to act so strange.
The man was searching rapidly for something in her commode, but apparently couldn't find it. He turned and took hold of her shoulders.
"Where's the last week newspaper? The one with the prevue of your show?" Michael asked, looking into her eyes. She saw his panic, reflecting her own.
"There" Candy answered, pointing to the table. "What's the matter? Why do you want to find it?"
Michael reached out for the paper. He unfolded it and hit the photo on the first page with his index finger.
"Is that him?" His voice was rising.
Candice looked at the image. It was taken by a CCD camera of a bank. Of course, she had heard about a recent robbery, but she had never glanced twice at such articles. Until now. The photograph was of considerably good quality and the stranger was looking right into the lens. His black-and-white eyes mirrored the lamps, which gave them an unusual spark. His smile was almost seductive. But it wasn't the smile or the well-tailored suit that Candy immediately recognized.
What captured her attention was the hat.
Not just any hat – a characteristic bowler hat, which she had seen somewhere before.
Everything fell into place.
Despite the inability to remember his face, she could still recognize him. Suit, leather gloved hands holding the cane.
"Candice, is that him?" He repeated more calmly. She slowly nodded, and Michael threw the newspaper, cursing loudly. He sat down again and covered his face with hands.
Candice crouched and unfolded the paper. She couldn't understand his panic. Well, of course, she reached the apogee of stupidity, standing all alone in the night, but after all, this stranger helped her. If he had wanted to hurt her, he would have done that. He had no reason to look after an ordinary woman. At least that was what she kept telling herself.
Under the photography was a big, bolded title, then a long article about how the robbery was done and witnesses' statements. Candy didn't notice anything frightening – just an ordinary robbery, like many others in Gotham. On top of that, no one even used violence. Only threats.
"I've got to go." Her thoughts were interrupted by Michael's voice. He was looking at his phone. Nothing could be read from his expression. "Don't go out anywhere tonight and remember to call if something weird goes on." He added like a mother, who, before leaving, reminds her children to not open the door to strangers.
Candy was so surprised to hear that that she didn't know how to answer. It was not until he had left that she felt her anger rising. She was mad she had let him ignore and order her around. If she wanted to go out in the evening, she goddamn would, she was an adult, for God's sake! With one aggressive move Candy took her bag and coat, and decided not to think about the suspicious actions of her friend. All her effort, however, was for nothing. Her thoughts kept slipping away, returning to Michael. She was irritated, yes, but also worried. Candy knew that he had had some problems in the past and hadn't told her about them.
Her fingers were trembling. She felt nervous, because there was a high risk of being late for the last rehearsal, and she had already been late for the one before. Also, this mysterious man… Every last bit of her calmness had been irrevocably ruined because of Michael. She had left the apartment without breakfast, with gloves in her hand, and an open bag. She had also managed to forget about the clothes her friend had brought. Very organized, that's the way she liked it.
As she finally sat before her dressing table, Candy felt at peace somehow. Irritation left her with one long sigh. The girl started to tie up her hair. Ballet was for her like yoga and meditation. Putting on her costume made her tremble with anticipation. On the scene, there was no place for thoughts. Only for her and music. And that was what she could do best.
That was why it was no surprise for her to hear a storm of applause after this night's show. The girl retreated backstage, smiling. She was greeted by her beaming friends, who started to jump at the sight of her. Candy also would, but her legs were dying from exhaustion. She felt more and more painfully how old she was in comparison to these youngsters. Her only peer was Margaret, currently sitting next to Candy's dancing partner. The man was holding her in his arms and comforting by rubbing her arms. Maggie's legs were bouncing nervously. Candice decided to approach them. The grand finale wasn't to begin for quite some time, and maybe she could deduce if this little tete-a-tete was random…
She started to walk but stopped as soon as she heard their whispers. Candy changed her plan – she would eavesdrop on a part of their conversation, so she that she could ask Maggie about it later. She came a bit closer, grateful for the dim light in the changing room.
"Everything will be alright!" Were the first words she heard. She barely refrained from laughing. How easy it was to fool her friend! If Candy appreciated such clichés, she would have married a long time ago.
"Easy, you've practiced a lot. A lot more than Candy for sure. Have you seen her assemble?"
Her smile faded as they giggled. She clenched her fists. If before they had her attention, now they also had her interest.
"And it's so hard to lift her. Chavann hasn't even looked at her. Maybe that's why she got the role."
"Yes, I've heard the rumors, but I didn't believe them" Maggie answered quietly. "Candy couldn't have kept such a romance a secret."
The woman in question stood barely a metre away, her mouth agape. She took a long step back, and then another. She could not believe it. In one moment, her perfect life had changed into an ordinary TV-show aired during the work hours. With steady steps she crossed the distance to the stairs leading to the scene. Candy absolutely wasn't in the mood for playing pretend, but she had to give a great show, which resulted in a rather sour smile. She squinted. She would show them how just badly she couldn't dance.
Her melody began. With a fake, but nevertheless brilliant smile plastered on her face, Candy ran onto the scene. Moves were not only well prepared, but also filled with captivating energy which had been lacking earlier. She basked in the audience's silent awe, floating through the fortissimo part of the piece. The time ceased to exist.
Just to come back to life with doubled force, when her partner appeared. Candy flashed him a sweet smile. Not missing a beat, they danced gracefully the complicated moves. Then the girl jumped high and did the most beautiful pirouette she had ever done…
Only to painfully fall over.
Silence broke, like a mirror thrown to the ground, with the audience's loud gasp. Candy tried to collect the pieces of her dignity, patiently bearing pitying looks. Soon, she finished her performance, without any further slip-ups. As she bowed down, she felt overcome with the urge to throw up. She had had a fight with Michael, she was suspected of having a romance with her boss, she had just been embarrassed during a premiere – and, as if it all wasn't enough, just now she had to recall this weird riddle guy.
When the curtain finally came down, she had to face everyone.
"Nothing happened, I just got some bruises" She assured them, her façade of forbearance slowly fading. "I would like to be alone"
Mumbling some excuses, she started to push her way through the crowd. Before she arrived at the changing room, she came face to face with monsieur Chavann.
"What was that?" He asked sharply. "Danny isn't able to catch you. Is he?"
"He isn't." She answered, looking at her points.
"That's correct. And that's exactly why we threw it out. Right or not?"
"I wasn't thinking about it! It just felt like the right thing to do." She had never been so embarrassed in her life. Back at the stage, it seemed perfectly logical. Now, not particularly. "I forgot that-"
"Can't you remember three steps? We've been practicing this choreography for two months! How old are you?!"
She remained silent, her gaze still directed at her feet. She suddenly noticed all of the grazes and cracks on her points. After a while, Chavann just sighed, waving her away.
"It's a warning. I hope it won't happen tomorrow."
The woman nodded solemnly and walked away. Luckily, everyone including Margaret had already vanished. Her partner, however, did not.
"Congratulations, ballerina" He mocked, nearly making her fall from the stairs as he passed by. Candy stopped.
"What's your problem?" She asked harshly. Her brows furrowed, almost forming a line.
"No problem at all!" He sang, not halting his walk.
Dumbstruck, she wondered at his insolence. His arrogant smile, little dance steps, laidback moves.
"You know what? Screw you, Danny." Candy responded and quickly walked into her room, hiding before any answer could come.
The girl sat before her mirror and lay her head on the wooden top. How awful were the last twenty four hours. At least she could cheer herself up by reading all of her fan mails! Who cared if they had been written before her disastrous show – it was always nice to read them.
Candy checked some bouquets near her. Nothing special. Clichés weren't able to comfort her broken soul. She turned around and scanned the room, searching for more exotic flowers. The place was drowning in the sea of roses and daisies. Again and again nothing special. Except… except for that bunch of light green little roses, carelessly thrown on a chair. Candy cocked her head. Were they wrapped up in peacock feathers?
She got up. Jumped two steps. Lifted the flowers. They didn't disappoint her. The roses were actually wrapped up in peacock feathers. She looked for a card. Who bought such a beautiful bouquet? Maybe her parents?
Finally, she found it. With growing excitement, she opened the card and quickly read it. The evident happiness began to disappear from her face until wide-eyed shock replaced it. Candy managed to read the card again
The strangest creature you will ever find: two eyes in the front and many more behind.
and then she heard knocking.