When Corinne woke up again, she was in an unfamiliar room. The cold white of the snow was replaced by the warm orange glow of the bedside lamp. She shifted comfortably under the layers of blankets, and found a fuzzy rag doll lying by her side. Unwilling to leave the cozy nest, Corinne peered out from beneath the blankets. In a corner of the room, a very pretty lady sat sleeping on a rocking chair. A great black cloak settled over her shoulders, but her skirt was cut to the calves, exposing the black satin toe shoes on her neatly tucked feet. The dark brown hair was pulled back, although little tendrils had begun to fall out, framing her white face. From the strange lady, Corinne, examined the room: simple, but for the massive antique bed she lay on. Numerous travelling chests were scattered around the room, some piled up in corners, while others open before the lady.
Corinne couldn't keep her eyes off the lady. There was something in her tired, perfectionist features that strangely appealed to her. Something that seemed to suggest the comfort a lost little girl was yearning for. As she watched, one side of the cloak slid down the lady's shoulder, exposing creamy white skin. Corinne glanced outside the window. It was snowing. The lady would be cold. Grabbing the rag doll beside her, Corinne slid off the bed, softly making her way to the rocking chair to rearrange the cloak.
The lady stirred.
Corinne suddenly shrank back, clutching the doll tightly against herself. The lady blinked a few times, and then smiled as she saw the little girl. "You're awake." When she spoke, her voice was gentle, pleasant. She opened her arms. "Why don't you come closer?"
Corinne hesitated, but at length approached her gingerly. The white arms wrapped around her in an embrace, and then lifted her up to the lady's lap. "What is your name?"
"Corinne," she replied instantly, transfixed by the deep green of the woman's eyes.
"And how old are you?"
She held up five fingers.
"Oh, five. How did you come to be sleeping outside in the snow? Did you lose your papa and maman?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me their names?"
"No."
"Where do you live?"
"Paris."
The lady sighed, shook her head slightly. "Cherie, I'm afraid I cannot help you find your papa and maman. But we will try. You're more than welcome to stay with me until we find them..."
They never found her parents again. But inside that room, safe within a kind stranger's warm embrace, Corinne knew she was home.
***
Saito sighed to himself. His legs ached from the folded position he kept them in for so long, but hesitated standing and leaving her side. It was dawn before he was finally able to leave the patrol after a wasted night of futile search. He thought of her hysteria all the way back home, all the while apprehensive that she had left her hiding place to run away again. The girl had done it once, from one of the French ambassador's estates, no less, and Saito believed she could do it again.
He wondered what it was about Corinne that nailed him so. She was a weak, useless being, used to pampering and western luxuries. She couldn't cook, couldn't clean – couldn't do even the littlest thing he would consider useful. And yet he was drawn to her. The very sight of her rekindled a long-forgotten feeling – the longing to protect. It was a while since he last had something to care about deeply, and while he did not relish the glitch in his armour, he certainly missed it. Then came Corinne, and was just all that – the weak, useless thing he needed.
Glancing momentarily outside the window, Saito muttered a low scowl. The sun was climbing higher in the sky – a sure sign that although he led the night operations, the chief expected Fujita to show up bright and early for the new workday. The government may have changed, he grumbled under his breath, but some things never do.
Corinne was still asleep. She probably would for some time longer, so Saito surmised that it would be all right to leave her. He could escape the dullness of the office for a few hours to come back for her later. He was about to stand to go when Corinne shifted in her sleep. As she turned towards him, her kimono sleeve hitched up past her elbow, revealing yet another big bruise. Saito froze, and then very gently ran a finger over it, wondering how many others Corinne managed to keep secret from him. Dr. Gensai would probably know, he thought, rearranging the sleeve, but he did not want to ask behind Corinne's back. Saito decided to wait for her to tell him, wondering what he would do when whatever big secret was out.
***
Monsieur was gone when she woke up, but Corinne knew he returned home for her. Instead of inside the closet, she was back in her room, on a hurriedly laid out futon. It must be late morning already, judging from the bright sunlight that streamed in through the windows, and the busy, noisy crowd down on the streets. Corinne sat for a while in silent thought, trying to remember something that slipped her mind. In turn, she looked at all the things in the room – the calligraphy scroll hanging in a niche, the arrangement of autumn flowers, the short katana glistening on its stand, the low writing table with its ink stone, brush, and holder, the modern calendar that looked so out of place...
The calendar.
It was the day Professor Stradtburg was due from New York after a recent medical talk in London. In his last letter, the elderly professor told her about having been invited to lecture in Japan on the third of October. The German embassy had processed his papers and the Japanese government was expecting him on the last day of September. He would meet her then.
She sprang up suddenly, rushing out of the house in an anxious hurry. There were things she had to talk to the professor about. She wanted to ask him about the discolorations, hoping that he might offer some comfort. They were all over her, especially where there had been unpleasant contact with any particularly solid object, and before the end of two weeks' time, she was black and blue. But Monsieur should not know, so she tried hiding them. The rehearsal costume with its calf-length skirt and arm-exposing top were discarded in favour of kimonos, which offered more coverage. Even her hands were always hidden in the butterfly sleeves so that they might be spared the ugly fate. It was all pure hell. Little by little, she withdrew back into her shell.
Corinne ran a long way to the pier, just barely making it in time. The plank had just been lowered and the passengers were trooping towards the harbour when she arrived. A carriage of the German embassy rolled to a stop by the wooden landing, obviously awaiting the Professor's arrival. She drew as close as she dared, avoiding the throngs of people shoving their way past each other. The area was swarming with police officers, but the thought of being recognized was lost on her. She thought only of meeting the Professor, of hearing about the fruits of his studies.
"Miss Montaigne!"
She turned at the voice and instantly recognized the red-faced old man making towards her. The mix of anxiety and excitement in her intensified as they exchanged cordial greetings, she wondering when they would speak of the topic both dreaded and yet anticipated. The Professor handed her into the carriage and climbed up right after.
"I have a feeling you did not receive my correspondences," he began, leaning back as the vehicle lurched forward. "And my gut tells me that not all is well. What has happened, Corinne?"
He now sounded more grandfatherly and less like the curt, brilliant doctor people knew him as. "I ran away, Professor," she confessed, head bowed. "I did not want anyone to know."
"So what of you now?"
"A lieutenant of the police has taken me in – Lt. Fujita, the one who found me the first night I ran away. Madame has alerted the police, but I continue to hide. Clara and I met some days back, but she does not know where I live now."
The elderly man pushed up his spectacles. "And are these the only things troubling you?"
"No." A hand rested uncomfortably on the hem of her kimono sleeve. "It's…" she slowly drew up the cotton covering. "It's this…"
The professor examined her arm. "This is the only one, I hope?"
Corinne shook her head. "I bruise at the slightest force…" she withdrew her arm. "You have found something out from your travels, haven't you, sir?"
"Yes; yes, I have," he replied distractedly, "but they will not be very pleasant for you." Drawing himself up straighter, the ancient professor met her eyes. "Dear girl, the Freiburg doctors have pronounced it an ailment of the blood. Six months is all that is left of your future."
It took a while to sink in, and when it finally did, Corinne felt her mouth dry up, and her heart stop beating. "Am I going to die, Professor?"
"Everyone dies once in their lives."
"Yes, but," her hands trembled under his, and her voice was barely above a whisper, "in half a year?"
***
It was difficult to attribute her listlessness to the way he scared off her suitors, just as it seemed improbable to conclude that occasional excesses of mirth were largely due to shopping trips with Himura. Saito had read somewhere the philosophy that women were complex creatures, and was inclined to believe that they held right for all ages of that particular sex. Just when he thought the housework would do itself, he found himself washing clothes again, Corinne just giving him a serene smile. It drove him crazy to repeat over to himself that he could not understand her, and was in conclusion enslaved to her many whims and frequent mood swings.
Staking out was the only way he could gather information with the least trouble and suspicion, and it became the method he adopted. Even if he wasn't careful enough and Battousai found out somehow, he knew that the redhead would think it none of his business. Theoretically, that plan was secure. He would have to volunteer for more shifts, but decided that his over-easy superior would only think him hungry for promotion. He snorted at the latter thought – preposterous.
The Kamiya dojo, unguarded, was not difficult to watch, especially since he did not have to pretend to be a policeman doing his duty. In fact, the most communicative things he had to watch out for were the small children allowed to run loose on the streets; and they did not care to approach within a five-mile radius of him.
He had pretended to leave after dropping Corinne off, but like an anxious mother distrustful of the babysitters, turned right back and hid himself as soon as he had rounded the corner. Time dragged on so inexplicably long and tedious that Saito was ready to admit how foolish he had been to waste a good many hours trying to melt into the walls. However, his patience was rewarded when about noon, Corinne ran out of the dojo.
Saito followed her through the maze of downtown Kyoto. Corinne was weaving in and out of the crowd so quickly that it was difficult to keep track of her. Finally, Saito saw her running towards the foreign settlement near the dock, and was about to follow when a carriage sped right though the middle of the street. A wave of pedestrians scurried to the sidewalk, and Corinne disappeared from view.
Overhead, thunder rumbled, and a few drops of big, fat rain splattered onto the round. Saito groaned. It had been a very, very bad day.
***
The streets were almost deserted and the few people who remained curiously peeked at the strange young lady who braved the downpour for a leisurely walk. Corinne kept close to the shops, window-shopping as she thought about how she could apologize to Clara without betraying herself. An old man scuttled out of his knick-knack shop upon seeing her, and excitedly began to point out all sorts of little things a girl might be persuaded to buy. She wanted to tell him she had no money, none that he would like to take, anyway, for they were all French coins. Why exactly she still carried them she did not know, and reasoned that perhaps they worked like a sort of charm.
She took out a few silver coins to try and explain when a small boy came barrelling out of an alley towards her. They collided, and the silver pieces spilled onto the display table. The bedraggled child examined one, saw that it was not useful money, and contemptuously threw it to the ground before running away.
"Ojousan," the old man was excitedly tugging at her sleeve. He had cupped the coins in his hands and was flailing an arm at his goods. Corinne wondered what he wanted, and then understood that he wanted her to pick a souvenir in exchange for her coins. She thought it a rather unfair trade and refused, but the old man would not be persuaded otherwise...
She stood thinking for a minute, wondering what the objects were. They were pretty, she admitted, but it was near impossible to make out what they were. Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out to take a small, lacquered box. The hand's owner thanked the shopkeeper, and then started to leave, tugging her along.
"Sir," Corinne began, bewilderment making her indifferent to whether he would understand her. "I appreciate your help, but I really must be returning to my friends now."
They stopped walking. "I'm glad to hear that, Mlle. Montaigne. We have all been wondering where you could have possibly disappeared to." The voice belonged to a young man, and he let out a low laugh. 'It's time to go home now."
She snatched her hand away, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. "What are you doing here, Edouard? Madame will be furious!"
"All the more will she be with you," His eyes twinkled. "How long have you been gone? One…two weeks? She will not wait forever for you, Corinne. You must see Fleur now – so beautiful, so much more beloved than you once were."
"If you're trying to anger me—"
"I'm succeeding, aren't I?" He stripped off his glove and grabbed her hand. "Stop this foolishness now," he hissed. "If you return, forgiveness might yet be granted. Don't throw away your career. What has happened to you, playing house with a lieutenant of the police? I know all about it."
"Who told you about Monsieur? What else do you know?" She demanded angrily. They had retreated into a dark alley, away from curious onlookers.
"More than you may think."
"You're lying!"
"Perhaps not; and perhaps I know even more…" He slammed his free hand into the opposite wall, cornering her. Edouard leaned in so close that she felt his breath on her neck.
"I don't know how I succumbed to your charms," she muttered through gritted teeth. "You're perfectly repulsive!"
"And you, mademoiselle," he smiled wickedly, brushing her hair with his lips, "are perfectly naïve."
"Let me go, Edouard."
"I must bring you back where you belong."
Corinne shoved, but he was too strong for her. "I will scream if you do not let me go this instant!"
"Try."
She leaned her head against the cold wall and tried to block out the sight of his face. The rain grew heavier now, and she was soaked through. She did not mean to leave the dojo for so long. Doubtless M Himura and the others would discover her gone. And pretty soon, Monsieur would arrive to pick her up, but she wouldn't be there.
Corinne screamed. Edouard laughed as her voice drowned in the heavy downpour. The streets were almost deserted. Nobody would hear her. Not in the god-forsaken place she was in, anyway.
It was growing cold. The rain seeped through her kimono, which stuck to her skin. Corinne shivered. A dull pain had begun to throb near her stomach where she and the little boy had collided when the latter was trying to rob her. It was ridiculous that those worthless coins should have caused her so much trouble in one day alone. She fell forward, leaning onto Edouard for support.
"What's the matter with you?" He demanded.
She shook her head. No one must know that the pain was so horrible, as if someone had reached into her and wrung out her abdomen. The world began to spin as nausea filled her, but just as she thought she was going to pass out, she thought she heard footsteps running towards the alley. Monsieur's voice was familiar, calling out a gruff question, his arms encircling her, freeing her from the claustrophobic little space Edouard imprisoned her in.
"Corinne..."
She saw Edouard through a veil of hazy mist, looking angry that a stranger had yanked his prey right away from himself. "You're such a demon, Edouard..." she whispered weakly.
He smirked. "Yes; but a handsome demon. Remember how you loved me once, Corinne."
"Never again."
"Human emotions," he said, putting the puzzle box into her trembling hands, "are at best frustrating. But just like this toy, they are relatively simple once unlocked. Remember what I told you: no one can hold out forever."
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A/N: So the secret's out! Unfortunately, Saito doesn't do much in this chapter. He kind of seems like a side character, now that I look at it again. But that's all right. At least now the whole business is cleared up. I'll try to give him more important roles in succeeding chappies, though.
What else? Oh! Thank you again to those who took the time to review. I tried my best to respond to every review...although some of the messages were pretty short. xp Once again, thank you. I hope all you guys enjoyed this installment. Please continue to let me know your opinions!
Love,
Tibbits...
PS. I admit. This chapter was not beta'd. Since it's a re-write, I basically just cut and pasted some parts from the old chapters. Plus, I am feeling kind of lazy. I'm trying to meet a deadline that's near impossible to meet, and I've done nothing but brew plots and write and erase and start over and write again. And midterms weren't a party, either. So yeah. If there are any typos, please bear with me.