A/N:

This chapter has a… bit of swearing; just saying!

There are references to some books… so, let's see if you can spot them! xD

Thanks for the lovely reviews. I really appreciate them, and they always make my day. Knowing that people are reading this and, what's more, enjoying the story makes me really happy. You really are an amazing motivation for me and I can't thank you enough.

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Chapter IV

XI.

Much to her utter surprise, there actually were people inside. Laughter filled the air of the lounge, the smell of smoke and alcohol making her feel truly dizzy as she struggled to be on her feet while Mason, rapid and quietly, led her to the set of stairs in a somewhat dark side of the room, not wanting those people to notice their arrival. The place was not, what could be said, the best but at least she was not freezing to death anymore, which was something. It was quite astounding that this year of 1978, the winter in France had been rather atypical with snowfalls during March and cold nights that should have ended by early February, to give rise to the more warm and humid days of spring. According to the press, the new and last wave of cold had distressed a vast area of Europe, causing a great incidence of snowstorms and noticeable low temperatures to be reported in several capitals of the continent but, likewise, it should only last until the end of the month. Frankly, she only hoped the sun would come out soon, as she had never been a fan of the cold weather to begin with. [1]

Corinne observed small groups of people gathered at the several tables distributed in the place, drinking, playing cards, and smoking like they were smokestacks of the factories in the industrialized zones of the outskirts. Alcohol seemed to be the rule of this no-frills tavern, the dark-haired woman mused before the obnoxious cackle of one of the men playing poker startled her, her eyes rapidly darting to see a young man collecting his poker chips with a satisfied air to him. She also noticed the undeniable attractive women attending the customers, serving drinks and flirting with the men from time to time as they were tipped for their pleasing services.

Houses that offered illegal gambling were not strange in a city like Paris, it was true, but she had never been at such a setting like this before and, as expected, this had left her a little at sea since she did not know what they were doing there— well, she knew she had to follow Alex but what kinds of affairs could he have around here? Would this be his hideaway or were they just paying a quick visit? Corinne could only guess, as she scanned the depressing space fitted with decrepit furniture, telling herself that if they were to stay for the night, at least, she would have a roof over her head.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Alex's deep and collected voice interrupted her thoughts and her brownish eyes quickly were fixed on his face, getting a glimpse of his strong features in the dimness that surrounded them with its yellowish shades. He looked a little tired as he glanced at her face with excessive attention, as though there was an impossible debate inside his head. "Don't draw attention to yourself, and stay in the shadows." Those were his words before he turned his back to her and walked away, apparently intent on speaking with the old barman that stood behind the counter, impassively wiping a glass before pouring some whisky in it. The young woman was left there, feeling much like a child whose father had told her to wait as he made his own business. She knew it was ridiculous to feel this way but, truly, he looked old enough to be her old man. Hell, anyone could confuse him as such if not for the fact they looked nothing alike and, more importantly: no man in his right mind would take his daughter to a place like this. At least, that was what she believed.

Mason had not finished taking his fourth step when a fair-haired woman eagerly halted him in his tracks and, with a smile, put her hand on his dark-clothed chest. She batted her eyelashes to him while she leaned to his ear, whispering something Corinne could not quite catch from where she stood but, from the looks of it, she knew it had nothing to do with alcohol and cigarettes, or gambling, since the blonde was looking at him with hungry and burning eyes, waiting for his answer— waiting for him to give in to her this time. However, as though the dark-haired female could see this in her mind, he furrowed his dark eyebrows while shaking his head in absolute refusal. With a quick wave, he brushed her hand away and continued his way, leaving a dejected and astonished female behind, and the other with her mouth agape. Corinne could not believe it! This guy had been hit on twice tonight and twice had he turned those women's offers down without a second thought and, somehow, it felt strange for her. Having grown with her Mother's advice concerning the sometimes more-than-improper behavior of males and how to not fall for their hoaxes, Corinne had always thought there had been only one thing fixed on their minds. But, be that as it may, she believed she could understand his lack of interest in these life-threatening circumstances. If she were targeted for execution, as he seemed to have been, she would have no head, or the time, for getting laid.

Not that she would have any wish to do it, of course.

"You cheated, son of a bitch!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Give my money back!"

"Like hell I will!"

"Asshole!"

As she heard the colorful language, Corinne tried to cover herself in the shadows of a corner, not wanting to stay any close to the group of men that were now holding a heated argument, as she already could imagine how things would turn out from then onward. She was praying she would get out of there before the dispute got any uglier, or worse: turned into a dogfight of which she could not escape, but it was all in vain as she heard glass breaking and the words of anger that were spat back and forth. At that moment, she wanted to crawl somewhere and hide, but where could she? Her eyes nervously looked at the counter, from where Alex was observing the quarrel unfold, the barman nowhere to be seen. Catching a brief glimpse of his new companion, he nodded and signaled for her to stay put and she could do nothing but nod back, as she tried to ignore the tension that was growing tighter inside her stomach and the feeble tremble in her legs. Oh, she wished she would not be a wimp, but what could she do before such displays of violence? The word alone sounded so foreign to her, as she did not even know what a slap in the face felt like, so would it not be natural for her to feel scared? Would it not be right to search for his green eyes again and again, hoping he would get her out of there?

But, to her despair, Alex did not move; he was not moving from his spot– probably never would– and Corinne was beginning to think she would have to run before getting caught in between.

"Get out of here, Claude. Now! I have been far too lenient on your tricky ways, but not anymore! You know the rules. We don't like cheaters here, so you'd better hit the road and never show your face again. And don't even think about leaving with the money!"

Claude, the brown-eyed young male whose raucous laughter had made her wince before, had a look of disbelief as a barely consumed cigarette dangerously hung from his lips. The brunette woman followed his line of gaze, curious as to whom did the foreign voice belonged to, only to catch sight of the bartender standing a few feet away, with a snarl on his thin lips, as he supported himself on what she guessed was his walking stick— she could not tell, given that the light was so poor from where he stood.

"You can't do that. You can't! I-I'll let the police know of this place, you know? And you'll regret it! You will!" The young man pointed an accusative finger to the white-haired man's way.

"And what do you think they're gonna do about it, huh? Nothing! It's you the one who's gonna regret it when my boss is after your ass and, believe me, you won't like that." The older male threatened with a displeased expression on his wrinkled and flinty face. "Do yourself a favor and leave. I have shit to do here."

"Go to hell, Franc! You're no one to tell me what to—!" Claude's voice and condescension died unexpectedly as a wave of gasps, followed by the slam of wooden chairs falling backwards, made her blood run cold and her heart stop for what seemed like an eternity. People were backing off from him, and her instinct had been doing the same; the only problem was that she had long run out of floor and her back was digging a hole in the wall.

"I won't repeat myself a third time." Franc was pointing the menacing muzzle of a shotgun to Claude's face and the young man froze in place, his face turning an awful pallid shade as if he had seen a ghost, or worst: as if he were one himself— something that probably would not take long to happen if he did not departed soon. Corinne's face went a pasty color, too, as she tried to suppress a scream that wanted to emerge from the pit of her soul by putting her hands over her mouth. Please, no more deaths, she pleaded while fighting off tears of dread. "Get lost."

Claude ran off to the main door, tripping several times on the way, and the place was silent for a while. Franc simply looked around, a glare still in his eyes, and nodded to the people before walking to the counter and resuming his conversation with 'Mr. Lenoir'. He surely was not a man to fool around with, she decided while making a mental note to stay as far as possible from him— or everyone. She had to keep her nose clean, and try not to draw unnecessary attention, as Mason had advised a while ago. If she did as she was told, there would be nothing she needed to worry about, right? All she had to do was stay there, like a good little girl, and make everyone believe she did not exist to the world. How difficult could it be?

Her eyes frantically looked around, once more, and her heart now was painfully throbbing in her chest as though she was expecting the worst to happen at any time. But, to her luck, things slowly started to settle down and, in time, they got back to normal as the beautiful lyrics of La Vie en Rose drifted in the air, softly and lovely, as if they meant to make everyone forget about the recent and unpleasant incident that had come about. [2]

Heaving a weary sigh from her drained lungs, Corinne placed a hand on her now perspired forehead, closed her eyes for a second and mentally counted to ten to catch her breath, not caring about the toxic mix of alcohol and tobacco she was taking in at the moment—she needed a couple good mouthfuls of air, and she needed them desperately. She feebly coughed as her eyes began to sting with tears once more, due to the acrid stench, feeling utterly relieved for not having to witness another snuff in the same day. She did not think she could take any more of this, in all honesty, and there was only so much her mind could withstand, after all. If only she could grow wings and flee to a faraway place— if only! But, sadly, this was no fantastic story and magic did not exist in this modern world. She wished it would, though, so all her problems would be solved with the simple wave of a fairy godmother's wand and her magic dust— oh, the idea alone sounded so retarded it made Corinne feel like an idiot beyond belief!

She glanced to Mason's direction again and saw him slid an envelope to Franc, who proceeded to check its contents before nodding his agreement. Turning his back to the American for a moment, the white-haired man retrieved some kind of grayish bag from one of the drinks cabinets and, then, handed it to the brunette before carrying on their endless talk. How much longer will they take to settle their business, the woman wondered while crossing her arms and biting her inner cheek, eyes full of concern and apprehension by being there almost on her own. Her hands were aching again, but she tried to ignore the painful throb the small shards of glass were causing in her flesh, and drew them close to her chest in attempts to stop her profound need of scratching at the bleeding palms that, until then, had been begging for first aid attention. If only Mason would move things along a bit faster. What could they possibly be—?

Thud.

Out of nowhere, Corinne felt something hard bump into her as a knowing chuckle that she failed to hear, due to her initial confusion, rumbled next to her ear. The strength behind the impact caused her to stumble a little but, even so, she was able to keep her balance and not end up on the floor. And once she had come to her senses, she was able to feel the arm that was shamelessly sneaking around her waist and the quiet giggle that made her gasp in both alarm and discomfort. Startled and confused, the female turned her head to look behind her shoulder and came face to face with a strange and bald man who was holding her like she was his toy.

Oh, not again.

"Hello, ma petit." The man reeked of alcohol and she had to look away so as to not breathe into the pungent smell he carried in his body and clothes, suppressing a dry cough as she did. He barely could stand on his feet, mainly supporting himself on her weak frame, and his voice sounded slurred as if he had been drinking a little too much, which was really evident in his behavior. "You alone?"

Corinne decided to keep her mouth shut and, instead, had a quick look to the counter's way only to discover, to her utter horror, that Mason was not there anymore. Where did he go? She started to feel worried as she tried to get out of this drunk's grasp, wondering if she had been left on her own this time. Perhaps he had finally realized she was not worth the trouble and had departed without saying a word. Could it be that he had seen she truly was a weakling and would ruin his plans, whatever they were? What if everything he had said was completely a lie? What if this man was not who he claimed he was and his intentions had been far from being honest? Too many conjectures that had her unsure and lost and, still, Corinne was too scared to consider those possibilities, choosing on keep believing in him as she struggled to free herself from those arms that kept her imprisoned, suffocating her with their surprising strength.

"I-I'm waiting for someone." She managed to utter in a small– more like breathless– voice, hoping Mason would make his heroic appearance and lend her a hand, which she was beginning to need really bad. Still squirming, Corinne tried once more to get him to release her but without success, much to her panic and mild annoyance. Once more, she cursed the moment she watched out of the window of her bedroom and thought it would be nice a day to buy a new book. If only she would have paid attention to what her horoscope on the newspaper had warned her that morning: beware of the strangers! Beware! Though, seriously, would not such a natural caution before the unknown be expected? Moreover, what kind of sensible woman would not be wary of a man who walked up to her and engaged in casual talking out of the blue? It seemed prudence was not a quality fitting of her character, now that she thought about it.

And welcome to Paris.

"He can go rot, then." The stranger smiled a somewhat retarded smile, nuzzling her neck, and she gritted her teeth in impotence, a little despaired by the situation, while she demanded to be left alone. She was not counting on Mason anymore as he, apparently, had evaporated leaving her to her own devices so, perhaps, biting this guy's hand when she had the chance would do the trick— of course, if she ignored the fact that he would be fuming at her, afterwards. But Corinne could only try and pray for this to work.

"Hey, dumb-ass."

Her hazel eyes widened in surprise same as her mouth, whose teeth had been ready to attack at any given time— an uncivilized act that sort of made her feel like a savage woman. Well, honestly, she did not care about appearances at this point; she could be a savage female in a savage world, for all she cared, as long as she could survive its savagery, masked with the façade of a decadent civilization that had been misunderstood as a part of human nature. If fear was driving her to act in this aggressive manner, then it was true that within every human resided a beast.

But there he was, Alex Mason, or Monsieur Lenoir, like a symbol of authority and strength, standing before her, a grayish bag slung to one of his broad shoulders as he shot her a glare that almost made her recoil in fright and alarm. If looks could kill, she would have been six feet underground in that moment; she was pretty sure of it as the scowl on his face still lingered, unalterable. For a few seconds nothing happened, and Corinne was biting her lips thinking of an excuse to tell him, for she thought he was mad at her for getting in trouble so fast. More than an excuse, she was gathering the nerve to reproach him the fact he had left her vulnerable in a corner of this brothel, run-of-the-mill tavern, or whatever it was, while he was off to do his business with the old man. What was he thinking, in all honesty?

But, despite how upset she might have felt, she could not help but sigh in relief since he had been on time to get her out of this predicament— yet again. Maybe she could try and be less ungrateful this time, she pondered while preparing herself to hear the avalanche of reprimands he was about to spit. She might have not known him that well, also, but if there was something she could deduce was that Mason was not a man to lark about with, either. If her memory served right, she clearly recalled he had killed those men without any remorse, and even ruthlessly stabbed one in the throat— an awful image that still remained in her head and, probably, would not let her sleep for a week. Honestly, if that was not enough reason to lower her gaze and remember she was in no position to be complaining, then she surely had to be off her rocker or suicidal.

She dared to look him in the eye, albeit a little scared of his intimidating demeanor that made her think twice before her stupid mouth said something she might regret later. Although she was not the type of woman that had a loose tongue, she decided it was better off to keep it in check this time, lest she wanted to be in bad terms with Mr. Mason... or Lenoir. In this state of mind, she sighed in defeat while allowing her shoulders to slump and, finding the nerve to meet his green eyes again she discovered he was not actually glowering at her but at the male standing behind her, whom she had virtually forgotten about!

"She's with me. Go find yours." Alex stated, quite displeased, while he snatched her from the drunken molester, making her ridiculously stumble in the process. Corinne did not want to ask what did he meant by 'go find yours' since she was pretty sure she understood what he was talking about. In other circumstances, the young woman would have protested at the blatant manner he had objectified her but she figured they should keep up appearances so long as they stayed in this place— which she hoped would not be for very long.

The guy let go of her without a single objection. Evidently, he felt intimated by Alex's presence since he lifted his hands in surrender and wisely chose to retreat from this Alpha male before her, leaving the brown-eyed female to wonder just what in Jesus' name had just happened. However, Mason merely dismissed the matter with a shake of his head, which she did not know if it was out of disappointment or exasperation, threw a glance her way and nodded the set of dark stairs as an almost dull-colored c'mon passed his lips. With a gentle push from his hand, she found herself leading the way in a dim and depressing hallway with stained walls, with no idea of where to go apart from the spontaneous indications he gave her every now and then. The walk to their destination was silent for the most part of it and, somewhat, hurried as he frequently nudged her to pick up her pace while the only thing she could do was comply every time he did.

"You need to leave your name behind, do you understand? It's not safe for you anymore." He stated in a firm whisper before he brought her to a stop in front of a door, which Corinne had rapidly guessed to be his room as she examined the faded 25 on the reddish wood painted, just a little above its peephole. With a faint nod, she murmured her understanding while pondering about how was it that her life had gone to hell in just a few hours time— not that there was much of it, to begin with. The only thing that truly was starting to concern her a big deal was her family's safety, and the chance she might not see them anymore since tomorrow could be a good day to die. The youngster had never conceived she would be having these thoughts at her age but, in this situation, it was bound to happen and, for all that she knew, this could be her last night before she met her maker. The psychic stress it forced upon her was difficult to stomach, and she sensed an acidic fluid burning her throat as Alex produced a key from one of the pockets of his coffee-colored cargo pants. Placing her hand over her mouth, Corinne dearly tried to swallow her sharp-tasting fright, feeling his solid body forcefully pressing against hers whilst he shoved her into a dark void, with him following suit.

A little too much for pretense, she fleetingly thought as the lock of the door echoed, with a rather disturbing click, in the haze of a black mist that fogged her eyes, letting her know that now there was no way out— that he would not let her find a way out.

And she wondered where the phial, containing the little fragment of light from Eärendil's star, was when she needed it the most.

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[1] I know the winter in France was not like this in 1978, but bear in mind that I had written this meeting way long before I decided the nationality of the character or that this even took place in Paris.

[2] La Vie en Rose. Life in Rosy Hues, it's a classic of the 1940s by Edith Piaf. You should listen to it, it's a beautiful song!

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Sorry if it was a little too short. I just wanted to make a quick update before I got any busier with homework, and I also wanted to let people know that I'm still working on this story.

Reviews are appreciated, regardless of your thoughts— yesterday my teacher said something about ideas being bulletproof. I know this is going rather slow and not much has happened but… this was meant to be some sort of cheesy romance with some kind of plot thrown to the mix.

The next chapter should be interesting, though.