Short chapter today! Have a good New Year, everyone! Oh, and review ^^
Gen blinks, the morning sunshine illuminating her room. She stretches her limbs, glancing at the clock to see that it's just about eleven o'clock. Still dressed in her clothes from the previous night, she heads into the bathroom for a wake-up shower, all the while thinking she keeps hearing a shrill beep from somewhere in her room.
Dried off and wrapped in her towel, she exits the steam-filled bathroom and searches her closet for something to wear. A red blouse and black skinny jeans are chosen, and she stills, hearing the beep again.
A more in-depth search reveals her cell phone, shoved under a pillow at some point during the night, to be the source of the tone. Gen flips it open, seeing a voicemail available. She presses 'play' and puts the phone to her ear.
"Privet, Genovefa. I promised to call you when I landed, and so here I am, calling you from Moscow. You are most likely sleeping now, so please sleep well. I will be asking that you do not have the nightmares this time. Take care."
Gen smiles, almost pressing the 'redial' button, but thinks better of it and stows the phone in the drawer in her bedside table. She pulls on her pants and blouse, buttoning the latter while watching her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The dark circles under her eyes are less noticeable, but still present, having lessened with a few nights of much-needed good sleep. She brushes her hair, braiding it down her back, and leaves the bathroom and walks out to the landing at the top of the stairs.
"Francis?" She calls, waiting for a few moments for a response. Nothing. Shrugging, she begins her descent down the grand staircase. About halfway down, an overwhelming sense of lightheadedness overcomes her, and she stumbles, missing a step in the process. She falls hard, landing a few steps down, sideways on her back. Her head slams into the angle of the current step and she loses consciousness, rolling haphazardly down the rest of the steps to land on her back at the bottom.
Gen comes back to consciousness slowly, realizing she's being shaken by someone. Her eyes flutter open, met by the worried brown eyes of a strangely familiar maid.
"Mon dieu! Mademoiselle Genovefa, are you all right?" The young woman is kneeling beside her, fanning her hand back and forth over Gen's face, a terrified look on her own face.
"Oui, Annette, I am fine." Gen says, slowly sitting up. A man walks by, carrying a tray, and looks at the pair curiously. Returning the odd gaze, Gen looks over his clothes, a late 18th Century ensemble, then at her own. She's wearing an olive green, full silk gown, complete with a petticoat and corset, which right now is making it very hard for her to catch her breath. Annette catches her questioning gaze.
"Shall I fetch the physician?" She asks, helping a woozy Gen to stand up, holding her gingerly.
"Non," Gen breathes, hand on her stomach to try and regulate her breathing. She looks around, eyes widening. Gone is her brother's house, replaced by what is unmistakably the grand foyer of the palace at Versailles. She closes her eyes and brings her hand to her forehead, knowing she must be dreaming. She takes a few deep breaths, and opens her eyes to find herself in the same place, an even more concerned Annette by her side.
"Where is my brother?" Gen breathes, starting to panic. Annette furrows her eyebrows, looking around nervously.
"My lady, he is in England. He has not been here for months."
Gen swallows hard, trying to keep calm. She wrings her hands, looking around with a wild expression. A thought occurs to her then, mixing in her head uncomfortably. This must be reality, and the frightening remembrance of a different house, a dream.
"Fetch the physician, mon cherie. I will lie down and wait for him in the drawing room." Gen says, taking a wobbly step in the opposite direction. Annette nods slowly, and reluctantly scurries off and out of sight. After a moment, making sure she's gone, Gen hurries towards the north wing of the palace, gaining odd looks from other servants in her haste.
"My lady," she says, knocking softly on a door.
"Come in," is the response, and Gen obeys, swinging open the door slowly, slipping into the room while closing it behind her. A woman is lounging on a chaise inside, a book in her hand. She looks up, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Genovefa, you look as if you've seen a ghost. What is wrong?"
Gen curtsies, stepping closer.
"I fear I am going mad, my lady."
The woman laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. She sets down her book and pulls on her skirts, motioning for Gen to sit beside her, which she does.
"We are all a little mad, dove. But what is it today that has you so shaken?"
"A dream." Gen sighs. "Of the future."
"Oh my," the woman says, placing her hand on Gen's. "Tell me, was the country still in such an uproar? And what of my Louis and me?"
"Gone, my lady. You were both gone. And the country was in peace, for many, many years." Gen looks dismayed, and glances at the Queen.
"Then it cannot be a bad dream, oui?" She grasps Gen's hands tighter, and Gen closes her eyes slowly. "You are eternal, dove. You have no reason to fear the future. I may wither and die, and so will all the people in the world, but you stay young. The future is to be looked at with hope and enthusiasm. Do not forget that."
Gen nods, and the Queen leans in to hug her.
A sharp, electronic tone cuts through the air, and Gen opens her eyes, finding herself standing, very much in the present day, in her brother's kitchen. Her head is pounding, and she reaches back, hissing as her fingers come into contact with a bloody cut in her scalp. The tone sounds again, and she realizes that it's the doorbell. She looks around in confusion, the Versailles façade completely gone, her feet rooted in the present.
Hurrying to the door, Gen opens it slowly to find a small woman in a business suit standing on the front steps.
"Miss Genovefa Bonnefoy?" She says, her German accent coming through in her words.
"Oui," Gen says, turning to the side and hoping the woman doesn't see the cut. The woman hands her an envelope, smiling politely.
"My name is Ingrid Klein, and I work for the German Embassy in Paris. Mr. Beilschmidt sends his regards."
Gen takes the envelope, thoroughly confused.
"My contact information is included there, as well. Please do not hesitate to phone me if a problem arises."
"Merci, Ms. Klein." Gen says, still a bit dumbfounded. Ingrid nods, raising a hand in parting, and gets back into her government SUV. She waves again before driving off.
Gen stands on the stoop for a moment, watching her car disappear. She then heads inside, closing the door and leaning against it. Inside the envelope sits Ms. Klein's business card and a train ticket, dated for the following day. The destination reads 'Berlin'.
Still a bit confused, she walks back into the kitchen, setting the envelope on the counter, and makes her way into the downstairs bathroom. She pulls out a dark-colored washcloth and soaks it in hot water, then presses it to the back of her head, wincing at the contact with the broken skin. Then, rinsing and wringing out the washcloth, she digs through the closet to find a hand mirror, and angles it so she can see the cut in the reflection from the big mirror.
It's not bad, by any means, but still a significant wound, about two inches at the base of her skull. She finishes cleaning up the dried blood and leaves the bathroom, grabbing the envelope on her way back to her room. The cell phone is dug out of its drawer, and she dials.
"Guten tag."
"Bonjour, Gilbert. It's me."
"Ah, Gen!" Gilbert exclaims, excited. "What makes you call the awesome me on this awesome day?"
"You sent me a train ticket, non?" She says, sitting on her bed.
"Ja, I hope you don't mind that."
"No, no. I'm just wondering why."
Gilbert laughs softly, making static on the phone.
"You said you'd come visit me, schatz. I'm just speeding up the process."
"Oh," Gen whispers, butterflies in her stomach.
"Is that okay?" Gilbert says softly, concern leaking into his voice.
"Oui, it's fine. I just was not expecting it."
"But you're coming, ja?"
"Ja," she says finally, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"How are you feeling?" He asks, silence following.
"Better," Gen says, conveniently omitting today's in-depth hallucination and head wound. "I've been sleeping well."
"Good to hear," Gilbert says the sound of chirping coming through the phone. "Gah! Get away, bird! Gilbird says hello."
Gen giggles.
"You will meet me at the station, oui?"
"But of course, mein lieber. I will see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," she says softly.