A/N: GUYS WE'VE REACHED THE END! I AM SOOOO ECSTATIC! After three years, I am so shocked that this is finally the end. It's been a long road since I started this project in my sophomore year of high school, and the growth in my writing shows from the first chapter to the last. I admit I've neglected this story for months and switched things up a lot and made mistakes, but it is in my mind a masterpiece, now that we've reached the end. Now I will just be making small edits in the following months, making things as smooth as possible, but other than that what you see is what you get :). I will miss you guys, but keep following me because I am very much excited about the prospects of another Tintin x OC story in the future. So, with that, I love you, leave me a review, and stay tuned!
Marlinspike Hall. Three floors, eight acres of uninhabited property. Beautiful.
Anya jumped out of the car before Tintin or Haddock could unfasten their seatbelts. She trotted up to the grand entrance, her feet skimming the smooth marble steps.
"I told you we wouldn't be dragging her inside," Tintin chuckled as he and Haddock caught up.
"Aye, she's very bright. Look at her, interested in everything."
Anya was wearing something new today; a white blouse, one of those trendy brown skirts and boots. Her brown hair was washed and tied back, but no amount of hair pins could tame her flyaways. They sprung out around her face in stubborn curls. Her dark blue eyes were bright and her skin glowed from daily attention.
So much had happened in the past few months. Haddock had brought a rescue party just in time to the hideout, and the thugs that tried to escape the watery grave Darwin had triggered were caught halfway down the river. Darwin himself hadn't been found yet, but Tintin knew it wouldn't be long; so many tips and leads were being collected from the thugs that even now, less than a year into the investigation, the authorities had a good mind to believe Darwin was in hiding in South America, harmless and no longer a threat to society. Meanwhile, Anya and Tintin were rehabilitated privately in an American hospice, in which they were separated for a long two months. Tintin was right and ready to head back to Brussels after the first week, but Anya suffered a longer recovery. An older nurse graciously dedicated her time after work to read to Anya, giving her a good start to a balanced education. In the time they were separated, Tintin wrote to Anya almost every day, and when her strength returned, she wrote him back. He promised her he had secured a place for her to stay, and her future would no longer be compromised by the power of the mafia.
Anya was in this place now, this refuge. In her exploration, she found a beautiful ivory piano in one of the sitting-rooms.
"May I?" She motioned towards it. "I haven't in years."
"Of course. I'll ask Nestor to make some tea or coffee...or perhaps both?" Haddock asked.
"Yes, both…" she murmured, sitting down at the keys. Haddock's beard indicated a grin as he left. Tintin smiled, watching her.
"Play me something."
"Oh, it would be a miracle if I could," she laughed. Tintin sat down on the bench beside her. Her fingers hesitated above the keys. Keep your posture, Anya, dear. Deep breaths. Feel the music. Her mother's soft voice from years ago drifted back into her mind, and she played.
The notes hung on the air, beautiful. Imperfect. Every mistake she made blended in with the melody.
Beautiful things, truly beautiful things, they are often imperfect. It takes time and pain to change, like a stone made smooth by the constant movement of a river.
She felt like a part of her was coming back to her.
"Tell me what you're thinking."
Tintin's hand touched hers. She realized she had stopped playing. Her cheeks were damp with silent tears. She looked at him; she wasn't afraid of his gaze anymore.
"I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to make my own choices."
He moved his thumb over her cheek, cupping her chin. He kissed her, and she leaned into him.
When they pulled away, Tintin smiled.
"I'm glad you're back."
She bit her lip a little, grinning.
"I look different. I feel different. But I still am me. And I know you'd never ask me to, but I know you want me to stay here...with you."
Tintin flustered, "I-Oh, Anya, I do, but you-"
"I want to stay." She interrupted, and he couldn't speak, but he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and his eyes were brighter. They were quiet for a while, tinkering around with the piano, when Tintin rose to his feet.
"I have to go pick up some documents. Just business; court day is approaching."
She forced a smile.
"Oh...okay."
"I'll be back." He kissed her on the forehead, and left the room. Haddock came in with his pipe as he left.
"Going out, is he? I never know where that lad ends up. He's either out hiking or biking or getting himself into trouble."
Anya smiled, settling down into an armchair. Nestor entered the room and offered her tea or coffee, in which she chose the latter.
"I like coffee as well," Haddock commented. "I don't like drinking anything that doesn't give me a kick in the...Ah!-excuse me, I have a habit of speaking out of turn-"
"It's no problem. I think it's very healthy to be able to speak your own mind."
A pause. Little sips of coffee.
"So much has happened these past few months...and so much to do. The court dates, for example. I have no idea what I should change my name to. Tintin likes the name 'Vianne', or 'Isabelle'. What do you think?"
Haddock stirred his coffee, thinking.
"I like both. They're French names, aren't they? I've heard you speak French."
"Oui. My mother was French."
Silence again. Haddock finally stopped fiddling and looked at her seriously.
"Ms. Shan, I don't know you. I know you've been through hell, and I know these next few weeks or even months will be hell for you. There's going to be a lot of emotions and anger and you're going to feel like you want to give up, but you can't. You can't stop living, Anya."
She bit her lip, staring down at her lap.
"Now, that boy. Tintin. I know he cares for you, and you care for him very much. You couldn't dissuade me with a thousand typhoons from believing that, and because, I've seen you two together. You both know what you want, and he wants you. I hope you know how...blistering precious that is."
She looked him squarely in the eye.
"I'm not afraid to commit myself to him, Haddock. I would give him the world, if I could."
He held her gaze. Then, as if exhausted, he slumped back.
"Good."
She stirred her coffee, though it had been stirred quite enough.
"But, actually...I want to go back to school. There are many good schools in Brussels; Tintin said he would take me to visit sometime. I want to learn how to keep a house, of course, but I also want to write. I want to write stories."
Haddock nods.
"I think you'd have some great material. Just imagine."
She smiled warmly, and her eyes glowed.
"I'm glad things worked out the way they did."
And she truly was, because though life is difficult, ugly and painful, it is also beautiful. She was certain she had a guardian angel looking after her in her darkest times, and, with time and personal growth, she had reached a new life and found love and happiness again. And that's what life is all about, really-not the pain, the drawbacks, but the ability to move forward and find yourself in a new reality.
