Chapters 16 and 17 have been posted at the same time.
Francis sighs in relief when he reads both results. They're in the clear and it's a matter of convincing his mother to get Charlie and Hercule tested which she won't oppose but it's a matter of when.
"Drink?" Bash suggests lightly, already heading to their father's liquor cabinet. "Just a little one and we can continue this search for our long-lost relatives."
Francis laughs and nods. "A tiny Cognac. I want to try it."
"Two Cognacs coming right up."
After hours of digging, Francis is grateful it's a weekend, Bash strikes gold and shows Francis an aged sheet of paper with a family tree drawn on. It's titled, 'Valois-Angouleme'.
"Shit, wow," Francis breathes out. "Why would Dad keep this from...?" He studies every name in awe.
"I want to know what they did," Bash says. "I guess the restaurant business started with Pepe, so the others must have done something else."
Francis points to the name before their grandfather's. "Charles. Our great-grandfather..."
"The library has life and death records, we'll start there," Bash says.
It's morning and the girls have gone to work, either at the bakery or the restaurant in Kenna's place so the house is quiet, especially with their sisters at their clubs and their brothers over at their friends' places. Even Catherine has gone to catch up with a few girlfriends.
"You okay to drive?"
"Yeah," Bash says before Francis puts everything in his satchel and they get going.
It takes longer to get to the library since Bash keeps missing the turnings and when they get there, they're paired with a specialist in these types of situations. She wears white gloves to handle any precious and aged documents and her smile is friendly and welcoming as any older woman's gaze is.
"Some young people don't want to even find out where they come from," Madame Leon says. "So, it's a good thing you both do."
"We're also doing this for medical reasons," Francis informs her. "And to know our late father a bit better."
Madame Leon nods in understanding before starting off with their great-grandfather as they wish for. "Charles Valois-Angouleme or informally, Charles Valois. He was born in..." Francis tunes out, studying the photo of their great-grandfather and gasping at the similarities between the man and himself. The same wavy, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes with that friendly, cheeky smirk... "And he died in... Oh."
"What is it?" Bash asks, looking up from the photos.
Madame Leon opens up her laptop for the life and death records database and raises her brows. "There is no record of a death certificate."
"N-No?" Francis asks, eyes wide. The man would probably be-
"He's alive, gentlemen," she tells them. "And he's alive and kicking at ninety-eight years of age at the Versailles Home for Elderly Patients."
Francis gasps, staring at the recent image of their father's grandfather, beaming happily at the camera as he stands on his own two legs without support, wearing a shirt that seems to be from a marathon charity of some sort.
"He's quite the active man, it says here..." Madame Leon shows them. "Yep, that is Charles Valois."
"Oh, my God," Bash breathes out. "He looks like-"
"Me," Francis whispers tearfully.
...
They decide to return every morning on Saturdays to learn more about their family tree and when they arrive at the care home, Francis feels nauseous. He takes a seat on the bench out front and Bash takes a seat beside him, shivering due to the chilly weather.
"It's scary, I know. In that place, we'll meet our father's grandfather. Our great-grandfather. We don't know his story, how Pepe and he fell out with each other or any of that... All we know is that we're probably the only family he's got because Pepe was his only child that made adulthood," Bash says quietly.
Francis nods shakily. "What do we say? What do we ask? How do we even introduce ourselves?"
"Francis," Bash starts calmly. "We'll just be straight with him. What's the worse that could happen? An old guy hitting us with his cane and shooing us out?"
Francis laughs loudly, shaking his head. "The guy runs marathon's, he'll throw us out!"
"Yeah, well, our egos are bruised either way," Bash replies before they finally stand and head inside.
They go to the receptionist and she warily glances at them, saying that they should have booked appointments to see their relative but then what they tell her next surprises her.
"Monsieur Valois has never received a visitor let alone two before," she informs them, eyes wide. "And you are...?"
"His great-grandsons," Francis tells her confidently.
"I will check, just give me a moment, please," she replies before heading to somewhere else they don't know where. She returns ten minutes later and gives them a bright smile. "Seems like Monsieur Valois would love to meet you both."
The brothers share a nervous glance before nodding and collecting visitor passes. They are soon led by a nurse into a bright and airy living space where quite a few elderly people are relaxing, in armchairs or wheelchairs, all but one.
The one is sitting at one of the tables, playing poker with two wheelchaired men before he guffaws, slapping his cards down and collecting his winnings - boiled sweets.
When his aged, dulled blue eyes land on them, he kindly dismisses the men who wheel off elsewhere, leaving two chairs bare before the last man.
"Take a seat," he says in English.
Francis and Bash quickly sit down, intimidated by his firm, authoritative tone before he gestures to the cards.
"You play?"
"Mum doesn't like it when we gamble," Francis stammers out.
"Gamble what? Sweets?" Charles asks with a scoff. "Do you know how to play? Now, don't lie, I can read both of you and your poker faces are terrible."
Bash smirks. "Deal us in, old man."
"'Greatpa' to you," Charles mutters, giving Bash a light glare as he expertly shuffles the cards. "I used to work the casinos back in New York."
"Wow," Francis breathes out in awe.
"Names?"
"I'm Sebastian, that's Francis," Bash informs him, gesturing to Francis briefly. "We're-"
"Henri's boys. I know who you both are. Well, sort of," Greatpa replies tightly. "Different mothers, loving household. Your father and I would write. He'd wonder why I abandoned his father..."
Francis sighs. "Oh."
Charles laughs wryly. "Yep. I was twenty-three when I realised that I ready to explore the world. I had married my wife, Louise Savoy, out of duty following our eldest's birth two years prior. But even then, I wanted more and less of her and one day, I left our home and never went back. Then I hear one of my boys started a successful restaurant. Then his boy took over it and made four more out of that. Where is Henri anyway?"
"He's dead," Bash mumbles. "The day after Boxing Day, last year."
Greatpa's eyes sting with tears and he clears his throat. "H-How?"
"Cardiomyopathy," Francis tells him gently. "It was sudden."
"You poor boys..."
"And girls. There is six of us," Bash informs him.
"I only knew of you and blondie," Greatpa gruffs out. "Tell me about them."
Francis clears his throat. "After me, there's Leeza. We're both in university, she's in the year below me. Then there's Claude, she'll be seventeen soon. Then Charles who is thirteen and Hercule is eleven. I'm twenty and Bash is twenty-three."
"That's nice," Greatpa mumbles. "Yeah, th-that cardio-thingy is a real bastard to all of us Valois men. Lost my brother to it and my father. His own father died on his birthday too. Then I lost two sons to it."
"Did you ever try to make things right with Greatma a-and Pepe?" Francis asks him.
Charles shakes his head. "I was a coward. I lost it all, kid," he says. "Then your father starts footing the bill for this place and I tried to make things right but your father requested that I keep my distance and that this was for his own father's peace of mind now that he was dead back then. Your father was a decent man, he... I wish I wasn't... I wanted to-to get to know him and all of you too. But it's too late."
Bash places his cards down. "Royal flush," he says quietly, eyeing them. "And maybe you can make things right before you die."
"By getting to know us," Francis adds softly.
Greatpa lets out a sob. "I'd love that."
...
Waiting for Kenna to finish her shift, Mary smiles brightly at the photo Francis sent her of himself, Bash and their newly-found great-grandfather. She couldn't imagine any of her great relatives still being alive but she was very happy for him and laughs when he says he's scared to tell Catherine all about their secret digging.
It's late, past seven and Greer's gone to stay with her boyfriend as Lola went home after catching a lift from Leith who arrived to pick Greer up. Mary checks her account to see if she can fork out for an Uber, without worrying about rent, she's got some maintenance money stored.
"Ready?"
"Yep," Kenna says, making sure the laces of her boots are tied before putting her coat on and stuffing her phone and purse into her pockets. "Let's go."
They decide to walk most of the way and probably catch a lift from Francis or Bash since they'll meet them on the way home from the care home after she got an update from Francis. The weather is chilly but really nice and they link arms.
Eventually, Mary feels the shift in the air as Kenna freezes on the spot, her breathing becoming sporadic and hollow.
"K-Kenna, look at me," Mary says, cupping her cheeks and realising that this must have been where it happened.
"I thought I-I could," Kenna stammers out tearfully. "I-I get lifts from B-Bash or take the b-bus b-but-" She starts freaking out, shoving Mary off of her and Mary is forced to let her go, standing there helplessly.
"Ken-" Breaking her own self off, Mary's eyes widen when she sees her mother walking past them and she stumbles, reaching a shaky hand out to the woman.
When her hand lands on the woman's shoulder, the woman forcefully turns to reveal that she's not Marie de Guise-Stuart but some random older woman who eyes the girls in horror before speeding off.
"M-Mum," Mary breathes out tearfully, resting against the wall and sliding to the ground to close her eyes. She's now seeing things?
But the woman wore something like her mother would have. A lovely tan, nude or burnt-orange dress with brown leather boots and a carefree, loving smile. Even until her death, her mother could still fit into the tanned leather jacket that she got on her eighteenth birthday.
"I can't... Mary, I can't-"
"I'm c-coming," Mary says herself, tears streaming down her cheeks.
God, how are they such messes? They must look like a right pair, panda stained faces, hyperventilating and sobbing as they suffer from anxiety and panic attacks.
Mary finally pulls two cells together and calls Francis, swallowing hard as she digs the back of her head into the brick wall she sits against, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I-I need you."
"Mary? What's happened? Where are you?"
She sobs where they are at out before he promises they'll be there immediately. He stays on the line, saying soothing words and she manages to stumble to her feet and pull Kenna into a tight hug, their tears staining their coats as they hold on for dear life.
Kenna falls asleep on the way home and Mary refuses to talk, deciding not to elaborate on what happened. She will rather forget it ever happened and move on as Bash drives their distraught arses home. She's ruined a lovely day for them, the day they met a long-lost relative and now, she's ended it on a low.
"Kenna, we're home," Mary says, gently shaking her best friend awake.
Kenna wakes with a start and Mary quickly soothes her as the guys get out of the car and head inside to give them a moment. "I'm sorry you had to see that," Kenna whispers with a blush growing on her cheeks.
"Don't be stupid," Mary says, blushing herself. "I thought I saw my mum. And I just needed her. God, I needed her to tell me that it will all be alright, that I could help you be okay but..."
"Yeah," Kenna mumbles sadly. "I've not got a mother too." Her mum is alive but she sure as hell she is not her mother anymore. "So, we're both orphans."
"Are you really sure you never want to-"
"They hated me. My only friends were the nannies that looked after me. Eventually, they shipped me to boarding school where I met Greer and Lola and even Aylee. They never called me back for the holidays. I stayed there, ignored and all alone, waiting for my friends to return," Kenna tells her, rubbing the scar on her wrist. "I'm cursed."
Mary swallows. "We both are." She takes a hold of Kenna's hand. "I'm really sorry your parents were arseholes. But you don't need them anymore because you're my sister. Now, let's head to bed, we have had enough excitement for tonight."
Kenna laughs wryly and nods. "Yeah..."
...
{To Mary: Come over when you're ready x}
{From Mary: Need to pet Kenna to sleep. Will be there soon x}
Placing his phone on charge, Francis heads to grab a book to read from his bookshelf. He and Bash have a lot in common with their grandfather, minus the gambling ways he has but they really had a lovely day with him and got to know him. He's lived a wild lifestyle, stayed at the most high-end of hotels and eaten at the most luxurious of restaurants. And he's still alive and kicking after having an athletic background spanning fifty years.
Greatpa loves Thomas Hardy poems and Francis has a love for the poet and novelist too as he retrieves his worn, school poetry book that he never bothered to return to the library. He grins, flicking through the yellowed pages where some are coffee-stained from when he would stay up, studying it for his exams. Those nights, he and Olivia would quiz each other and reward each other with chocolate and treats. Thomas Hardy was her favourite too.
He winces when his finger gets cut at a certain page and sticking his finger into his mouth to suck the blood off, he finds a small envelope addressed to him. Swallowing hard, he realises that it's Olivia's handwriting and he sinks onto his desk chair, staring at it in disbelief. This letter might be her last words.
He does remember heading downstairs to grab her a glass of water when she got upset but by the time he went back upstairs, she was gone. It was his mother who stopped him, gently reminding him that girls weren't allowed in his room with the door closed and that it must stay open if he wanted her there.
Carefully, Francis opens the letter and a sob escapes his lips after he's read it through.
[Dear Francis,
I love you but I think you may not exactly feel the same way and that is fine. We've always been good friends and I think that is how we should remember each other, as carefree kids without love or dating on our minds - nothing but our blue, green kites and the endless fields we ran through. It's hard, writing this as you get me some water and talk to your mother by the stairs but I think this is the last time I'll ever see you. I don't want to do this but it might be too late for me and after your rejection, I don't think I have anything left. Maman doesn't care anymore and Papa has a new love in his life, alcohol. So I have to go, Francis. You're wondering how this started? It started the day you couldn't walk me home, you had to help your sister when her ankle broke so I went home myself. Maman and Papa were somewhere, I couldn't remember and all I know is that one minute I was listening to our favourite band and the next, I was on the ground being raped. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry and I hope one day you find the one and she's just perfect and untarnished as I wasn't. I will always love you.
Olivia x]
"Francis?"
Francis drops the letter onto the desk and turns to Mary, his eyes full of tears as she gasps and hurries over to bury his head into her chest as he sobs. "I'm the most shitty boyfriend in the world."
"Francis, you're not," Mary tells him desperately as he refuses to let the tears subside, her hands cupping his cheeks. "You're more than I deserve and could ever ask for.
"I killed her, Mary. I killed Olivia."
"What are you-" She's silenced by Francis thrusting the letter into her face and she quickly reads it as he buries his head into his arms, resting them on the desk. She looks back at him her gaze sad. "Oh, Francis..." She places the letter onto the desk delicately before kneeling and running her fingers through his hair. "Francis, I'm so sorry."
"If I'd taken her home-"
"You can't think about the 'what ifs', my love," she tells him sadly. "I think about them too but it's impossible. We can't do that to ourselves."
Francis nods, drying his cheeks. "If I hadn't left her, I wouldn't have met you and fall for you," he whispers guiltily. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to condemn our relationship-"
"I understand," Mary quickly says. "Oh, I understand most of all, Francis..." She rests her forehead against his and he kisses her softly.
"What happened tonight?"
Mary blinks back tears. "Kenna and I stumbled to where she was raped. She freaked out and then as I was trying to help her, I saw my mum b-but it wasn't her, Francis and I lost my shit. We were both breaking down and we couldn't stop it."
Francis hugs her tightly. "You're safe. And your mum loves you. She's everywhere, Mary. She's in you, never forget that."
"I won't," she promises.
"Do you want to..." He glances downwards. "Tonight?"
She chuckles softly. It's not quite a home run but they're satisfied for now, their hormones in check after many months of keeping it in or to themselves. "Yeah. I think we both just need to de-stress and think about tomorrow. A brand new day."
"Yeah," Francis says before standing, lifting her into his arms and placing her onto his bed. "I love you."
"I love you too," she breathes out before his lips attack her skin.