A/N: Please enjoy, this is my first Baccano! fic, I do not own Baccano!
Amor Infinitus
Chapter One -
Bird of Paradise
n. -given by a woman to a man to symbolise faithfulness.
1. An eternal faithfulness she had promised him.
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The world was a blurry haze when she awoke.
Head pounding, vision blurry and eyes weary the young woman got up from where she lay, body feeling battered and bruised as she sat up, mind still trying to process what on earth was going on.
Where am I? the girl asked herself inwardly, her memories escaping her as she tried to recall how she had ended up on the floor in the first place. Everything was hazy... all she could remember was that she was on a train... with her father...
Father!
Suddenly alert and a renewed sense of desperation and energy pumping through her veins, the linber and agile young woman leapt up from where she stood, only to slip and collide once again down hard on the ground.
Wincing from the pain and the ever-increasing throbbing of her head, the young woman raised one gloved hand to her forehead in an attempt to soothe the defeaning ache pounding against her skull.
It was only when the fabric of her gloved-palm pressed against the flesh of her forehead did she realise something.
It's...
sticky.
Fully blinking her eyes until her vision cleared, the baffled and bewildered girl focused her sharp golden eyes on her hand and the strange sticky substance it seemed to be drenched in. Only when did she see the bright, crimson red soaking the fabric of her clothing and splattered on her pale complexion did the perplexion and confusion be displaced by something much more sinister: fear and horror.
For, there in the train, on the night of the 3rd of January, 1931, lay a young girl drenched in nothing but red, red, red beautiful blood.
xxx
Never would she have ever expected this to happen.
It was like waking up from a dream only to be plunged into a whole new nightmare. Having risen to her feet, albeit, rather shakily, the young woman otherwise known as Chane, daughter of the world-renowned alchemist Huey Laforet descended into the madness of her new world, golden eyes taking in the horror of her environment surrounding her as she slowly made her way through the carriage, each step painstakingly heavy, each stride laden with reluctance and dread. Everywhere, there was red... painted on the walls, splatted on the seats, dripping from the pale corpses of many. Though it was in her profession and duty to her father to shed blood, she'd never truthfully enjoyed it. It took all she could muster not to vomit from the repugnant overwhelming stench of dead flesh wafting throughout the train. And when she saw a little boy's neck twisted rather grotesquely, his dark eyes blank and empty, Chane had to suppress a moan of disgust, despite the fact she had no voice to do so anyhow.
What are you doing? Chane asked herself, as she shut her eyes when she saw a couple laying in each other's arms, their expressions frozen in eternal terror, clothes painted with blood, you have to find Father! Who knows what happened to him, Chane told herself steadily, as she attempted to take reign over her emotions, swallowing as she quickened her stride, you have to make sure he's okay.
From that point, the only thing pushing her forth was the promise of making sure her father was well and alive. Despite the slight frigidness and indifference he demonstrated her from time to time, he was the only thing Chane was certain she could ever love or who loved her in return in the whole world. Huey Laforet was the only one who had ever shown her she was worth something, by depending on her to carry out tasks he himself designated. Her father gave her a feeling of sense and meaning in the world. A life without her father would be devoid of any happiness nor reason to keep on living.
A life without her father would be unbearable.
Briefly, Chane tried to recall what had happened before all... this. She had been on the train with her father, but to where they were heading she was uncertain. They had been on the train for her father was conferring with other alchemists about a new breakthrough in their careers as scientists... it had been something rather important, but what it was was lost on her... she'd been sitting a distance away from her father but not too far to keep an eye on him as he'd ordered her to... she was observing the pretty scenery outside the window... and then... and then...
I can't remember! Chane realised frustratedly, as she stepped over a stray carcass strung across the carriage floor, what happened after that? I don't remember a thing at all!
Suddenly, Chane remembered a possibly critical point to her survival as her hand flew instinctively to the strap around her thigh, slipping out her knife from its holster. Feeling the soothing, familiar weapon in her hand, Chane felt more relieved. Her father had given it to her on her eighth birthday as she requested, when she silently asked him for something that would "Help protect him and keep him safe." Why she had not pulled it out in her headache-induced stupor earlier she was not sure, but it didn't matter. If whatever had... killed these people on the train was still on it (a very big possibility) atleast she would have a fighting chance against it.
Suddenly, Chane felt her fingers deftly clench the hilt of her blade as she whipped around fluidly, golden eyes narrowed. Something had made a sound.
Where is it? she thought, cool eyes calculating and pin-pointing for even the slightest of movement, and what has it done to Father?
Another soft thud. For certain she had heard it now, inside the carriage behind her. Turning slowly, swiftly, Chane slipped her way into the carriage, anticipation and the instinct to kill-or-be-killed pulsating through her veins until she saw him.
Father! Chane thought, relief flooding through her as she saw his familiar dark hair and his ethereal pale skin. But when she aprroached him even closer, relief was displaced with genuine horror and despair when she saw the puddle of blood he lay in.
FATHER!
Knife clattering unceremoniously to the ground, all the while too absorbed and distraught at the sight of her incapacitated father to notice a shifting of blood red shadows behind her, the young mute leapt down onto her knees next to her father, tears for the first time in her life pricking at her luminescent eyes.
Her fingers clenched his blood-stained crisp white suit as her face said what her voice could not.
Father... father, no, please...!
As if on cue, Huey Laforet's luminous gold eyes opened, his eyes narrowing complacently at the sight of his daughter, as if the sight of seeing her was not one of joy or celebration.
"Chane... you..." he winced slightly, voice wheezing as Chane's eyes swam with tears, "are alive?"
Chane nodded her head vigorously, bowing it and shutting her eyes as if the energy she put into it would be enough to guard him from the brink of death.
He couldn't die.
She wouldn't let him.
She wouldn't let herself let him die.
It was unforgivable.
Father, oh Father...
Huey nodded in satisfaction, Chane fearful for the moment his wondrous eyes she would look so often to for approval would shut close. He had to stay alive!
Life would be utterly meaningless without him.
"Chane..." his voice drifted in weakly, far too exhausted to communicate telepathically with her as he always would, "my research... you must..." he croaked, Chane gripping his hands more fiercely than ever.
Father, no, you can't die! Chane screamed at him telepathically, gold eyes wide with dread and anguish. She knew it was selfish to ask of him to keep living, despite how much pain he was obviously in, but she didn't care. Her father may have been everything to her, but just this once, this one, little moment, she was willing to allow herself to be selfish and conceited. Because if he died...
she would be nothing.
"Chane..." Huey said, almost wearily, "you've served me long... thus... you must keep doing so... protecting my secrets... even when this body has expired..."
for certain now she could feel him slipping away, and it made her afraid, made her more afraid than ever before.
Father, father, FATHER!
"Chane..." Huey spoke, this time his last, "you..."
FATHER!
Chane felt the tears stream down her face, muffling her tears and quiet sobs that raked her body through shudders as she bent over, spine curving almost a protective arc above her father's bloody body. There was blood for certain on her face now, mixed with sweat and tears, and, though she knew she'd promised her father long, long, long ago that she'd keep living for his benefit, she knew deep down she really didn't want to do it. With Huey gone, Chane was all alone in the world. Just one young lonely woman, reeking of death and despair, with not a voice to keep her known to humanity.
Now, she was truly and deeply alone.
He's gone... Chane thought, disbelief and sorrow slithering through her insides and forming a tight coil of grief, he's really gone! My Father, Father, whom I loved so, so much... gone...
I'm alone...
"You must really love him, huh?" a voice suddenly echoed in the gloomy redness of the train, Chane's body springing erect as she looked around wildly, desperate to see the monster that had did this, "he must've been real precious to you..."
Instantly, Chane's fingers swept for her idle knife, fingers tight around the blade despite the will to survive dwindling within. She'd never enjoyed killing, but now, she was certain, each swipe and cut towards the mysterious enemy, her father's murderer, would be swift and driven. For her father's death, the mourning Laforet would not weep and spend her days gloomily staring out her window. No, she would kill, with a fury driven by revenge and pure sadness. Still kneeling beside her father's body, Chane's teary golden eyes darted around, her breaths short and harsh.
She would kill. Even if it were not in her nature to do so.
For Father, for her...
"You know, it's funny how he just up and died like that. The rest of 'em, too! I mean, here they were, converging and congregating on my train about finally cracking the secret of immortality -" at this, Chane felt her protective nature to guard her father's secret flare up, "and look at 'em now! All dead!"
Whatever he was, he was certainly not a beast nor a monster. His accent was distinctly male, with a heavy yet extremely characteristic New York accent that Chane would have found charming and charismatic on any other day had it not been the death of her father. From how it echoed throughout the carriage, and how he had known that her father had been researching immortality, as well as the fact that he was probably the one responsible for all the murdered people on the train, Chane knew he was to some degree very dangerous, but she didn't care.
When you'd lost everything you ever cared for in the world, you became dangerous too.
"'Course, I didn't kill 'em all," the voice continued to converse casually, footsteps echoing, circling her from the shadows, "but a lotta them deserved it! I mean, they were the ones who started murderin' all them other innocent people on the train first! I just got rid of them! Well, most of 'em," he mumbled, almost grudgingly, "but that's my job, you know?" he continued, speech smooth and easy, ostensibly unaware of the murderous glance Chane was hoping to throw towards him, "I mean, a train conductor's gotta protect his train.", am I right?"
The last words caught Chane like a gust of wind. A train conductor? she wondered, surprised. The ones that had been on the train seemed pretty harmless. There had been that old man and that young conductor, who had seemed innocent enough, but...
"But you know, I can tell you're pretty torn up about this guy bein' dead," the conductor's voice trailed softly, Chane once again drawn back to his voice, almost mesmerized by it, "was he close to you?"
And then, she saw him.
Stepped out of the shadows, the 'monster' was nothing more than the young conductor, his charming and harmless smile still in place. But now, that image had been warped, the handsome young man's face and clothing drenched in nothing but red, red red. Even his eyes seemed to gleam with a malicious tint of red, matching his perfectly styled hair just wonderfully. Something akin to fear gripped her insides, but Chane's determination to protect her father's body and secrets fuelled her, her body supple as water rising onto its heels, knife pointed offensively against the stranger. Taking note of the knife pointed at him, the conductor smiled, shrugging his shoulders in an almost helpless fashion. The gesture enough was enough to make Chane all the more wary.
"If you're worried about me tryin' to take the secret of his immortality," the young man offered gently, "don't be. I don't need it. I'm not here to pry it off you or somethin' like that. I'm already immortal."
Chane's eyes widened, but not before she quickly resumed her aggressively defensive stance, like a cat standing guard over its freshly-caught prey. So apparently he wasn't after her father's secrets. It wasn't as if people hadn't tried to pull that before, despite how sincere the man's words seemed to be.
What does he want? Chane tried to deliberate pointedly, muscles taunt, ready to spring into action at any time. And why hasn't he tried to kill me yet?
"And if you're worried about me tryin' to kill you, don't be," the stranger spoke, softly, soothingly, his red eyes now back to a warm, trusting honey, "I don't want to do that. I don't want to kill you, just like I didn't kill that man over there," he nodded, gesturing at her dead father behind her, "You can trust me."
If only it were so easy.
She'd never trusted anyone before, with the exception of her father of course. Her father was the centre of her universe, the sole existence governing her world her dreams. Never before had she wanted nor needed to trust anyone else besides herself and him. The stranger's offer, so genuine, so inviting, threw her off a little. If he didn't kill her father, and he didn't want to kill her nor wanted the secrets only she herself knew, what did he want?
"It seems I've been talking to you for ages, and you've done absolutely none of it. So I'll start, what's your name?" he asked her, as if he actually cared for her response. The fact that he seemed to so genuinely want to know or care for her was about just as disturbing as the fact that he was trying to befriend her, covered with blood in the middle of a blood-soaked train with over a dozen dead passengers. Nonetheless, Chane warily complied, in the best way possible.
She gestured at her throat, then shook her head.
At this, his eyes widened slightly, before nodding, not in pity, nor a sneer, as others had, but in full-understanding, something she had never witnessed before, no less in a bloody stranger. "Ah, I see. How rude of me. In that case, I'll start: I go by a lot of names, and I figure telling you 'em won't be so bad, since you seem like a pretty good person (Chane felt herself quiver with surprise at this). I go by Vino, sometimes The Young Conductor, at other times Claire Stanfield, but right now, I'm Rail Tracer. Nice to meet ya," he nodded.
What... on Earth is going on...? Chane thought, before her thoughts returned back to her dead father on the ground. Oh, Father... Chane thought once again, tears swimming in her eyes. The Rail Tracer, noticing this, looked concerned at the dark-haired mysterious girl, before draggoing over to the dead man and back to the grieving girl once more. Oh, I see... he thought, sympathy emanating from within.
It seemed that, not matter what, the girl would be unhappy without that man on the ground.
He paused to take a quick thought.
"You know..." the blood-covered man began, Chane's eyes shut in despair at the memory of her deceased father, "I got a way to bring him back. But, I'm afraid it'll cost you, big time..." he trailed off, the repercussions of what he was certain the girl would agree to great and immense. When he saw her eyes flit open with something akin to hope, it drove him on, albeit rather reluctantly. "That is, if you still want to bring him back..."
Chane knew, this was her only hope. Her only hope of restoring the light back into her dark, bleak world. No matter what the cost.
She'd sacrificed voice, she'd sacrificed dreams, she'd sacrificed her body and innocence at times, she'd traded her smiles, she'd sacrificed true happiness and ultimately her life, what difference would one more sacrifice for her precious, precious father make? What difference would the taking away of eyesight or hearing make, all for the precious, vital fact that her father would be alive and well again.
Chane made her reply to his request evident through her determined gaze and enthusiastic nod.
Anything, anything for Father! A hand, a foot, my eyes... anything for my Father!
The Rail Tracer nodded his head, almost sadly, face grim. "All right. For this man's life and ultimately immortality," Chane felt hope flood through her form, "you must give away half a century of your life for your father, so he may be returned to his once youthful and vibrant form. Then," and at this Chane's fingers gripped the hilt of her weapon tightly, so tightly, she was afraid she might pass out, "you will have to part ways with him. And," he finished off, taking note of Chane's slightly surprised face,
"must spend the rest of your life with me and only me."
xxx
Chane could have sworn that she could hear a pin drop right at that moment.
She, a used and defiled, worthless thing, being requested to be by the side of this strange, beautiful, bloody and merciful man,
forever?
Sure, giving half a century of her life away for the sake of her father seemed reasonable enough, but this? Parting ways with her father eternally seemed hard enough but she was willing to go through with it, for the sake of the preservation of his life, but becoming the life-long companion of this man? It wasn't that he was repulsive, on the contrary he was very much beautiful and intriguing, but why? Why would such a person want her presence in his life for the rest of her earthly days? Did he like broken, dispensable things? Or was he like all those other men who she had let take advantage of her, for the sake of her father, who had lusted after nothing but her body and her looks? From his sincere, polite persona, she didn't think that was even remotely possible. Was she beautiful to him? So many questions raced in her mind, but Chane knew one thing and one thing only:
she had to do this for the sake of her father.
Chane paused, one moment of hesitation, one moment to reclaim her life for herself and only herself, no longer to forever be in the service of her father.
A life free of serving another...
but in the end, it was unimaginable. She was Huey Laforet's daughter; his secret-keeper; his protecter. A life as anything else was unknown to her.
Steadily, she raised her eyes to look at the red-head's honey-hued own straight in the face.
I'll do it.
It took only a single nod to seal her fate for the rest of her life.
For Father...
xxx
At this, Claire leaned back, muscles relaxing with relief. So she'd agreed. He never normally made contracts with humans, unless he wanted to punish them with their desires for wealth and greed in exchange for promised hell-fire and eternal suffering, but this was different. The young, ethereal, beautiful woman before him he knew had so obviously given up so much for the now breathing man on the floor, now 20 years younger, and he'd taken pity on her. Like a neglected, beautiful black rose growing amongst miles and miles of endless weeds and twisted thorns, she was something different. Special.
Just what he needed to keep his dream alive.
As he watched her collapse in relief at the sight of her resurrected father, Claire gazed, observing and taking in her every detail and expression. The soft contours of her pale body in the black dress, the way tears ran down her face in affection (or was that sadness at the immense sacrifice she'd made?) for the man who so obviously held no real affection for her, the way her gold eyes literally shimmered with a tired happiness, despite the life she'd cast away for the man's sake. She was an enigma, a beauty he would treasure and covet, like the old, abandoned pearl no one would notice until it was polished, shining like the sun. This girl, who had spent her whole life giving love, never accepting.
Finally, it would be her time to receive it. No matter how long or slow it would take for her to accept and recognise it fully.
At that moment, Claire Stanfield promised he'd love a complete stranger for the rest of his eternal life.
Even if that stranger would only have a few years to see it and have it.
The blood-thirsty train conductor would love the girl who never smiled.
xxx
As sure as the red-head's word, Chane heard her father cough to life, the sputter of blood from his mouth eliciting a happiness like never before within. Jumping to the side of her much-younger, much healthier father, Chane gave a nod of gratitude to the man she had promised her life to, receiving a half-hearted smile in response, before enveloping her father in a distant hug (they never hugged much), which he half-heartedly reciprocated, for her sake.
"Chane...?" Huey uttered weakly, "I'm... alive?"
Chane nodded, taking his two hands in her own. Huey marvelled at how soft and clear his skin had become, as she 'talked' to him.
I brought you back, Father, Chane exclaimed softly, telepathically, the happiness at the reunion with her father, despite the fact it would inevitably come to an end, bursting from within, this man promised me your life and immortality, as well as your eternal youth. Ypu're alive, Father.
Huey nodded, dazed and bewildered, eyes drifting to the grim, arms crossed, red-head briefly, wondering how that young man could have obtained the secret of immortality before he did. Eternal youth... immortality... Huey thought, satisfaction at how his succeeding in manipulating Chane into doing his will spreading throughout him, like a cat that had just caught its prey, she's done it all, once again.
"But how, Chane?" Huey asked, feigning wonder and amazement, when all that really drove him to ask was his thirst for knowledge and power, "how did you manage to accomplish such an amazing feat, my dearest daughter?" Huey questioned, offering a saccharine fake smile up at her, Chane taking it and holding it within the treasure-chest of her heart. Chane folded her hands in her lap, silent and obedient. She and her father never were good at showing affection, unless it was one of those moments like this one, right now. Her father only did this when she accomplished something for him.
For Chane, this was the closest to love they'd ever get.
But it was enough.
That man, Chane began, and at once Huey's eyes drifted back to the stranger once more, he gave me the opportunity to bring you back, as requested. For what reason, I don't know, however, I managed to make you twenty years younger in appearance as well as granted you life and immortality in exchange for fifty years off my life.
At this, Huey gave a gasp of happiness, closing his eyes as he clasped his hand with Chane's own, rubbing it against his cheek as he did before when she asked him to cast away her voice for her (once again, a result of his brilliant manipulation). "Ah, Chane, my daughter, always exceeding expectations! Fifty years off your life, for me," Huey continued, Claire's eyes angrily glaring at him, "you really are an amazing child, Chane. You always were such a good girl."
At this Chane nodded once, happy to contentedly bask in her father's praise, his kind words and serene smile enough for her.
And... Chane began, but stopped, hesitantly. Did Father really need to know the other part of the bargain she'd made? Was it really all that vital to know.
"What," Huey inquired, faltering in his showering of affection for her, "is something the matter? Is there something you're not telling me?" he blinked.
Chane folded her hands back into her lap, as she always did around him.
Father, I also promised... that,
I'd spend the rest of my life with him.
I can't stay with you anymore.
Huey blinked for a moment, before his face broke out into a smile. Chane, oh Chane, he thought, almost pitifully, my poor little Chane, always giving up your life for mine...
"well, it will be sad, not seeing my dearest daughter anymore," Huey sighed, "but I'll always think of you, Chane. I'll think of how good you are, of how you always were such the perfect daughter... so don't be too sad, alright?" Huey told her, sitting up, and caressing her blank, downcast face, that betrayed not even a hint of the sadness she felt within. Suddenly, Huey's face broke into an enthusiastic smile.
"I know, I'll give you something, anything, in the world, for what you've done, my sweet Chane! Before you go, name it, and it shall be yours!"
Chane paused. Anything, and it's mine, Chane thought, anything...
in the end, it was the same as always.
I only want you to be happy, and to stay safe, Father.
"We must be going, Chane." Claire's voice suddenly interrupted, brief and direct. Chane looked up at the red-head, before nodding, getting up and leaving her father behind.
Goodbye, Father, Chane told him, feelings not conveyed thoroughly through thoughts, I love you.
"Farewell, my Chane," the other surviving Laforet's voice called after her, "may you be treated well by this man. Please, take care of my daughter," he said, smiling smugly at the red-head, whom his daughter followed dutifully out the carriage door, "she means everything to me."
Farewell, Father... she thought, closing her eyes, imprinting his face into her memory, hoping it to last forever, as the wind of the open air whipped her hair and stung her flesh, bringing her senses alive and vivid, Claire's eyes never leaving her face,
thankyou for loving me.
Even if you've never said it yourself.
And with that, Chane felt her hand be enclosed by the Rail Tracer's own -
before they both vanished off into the night, two shadows stalking the darkness as one.
A/N: Please review, tell me what you thought, I missed out on doing my homework for this xD Reviews are greatly appreciated!