Changing Faces
[First of all I'd like to thank all the people who read the previous chapters and my special thanks goes out to those who shared their opinions with me, either in review, e-mail, real life etc. Thank you and I lurve you, this chapter is dedicated to you guyz].
Fur Julia
"President are you sure for appointing the general to his former position?"
Jules nodded, not turning around to look at the man standing behind him. He leant against the only desk in the presidential room, facing the window. The stars once again colored the face of heaven in a bright sparkling white. He wondered if they had sparkled when his beloved sister was screaming for her life, did they shine as bright in all their beauty, when she exhaled her last breath of life, disregardless of the misery of a young beauty.
"How will he plan an attack against the Garden, the place where his own daughter resides, without backing up on us?"
Julia, how could he ever repay him back? With the life death had taken, he condemned not only her soul to the Hell of oblivion but his as well. Though he was still alive, it would take a lot to convince him of the illusion he had a reason to breath. But he had to, finish this one last mission in the name of an angel.
A grin broke unto his face. History was repeating itself, Loire, Caraway, and it would end the same, this time when they were the ones who had everything to loose. His dark almond shaped brown eyes lit up when he thought of he'd give the old general his last chance to do what he loved the most, killing innocent people, this time it would be his own daughter.
"He won't, trust me," Artica replied. "I have all confidence in our most appraised general. Do you consider your questioned answered? The man nodded, though he lacked the confidence, like the rest of the government.
Jules knew this, but it didn't matter if they trusted him or not. He wasn't going to stay president for long anyway. Leaving the man standing without as much as a greet, he went out of the door. He needed fresh air, the small office room was suffocating. It brought back memories of narrow chambers, rats willing to eat you alive, darkness. Gasping he made his way out, gratefully inhaling the fresh evening air. The gentle evening breeze stroked his heated face. He decided to take a stroll through his new kingdom.
As Jules Artica was walking in the dim park, he noticed the statue of Vinzer Deling in the middle of the park. Seeming as if he was looking down at the late visitors. This was the kind of man Deling was, flamboyant and conceited. And that was what caused his downfall. He had been so busy with himself, that he took no notice on what was going on around him. He never stood a chance against the sorceress.
But with him, things were different. He never cared for people to like him, he never wanted them to admire him. He was the one to observe others, after years of practicing he had developed a great sense of judgement. He was not going to be the one to be tricked now, not now he had come this far.
The elections had been a laugh. In Galbadia there was no such thing as an election. Money, power and manipulation were the keys to success.
He looked around in the park, the Deling City came to live as soon as the sun made way for the moon and stars. As the artificial lights were turned on, the people awoke from their sleep to avoid day. The usually empty streets were now slowly filling with people wandering through the city.
As he overlooked his empire, he felt nothing. Not the power rush he had expected, not the content, not the satisfaction of his needs. A total emptiness. Just a deep lingering feeling of incompleteness. He knew why. He still hadn't gotten his satisfaction, he still wasn't anywhere. All the money in the world was at his disposal, the world lay at his feet, the people admired their new president.
But money was just a piece of paper, a serie insignificant numbers, power was just an idea, admiration was just a vain thought. All this was just a means to a goal.
Unlike the thought people wanted to give him since his presidency, that he now was a man of power. With the might to control the world if he pleased. But what did the world mean to him, nothing, not a single thing. The world was just a pile of earth admired by ignorance. Life was just a sequence of inhaling and exhaling. It didn't mean a thing, except when you gave it a meaning.
What was his meaning? For a long time he thought there wasn't any for him, that he was forced to live this viscous life until death decided in his mercy to take him along. Where he was buried deep in earth to be forgotten about in time.
Maybe that was still was the meaning of life. But there was also a deeper side to it. Another life involved his. It was this life attached to his, which made him inhale the air once more. A purpose in life. She was his purpose, her tears was his purpose, her misery was his purpose, her love was his purpose, her death was his purpose.
It was all for Julia.
************
Of parents he had never known, the word sounded as alien to him as any other local Trabian tongue. The closest he got to parental care, was the loving arms of his sister around him, the tears in her eyes when he used to disappear for days on end, the forced anger in her voice when she punished him. She gave him the only thing he would have ever needed, the security that when he went to sleep she would be there when he woke up. Though they used to stay in what could be called an orphanage, he did not recall anybody else taking up the task of taking care of him other than her. Almost immediately upon the entering she had claimed him as her brother. She must have been at the tender age of thirteen when they had cast her out of the orphanage with him. Their care takers never bothered to give him a family name. That day when they had left the orphanage, she christened him Heartilly like her and armed with nine years more in wisdom she had took him along in her journey of survival.
From one dirty cheap motel to another, they had roamed the world for nine years in search for a better life, they eventually ended up in Deling City. School had not been an option, she had just made enough money to go through one day at the time. There was usually nothing he could do but stay indoors as she went out to work during the day. But at night things were different, she became his friend again, she used to crawl against him, resting her head on his lap, watching the cracks in the ceiling and she would talk about better times. Her tales could convince his young cloudy mind of the wealth that lay before them, the happiness that was just around the corner.
"You will reach all that you wish for, my love," she used to say, "we are forever!"
She got a job in the fancy Galbadia Hotel as a waitress. He too got a job at thirteen, being nine years younger than she was, he still earned a lot less than her. One day she came rushing through the door from work and wrapped her arms around his neck and danced with him around the room, her eyes moist with tears of excitement and her laughter drained in utter happiness. Over the years he had grown much taller than her, his pre-mature body steadily changing into that of a man. He picked her up and without having the slightest idea why, he cried with her, laughed with her, danced with her. If Julia was happy, he was happy, the world was happy and all the other things didn't matter. That was his philosophy.
"I'm going to play the piano," she exclaimed, "We're going to be rich, my love. The world will now be yours if you want!
Yes, the piano. Her other passion, besides him. Her first introduction to this enchanting instrument was in the orphanage. It was an old wooden thing, who was far out of tone. But that did not matter of course, there was nothing Julia's slender delicate fingers could not turn into magic. After they were sent away, she would not play for the years to follow, not until she got that job in Galbadia Hotel, nine years later.
After she as done cleaning and closing up, she would reach for the piano and almost very immediately she had picked up the rhythm of playing. Sometimes she would let him sneak in to listen to her play. Sinking into the large comfortable sofa's he would envision heaven as a sequence of angelic tones, accompanied by Julia's songs of love. Long serenades meant exclusively for his ears.
Her chef had heard play in the darkness, she thinking herself to be safe and alone in the isolation of her heavenly music. Years of experience had taught him to recognize talent as it came, and talented Julia was. He hired her immediately, to fill in the gaps between the acts.
The public, mostly consisting out of generals, soldiers or any other military involved guests, was not satisfied with this and very soon she became the headliner of the evening.
Not long after her debut she gathered a small group of admirers, which grew rapidly in size. He was very well aware of these men and what they wanted of her. Julia was an unsurpassed beauty. He had noticed how the hungry eyes followed the dancing rhythm of her long shimmering silky hair whenever she moved, her tender yet feminine body moved through a room with such grace that it could fool one's eyes in thinking her to fly. He was more aware of her beauty than any other.
The men used to send her presents, first little things, flowers, champagne, afterwards more expensive things such as jewels made of rare materials. Julia treasured these gifts, though not of vanity. To her it was a symbol of their promising future together and a farewell to their past.
He too had grown into a tall handsome young man himself at the age of fifteen, with a great resemblance to his beloved sister. His length, strength and passion to protect his sister, kept the men on a distance. For years he had wished to be into this position of being able to keep Julia from the harm a world without scruples could do to a young goddess such as her.
An entire year they enjoyed the luxury of safety of a home and all the other comforts that accompanied the fancy suit in the prestigious Galbadian hotel. Every night he would come down to sit in one of the very first tables closest to the stage and listen to her play. She did not sing, not on the stage for forty guests. But to him she would, when they were alone in our suit, together curled up in her bed, under the warm blankets with crisping sound of the fire in the background, she would sing of familiar songs, her voice surpassing any of its originals.
But after some time, he noticed a slight change in Julia. Invisible for most, but not for her little brother who worshipped every vein in her body. When she played, she would play as though there was no one in the tiny little bar, but her and her beloved J. He would drink every tone that came from her fingers, like a thirsting desert wanderer would drink fresh sprinkling water from a fount. But her plays changed, the creative innovations changed into routine, as if her mind was drifted off to somewhere else.
She used to eye him sometimes from behind the piano, glancing at him with smile that could only be understood between the two of them. But lately she would not even notice him. Something was distracting her attention. At first he did not think much of it, but as it continued he became more and more wary. But he himself never noticed anything peculiar in the bar.
When they were back in their room, she could not wait until her next performances. The unfamiliar eagerness and nervousity roused his suspicions. Of course he asked her straight away if something bothered her or if she wanted to talk to him about something, but she would say nothing was wrong.
It was that night when everything had become very clear. She came walking into the bar, wearing a red dress of a exquisite making, her raven hair hanging loose around her shoulders in waterfalls of darkness. Taking place on the black little stool, she prepared herself for her play. The gasps of awe from several men was nothing unfamiliar, though there were only ten people present in the entire bar, due to some military event which required most of the loyal customers time. But a party of three soldiers caught his attention, they sat across the room, gazing at Julia. The one in the middle was very silent and seemed to be musing about Julia, judging by the look on his face. His two companions nudged him, probably challenging him to a dare or of something of the sort. He had seen many of similar actions, bored soldiers challenging each other to win the interest of the infamous piano player, Julia. But none of them really took the dare.
To his sincere suprise, the young man in the middle stood up. He was tall, even taller than him. A handsome young man, some long dark strands of hair escaped from the pony-tail, concealing part of his face. He was dressed in a regular Galbadian soldier's uniform. He walked away from the table towards the stage. His movement carried a sense of nervousity. Just as he started to climb the two little steps to the stage Julia was playing her heavenly music, he grabbed his knee with both hands, as to prevent himself from falling. He stumbled back to his comrades, though his leg seemed to have refuse to co-operate. The mocking laughter from his friends was nothing suprising.
But all the while he had noticed how Julia had followed the young clumsy soldier with her dark mesmerizing eyes. She even missed some crucial notes when he collapsed unto his knee. It seemed as if she knew him. Full of doubts and suspicions he stood up before she even reached half of her song and back to their room. He locked himself up in his part of the suite, something which he had not done before, to think. A despicable feeling of fright crept up to him, but he would not allow himself to give in to this, that would be an equivalent of accepting his suspicions.
Suddenly a noise in the neighboring room aprubtly interrupted his pondering. He heard a door being opened, it was Julia. He made his way to his bed swiftly and crawled under the blanket and pretended to be asleep before she entered the room. He heard the soft sound of her agitated breathing as she retreated from his room to close the door.
She was hiding something! He could feel it, she was experiencing something she did not wish to share with him. A maelstrom of feelings danced through his mind, from fury to a deep mind consuming hurt. She had never done this before.
That's when he heard the other voice, that of a man! Startled he sat upright in his bed, carefully listening, wishing for a conformation that this was just an illusion. But it was not, the voice was as clear as hers. She was welcoming him, telling him how she had followed him with her eyes. He on his turn muttered some unintelligible words expressing his admiration. He heard the plop of a wine bottle being opened. Julia's voice asking him if he wished to drink.
Then he heard something which confirmed his doubts even more. He, this man standing with her in their room, asked her why she didn't sing. He heard a deep expressional sigh coming from Julia.
"I always wanted to sing," she spoke, "but I never knew what to sing about. There's no reason for me to sing, just yet. I don't know, perhaps I'm waiting for the muses to come and enlighten my mind." She laughed, a soft deep laugh as only Julia could do. "Tell me about you, what is it that drives you? What are your hopes, dreams, I want to know . . . . . everything."
Then he spoke, an endless monologue of his life, dreams and everything his precious Julia asked of him. Even he was intrigued, sitting on the floor with his back leaning to the wall, next to the wooden door that separated him and them. Instinctively he knew this was no ordinary man, not a sexually driven admirer. He knew that whatever he was afraid of, would become reality. Though he sounded like a scattered minded idiot at first, he felt the passion in his voice which separated him from every other man he had heard talking to Julia.
And Julia must have been amazed by him, for the entire night, she hadn't spoken a word. She was just listening to his serenade of life and adventure. He finally ended his tale when the first tiny daring beams of sunshine penetrated the fabrics of the curtains. There was a complete silence for a while, besides the furious beating of his heart, silence hung in the room. Then she spoke.
"Thank you Laguna, I think I finally have something to sing about."
After a while he left and never returned. Very soon he heard her soft step coming towards his door. He did not bother to hide, he did not care if she found him on the floor. And she did when the door was swung open. The expression of happiness froze on her face when their eyes met. She looked bewildered, guilty even.
"Why are you sitting here on the floor J. ?" she asked surprised. He did not answer and turned his gaze away from her. He just stared in the distance, embracing his knees in some urge for comfort. The black of his hair concealed his face from her.
"Oh were you listening to us?" she suddenly asked with unfamiliar tone in her voice, to his astonishment, it was anger!
"What is it? Tell me? Is it because I talked to him?" she exclaimed, he flinched, tighten his hold of his knees as to dodge her accusations.
"I have just had one of the happiest nights of my life. I cannot, no, I will not feel guilty about it. I refuse to apologize for this night." Every anger stained syllable struck him like a sharp-edged blade would.
"Talk to me Jules! Tell me, why are you sitting here, obviously upset. Don't you understand, I'm a woman. For years we have lived in an isolation, when all the time I wished to live, to taste the spices of life, to dance and sing and make love and just . . . . . live! I love you Jules, but I can't understand why you don't grant me this wish." Tears were trailing their way down her crimson cheeks, her big dark eyes moist with tears. She fell to her knees and embraced him, she held him to her chest. Kissing his face, striking his hair, rocking him, though it felt as if she needed the comfort more than he did.
"I love you Jules, I love you so much," she spoke through her tears, "But I'm a young woman, my love. I have dreams, wishes, desires. This man, you see, he is special. If you were listening you would know. I think I n-need him. I'm 24 now and still haven't seen one bit of life. I'm looking for l-love, do you understand, J.?"
He finally looked up at her face, her teary eyes begging for understanding. "Don't you love me?
"Yes, I do J. More than anything in this world," she sighed, "But I'm looking for a different kind of love, you see. The love of a man, passion."
"I can give you that," he whispered. "I will give you whatever you want Julia."
She laughed, holding him even tighter to her chest. "No my love, that is the one thing you cannot give me."
"You are going to leave me," he said, not a question rather than a statement of a fact.
She held him away from her for a while, looking at him in horror. "I will never." But he merely shook his head and rested his head in her lap. She stroke his hair for a while, until they both fell asleep.
She never saw Laguna again. But he did. A week later, it was late afternoon, the sky colored in light strokes of peach, as if someone wanted to wipe away the heavens. The air felt more chilly than it was usual for this time of year. He was about go for an errand his sister sent him out to do. As he stepped out in the remarkably empty street, he bumped up against this man, Laguna. He apologized immediately, grinning like an idiot. Running his hand through his long dark locks, he explained how he was in a hurry.
"Who are you looking for?" Jules asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Julia heartilly," he replied, his grin even broadened when he mentioned her name. A sudden mix of disgust and fury struck him, but remained calm as always.
"I see," he said, a thought came into his mind. "But I'm afraid she is not in. Can I deliver a message?"
A shadow stole over his remarkably handsome face. Various feelings obviously went through him, his expression fading from desperation to sadness. He sighed and turned away. As Jules he was going to leave, he turned back again.
"Can you g-give her a letter?" Laguna asked, casting his eyes at him in sadness. He nodded, forcing an understanding look. Laguna reached for his back-pocket and pulled out a nicely folded piece of paper, without an envelope and handed to him.
"I meant to give her this, after I'd seen her," he said, "but I guess that won't happen. Will you tell her to wait for me? She will understand what I mean. I n-need to go now."
"I will, goodbye," Jules answered calmly, though the rage inside him increased. Laguna gave him a nod as a farewell and turned to walk away. With both his thumbs in the back-pockets of his jeans, he strolled away, gazing at ground.
As soon as he was out of sight, Jules unfolded the paper. It was a three page long letter, written in a surprisingly graceful handwriting. With every word he read, the fury in him grew stronger and it felt good. He drank every letter, swallowing it with his eyes, nourishing the rage within. After getting the things Julia asked him to get, he went back to his part of the room and laid down on his bed. He didn't even go to see Julia's performance, but spent the entire night lying on his back, reading the letter over and over again, gazing at the ivory colored pieces of paper as if all the secrets of the universe were held into these ink prints. When the stars retreated to make place for the rising sun, he finally folded the letters back and put them into his back pocket.
This was one letter she would never see.
In the following weeks he noticed a tremendous difference in her. It was as if the old Julia was slipping away from him, it was like holding a melting piece of ice in his warm human hands. She never came to his room anymore at night, to crawl under the blankets with him. She never spoke to him of the future, neither of love for him.
He realized she was depressive, his angel was grieving for this Laguna. Did she see him as a savior, the brave warrior who was going to save her. Save her from what? Was she really that unhappy, were her expectations beyond his reach? Unable to stand the stand in which she was in, he came up with a plan. It would be very simple, this doubt she was in right now would consume every youth and spirit she had left. He could not let that happen. He wanted his Julia back.
He wrote a letter, it didn't take him much effort to change his abstract handwriting into graceful. He wrote everything down he wished to be true. Unwilling to think of the hurt that was going to follow, instead he thought of the future of endless joy and love Julia once promised them. He would her savior, he was going to save her from misery.
The next day, when Julia still lay asleep in her bed, safely under the blanket probably dreaming dreams that were going to end soon, he slipped outside. The first sounds of life filled the street. Shop owners preparing themselves for another day of business, governmental cleaners sweeping the road clean for another day of life, the mailman delivering the morning papers for the lazily awaking citizens of Deling City. The last caught his attention, and with a swift step he approached the short man in his fifties, carrying a huge leather red bag of papers, with the strap crossed against his chest.
"Goodmorning, can you help me please?" he asked, forcing a sincere smile, setting the foundation for his future manipulation skills.
The old man looked up at the taller young dark-haired boy. "What do you want?"
"Could you please personally deliver this letter to Julia Heartilly, she is staying in the Galbadian Hotel, room 777," he asked. "You see, it's a surprise for her."
The man growled, read to turn away from him. "Do I look like a courier? Bring it yourself." The anger in him increased, he felt like strangling this old pathetic idiot. But instead he managed to transform the raging energy into a even broader smile. He pulled out some notes and pressed it in his old raw hands. The man looked surprised at the amount of money in his hands and nodded slowly.
"Good, we have an understanding then," Jules said pleased, it even startled him on how easy it is to gain access to people's will by use of money. It was a trick he kept in the back of his mind. "Remember, room 777."
The man was already on his way to enter the Hotel, when he turned and asked: "Who do I say it's from?"
Jules smiled. "Say it's from Loire, Laguna Loire."
He forced himself to stay away all day, giving her the time to let it sink all in. Afterwards her brother, her only love, would return and wash away this filth of misery and kiss her to a future of love and happiness. He wrote another letter, to the army-base in Centra, addressed to Mr. Laguna Loire.
That night when he returned to their suite, she wasn't there. It was too early to perform just yet, but he saw the used tissues, brushes and make-up on her vanity-table. He hurried downstairs, ignoring the flirting comments of the receptionist and went past her down the bar. He just saw how she climbed up the stage. An angel clothed in robes of deep-red silk, the same dress as that night! Her black locks waved down like it was when she met Laguna. But tonight she didn't immediately make her way to the black stool in front of the piano, who was occupied by another pianist, a bald middle-aged man. On stage he saw a device he hadn't seen before, a microphone.
The first notes of the piano were her cue to start. The minute the first tones left her throat, the entire bar silenced. Even the young drunk soldiers in the back. He glanced at a few men sitting at one of the front tables, one of them held his glass of wine in the air, as if was frozen when he was about to take a sip, his eyes drawn to the siren in red.
He gazed at his Julia, how she stood there, on the stage, on her own. Singing words she never meant for him to hear. Thoughts she never meant to share with him. For the first time in their lives, she did not sing for him. The exclusivity of her anthems of love were now gone forever, driven away in the arms of an uncaring soldier.
He saw the fantasy she was reliving beneath her closed eye-lids. He start shivering, as if a cold tornado whirled into the room, knocking over all his hopes of a re-gained love. Though he was not here in flesh, Laguna was there in a place he could never reach. Was this the passion she had spoken of?
He forgot about his appearance, he did not care he stood there in the doorway of the bar like a bewildered madman, contemplating whether to run and hide or seek the shelter of her angelic curses.
Her voice started to fade, he didn't want it to go, despite the pain and recognition of failure, he wanted to hold unto the voice, that would never be his again.
Tears, anger, hurt, humiliation, pain, disgust, admiration, love and hate rushed through body, like blood once used to, washing away all evidence of his humanity. He ran out of the bar, up the stairs, outside in the pre-night city, he ran past the late shops, past the Deling Archway, past the station, past the welcome sign, past trees, past forests, past mountains, he kept running as if wanted to stay ahead of the shadows that were following him.
As though a voice called him, he held still. Just like that, as if someone turned of the switch of his madness. Wearily he glanced around, his garments torn by protruding branches, exhausted and dried out, he found himself standing in a enormous grassy field, stretched out before him as far as his eyes could reach. For miles in the distance he saw nothing as much as a tree. Just an depressing landscape with him as the only accessory. The stars overhead seemed the only witnesses of his fit of irrationality.
He touched his moist forehead, his finger stained with almost drying blood. Had he been attacked by a monster? How long had he been running? Wearily he collapsed on the floor.
When he tried to open his heavy eye-lids, he saw faint images of several faces, as if they were painted in water. But how vague and misty his head seemed, he saw one clear face. That of an angel.
"He's awaking1" a deep manly voice said. He squinted his eyes, desperately trying to get a clear focus on the people present in the room.
"Jules, my love," a soft familiar voice spoke, "can you see me?"
Yes, he saw her. Her big dark eyes reddish with tears. Her perfect rose-petal like lips moving to speak. She still loved him!
When he looked around he noticed a unfamiliar vicinity, beeping alien sounds, equipment like that in a movie. Where was he?
"Where am I?" he voiced his thoughts, trying to get up, but Julia gently pushed him back, hushing him to be silent.
"You're in a hospital my love," she spoke, he could hear the trembling tone her voice, "You've been in a coma for 64 days. This nice man found you lying on the fields north of Deling City." she said, gesturing to the man standing next to her. He had a youthful yet powerful olive-skinned face, though he must have been at least eight year older than Julia was. "You were so lucky, my love. Any monster could have attacked you. I cannot imagine what would have happened then."
The man smiled at him. But Jules was for an unexplainable reason wary of him. He watched his big masculine hand stroking the back of Julia's arm in comfort. And he saw in her face she was glad he was there to aid her.
"Well thank you Mr. . . . . ?"
"Call me Caraway," he answered, "and don't thank me. I've done what everyone with a bit humanity would have done."
Julia shook her head. "Don't listen to him Jules, Caraway is a hero. He brought back my little brother, the most precious gift anyone could have ever given me."
Caraway? He didn't like the way she spoke his name, with such familiarity. A terrible sense of foreboding hung in his chest. He wanted to be alone with Julia. When he asked her, the doctors and Caraway nodded and respectfully left the room. He was finally with her, it was time to explain everything to her. He wouldn't risk loosing his Julia.
"Julia, you know, when I left, it was because of - . . . . " he started, but she hastily interrupted him.
"No Jules, please, you need to rest," she spoke with tears in her eyes, "let it go. Let's forget everything and go on." Her voice was clear. What was happening? Didn't she want to know why he went away? Didn't she want to know how hurt he was? That everything he did in his life was out of love for her. That he wanted to be the one who could give her everything she would ever need.
So they spoke of nothing, meaningless matters to fill up the void between the two of them. She came by every day, Caraway never accompanied her during her visits. So they weren't so familiar as he had expected. A week after his recovery he was released from the hospital. Julia came to help him back to their suite. His head swimming with dreams of the future of them two together, they walked outside the Deling Memorial, ready to walk down the stairs leading them to his new life. But down there he saw the distinctive figure of a steady man in a uniform waiting by a limousine, Caraway!
A smile appeared on Julia's face as she spotted him. And he too returned her smile with a sincere expression of content. Jules eyes danced from Julia's to that of Caraway's and back to rest on her face. But he asked nothing.
"Goodmorning kid, I'm glad you're better," he said heartily. He extended his arm to aid him in the limo, but Jules refused him with a short polite nod and stepped in by himself. Caraway and Julia seated on the seats left of him to face him. They were awfully close.
He turned his gaze away from them and gazed of the window. The flashy buildings of Deling City were swiftly passing them by. They went past the shopping center and past the Galbadian Hotel! He turned his face to them in surprise, but they didn't seem to notice him, having a very animated conversation about the weather.
Finally the car held still, when he glanced out of the window he saw he wasn't even in central DC. They were in the quiet neighborhood of the sub-urbs. They stepped out of the car. He found himself standing on a gravel path, heading for an enormous villa stretched above the trees, like a master watching his fledglings. Once again he turned to Julia, gazing at her face as if her eyes harbored all the answers to every questions he could have. But she didn't speak, but led him by the arm towards the mansion. Her gesture had a faint degree of nervousity. Caraway was behind them to give instructions to the driver, but Julia walked before him. Ringing the beautifully engraved copper bell when they reached the door.
The servant who opened the door greeted her heartily as the mistress of the house. Maybe Julia had come here a lot, in her worry for him. Maybe she was looking for some comfort, wanting to escape the loneliness of her room. Mr. And Mrs. Caraway must have taken good care of her.
Stepping inside the voluptuous hall, he was in awe. Thinking their suite in Galbadia Hotel was a kingdom, it was absolutely nothing compared to even an inch of the beauty of this mansion. Finally he couldn't hold anymore.
"Is this Caraway's house?" he asked her.
She nodded. "Yes, he invited us to stay here. Isn't that very kind of him J.?"
"Yes, very. How is Mrs. Caraway?"
Her brows knitted in surprise. "There's no Mrs. Caraway." He wouldn't have thought anything of it, if she didn't twirl her hair like that around her finger, like a nervous school-girl. Julia was never the like of doing so.
Finally Caraway came in too. Smiling warmly he approached them, carrying two suit cases into the house. Their suite cases!
"What is going on," Jules demanded, his voice drained with authority which surprised Julia.
She was about to speak, when Caraway spoke instead. "We have something to tell you Jules. Your sister and I have grown rather fond of each other. We are getting married next week. I hope you will give us your blessings."
But blessing wasn't an expression you would use when Jules heard the news. An expression of utter disgust, horror and despair came over his face
"Blessing??" he exclaimed, Julia wanted to hush him, but Caraway stopped her, as if he wanted to hear what he had to say.
"Julia, tell me, this is a joke right? You can't get married. You can't do this to me!"
Julia motioned for Caraway to leave them alone, he nodded and retreated from the hall. She turned to face him, her expressional almond-shaped brown eyes moist with tears.
"Jules, you knew this would happen eventually, right? I'm 25 and you are 16 and it's time for me to really live and broaden my horizons. Have you never dreamt of going out to seek for the world? Of knowing what lies beneath the snowfields up north, of learning all that the new-aged Esthar has to offer. I once promised you the world, right? That is what I'm offering you. I never wished for you to hang unto to me forever, I would be denying you the future I promised you. It is time to fly, my angel. Just as it is time for me to do so."
"I will not live without you, I will die, I promise you that!"
"Don't say such things. You will live and the world will be yours. If not for yourself, do it for me. Jules, for years I have struggled, I have lingered on the downside of the social ladder. Poverty and responsibility have robbed of what I truly want, love and passion and . . . " she suddenly silenced, as if she realized what she had just said.
"So I robbed you of your dreams," he stated sadly, he felt as if he couldn't stand anymore, as if his limbs were consumed by genuine hurt.
"No, you did not, my love," she said, "I could never have faced the world, if you weren't standing behind me, within my reach. But yes, I do wish I could change the past. If I had let you grow on your own, instead of selfishly clinging unto you. Maybe I would have preserved your independence and your inner dreams."
So this his dark horrifying fantasy had become reality. A world without Julia. A philosophy shattered under the hammer of her voice. She ordered him to seek the world. If Julia said so, he would do so. He would seek it, find it and return with it on a silver platter as a gift for her. He would let her go, let her seek for her own conformations and expectations. But he would return for her, when she had seen all that she wished he would come back and take her to their dreams once again. She wanted a man, he would return as a man. Though he felt a sickly feeling of horror to leave her with this man, he had no choice. But one day he would reclaim her.
He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. Hesitating she threw her arms around his neck, quietly sobbing against his chest. After a while he retreated from her arms, before he left he bent to give her a one last kiss on her velvet pink lips, a momento to take along on his journey. Finally he gazed up at her and without saying as much as a word he left the mansion, on his way to seek the world.
The first two years were the hardest of his life, homeless and broke he roamed around the world, trying to find what Julia ordered him to look for. But his years didn't go wasted, he was learning. Every second he spent thinking, studying the world and its ways. He watched how people discussed, how they argued, the matters that kept them busy. The values of man. At his third year away from Julia, the first beams of sunshine penetrated his dark and gloomy live. He became aware of the human nature and how you can make it work for your benefit. The world was like the old mail-man, money was the magic word. A fair promise about a prosperous future was the price for human will. He ended up in Galbadia, though he was hundreds of miles away from Deling City. A weaponry factory near the military base caught his interests. In times of war, machinery and armory were the keys to success. Using his newly developed skills to let the world believe he was the man they needed, that his offer was the one deal they could not refuse. And very soon his name became a name to remember.
He had been with women of course. Preferably dark-haired tender beauties, making him forget about his nightmares in their caring arms. Happiness he did not seek in them though, neither did they. It was a mutual understanding, a bond of interests.
All he ever did was make money, seek for the world and think about how Julia was doing. Was she having the passion she spoke of? Was she finally living? She had grown into a international star. His angel, on the covers of glossy magazines, in every TV-show, on the top of every chart. Where ever he went, he saw her dark haunting eyes staring at him. The worst was when they played her songs on the radio. Her angelic voice singing that damned song. Laguna's song.
Around the age of 22 he finally earned himself the money, power and dignity he could every wish for. He had roamed the world, wandered through deserts, crossed seas, but still didn't see the world he was looking for. Maybe he already had it! Maybe this was what she meant with the world, he would bring her his world. It was time to get back.
Stepping out of the limosouine, of the same sort as the one who brought him to this mansion six years ago, he watched the great mansion in the darkness. Nothing had changed, but he desperately wished it did. He hoped with every living vein in his body that she had lived and felt the passion, and was ready to go with him. Nodding to the driver he made himself walk the familiar gravel path he once used to as a boy. He now was a wealthy man, powerful, admired, dressed in a black suit, exclusively made. His entire attitude breathed a sense of wealth and confidence, though inside he was trembling.
He rang the bell when he reached the door. The door opened, expecting to see a servant or Caraway or Julia herself, but he was startled to see a short chubby little girl standing in the door-way. Suspisciouly sizing him up with big puppy-brown eyes, she placed both her hands on her hips as if she was the madam of the house.
Jules couldn't help but gasp when he watched her, the likeness was so tremendous, it was almost blasphemous. A re-creation of Julia. He kneeled in front of this young little beauty.
"Hello," he said smiling, "what is your name?"
"Who are you," she demanded in a high voice, ignoring his question. He laughed softly, she was enchanting.
"I am Jules, your uncle. And who are you."
"Are you really my uncle?" she asked, unsure what to think of this stranger.
"Yes, I'm your mother's little brother."
"Hihi, you don't look little. The boys in my class are little, but you have hair on your arms! I am Rinoa," she said giggling, extended her short chubby hand to greet him. He returned her greet.
"Hey, you are shaking," she stated. Yes, he was. He couldn't grasp it all, his Julia had a daughter, a replica of an angel.
"Where is your mother little one?" he asked. She giggled once again and grabbed his hand and led him through the house. They went through a glass leading to the voluptuous garden. Near a fountain sat a young man and woman, at a white garden-table.
"Mooohooomm, daddy, look what I found!"
And there she was, Julia. Dressed in a long white silk robe, her hair in a pigtail with some escaped strands of dark dancing in front of her brown mesmeric eyes. She was older now, nearly 31, but her beauty was ripened by age, she seemed more elegant in a way. He didn't think he had ever laid eyes upon one who possessed more beauty and innocence. Next to her sat Caraway, dressed in a uniform which he now recognized to be a general's. Unlike the surprised and happy look on Julia's face, his face seemed darkened when he entered their garden.
"Hello Julia," he spoke softly, almost as a whisper, unsure of what her reaction would be. She bit on her lips, as if to stop from crying. And then suddenly she stood up and ran towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. Softly crying against his chest, stroking his hair, she whispered of how she had missed him.
Finally she released him, and took a step back to gaze at him. Sizing him up from top to toe, she smiled, laughed actually.
"Now look at my little brother. Oh, what a man has he become!"
"You look good Jules, welcome back," Caraway finally spoke now, but Jules, armed with six experience in the nature of humans driven by greed and power lust, he sensed the insincerity in his words.
"Thank you," he replied, "you look good yourself." He turned back to the little Rinoa, standing behind him with unpleased look on her round little face, of being ignored. "And I see you have a daughter. Can you sing as good as your mother."
"Oh heaven, don't start. She listens way too much to my songs," Julia laughed. How he missed that laugh.
Caraway stood up and walked towards him and Rinoa. He grabbed the pouting little girl by her arm to lead her away. "Come on Rinoa, let's leave uncle Jules and mom alone for a minute. Shall I make you some hot coca?" With this bribe she ran happily before him. Julia glanced somewhat surprised at Caraway, but he went away without saying a word.
"How are you doing Julia, my beautiful Julia?" he asked, taking place in one of the garden seats, she seated in the one in front of him. "How are you enjoying the marital bliss?" In an instant the merry expression on her face vanished to make place for sadness and weariness.
She sighed, a deep expressional sigh as if she had the burden of the world lay upon her delicate shoulders. "Oh Jules, if only you knew. You see, sometimes I wished I went out to discover to the world together with you. I don't seem to find whatever I was looking for. Do you understand that?" He nodded, but he didn't. All he understood was that maybe she was ready to come with him.
"You are not happy?"
"Oh, what is happiness? Maybe it's an illusion, a forced hope, denial of reality. Maybe I'm going mad. I have heard of your success, my love. Are you happy?"
He shrugged, unsure what to do with his hands, he waved some strands of dark hair out of his face. "I like to think so. But I know I'm not. I'm sorry, but I haven't found the world you told me to seek."
"I haven't found it either. I have found Rinoa, she's the only reason why I am living now."
"What about Caraway?"
She sniffed sardonically. "Caraway? He is married to his job. The military is his wife, his gun is his wedding ring, the army-base his bedroom, where do I fit in?" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I wonder if he's even aware that I am around. I think I would prefer him yelling at me, hitting me, crying, anything but this suffocating silence between us. I am nothing to him, nothing but a trophy. A midnight breeze that you walk through, I am not married. J. this is not what I dreamt of."
All the while he had sat there, in silence, listening, maybe silently urging him to advise her. Maybe this was his destiny, to be her savior. "Come with me," he whispered, "I have found only my world and that is what I have to offer you. Come with me, leave this misery, let us find your dream together. It's not too late, my love."
She laughed, soft and gentle, but the expression in her face told him she was actually contemplating his offer of a new life.
"I can't," she whispered, "I have to stay here . . . . . for Rinoa."
"We can take her along, there are so many wondrous things I can show her. We will give her the childhood we never had."
"That's exactly why I need to stay. We've never had parents, at least not one worth mentioning. But Rinoa has, I cannot deny her this chance of knowing both her parents."
He stood up in fury. He could not let her go, never, not again. She would come with him, he swore by Hyne's thunder that would never be separated again. She, Rinoa and him, a perfect little family, the Heartilly's. Life would be so wonderful.
"I need to go Julia, there is a meeting. But I will be back, tonight. We will be together again Julia, we will find your dream together." Without waiting for her response, he walked away.
He returned late that evening. This time the door was opened by a lady in her sixties, wearing a servant's uniform. He told her who he was and who he came for.
"I shall see you to the tea-room, Mr. and Mrs. Caraway are prese- . . . . . oh my, I totally forgot about the cake! Forgive me sir, but could you please go on by yourself, it is right around the corner, hard to miss." Without waiting for his response she ran away to the kitchen.
When he neared the tea-room, he reached for the door-handle to enter, when the agitated voices from within stopped him. Through the dark oak-door, he heard Julia's voice and Caraway angrily speaking to each other.
" . . . . I can't handle this anymore."
" . . . you are exaggerating. Don't do anything foolish."
" . . . . for years I'm begging you, just love me a little. Was that too much to ask of my husband?"
" . . . I love you for Hyne's sake. But I don't trust that brother of yours. I will not endure him near my daughter, you hear me.?
" . . . how dare you speak of him like that. He is ten times as noble as you'll ever be."
" . . . . . stop lying to yourself. He's dangerous, even I can sense that. You think his admiration for you is the same as any other kind of admiration? He is obsessed!"
A clear sound of someone being slapped. He forced himself not to burst into the door, but he realized it was Caraway who got hit.
"I should have done that a long time ago. If that is how you feel, I'm leaving, first thing tomorrow and I'm taking Rinoa with me."
A silence followed, just an ominous silenced stretched to a certain extend when one nerves are on the verge of snapping.
In a soft hissing voice Caraway spoke, speaking every syllable clear and separately as if was talking to a mentally challenged kid. "I rather kill you and that schizophrenic brother of yours, if you even dare to think of taking Rinoa with him. Do you understand?"
He raised his hand to knock on the door but it was already swung open by Julia. Surprised to find him there she gazed at him, but she recovered quickly and seized him by the arm leading him away from the room where Caraway stood with his back towards them.
She led him up the massive marble stairs to her own private bedroom. She let go of him when they entered the room and threw herself on the bed, crying, cursing, shedding more tears. He closed the door and approached her, silently he sat down next to her. She lay on her stomach, her tender shoulders shaking in her sobbing. He moved his hand gently through her dark locks, like she used to do with him.
"You know it Julia, your destiny is with me," he whispered, "come with me. He doesn't understand you like I do. I am your brother, we share a history, memories, ideas, dreams. That is one connection he could never share with you."
Her quiet sob eventually died out and she sat upright, not bothering to clean her mascara-stained cheeks. "You see, I never stopped thinking about Laguna," she suddenly said. He felt a jolt of familiar jealousy and hurt going through him at her words.
"Maybe I married Caraway as a response to Laguna. Sometimes, well, all the time, when I'm eating my break-fast, or combing Rinoa's hair or even when kissing Caraway, I cannot help but think about how things could have been. I would imagine a world without regret. You see, Laguna left me, unexplained. All he left me was a vague letter of a new mission, his urge for adventure, but I didn't understand. I still don't. If he had told me personally, I would have gone with him to where ever he might go. Wouldn't you? I may sound like a weak passive being, but I would do that out love. It's an admirable thing in fact. Haven't you ever done something out of love, despite the consequences?"
He nodded thoughtfully, his lips on the verge of confessing everything. But he couldn't, not now. She would not understand, would she?
"But then again, I don't think he was meant to be," she continued, "even if he did love me like I loved him. He was a soldier, thirsting for challenges and experiences, I would never have fitted in his life. I am glad he just wrote me a letter, maybe it allowed me to maintain my sanity long enough to have Rinoa."
She understood it! She understood that it was for the best. Maybe the moment of understanding and beginning of love had finally come. There would be no more secrets between them. He could show her his love.
"I thought it was for the better too, my love. I knew from the start by the look on his face he would be the bearer of hurt and misery. He would never have understood you like I did. He did come by and handed me a letter, expressing his love and whatnot, but coming down to one message, that of his departure. I could not stand him doing this to you. I wrote you a different letter containing the same message, but that wouldn't leave you longing for a prince that would never come. I would never allow any harm done to you, my sister."
The expression on Julia's was beyond any horror he might ever dreamed of. She stood there, a frozen marble angel, all color drained from her once vivid face, watching him in a feeling of utter disgust. As if he was a dark horrid alien creature coming from the depths of nightmares. She stood up, backing away from him, until the wall prevented her from going any further. She just stood there, looking down at him, no evidence whatsoever that she recognized him other than the terrible creature she thought him to be.
He reached out for her, his chest pounding in fear. But she flinched, pressing herself tighter against the wall, trying to escape his arms.
"Julia," he whispered, "I t-thought you would understand."
"S-show me," she demanded with an unsteady voice, "show me the l-letter."
He reached for his chest-pocket, where he had kept it all these years, close to his heart, Laguna's letter. The only one who had made the silent bird sing. He held the neatly folded paper in his hand, he saw the hungry look in Julia's eyes when she gazed at the letter. She reached out her trembling hand and snatched the letter away from him. She didn't begin to read as he half-expected, but instead stared at it in bewilderment. Bringing it to her nose, as though she tried to catch any evidence of Laguna's presence. She brought it to her heart, holding it tight as if she was afraid someone would take it away from her.
"Leave," she whispered. He stood up, extending his arms, his eyes pleading with her.
"Leave!!" she screamed, "leave me, go, go, go away." She didn't mean this of course. It couldn't be, this was Julia, even though he had a hard time believing that when he glanced at the mad expression on her face. He grabbed her shoulders with both his hands, pulling her close to him, though she struggled to get out of his grip. He forced her to look at him.
"Julia, my precious angel, we will be together," he hissed, "I promise you that. You, Rinoa and I, we are forever. Don't you remember that Julia. That we are forever!"
She shook her head. "No, no, no, even eternity has its end."
"If that is so, you will be with me in the end. Our love is imperishable"
"Leave," she whispered, it felt as if she had trouble speaking out the one-syllable word.
"I will leave you now," he said more calmly now, "I'll be back tomorrow. We are starting the journey towards a dream, my love, us three."
And so he left her in her room, with Laguna's letter. His unpenetratable faith started to bruise, he wasn't so sure of her capability to think. He could not trust her to come in the state she was in right now. She might take a wrong decision. He needed to help her, to force her through her moment of irrationality. Tomorrow they would be together again.
The next day he had made all preparations for their departure. At the Deling airport stood an private jet ready to take them to his mansion in Trabia. They would love it there, the freshly green of forests, the breath-taking mountains.
After all the business was taken care of, he headed for his limousine. Ready to take with him the only ones he loved. The limo made its way to a silent neighborhood, it finally held still in front of a short building surrounded by trees, flowers and a huge play field with swings and slides. He stepped out of his car and walked towards the school.
His eyes swiftly scanning the faces of the playing children, he searched for Rinoa. Finally he found her sitting on a swing on her own. Jumping up when she spotted, she ran towards him, he knelt allowing her to throw her arms around his neck. He picked the little chubby doll-like girl up.
"Unca Juice!!! You come for me??"
"Yes of course, I came for the prettiest girl in the entire school."
"Hihi, Jenny is way prettier. She gets cookies from the boys all the time."
"No, Jenny cannot be prettier than Rinoa Heartilly, the boys must be blind. But lovely little Rinoa, I've come here to take you with your mom somewhere else."
"Is it nice?"
"Yes, very nice. I'm going to take you on a plane, you know why? Because you are an angel and angels always fly in the sky. I will give you a castle worthy of a princess."
Rinoa laughed in delight, spreading her arms pretending to be flying. "Wait a second my love. I need to call mom, to come with us." He set her on her feet again and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.
When the servant answered as usual, he asked for Julia, the woman seemed reluctant at first but after some persuasion she put him through. On the other side he heard the weary voice Julia.
"Hello my love, it is time to come with me," he whispered, "I'm ready, my plane is leaving in 45 minutes. Rinoa is with me."
"Oh my god, Jules, you cannot be serious," Julia screamed, "please let Rinoa go. Go alone, we'll go with you the next time you're here."
"I can't Julia, I have made all the arrangements. Ask Rinoa." He handed the girl the phone.
"Hi mommy, unca Juice is going to make me fly in a plane, because I'm an angel." But before Julia could answer her, he snatched the phone away from her.
"You see, Rinoa is already. We are just waiting for you. Hurry up, we are leaving in 40 minutes now, come to the airport. Or else I'm afraid we have to go on our own, we are going to a quite a tremendous place. Rinoa thought of staying there forever. Hurry my love."
"Jules, don't do this. She is my child, my only ch- ." But he already switched of the phone and took Rinoa in the limo, heading for the airport.
An hour later she still hadn't showed up. A terrible foreboding hung in his chest. It should have taken all together ten minutes to reach the airport, fifteen if she took the public transportation. Rinoa was still sitting in the limo and he gazed at his own private jet. Their ticket to a new life. A life he wanted Julia to be part of. When she hadn't arrived three hours later, he couldn't endure this anticipation and ordered the limo to take them to Caraway's Mansion. It took them a minute or ten to reach it. Ordering Rinoa to stay inside, he stepped out and rushed towards the door. When the old servant opened, he ran swiftly up the stairs, ignoring her exclamations.
"Julia!!!" he shouted, "where are you??"
He ran towards her private room, the door was wide open and the room itself looked as if a tornado was released inside the chamber. Mirrors were broken, curtains and paintings pulled from their places, sheets torn and several empty bottles of wine lying on the floor, some even shattered.
Emptying his mind, he ran to the next room, rushing from one room to another, all of them empty. When he was about to return he noticed one door he hadn't checked. It was open, immediately upon entering the room what seemed to be an office, a painting caught his eye. Of a woman, lying on a sofa, dressed in red, a familiar robe. One her face lay a lazy smile and in one hand she had a crystal glass of wine, holding it up as if she wanted to give a toast. Long thick dark hair embraced a beautiful oval shaped face and haunting eyes staring from the painting right into his soul. This was his Julia.
Right of him he saw a desk, but it's content was what drew his attention. It's was Caraway's working desk, very exquisite made, probably Trabian. Here and there lay several papers, stationary and a blueprint. Turning the paper towards him to have a better look at its content, he suddenly knew what they meant by the term freezing. An undeniable cold stretched through his limbs, mingling with his blood, tracing away all humanity. With his 5 years of expertise on the field of weaponry, he identified this as a set up for a 5xT bomb, usually used on car to get rid of people easy and efficiently. It was accompanied by a remote control with a 500 miles reach and it wasn't lying on the table, nor was the bomb.
"I rather kill you and that schizophrenic brother of yours, if you even dare to think of taking Rinoa with him. Do you understand?"
Without a hesitation he ran outside, ignoring the servant once again he rushed out of the door. So many thoughts, doubts and suspicions went through his mind. Rinoa! He needed to get Rinoa. She needed him. He reached the limo and swung the car door open. There she sat, innocent and haughty, his little Rinoa, waiting for him and Julia. He pulled her gently out of the car and picked her up to hug her. His was afraid, a freezing sense of fright spread to his limbs and was on the verge of paralyzing. He wasn't sure why.
Suddenly he heard the sound of sirens, it seemed very distant. He needed to get out of here! But a sudden realization hit him like a meteor rushing with thousands of miles per hour. From the left side of the street he saw five or so cars carrying Galbadian soldiers coming, when he turned right he saw the same thing and over the bridge in front of the mansion came several other soldiers by foot. Quickly they got out of their cars, opening their doors for protection they aimed their arms at his head. There he stood, surrounded by men trained to kill him, with his back practically against the mansion. He didn't even have the time to make a dash for the door.
They will take Rinoa away from me!
He realized she was still in his arms, frightened at the sight of all the mean police men she held her arms tight around his neck. As in a reflex he reached for the gun inside his jacket and aimed it at Rinoa. She held her eyes closed and didn't see the deadly weapon pointed at her.
"Let go of the girl," yelled an officer.
"Back away, me and Rinoa were just on our way," he yelled back. "Rinoa is going where ever I'm going, we are forever!"
They yelled some more commands, their arms ready to fire but they couldn't do a thing while she was in his arms.
He turned to Rinoa who was sobbing against his shoulders. "Rinoa darlin, these meanies want to take you away. You won't let that happen, right? We stay together, until the end. You, mommy and me. If I can't have you, no one will, my love, my angel, do you understand honey?"
Rinoa nodded furiously against his shoulders, though she had no idea what he was talking about.
He suddenly felt an ice cold metal pressed against the back of head and was thrown to his knees. Rinoa and the gun fell out his arms unto the floor. He just saw how she was pulled away from him. He stood on his knees as to worship the garish sun above him. He felt how his hand were being cuffed, held together in a firm grip by the scraping metal. The man holding him by his hands walked around to face him. There he stood, his firm but aged face, hazel eyes piercing through him as to fathom the disgust and sickness in him. General Caraway.
He hit him right in his nose with his fist, once again in his face, he kept on hitting him furiously like a madman. Until some soldiers blocked him, ordering him to calm down. He pushed them away and advanced, he stood there watching this kneeling man as if he was worshipping him.
"There were so many things I had planned to say to you," he spoke, his voice trembling with ominous fury. "But I can't think of anything suitable to describe my feelings towards you." He turned around to walk away but Jules held him still.
"Julia," he exclaimed, "where is Julia? Please tell me."
The general froze and turned with a look so fierce and ominous to face him. He walked slowly back to him, and knelt down on one knee. Caraway pulled up his chin, forcing him to face him and remember every detail of his face.
"Julia . . . is . . . . dead," pronouncing every syllable clearly as if he wanted him to realize it to the fullest. "Gone."
His eyes widened in agony, he didn't know what to do. Rage, cry, scream, curse, kill this man, kill himself, kill them all!! Julia, his angel, it was a lie. Yes, it was a terrible horrifying lie.
But his lips spoke the words his sub-conscious needed to know. "H-h-how?"
"In a car." The look on Jules' bloodstained face was so intense and horrifying even Caraway's expression turned to surprise, for just a one hundredth of a second he felt pity for him but that passed and he stood up and landed his boot in his stomach.
"I p-promise you," Jules spoke using all his remaining energy to speak out these words, "I will reverse all this, next time it will be you in my position, you and Loire."
"What are you going to do, unleash the furies on me to torment me and haunt me in my dreams? Guess what, I'm letting you live," Caraway hissed in his face, "I'll let you live with the thought of how your precious Julia is now eaten up by worms. Forever will you spend in a dark chamber with only haunting memories of Julia's death. And here is my promise to you, you will die in madness, and by your own hand. Death is a mercy you do not deserve."
And with that he was taken away to Desert Prison for the next twelve years.
****
And now he had returned. His freedom granted by young SeeDs, who managed to break his chains during a major break-out last year. His money still stored in a safe place, he went back to his mansion in Trabia. Spending months learning of the world, of what happened in his twelve years of imprisonment.
Finally after some months he stepped out in daylight, with a new name and a new purpose. He had become Jules Artica, and ready to exploit human will and greed. His wealth increased tremendously. Galbadia hailing their former weapon provider again, the same one they had put behind bars.
And when Ultimecia was defeated, in the future, he had gathered himself all the information, money and influence he needed and it was ready to go back.
It was time to put things in motion. Loire's Garden, Caraway and Rinoa, they would be his puppets in the major scheme he had set up. He promised a reversion of history, and this was what he would give them.
He glanced to the frozen Deling once more. The statue still gazing at him with a haughty expression on his stone face.
"You, my good friend, watch and learn. The money you had mistaken for a shield against threats, could not save you."
But a good judgement could have.
He kneeled in front of the statue, the arrogance in its frozen eyes seemed to disappear when he bowed his head in a mocking honoring.
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Author's note:
[ I hope I haven't chased away every reader I had with this chapter. I know it was long and at most points boring and it may sound as if it has nothing to do with the story at first, but bear with me for a while, it's even crucial for the rest of the story. And please consider this when you go out and flame me, I wasn't really suggesting incest, even though not by blood Jules is in every way Julia's brother. It is that I wanted to portrayed the most wicked and sickest of 'villains', namely the good evil. Someone once told me that the worst evil is good evil. Jules is a boy who thinks he is good, he is convinced of his just. I wanted to portray his obsessive course of thinking, a man who would commit murders in the name of love. In his obsessive mind, Jules wanted to be the ONLY ONE for Julia. He couldn't accept she needed different sort of things from different people, he wanted to embody all that Julia could ever want from a human being. For him, she had such power over him that something as simple as his significance to her could be the definitive factor in whether he lived or not (yeah, I got that line from The Orphan ^_^), so he had to do everything to maintain his importance to her. That's why he was so horrified whenever some neared to Julia, he was fearing for his own life. See, I'm not just a sick weirdo, there's actually a reason. *lol* If you still don't understand now, you will later on. Please do let me know your views and opinion about all this. It is for you I'm writing, and I'd really like to know that at least someone gets the points in my seeming pointless rants. :D
About the title of this chapter. I was listening to Beethoven's Fur Elise when writing this and since this chapter is centered around Julia, I named it Fur Julia. Since everything Jules does, he does out of love for her, I couldn't think of a better title.
One thing, Furies were female spirits who came to torment evil doers, in Greek mythology, especially if someone did harm against a family member. Keep that in mind for Caraway and Jules.]
