Disclaimer: The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne doesn't belong to me.
Author's Warning/Note: I am about to go into a very far and very angst-ridden domain. I planned this out like most of my stories, and cried during most of the parts because I felt that I need a real tear-jerker, even if this is simply a fanfic. If you cry and somehow blame me, then don't flame the fic, just write a good review. Crying is good for you. Oh, and I write this all in first-person prose.
Fallen
Part 1: Jules- A Year from the Day
They told me today it's been a year since they got me and all of this started. Gregory would tell me something like that, just so I could understand how quickly they could destroy a person and their loved ones. Not a day (or what I can even consider a day) goes by without me thinking about it all; how it started, how I want it to end…
How it's all my fault.
I never meant for any of this to happen the way it did. Fogg had asked me over for lunch, and we were just walking down the road, and I saw a short-cut. I knew my way around Paris by then, and knew this way well. I never saw them coming until someone grabbed me and I was in a carriage. I never even realized that Fogg was quicker then they were, but never better a shot up close. I only heard the shot before I was under from chemicals. When I woke up, I was in a prison, cold and without light except a single candle. I knew who it was that caught me, but I also remembered the shot, and I hoped and prayed everyday that Fogg and Rebecca would come through the door and rescue me. The only contact was to get food, and that was always when I was asleep. I never saw anyone come in, and I hardly ate any of it, for fear of drugs or something. Looking back now, I think if I had known what was to come, what would happen, I would've eaten all of it or choked on a bone.
No, no, if I had choked on the bone, then I would've been dead when they brought in Rebecca. She was in mourning and I knew then that Fogg had died trying to save me. I hated myself then, and I still do. I had chosen the street that lead to his death, and now Rebecca was here with me. I was responsible.
I told her how much I was sorry, I told her it was all my fault, but she never said anything about it. I always thought she was stopping herself from agreeing with me so that I could maybe have some doubts. I didn't…not after they…no, I killed her.
The League had built a device with two functions. You would either hang, or be torn apart, but that all depended on what the operator would allow you. they strapped her to the machine and nearly pulled her apart trying to get me to give them one little thing. Gregory said that if she was indeed pulled apart, then she would become his likeness as a wife. He made me pull the last part. I still remember the controls, and looking at her. Even in pain, she was beautiful. I knew what could end her misery. Maybe that's what Gregory wanted, for me to end her misery so mine could continue. Or maybe he really thought I would rather he live like him then die hanged like a criminal. Rebecca…her eyes locked onto mine, and there was still strength in them with her longing. She wanted to be with Phileas and Erasmus and Boniface Fogg. She wanted me to do it. So I pressed the button, and watched her fall and choke. The rope didn't break her neck, so she hung there, hardly moving, while the rope started to cut through her neck and cut off her air. It took all of eternity that I earned for doing that before she died. I never knew what happened to her body, but I suppose I don't want to. I hoped they at least sent it to the family so she could be buried next to Fogg. That much I would hope for, even if I know that would never happen.
I never expected them to do what they did next. I didn't think they would know about Amaratsu, or my mom and dad, or Paul, or even Felix living in my room until I came back. I hoped they wouldn't, but they did, and each of them I watched die. Amaratsu…she was so beautiful, and so full of confidence. She had gotten ready before, I knew she had taken the potion so she could see the truth and go to the one that would take her on to a wonderful afterlife with her Grandfather. I wished I could use some to kill myself, or Gregory, or all of the League. She smiled warmly at me when they strapped her to the pole, as if nothing bad would happen. She kept smiling when the men aimed their rifles. She said, " Don't be afraid. Life is only a plan."
Then they shot her, and I watched…they made me watch as they shot her for target practice until she was only a mass of torn flesh…except for her face. Her face would always hold that serene smile and her eyes would be forever closed, even when her body was destroyed.
My parents…that was the only time they actually let me out. By then, I realized they hadn't caught Passepartout or the Aurora, and in a way that gave me an inkling of hope. They made me watch as they tortured and killed my parents, then burned down the house I had grown up in. They took me out on a boat and destroyed the French Navy boat my brother and over 500 innocent people were on. The destroyed my home with Felix and everyone else in it. Every time, was made to watch them do it, made to be quiet unless I would give them some drawing, some idea, anything. By now, my only comments were to try and get them to kill me. They still are, and they are never acted on, not even to hit me so I'll stop calling Gregory all of the names I've come up with. My only sense of accomplishment comes from the fact I have yet to repeat myself.
The worst blow to the world was when they got into Montravia and killed King Karl, his wife, his advisor, right down to the boy that got the wax to clean his shoes, and replaced them with Tyrl's heir and their men. That's where I am, now, in one of the dungeons again. At least now I can see the passing of days…but I seem to not care anymore.
Today, just today, Passepartout came looking for help from Karl. They destroyed the Aurora, and tortured him before dropping him off to die with only me to confess to. My only hope, dying in my arms because I had chosen to lead his master, his friend, down an alley I thought was safe! All of this, all these innocent deaths, my fault.
I look out my window and up at the full moon. The romantic in me, the part of me that is nearly dead, remembers when we sailed on the Aurora across such a moon, but now…now, there is no Aurora, no Passepartout to talk with and invent with, no Fogg to verbally challenge or watch as he skillfully wins game after game of poker, no Rebecca to admire as Fogg does the same. No one, not even Felix. I doubt Argo is even alive, and if he is then Gregory would use him to try and hurt me. I'm beyond it now. All I want is to not be alone. God, I am so alone. I don't care where I go, even if it's the deepest pit of hell, as long as there is someone else, anyone else, then I'll endure my suffering all so that they wouldn't leave. God, please at least let me die.
A small sound, familiar somehow, catches my attention and I turn to look around my small cell. They took away all of the cots or anything that I could hurt myself with, and the guards outside would hear if I started to bang my head against the wall to crack it open…besides, they would probably find a way to keep me alive. I turn and I face a strange yet welcome sight.
In front of me is the Phoniex, the ship that Alexandre Dumas, my friend that somehow escaped the League (well, hopefully) had built and we had left in the endless void of time. There was no other way to redeem myself. I jump in and the ship disappears into time.
I now catch a glimpse of myself in a reflective part of the ship. My hair had prematurely grayed and is wild and grown a little longer then I usually have it. My eyes are still the dark and almost innocent eyes they were when I saw them last but I can tell that there is nothing innocent about my haunted gaze. I can almost see Fogg in my eyes when Saratoga Brown was killed. I understand his grief now, though I don't think he would wish it on anyone but Gregory. My face is thin, pale from lack of sunlight, and the circles under my eyes have grown considerably. My clothing are dirty and near rags, the same ones I had on a year ago and barely washed but they lasted. I find a place to sit down and I begin to rock. With the Phoniex, I can save the others, make it so that they never died such horrible death…so that I won't let them die horrible deaths and be behind the instrument that does it. My possibilities start with destroying one of Gregory's ancestors, but they work their way down to his mother before I realize that Gregory could have important, distantly-related people who help keep other things safe while he would exploit them. I go to when Gregory is cut in quarters by wild horses, but end it when I realize that, despite it all, Gregory had an impact on the lives of everyone, including Fogg and Rebecca, though the ends were not originally good but somehow helped them get closer. I slowly skipped through the years I lived, the years Phileas and Rebecca and everyone lived until I come to the one conclusion I nearly started with…the DAY. I always know it as the DAY, because I really don't want to remember the exact time that I started to kill off my friends, family and even anonymous people that didn't know who I was. I would go to Fogg, because going to myself would only confuse me. A small smile, the first one from something funny in nearly a year, crosses my face and quickly disappears. My friends are dead, and I'm making myself laugh? A tear starts to form, but I brush it away. I've gotten good at that, since it all began. I would tell the Foggs, then when it worked out I would disappear forever, unknown to my former self and wonderfully so. I would, in a sense, die and be free of all my deeds.
So I set out for a year later, a day before I kill my friends.