TalkingMime09
Disclaimer: I don't own The Count of Monte Cristo or any of its characters in any shape, way, or form.
Takes place while Maximilien is contemplating suicide after Valentine's supposed "death".
There's no real meaning to this fic really. I just felt like writing something. ^^
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Valentine was dead. Villefort's only daughter, barely twenty years of age, was dead. The angel who had graced the lives of many with her very presence was dead. However the situation was approached, there was no way to deny the unquestionable truth in the matter.
He had seen her pale face and the no longer beating heart with his very own eyes. The brief view of the horrid spectacle was enough confirmation.
The count had promised she would live. The count made a lot of promises, and he always kept them. But he could not this time. This time even the omnipotent Count of Monte Cristo could not keep his word. Who was the count to defy the laws of death? How was the count to defy God's will? Maximilien had been a fool to believe the count could achieve the unfeasible.
Valentine was dead.
An ominous gloom fell over the fairly undersized room. Deathly silence whispered in the darkened corners, broken only by the furious scratching of a pen flying hastily over parchment. Nothing else dared to move. The only occupant of the room was a young gentleman sitting at a desk, diligently working.
Two scraps of metal rested upon the desk in front of his busied hand.
"Ah the count of Monte Cristo!" Julie's voice rang distantly, but ever just as merrily through the halls.
The hands engaged with writing had not ceased composing the unfinished manuscript at any interruption within the past five minutes, but this time it was different. Abruptly, the scratching of pens across paper came to a halt and the hand resting on the parchment reached over to one of the pistols. Gripping the handle tightly, the metal burned icily in the grasp of his fingers. Like death. The young man had pondered death for the last couple of weeks.
"Maximilien just came home, didn't he?" was the count's response.
"Yes, I think I saw him go past," Maximilien heard his sister reply.
Now his hand holding the pistol lifted shakily to his head. A pistol seemed surprisingly heavy for a scrap of metal, especially when it was about to end one's life. His letter lay before him, unfinished, but the count had already arrived at the house. Maximilien had to act fast.
"Excuse me, but I must see him immediately. I have something extremely important to tell him." the count stated.
Maximilien drew in a sharp breath. His eyes mechanically shut tightly together. The Count of Monte Cristo would indubitably appear within seconds.
Julie made no effort to prevent him form proceeding with his task. "Go right on up, then."
Steady and sure footsteps drew nearer until they reached the room's entrance. It was now or never. Maximilien's finger prepared to squeeze the pistol's trigger. No turning back now.
"Shall I ring?" the count contemplated silently to himself at the door. "No, the sound of a doorbell often hastens the resolutions of one in Maximilien's situation, and another sound answers the sound of the bell."
After a brief pause, the door's glass panel broke open.
"Excuse me, I slipped, and my elbow went through the glass. But since it's broken; I'll take advantage of it to open the door; don't bother to get up."
Too late. It was the count. Maximilien hurriedly removed the pistol from its death-seeking position and placed it back in this place on the desk.
The young man wasted no time in continuing to calmly compose his letter, as if nothing had occurred, while the count graciously made his way across the room to meet him.
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