Yay, and she finally updates. Please feel free to hurl abuse at me cos I probably deserve it. I won't bore you with details!
Disclaimer:- Basic plot-Disney. Words and waffle-me.
It had been mere seconds since Audrey Potter had left the kitchen in pursuit of some menial cleaning task, but to Bella's troubed mind, it felt like forever. Once again she had a feeling of detachment from her situation, like she was watching herself on a television screen or reading everything she did through the pages of some long-forgotten historical romance. If it wasn't for the heat from the still-warm cup of tea that infused her fingers, she would have sworn she was hallucinating or dreaming, snug and warm in her humble bedroom back home. Her house was less than a mile from where she was now sitting but it felt like an immeasurable distance away. Surely it was too far for her to go back to now…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a vacuum cleaner in the room above her. She wondered whether Audrey would clean the rest of the rooms now that the 'young master', as she called him, had a guest.
Bella sighed, deliberately and as loud as she could. To her surprise, her sigh seemed to take on a form all of its own; a misty cloud billowing from her pursed lips. Maybe it was even a little piece of her soul that had been looking for a way to escape and had seized this opportunity to expel itself from her mouth. Either that or it was cold in here. Bella shivered. The house seemed to have its own sub-zero temperature range. Again, she found herself cursing the apparant lack of central heating. At this rate, she thought she would happily stick her head in the oven like a writer she'd heard of but couldn't remember.
She groaned inwardly at the realisation that her mind was wandering to an increasingly surreal extent. Anything rather than think rationally. The noise of the vacuum cleaner grew even louder abover her head, sounding uncannily like a confused swarm of bees.
'Right! That's it!' thought Bella. 'I'm going to find him.'
She got up from the stool triumphantly and walked to the door, the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.
…………………………………………………………………………………
It was forty minutes later and she still hadn't found him, and it was just starting to annoy her. She'd been from one dusty room to another and another, and walked down many pointlessly long corridors. She'd even accidentally stumbled in on a rather exasperated Audrey Potter scrubbing a toilet, and asked her. The old lady had simply shrugged and shook her head, smiling more with every movement. Now Bella was only a few doors away from giving up. She tutted to herself.
'Typical! When you don't want him, he's there, and when you do, you can't bloody find him!'
Frustrated, she found a convenient, though grimy, window and leant against it, desperate for some sunlight after spending so long creeping down corridors in the dark. She allowed her bleary eyes to gradually focus on the view from the window. The sky was a turbulant blue with little wisps of cloud strewn all over it. The sun was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding somewhere just out of her sight. There was a tall oak tree to the left of the picture, majestic and regal. It had probably been there for centuries, seen countless people born, age and die, or maybe it had been alone for most of that time, standing guard over the other trees, proud and striking.
Her eyes followed the shape of the tree, down through its green leaves and twisty branches, down over its gnarled and weather-worn trunk. And sitting beneath the tree, like Newton waiting for the apple, was Bastian.
Bella's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. She started to turn to run down the stairs, the goal of her mission in sight, but something stopped her. Her eyes sparkled mischeviously as she decided she would simply stand there a while and watch him. She wondered if he liked being watched.
First, her eyes settled on the top of his head, which was bowed slightly as if something on the ground demanded his attention. His hair was messy (did she expect anything else?) and loose bits that had escaped from his pony-tail danced around his face, caught in an invisible breeze. His hair was an interesting colour, brown but not brown, maybe even black from some angles. No, not dark enough for black, but possibly a very deep brown, mused Bella.
The object of her gaze shifted a little on the bench on which he was sitting, and now Bella could see the top part of his face. The area around his left eye still looked swollen, and was that another cut on his forehead that she'd missed? So much for her first aid skills.
He was holding something in his hand. A flower of some kind. A rose?
Intrigued, Bella left her position at the window and walked to the stairs, roses on her mind.
………………………………………………………………………………
The wind touched Bastian's cheek, making him shiver slightly. It was colder out here than in the house, although that surprised him. He'd never noticed the cold before but today it had struck him as he had stood outside the kitchen door, listening to the voices within. He had stood there for ages it seemed, trying to summon up the courage to go in. If it had been just one voice, cheery and chuckling occasionally, he would have walked straight in and made himself breakfast. But there had been two voices, and one of them had been hers.
Hers.
That girl, woman, who had suddenly appeared in his life just when he'd almost given up hope of seeing another human being. Just when he'd resigned himself to interaction by mere pictures, flickers on the television screen, paint on canvas, words in books; she had come, like she'd stepped right out of his drawing, and filled his house with voices, hs sink with dishes, his heart with hope.
Hope.
Hope that he was worth something. Hope that he meant something to somebody, even if it was just a casual acquaintance, it still meant somebody else knew his name, would recognise him from a photograph.
Somebody other than Mrs. Potter.
Not that he didn't adore Mrs. Potter in a strange, distant way. She had done so much for him, had wiped away his tears, had helped him say goodbye, had offered to take him in and love him like her own son. He had said no. He had refused, consumed by grief and a longing to stay in his parents home. His home. For years he had wandered around the house aimlessly, barely speaking to her, not out of malice, but out of fear. Now he was older, and had gotten used to the loneliness. So used to it that he didn't know what to do when it was disrupted.
And now it had been disrupted.
He wondered whether she'd left yet, like he hadsuggested she do. He cursed himself. How could he? Push her away when she'd barely come in. Yes, she was probably long gone.
He stroked the rose in his hand gently and looked at the slab in front of him. Scrawled in childish permanent marker were the words;
Thomas and Joanna. Mother and Father.
And on top of it were several roses in various states of decay.
Not so long ago, he had wanted to join them. Had thought about it. Had dreamed of it even. But now, sitting here with the vision of her sweet face etched permantly in his mind, he no longer wanted to.
And he had let her go.
He laid the rose gently onto the slab, feeling its cold stone beneath his fingertips, and then sat back on the bench with his head in his hands, almost willing the tears to flow, but they didn't.
They didn't because he had heard footsteps on the ground by his side.
And stop. D'ya know I actually felt like crying when I finished that? But that's probably because I am the world's biggest wuss. We're talking 'flood-out-the-cinema-during-Titanic' kind of wussiness here.
Anyway……
TrudiRose- I know, I know, inconsistency alert! I think I've kind of fixed the whole Audrey taking him in thing in this chapter, but let me know if it doesn't flow right, and I'll go back and change a few things. Thanks for your continued helpful suggestions!
Bellamegs- Hazaaah! (Did I pull it off?) You know I've never been to one of those Renaissance fair thingies. Oh, I tell a lie. I went to one in Canada and it was atrocious. They couldn't decide what accent they were doing. As an English person, I found it laughable! Lol, I wouldn't call you a psycho. A little crazy maybe…
I don't know if she's falling in love yet cos she doesn't know him, shes more…..intigued and mysteriously drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, or me to the chocolate counter in the supermarket.
And yes, I am mean, but you can't have a good story without a few bad things happening!
LumBabsFan- Let's see……….am I going to do a chapter centred around Bastian? 'coughs and points upwards'. Ok so its not a full chapter, but they'll be plenty of opportunities to bask in his glory later on. You'll just have to wait and see.
Beautygirl- Yeah I'd thought I'd give her the option cos I'm nice like that. Currently don't have any plans to incorporate Lumiere and Cogsworth counterparts yet, but seeing as I seem to be making this story up as I go along, they might crop up later. Who knows?
Stephanie- Hey you stole my name! Thanks for reviwing. Always nice to meet new people :) Thanks for the compliments!
Asp and Rosakara- Thanks so much for your continued support!
