Chapter Sixteen
(Meg, Lizz and RAEB are sitting in a palm tree on a Hawaiian resort. Meg is looking through a pair of binoculars.)
RAEB: This is pointless.
Lizz: Can we go kayaking?
Meg: Not until we see Gerard!
RAEB: Erm… why?
Meg: So I can ask him to prom.
Lizz: Is that even legal? LWon't that be an issue, you going with a guy who's twenty years older than you?
Meg: If he's a celebrity, it probably won't be.
RAEB: Meg, look at the facts. He's famous. He's older, much older than you. He's unattainable. Go with someone else.
Meg: NO!
RAEB: Well Lizz, I tried.
(A coconut hits RAEB, knocking her off her perch. Lizz is hit next, falling off as well. Meg does not notice.)
Meg: My sources tell me he is here… c'mon, Gerard! Hey, maybe he'll wear his Phantom mask. That'd be so awesome!
(A coconut hits Meg. She shrieks as she falls off the palm tree.)
"Mr. Snyder, Mrs. Snyder, how good it is to finally meet you!" Cathy Moss greeted Rose and Ratigan as they entered the parlour in the Moss's home.
"The pleasure is all ours," Ratigan said courteously, kissing her hand. Rose nodded assent.
They were led to chairs, where two hours of small talk began. Rose could hardly stand it, and could now see why Ratigan had told her to not even talk to him on the train when she herself had tried a little small talk with him. It was pointless, stupid, boring, ordinary people talking about ordinary things that no one in the room truly cared about.
But how strange it was to see Professor Ratigan in the real world, the world beyond the sewers, the world beyond crimes. Although he was here for the sake of crime, he was polite, charming, and intriguing, and so not out-of-the-ordinary in this setting. It was anything but what the public would expect from such a plotting, conniving man.
After tea Ratigan and Rose were shown to their room to 'freshen up' for dinner.
As soon as they were within the safety of their room, Rose breathed a sigh of relief. She did not realize until then the stress headache she had incurred from the pressure to not make a mistake in front of the Mosses. She sank into a chair and closed her eyes.
"You're doing well, my dear."
Rose opened her eyes. Ratigan was writing something down in his pocketbook.
"How can you do this so easily?" Rose asked.
"I'm evil. You're not," Ratigan said as he wrote. "That's why it's so hard for you to lie to them."
Rose wanted to tell him that she felt evil as well, but she did not.
The charade continued at dinner, where Ratigan told amusing stories of his persona's experiences in his youth. Rose silently admired his skill, wondering if any of those stories were not fabrications.
Rose was put in the spotlight after dinner, when Moss and Ratigan left the room to have cigars in his study, leaving Rose and Cathy alone.
Rose found herself bombarded with questions about herself and her life in its social and material forms. She tried to answer them to the best of her ability. Although she had been somewhat prepared by Rachel Dunlap and her sister, Rose felt inadequately up to the task when Cathy started to ask rather personal questions about David Snyder.
She was complaining about her husband's unnecessarily expensive hobby of collecting crockery. But then she asked, "Doesn't your husband have any little fetishes he just has to satisfy?"
Rose wanted to tell her about how Ratigan was eyeing the Crown Jewels at this very moment. "Well, David has a large library-"
"Oh Jane, most men have libraries. Isn't there anything out of the ordinary about him?"
Despite the fact that he is the Napoleon of Crime? "He loves Greek myths."
"Oh." Cathy sounded anything but interested. But then she started to talk about something else that was vaguely related to Greece, and the conversation steered off in another direction. Rose was relieved.
The next day Rose went with Cathy to visit some friends at one Mrs. Williams's house. The girl was surprised to find Rachel Dunlap among the women gathered there. She later learned that Rachel and her husband lived in Whitby.
At one point Rachel managed to pull her to the side. "How's it going?"
"Fine," Rose said quietly. "But Mrs. Moss asks so many questions!"
"That's what we were preparing you for, darling. How's James?"
"Good, I guess." Rose really did not know; the professor had hardly said anything to her the night before.
"Tell him that he has to see me before you go."
"All right."
Rose woke up out of a deep sleep sometime in the night, feeling strangely out of place. She turned her body toward the sleeping form of Ratigan; he was snoring lightly next to her.
She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. A few minutes later she opened her eyes, suddenly feeling wide awake. She moved around, trying to get into a comfortable position. A few times she brushed against Ratigan's body, and just as quickly moved further away to her side of the bed. Rose wished he was a smaller man; his body took up most of the bed and, even though he respected her, she did not like her privacy being invaded in this way. She thought the entire situation was incredibly awkward, but Ratigan said that they had to keep up appearances as much as possible.
She gave up trying to sleep. Slowly slipping out of the bed so her movements would not disturb Ratigan, she stepped lightly onto the floor and gently replaced the bedclothes over where she had been a moment before. She went to the window, slightly drew the curtain inside, unlatched and opened the window. Her gaze was drawn to the bright orbs in the sky. She had not seen a clear night sky in the longest time. It was hard to see the stars in London, what with first being a barmaid and working all night, and then simply not caring while being in the sewers. The stars looked so peaceful, so content……
Rose heard the mattress springs creak as Ratigan turned his body in the bed behind her. Then she heard him pull back the covers, get up and walk over to her.
"What are you doing?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Looking at the stars. I couldn't sleep, sir." It sounded silly coming out of her mouth.
"Hm." Ratigan pushed back the curtain so he could see as well. "One almost forgets how hard it is to see the stars in London."
"Yes."
Rose waited for Ratigan to go back to bed, but he seemed suddenly inclined to look at the stars. He began to point out constellations to her, telling her their stories. She listened, enthralled, wondering how she could have ever feared this man before.
And secretly wishing that this moment could last forever…
The next day was one more day of nothingness, of Cathy Moss's small talk and gossip, of Frederick Moss and Ratigan going over business while the women took a walk along the cliffs. Ratigan had informed her this morning that they would be leaving the very next morning. Rose was relieved and disappointed at the same time.
She was quiet, and sad, but luckily Cathy's incessant chattering seemed to prevent her from observing anything amiss in her guest.
That night Ratigan climbed out the window in full evening attire to pay his promised visit to Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap. Rose went to the window and watched him as he crossed the grounds, disappearing down the gravel drive. When he was out of sight she remained, trying to concentrate on the stars. But for some reason, they were not as brilliant this evening as they had been the night before.
After a little while she reluctantly went to bed, but could not sleep again. She kept her eyes on the open window.
Rose felt in poor spirits on the train ride back. She had despised the visit with the Mosses and the time spent with Cathy, but she had enjoyed Ratigan's company. To her surprise, the professor talked to her, asking her how she had liked Whitby and what she thought of the Mosses. It was small talk, but Rose was grateful for the chance to not think.
When they had run out of things to talk about, Rose cleared her throat. "Sir?"
"Yes?"
"What was the purpose of your business there?"
Ratigan was trying to hold back a smile. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that. It certainly took you long enough."
Rose felt embarrassed. She had not wanted to ask him because she had thought that if he really wanted her to know what it was he would have told her. She waited for him to reply to her question, but when he failed to, she repeated her question.
"I cannot tell you."
Rose frowned. "That's unfair."
Ratigan shook his head. "It is fair. You cannot handle certain things. The less you know of those things, the better for you, and for our relationship."
"Now I'm even more curious. Oh please tell me!"
"No."
"Why?"
"You wouldn't be able to handle it."
"Yes I would! How bad could it be?"
"Trust me. You wouldn't be able to."
Rose sighed. They were silent for a few moments.
"Rose." She looked up at Ratigan. "I want you to consider joining my organization permanently. I think you could really do well for yourself."
Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Ratigan stopped her before she could say anything. "I don't want an answer for at least a month. I want you to think long and hard about this, about what you would be getting yourself into. Some people cannot handle the stress of possibly getting caught by the police, or doing whatever needs to be done to complete a job. Take all of this into consideration. Then we'll talk about it."
Rose nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll think about it."
Rose moved back to her flat in The Rat Trap, to the general surprise of most of the employees. Rose ran into Giovanni one day, who made an insulting comment about Rose being the Boss's 'little plaything.'
Scarlet was thrilled to see the girl again. She visited her the first evening she came back, and found out all that Rose would allow herself to say about her absence. The disreputable woman had heard of the Big Ben Caper, just as everyone else had, and she suspected that Rose had had something to do with it. She did not refer to the Caper, except to say that the girl was only going to get herself killed if she was not careful.
Rose continued her work for Professor Ratigan, as always. She attended several of his meetings for a new job, attentively listening to his detailed plans. She even came on a few more jobs, but only observed the process at Ratigan's side.
She was seriously considering joining Ratigan's organization. A great change had taken place since she had run away from home. When she had first come to London she had been an innocent, quiet, harmless, weak girl. Now, finding her missing family was no longer her greatest desire. She felt that she could no longer relate to them. After all she had seen, all she had been through, taking up her past life would be next to impossible.
The barrel in the sewers felt like her home. She felt like she was important, that her presence there meant something by the way the thugs and the professor treated her. And Ratigan had technically taken her in, saved her from the streets when Giovanni had threatened to throw her out. Although Ratigan had almost shot her when they first met, that incident no longer mattered to Rose.
What mattered was that her heart had changed. It had grown dark and clouded over with evil intent. It did not show on the outside, but she felt the sickness within her heart, the black-hearted and cold thing she had been turned into. She loathed that she helped Ratigan with his crimes, but she also loathed the people above the surface who walked the streets, the stupid and shallow mice who did not care whether she lived or died.
She realized that Professor Ratigan was helping her in the greatest way possible. He was giving her a purpose, a reason to live. Just one amused laugh, one kind glance from those yellow eyes, one nod of acknowledgement, could send Rose from the most dismal depths to the greatest heights. But then he would be short with her, or worse, ignore her, casting her back down into misery and her recurring ideas of suicide. Her emotions fluctuated between both extremes, sometimes on a daily basis.
One month after Ratigan had told her to consider joining him, she told him that she needed more time to think about it. Two months went by, and she asked for even more time. She felt that accepting him would be like signing her soul away. She wanted to do it, but she feared that she would regret it as soon as she did it.
One dreary day Rose trudged through the sewers, trying to shake off her low spirits. She hoped that Ratigan had another plan in mind; he had not planned a job in a few weeks, and she and the other thugs were getting restless.
Entering the throne room, she found Ratigan playing at his harp, wearing such a dark expression on his face that she could not help but stop and stare at him, trying to figure out what had made him so depressed. His eyes were riveted to one spot in the air, concentrating on something that was not there. His fingers mechanically plucked the strings of the instrument leaning against his massive shoulder.
"Good morning, sir," she said, trying to sound cheerful.
He did not look up, but made a slight nod that made Rose wonder if he had even heard her. She decided that it would be best to start making breakfast, and went into the kitchen.
He played his harp for most of the morning. She did not know what to do. His sudden mood was making her uneasy. His moods affected everyone in the sewers. She could tell that some of the thugs were worried as well about him.
"He got like this last night," Gerald explained to Rose. "It happens sometimes, especially when it rains. He becomes dark, dangerous, like the devil himself had taken over him. He's actually killed people when he's been in these moods."
"What makes him better?" she asked anxiously.
"Well, playing that harp. But it doesn't always work."
"Isn't there anything else?"
Gerald shrugged. "Just best to keep out of the way until it passes."
"How long will it last?"
"It will last as long as a piece of string, Miss Rose. Long as a piece of string. Tell me how long a piece of string is, and then I'll tell you when he'll be better."
Ratigan was still that way when Rose was preparing herself to leave at eight that night. She was worried to leave him in the lair by himself. He had not said anything to anyone or eaten anything all day. When she had tried to coax him to eat something, he had given her such a murderous look that she had promptly fled.
She was afraid. But Gerald told her to leave; that she would not be able to do anything anyway.
She left reluctantly, breathing a small prayer for his well-being.
The next morning was bright and sunny, a complete contrast to the day before. Rose dressed quickly, wondering whether the good weather would put Ratigan in a better mood.
But when she got to the lair, she could no find him anywhere. She made his breakfast and everything, but he never appeared.
He was not there the whole day.
The next day was the same, and the next, and the next…
He had been gone from the lair at days at a time before, but never while under the dark mood that Rose had witnessed. No one, not even the thugs had any idea where he might have gone and why. They came every day, asking Rose whether she had seen the professor yet. After several days rumors started to circulate that Basil of Baker Street had captured Ratigan, or killed him, leaving his body in the Thames. Rose went about her work, but with a sick feeling inside. Where was he? Why was he not there? Was he in trouble, hurt?
In a moment of panic, she went into his private quarters, a place she was never allowed into. She found his rooms trashed. Long claw marks were on the walls, furniture was broken up, clothes ripped. She even saw some dried blood on the floor.
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. What had happened here?
Five days after Ratigan had disappeared, Rose went to work as usual. She was taken aback to find Ratigan sitting in his usual attire, talking to Fidget in the throne room. Her heart jumped. He looked perfectly fine, as if he had never been through a dark stage, had never left. He even gave her a slight nod and a small smile as she went into the kitchen.
At breakfast he talked to her of his next great crime, of what he was going to do and how he was going to outsmart Basil once and for all in an animated tone. She listened, so relieved that he was back to his normal self, and hoping that he would not go through such a state of depression again.
(Meg storms into a hotel room, rather bruised and battered. JWJ and Luke look up.)
Meg: Okay, who did it this time?
JWJ: What happened to you?
Meg: Some jerk threw coconuts at me, RAEB, and Lizz as we were staking out Gerard's resort! So we fell out of the palm tree, into the grounds, and they set the guard dogs on us! I didn't even get to see Gerard! Now who's responsible?
Luke: You think we would have thrown coconuts at you?
Meg: Well, not really you, Luke. More like JWJ and Ratigan. Where is that rat anyway?
JWJ: He doesn't care about your date; he didn't follow you here.
Meg: Well you don't either, but you're still here.
JWJ: For a tan. Goes good with blonde highlights.
Luke: And about your story… we're starting to think that Rose is in-
Meg: SHUT UP ABOUT THE STORY!
Luke: Why?
Meg: Because… my feelings are hurt. I think I'll go crawl into my hole now, and plot another way to get to Gerard.
JWJ: (sigh) Women.