Chapter Nineteen
Meg: Okay, to answer Ytak's question: This story isn't on my Meg Sarentis timeline; it's a completely different story. I've gotten bored with Meg Sarentis, so we'll have to see where I go next with that.
Rose first came to The Rat Trap in March 1896, and since the movie takes place in 1897, she's working for Ratigan before the fall from Big Ben. Right now in the story it's February 1897. Going by Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee (yeah, I had too much spare time in study hall so I researched it), Queen Moustoria's Diamond Jubilee celebration is going to be on June 21. Rose's birthday is on June 22.
Coincidence? I think not, mwhahahahaha!
They managed to get Ratigan in his bed. Rose could not think anything else that could be done. He was not completely unconscious. He kept muttering to himself, but he did not appear to comprehend anyone's presence there.
There was a strong debate about whether or not they should try to tie him up. Rose was against it, because she thought it might set him off again. In the end she was overruled by the other thugs.
Fidget was trying to tie Ratigan's right hand to the bedpost when he snapped. With one swipe of his claws Fidget was sent halfway across the room. He jumped on the rest of them, bit Bartholomew in the arm until he drew blood, and started to lash out at anyone who got in his way. One blow to her chest threw Rose against the wall.
All the thugs scattered, leaving Rose and Fidget in the room. Rose froze in her tracks. Ratigan did not seem to actually see them; he was too full of rage.
Fidget, however, only knew that he wanted to get as far away from his boss as possible. He began to scamper towards the door.
"BASIL!"
Ratigan picked up part of a broken chair and started after Fidget. Rose knew he was probably going to end up killing the bat. She jumped up and yelled, "Sir, it's me!"
He stopped and turned around. She could see madness in those eyes. But she also saw something else… was it fear?
Fidget made it to the doorway and disappeared from sight. The door closed softly behind him.
"Who are you?" Ratigan asked hoarsely. He was looking right at her, but he looked so lost, as if he was trapped within his own tortured imagination. She was too afraid to answer. He lifted up the chair. "WHO ARE YOU? ANSWER ME!"
"It's me, sir. Rose McGeady."
He dropped the chair, and looked like he was going to collapse again. He grabbed the bedpost and leaned on it. "No… NO! You're a phantom, one of those phantoms! Stay away from me!"
"I'm not a phantom, sir."
"STAY AWAY!" he screamed. "You here me? STAY AWAY!"
"I'm not going to hurt you, sir. I cannot hurt you."
He took a step towards her. "Who are you? Where are you? Speak! Where are you!"
"Right here," she said, pressing herself against the wall. He took another step, and another.
"It's you? Not a phantom?" he said half-threateningly, half pleadingly. "Don't lie to me!"
"I cannot lie to you, sir," Rose said, her voice trembling, as he reached his hands towards her voice.
As if by instinct, she reached her hand out and grasped his monstrous claw. He clamped the other hand over hers and pulled her towards him. He ran his hands over her face.
"Is it you?"
"It's me, sir."
He drew her towards him and began to silently sob. Rose closed her eyes, feeling him shake against her.
"Rose," he whispered. "I am a fool… Rose…"
"No, you're not, sir. You're anything but a fool," she muttered back, burning inside to say what she really longed to reveal.
I love you, sir. I have loved you ever since that night you told me stories about the stars. I know I'm young and naïve, but I know that I never want to leave you. I'd die to know you love me, sir. I think you do; there are times when I think I do… but maybe it is only a foolish young girl's fancy. Perhaps you won't admit it to yourself. Please, please say you love me…
Rose was so weary. Professor Ratigan would not calm down until he had her assurance that she would stay by him as he slept, and even then he did not rest easy. He tossed and turned and cried out things in his sleep. The other thugs had cleared out long ago; none of them dared to come in after the last time he had snapped. She had been up with him, alone, all night long.
She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and watched him. He was finally sleeping peacefully, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from him. She yawned and lay down on the cold, hard floor next to the bed. She could not sit up anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep…
Scarlet woke up with a start. She sat up straight and looked around the room. Rose was not back yet.
After seeing Rose last night, in her nightgown, with that thug, she guessed where she was going. Scarlet had panicked. What business did she have in the sewers at that time of night, and not even dressed properly?
Scarlet had wanted to stop the girl from going down there, but she could not get over the look on Rose's face when she saw the whore with her customer. Scarlet had been too shocked, too hurt to say anything.
After she had finished her business, Scarlet had gone back to Rose's flat, determined to get her to turn Professor Ratigan in before she lost the little innocence she had left. The door had been unlocked, and the room empty. Scarlet had sat down on the bed, waiting for Rose to come back. But she had fallen asleep…
Scarlet had never been one to care for others. She had had her heart broken at fifteen, and had never quite recovered. It was one reason she had fallen into her occupation; she was looking for a love that she had been hungering for. But many men, many nights later, she realized that she had hardened herself to love for others. She deliberately made a point to have no friends. That was, until one rainy March evening almost one year ago…
It had been pity that had moved Scarlet to help Rose. She thought that the girl would leave her world soon anyway and would forget all about it. It was not supposed to last, her camaraderie with Rose. But one instance after another occurred; she had watched Rose wither and fade under Giovanni's abuse, fall into the trap of London's underworld, sink into her own depression, and finally end up becoming a part of the Ratigan's diabolical crime chain.
Scarlet had tried. Oh God, she had tried! She had tried to free Rose from the trap, to save an innocent from the evil her association with Ratigan would inevitably produce. Had she irreversibly transformed from the shy, sweet, innocent, naïve girl of one year ago to a young woman tainted with the stains of sin and wickedness?
Rose had once told Scarlet that her heart had been changed. Well, so had Scarlet's. She cared about what happened to Rose because Rose was her friend. And friends came to each other's aid when they were in trouble, right?
Like when Rose paid Scarlet's rent for four months without her knowing it. And the time that the girl got some of Ratigan's thugs to rescue Scarlet when a violently drunk customer had almost beaten her to death in the alley behind the pub. Scarlet still had scars from the incident, but at least she was still alive.
And now Rose needed her help.
Scarlet looked at the pocket watch that Rose had left on the nightstand. It was almost noon! Where was she?
Maybe Ratigan had hurt her. Maybe he had even killed her…
Scarlet turned over the toiletries on the nightstand. She gently fingered the tarnished silver brush and mirror, the hair pins, the leather-bound copy of Anna Karenina from the Professor's collection. She turned over the leaves of the book. She tried to read it, but her literacy was limited, so she eventually put the book down again.
Scarlet moved to the old trunk Rose had bought in a second-hand shop. She opened it and began to look through the clothes. There were blue and black skirts; white shirts, some plain, some with colored stripes, to match, and green, mauve, yellow, navy blue, purple, black dresses. At the bottom of the trunk were two patched dresses, one black and one a faded green, and a copy of A Tale of Two Cities, the last remnants of a home long forgotten. Scarlet knew that Rose considered the sewers her home, the thugs her brothers, Professor Ratigan her…
What did she consider Ratigan to be? What was their relationship? Once, in their arguments about Rose's occupation, she had heatedly told Scarlet that the Boss was the cure for her sickness, the antidote for her poison, the answer to her frantic prayer.
Scarlet slammed the trunk shut. She looked out the window. It was dark and overcast out, but the rain had stopped. She referred to the pocketwatch again. Almost one o'clock.
"Forgive me, dearie," Scarlet muttered, putting on her cloak. "I'm goin' to get ye out and away if it's the last thing I do."
Rose opened her eyes and found herself on the bed. How did she get here? She was covered up. She looked over at the other side of the bed. Ratigan was not there.
She sat up. Her head swam slightly. She looked around the room. It looked like it had been cleaned up some; at least all the broken furniture and clothes were in two piles by the door.
She threw off the covers and found that the shawl was still wrapped around her shoulders. She found her slippers next to the bed. She put them on and went through the door and into the study. She found no one there, so she went into the throne room.
Rose found no one there as well. She checked the kitchen, the cells, everywhere; there was no one in sight. She decided to give it up and go back to her flat when she heard the grate shut behind her.
She turned around just in time to see Professor Ratigan stop in his tracks. He looked surprised, as if he had not expected to find her there.
There was a moment of embarrassed silence between them.
Ratigan nodded at her. "So you're finally up."
"Yes, sir."
They fell into silence again. Rose was starting to get uncomfortable and cold, so she moved towards the grate. "Sorry, sir," she whispered, hurrying past him.
He looked astonished. "For what? Where are you going?"
"To get dressed, sir."
"Rose…" he began. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him.
He coughed. "Come back around ten. I have a new plan I want to outline to everyone."
Rose nodded. "Goodbye, sir."
"Goodbye? Are you leaving for good?" he said half-teasingly, half of some other emotion Rose could not detect.
"No, never," Rose said softly. "I don't know whether to say 'good afternoon' or 'good evening', sir. I don't have a watch to tell the time."
"It's about six in the evening."
"Oh. Well, good evening then, sir." She turned back to the grate and descended into the pipes.
The distance from the lair to the pub seemed to be longer than usual. Rose could not shake off the feeling that something was following her. She stopped a few times and looked into the darkness: nothing. Once she turned around and yelled, "WHO'S THERE?" only to be met with echoes of "Who's there?" bouncing off the walls.
But there was one point when she abruptly stopped; the light pattering of feet that soon stopped to hide the fact that someone was there convinced Rose that her imagination was not getting away with her.
Rose lost it. She fled through the pipes, only wanting to get away from the unknown fiend who was thus torturing her already confused mind.
She finally made it to the trapdoor. Breathing heavily, she turned around, half hoping to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. But no one came out of the pipe.
She slowly entered the surface, wondering what was lurking beneath.
Ratigan watched Rose slowly climb through the trapdoor from the darkness of the pipe. He waited a few minutes, until he was sure that she had gone up to her flat. Then he went up to the trapdoor and to the pub.
He directly headed for the kitchen, where Giovanni and Millie were having a shouting match.
"You're scum! Low-lying scum!" Millie shrieked.
"You don't know what you're talking about, woman! I can't run a business with you people stealing left and right from me!"
"No one stole your watch! You pawned it to Lizabetta, and you want to blame us so you can get the money!"
"Listen here, you stupid cow-"
Ratigan entered the room, abruptly ending all conversation. Giovanni's jaw dropped,. He quickly recovered, bowing low to the ground.
"How can I help you, sir?" he asked, trying his best to sound accommodating.
"I want to speak with Millie. Alone."
Giovanni bowed, replying, "As you wish, sir. If there is anything else I can-"
"NOW!"
The bartender quickly obeyed, shooting Millie a glare of resentment.
Millie quickly wiped her hands on her apron, looking embarrassed. "I was goin' to come down and tell her, just like you said, Boss, but that ass Gio started in on me stealing his watch, and it… slipped my mind. I'm so sorry, sir! I swear I'll do it now!"
Ratigan leaned over the table towards Millie. His face was void of emotion. "It was fortunate you didn't come down. She's already awake." He pointed to the ceiling. "She's in her flat now. If she doesn't come down in half an hour, go up and break the news to her."
Millie stared at the floor. "Yes, Boss."
Ratigan: You did it again! You paired me up with someone!
Meg: No, I didn't! I made someone fall in love with you! (grumbles) Even though I don't see why anyone would want to…
Ratigan: I will have my revenge!
Meg: Hey, this is MY revenge for you taking my CDs and destroying my car and ruining my chances with Gerard.
Ratigan: You never had any chances with Gerard!
Meg: (sighs) I hate prom.