Chapter Twenty-Four

(Meg storms into the room)

Meg: I have the worst luck ever!

Lizz: Why?

Meg: Because I find out on Friday morning that Tom Cruise proposed to Katie Holmes on top of the Eiffel Tower the day I left Paris for the U.S.!

Emma: And you care because…?

Meg: I really don't know, because I hate celebrities and I'd wish they didn't make such ridiculous amounts of money… but it would have been kind of cool to say, "Yeah, I was in Paris when that happened." But you don't even know the half of what went on while I was in France!

Emma: Like what?

Meg: Keeping reading this story, and the author's notes.

"Before man's fall, the rose was born,

St. Ambrose says, without the thorn."

-Robert Herrick, "The Rose"

Rose lay on the hardwood floor, staring at the ceiling. She had no idea how long she had been lying there. It could have been hours, or it could have been days.

It was not until the room got noticeably darker that Rose realized that this horrible day had not yet ended.

So many questions had flown through her head. So many ideas. So many schemes, desperate ways to somehow change everything and make it come out all right.

But it would never come out all right.

You cannot change the past. You cannot make people come back from the dead.

Rose realized that it was June 22, 1897. She was eighteen years old.

One year working for Ratigan.

Before the fall of man, in that Paradise in Eden, all flowers were bright and beauteous. Even the roses were perfect in every way.

Eden dissolved into the dust. Now there in no rose without a thorn.

And now Ratigan had fallen.

Rose felt lost, hopeless, helpless, miserable, tainted, poisoned, sick…

And alone.

She closed her eyes. She could still hear his voice outlining marvelous schemes in that boisterous way, singing his songs, and telling her stories about the stars…

"You're here," she whispered. She could almost feel him next to her, murmuring his stories to her. "You're here, right beside me. You would never leave me, sir."

She leaned over, reaching out her hand to him. She could almost see his hand, reaching out for hers…

She opened her eyes. The spell was broken: the room was as empty as her soul.

Oh Professor, why did you leave me?

Black, cold, heartless night. Why does misery seem to reach into our very souls at this time? It makes you feel as if the night will never end, and sweet morning will fail to come with new hope and new life.

All she could think was:

You will never be strong enough

You will never rise up again…

Rose… Rose…

She opened her eyes to a gray room. She could hear a light rain pattering on the roof. Dawn was near.

She had survived the first night.

But how would she be able to survive the next one, and the next, and the next?

She covered her eyes and let out a groan.

Rose…

She did not know where to go next. What was left for her? What had happened to the thugs? Or the people at The Rat Trap? Were the police looking for her?

Rose…

Of course they were. They, and that horrid Basil of Baker Street. Should she turn herself in, now that crime had nothing left for her?

No. She did not want to give Basil that satisfaction.

Rose…

Should she start anew? Impossible. How could she start anew without Ratigan?

She heard a faint moan. "Rose…"

She sat straight up. Ears perked, she listened.

All she could hear were the faraway shouts of sailors.

So then what had been the-

"Rose!" a pained voice cried out dimly.

Rose could not believe her ears. She ran to one of the windows. Pulling up the window, she leaned out and peered down at the ground. She could not see anything.

"Who's there?" she cried.

A dark form by the trash caught her eye as it emitted another moan.

Rose flew across the room, out the door, down the stairs, and all the way out the lodgers' entrance to the figure. It was covered in filth, with misshapen fur and nearly naked, shivering in the drizzle.

She knelt down by it and placed a hand on its hand. The hand weakly tried to raise itself, but dropped to the ground again. She lifted the figure's face towards hers. A pair of yellow eyes stared helplessly back at her. She cried out.

"Sir!"

"Rose," he whispered hoarsely. "Help me…"

"Oh my God, what happened?"

"Basil… bell… I fell… the Thames…" he gasped out, shaking violently.

"Where are you hurt, sir? I can't move you unless I know what injuries you have."

He only let out another cry of pain. Rose decided that she would have to find out herself.

She inspected his body, looking for any obvious injuries. She could see a few puncture wounds on his back, but they were not very deep. His tail, too, was bent in a horribly unnatural way. She touched it lightly, causing him to cry out again. Rose winced.

"Broken!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "Ribs, left arm, tail."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Can you walk, sir?"

He mumbled out something in reply. Rose looked uneasily about her. The rain could not be good for him. Who knew how long he had been out in it? And what if someone had seen him? She had to get him inside as quickly as possible.

"Come on, sir. I'm going to help you up to the flat," she said firmly to him. He just stared at her.

She bit her lip, trying to think of the best way possible to transport him. After a moment's deliberation, she lifted his right arm and put it over her shoulders.

"You must try to stand up."

Rose did not know how they did it, but she managed to assist the half-conscious rat up two flights of stairs. By the time they finally reached the flat, Rose could not hold him up any longer. He fell to the floor, giving only a slight groan as Rose partially caught his fall. She gently lifted him down the rest of the way.

She looked around the room, realizing too late that the room was still in disorder from the grief she had had the day before.

"We'll get you on the bed as soon as I put the-" Rose looked back at Ratigan. He had completely passed out. She was relieved. Now she could attend to him without him thinking her a complete idiot.

She decided that she could not lift him on the bed, so she put a pillow underneath his head and covered him with a blanket. She lit the stove and heated some water. While she was waiting for it to get hot she cleaned up the room and made the bed.

Then she took the water and did the best she could to sponge bathe the Professor, trying to pinpoint his wounds.

After a little cleaning he looked a lot more like the man she knew well with all the mud and grime off. But she was greatly surprised and concerned at what she found.

He had many lacerations on his torso and calves. She could not even see his back; he was too heavy for her to turn over. The tail was obviously broken, but the left arm did not look so bad. But Ratigan's fur was clammy; he was pale and sickly-looking. He was also breathing in short, quick breaths, as if he could not get all the oxygen he needed to his lungs.

Rose did not know what to do. She was not a nurse; the only medical experience she had ever had was assisting her mother with her youngest sister's childhood sicknesses.

Had he made it this far only to die?

Half an hour later Rose could not take it anymore. She shook Ratigan until he woke up.

He glanced at his surroundings in an almost panicked way. Then his eyes rested on Rose. He seemed to relax a little.

"Where… where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

"In your flat, sir," she said, smiling gently at him. "Don't you remember?"

He tried to get up, but gave a short cry of pain. He lay back down again. "I remember that," he muttered. He closed his eyes.

"Sir, you have some injuries that I cannot take care of. A broken arm, broken tail-"

"-My ribs, and my goddamn legs," he finished for her.

"What's wrong with your legs?"

"Can't feel them anymore."

"Do you have a doctor, someone I could go get for you?"

Ratigan opened his eyes. "How many are left, Rose?"

"What?"

"How many of my men? How many didn't get arrested? How many escaped still faithful to me?"

Rose looked at her hands. "I don't know, sir. It might have said in the papers, but I didn't really pay attention to the papers after they said that…" she stopped.

He fixed his yellow eyes on her. "What did the papers say?"

"They said that you were… dead."

"Dead!" he whispered sharply to himself. "They think I'm dead? Basil… thinks I'm dead?" He was silent for a moment. Then, "I don't care what Basil thinks. Rose!"

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

"This could work to our advantage. There's a certain doctor who lives in Southwark Cathedral. Dr. Reinsel's his name. Here's what you must do…"

The Adventures of Megana in France

(with the girls and teachers who went on the trip with her)

(The Opera Garnier in Paris)

Katie: Dude, that is big.

Valerie: Erm, Ms. Boyle and Mrs. Connors are practically drooling.

Lilly: Oh, that's because they're obsessed with Gerard and Patrick.

Meg: The Phantom of the Opera; stealing the hearts of two middle-aged teachers. Well, the heart of one teacher; Raoul stole the heart of the other. Puh-leez!

(The group goes up to a security guard. Madame Gallatin and the guard speak to each other in French.)

Madame: We can't do the tour girls. There's a performance tonight, and they don't give tours on days of performances.

Meg: That's disappointing.

Mrs. Connors and Ms. Boyle: WHAT? THEY CAN'T DO THAT!

Madame: We can go into the lobby, though.

(They go inside, the two teachers sulking.)

Meg: (hopping up and down) There's the staircase! It looks like how it does in the movie! Oooh, oooh!

Valerie: It's so pretty…

Mrs. Connors: I hate the French! I want to see my Phantom!

Megan: Okay, they're officially insane.

(Mrs. Connors jumps the rope and runs up the staircase.)

Security Guard: Arrêtez, Madame! Arrêtez!

Madame: STOP!

Ms. Boyle: (running after her) Get back here, Kathy! Gerard isn't worth it! Madame: Both of you, stop!

(Security runs after the two teachers, making Madame go with them.)

Katie: Erm, guys? There's no one here right now.

Erin: Yeah. So?

Katie: Why don't we… take a little tour?

Everyone else: (grins deviously)