To Live Again 12

Eh.. sorry I'm late...

"So this is Oriana." Erik stared.

The portrait was a massive depiction of mother and daughter. Joelle looked to be about ten, adorable in a white summer dress embroidered with little blue flowers. She was like a miniature version of her mother.

Oriana Danae Etienne was a gorgeous woman, with hair like her daughter, silken shadow which curled perfectly around her face. Her eyes were a darker blue, shimmering with a clever wit. Her smile, the little tilted grin Joelle often wore, was positively captivating, and more than a little mischievous. Even in portrait form, the woman possessed a charisma, the type that stunned him so often from her daughter. This was definitely the presence that had surrounded him in the garden.

"The love of my life." Lyle murmured, "This is how I'll always remember her. That artist was a genius.

"So I see." Erik agreed, "Joelle certainly resembles her mother."

Lyle nodded. "She's a very special woman, my little girl. I hope you appreciate her."

"How could I not? For the punchbowl stunt alone, she'll have my undying respect."

"For awhile, I was so afraid she'd never find that old inner flame again, the one that always made her so fascinating. Even as a little girl, she had admirers."

"Thus the problem with Rojer."

"She's like her mother." Lyle remarked absently. "Even were she not so physically beautiful, that fire would keep 'em coming."

From the wedding, to the ride home, Lyle had changed. Then it dawned on him, with the wistful, pained expression on the other man's face as he looked upon a portrait that showed a more idyllic time.

Lyle was a man who lived on memories, Erik realized. For him, more so than Joelle or Dom, life was shattered that day six years ago.

It must be terrifying for a man to realize that he could not save his wife, and then further to realize that he could not even protect his own daughter.

Dom and Joelle were younger, more flexible emotionally.

They were marked, indeed, by this sorrow, but not destroyed by it.

But for the most part, Lyle was trapped in the past.

He loved his children, but without his other half, without the simple confidence in the safety of his own home, he was a broken man.

Erik felt a keen sense of pity for Lyle, aged so much more than the years between he and Erik.

If only he could stay in now, and see how things had changed.

Perhaps if he went in the garden?

True, the memory there was bad, for that was the place where the neat pattern of life before the tragedy was so brutally snapped.

But it was no longer a place of death, or even the simple place of quiet it had been before.

The garden was a place of healing, of solace.

It was a place of spirits and magic.

But, more importantly, it was a testament to the fact that Oriana had never truly left her family.

In that place, there would always be a part of the radiant woman with the mischievous smile, watching over her family.

Or waiting, perhaps, for the man who had never stopped loving her.

The portrait was more than a picture of a mother and daughter.

It was a still frame in time.

A frozen moment.

A piece of life that could never be recaptured.

It was life before the loss of innocence.

Before a forbidden glance stole Joelle's sense of security.

Before she got that sad, guarded look that came over her sometimes, when she felt alone, or vulnerable.

Before blood spilled in a place treasured by mother and daughter, both slaughtering and immortalizing the former.

'The human spirit,' Erik mused, 'Is a mysterious and wondrous thing. In the face of such a tragedy, different forms of humanity react in different ways. Some shut down, losing that spark of resilience. Some are kindled, becoming angry and bitter. But for the lucky few, it tempers them, like turning sand to glass in the fires of the kiln. Shadows of what was and what transpired may lay upon them still, but it all makes them who they are. Beautiful still for the sadness and the pain, and the strength that they acquire. You can never truly tell how each individual will react to a change. For me, I was nearly broken. I wondered, at times, if I truly had a soul to destroy. If a monster could have the parts of a man. The lines are blurred now, between past and present. So much has changed about my perception of mankind. Curiosity and fascination replace loathing and distrust. Pain has been replaced, if not completely, with love. For once, love was not hopeless, or painful, or futile.' He smiled wryly, looking into the eyes of Joelle's childhood countenance. 'Time changes all.'

How true it was.

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Rojer heard the crashes and gunshots in the corridors of the prison and smiled. He sat back casually, waiting patiently until the door opened.

"So nice of you to come, Calvin." He said to the man that had opened it. "I was wondering what kept you."

The man nodded, sighing, "Well, I didn't have much choice. Are we even now, Rojer?"

"Nearly, there is merely a small matter in which I would like to enlist your aid…"

"With a price, old friend, always with a price."

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"Not bad for a beginner." Raoul said, looking pensively down at his hand, "But I think you better save the celebration." He laid down his hand, smiling broadly.

Erik looked horrified, "I…lost?" He gaped, "To… to you?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, grimacing, "You know, you don't have to sound so surprised." He said, "It's kind of insulting."

Christine snickered. "Joelle warned you." She reminded Erik.

"How cold." Erik murmured in mock despair, "Oh Christine! Can't you spare a little pity for your Angel of Music?" He implored.

"Hey hey hey! Let's not go there!" Raoul protested, "It always ends badly."

"I quite agree!" Joelle snapped, slightly threatened by the secretive smiles exchanged by Erik and Christine.

"Feeling neglected, my love?" Erik's arms suddenly encircled her from behind. He smiled smugly as she melted back against his chest, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "You know you're the only one for me."

Joelle blushed, closing her eyes, "And don't you forget it, buddy."

"Ecccchhhhh!" Raoul groaned.

"Awwwww!" Christine disagreed.

"Back me up, Christine!" Raoul begged.

"I can't help it! They're so cute!"

Erik smirked at Raoul, who very maturely stuck out his tongue.

"Raoul, grow up," Joelle scolded, without opening her eyes, "And Erik, stop gloating, or I'll tell them your nickname. You know, the cute one because of your little smirks."

Erik blushed behind the lifelike mask, so much so that it showed through.

Christine snorted.

"Nickname?" Raoul raised his eyebrow.

"Weren't you boys playing poker?" Joelle asked.

"Don't spoil the moment, dear." Erik said, lavishing kisses along her throat.

Raoul made a disgusted noise.

Erik responded with a rather obscene hand gesture, not bothering to spare the other man a glance.

Christine giggled, "I love this!" She gushed, "Things are so interesting when we're all in the same room!"

"If it gets anymore interesting, we might be getting back to the bloodshed days." Joelle remarked, reluctantly slipping away from Erik, who gave her a mildly dejected look.

"Cuddles later, darling." She soothed.

He perked up.

"Oh for the love of god!" Raoul groaned, "Honestly, Joelle! Do you two have to be like that all the time?"

"You and Christine were, much to my displeasure." Erik replied, "Give me my moment."

"But she's my COUSIN! I don't want to see that." Raoul protested, "She's almost like a sister! Give me a break!"

"Let's take pity on him, luv." Joelle said gently, the glint in her eyes revealing her obvious enjoyment of Raoul's discomfiture.

"Alright." Erik slipped back to the table. "Deal it again, Raoul." He said, "And this time I'd like some GOOD cards, or you can expect a repeat of the previous scene to soothe my fragile ego."

Christine and Joelle both snorted at his last remark, and he gave them a scandalized look.

Raoul rolled his eyes, "Should I just forfeit now? It seems I lose either way. Which is the lesser of two evils?"

"Don't worry, honey." Christine soothed, "I've never seen Erik lose twice in a row."

"Am I being conspired against?" Raoul wondered aloud.

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I admit, this is sort of a filler.

But hey!

Plot Development!

And I'll give something away: This is Rojer's last escape!