Chapter 6: Resistance

"You're awake, then?" a voice said. Charles opened his eyes to darkness. He heard a shuffle to near him.

"I guess we can begin." His arms and legs were bound to a reclining chair; a cheap plastic thing he'd only assumed the feel of. The man beside him caused a stir in the air, and another figure shifted in the dark.

"I suppose you want to know why you're here," the voice said. Charles didn't answer.

"Come now. You can speak, go on."

Charles closed his eyes and tried to gather his memories. He didn't remember anything but darkness, but before the dark was light… And Clara's terror.

"Where is Clara?"

"The girl?" a second voice laughed, "Don't worry about her. She's fine."

"What did you do to her?"

"She's fine, Charles. Lay off the subject."

Charles put his head back down on the chair, and focused his thoughts on his situation. Tied to a chair? These men were obviously not his friends. Why would they do this to him? He assumed his uncle had a share of the blame. But Clara?

"Let's get to the point, Charles. There was a little skirmish with the council. You see, old Manser left you a great deal of money. But you're not in the perfect condition to keep that money, understand? Because we've had spies following you awhile, and they've got evidence that you're not in your right mind. Now, we'll let you go, but you're not telling anyone, alright?"

"Why tie me up, then? Why knock me out and threaten me here?"

"Mr. Flenn does not like his daughter associating with madmen. We're terribly sorry for this development, but there's nothing we can do. Now, do you promise to keep quiet?"

"What'll you do if I talk?"

"Do we even need go there?"

Charles shook his head.

"No association with the Flenn girl, Charles. Got that?"

They waited a half-hour before letting him go.

"Daddy, really, you didn't have to do it." Clara murmured to her pacing father.

"Yes, Clara, yes I did. Do you know what your association with Charles has already done to the Flenn reputation? Your brother and I have been working like mules for longer than you've been alive. And what do you give us? An affair with a madman?"

"Daddy…"

"No, no, I understand that you had something for the boy, but you'll get over it. I don't want you seeing Charles Manser Junior. We have a name to uphold. You want that name, don't you? God, Clara! Why can't you love who I want you to love?"

Clara stood, her head bowed.

"I don't think that's the way it works, daddy." When she took a step, her stomach lurched and she fell to her knees. Bernard stared at her.

"How hard did they hit you?"

"I'm fine."

But he only repeated himself. When Clara left the room, Bernard collapsed on the floor, weeping. There had been a time once, he recalled, when he had cried as much as he did now, but the cause then had been far greater. But this? Why was crying over this? It was just an affair he had to break up.

He hadn't wanted them to hit her. He'd wanted it to be painless, quiet. Without a fight. But maybe he didn't know Clara as well as he'd thought. The man that had brought her said they'd just knocked her out, that if they hadn't, she'd scream and bite, and resist.

Wasn't resistance something Bernard had tried to instill into his children? And now, here he was, breaking down his own barriers. He knew Charles wasn't insane, and Clara knew it, too. But there were some things that had never been meant to be, and he was simply setting it right.

But why did the tears flow?

It was too simple. The only defense left in his opponent's war was a name. What good would a name do? It wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Christopher Manser had defeated far more than such petty things. Yet somehow, it didn't feel right. After all he'd done? But war was war.

"Yes, I suppose I can."

"Good. Arrangements have been made." The short man was positively squirming in his seat. Christopher pasted on a smile and stood to shake his hand.

"Please, feel free to call me any time." He said, and the man grinned.

"Thank you, Mr. Manser. Thank you."

"No worries." And the idiot left.

Christopher was alone. The ticking of the clock resounded through his room like the beat of his guilty heart. He sat down, and the creaking of his chair startled him. His computer's constant buzz wore into the air. He didn't move.

There was a knock at the door.

"Mr. Manser? I'm sorry, Mr. Manser. There's uh… someone here to see you. It's…. urgent."

Christopher sighed and straightened his posture.

"Bring them in; I have a minute."

The door opened. It took Christopher several seconds to recognize his nephew. The boy limped to the chair facing Christopher's, and sat down. His forehead sported a patch, beneath which there seemed to be a great injury. When Charles grasped his hand, Christopher felt rough skin and fresh wounds. He couldn't know. He couldn't possibly know.

"Charles... What happened?" But the boy smirked. He was strangely calm.

"Don't play the fool with me, uncle."

"What happened?"

"Those were your men."
"What're you talking about? Are you alright?"

"Don't worry about me. You went too far this time. Those men may have kicked the shit out of me, and I don't care. But you…" Charles raised his index finger in warning, "You lay one finger on Clara, and I won't get off you until you're completely ruined. Understand?"

"I don't understand. What happened?"

"Your men caught up with Clara and me. It seems like they were under orders to split us up. With all necessary force. You gave that instruction, didn't you? Don't act innocent, I know it was you. You can beat me all you want, uncle. Kill me – does it look like I care? But not Clara. You keep her out of this. This is our war, between you and me. You leave Clara sane, alright? Do that, and maybe I'll have some mercy on you."

"Charles, this is a big misunderstanding."

"Good. I'm glad you understand what you did. Glad you acknowledge it. Maybe you're just an idiot, after all."

"Listen, Charles – "

"No, you listen. Here's the deal. You lay off Clara, I lay off your case. Take my money. I don't need it. But you're not gonna take my mother. You're not gonna take my name. And you're not gonna take away my father."

"Of course. I'd never do that."

"Yes, yes you would. Don't deny it. I don't deny my faults. My father didn't deny his. Did he, uncle?"

"…no. He was a good man."

"He was a good man, yes. And do you want to live up to your good brother?"

"I do. Charles, look, I'm sorry. I know your father's death was a great shock to you. But… you know, your father lost his father, too. Life moves on. We have to keep going."

Charles stood and smiled.

"You think this is about my father? No, uncle. But there's a lot of wrong out there, and I'll make you pay for what you've done." With that, he turned and left, leaving Christopher in his silence once again.

Somehow, he didn't think Charles had meant the guards' attack.

Donnie was wiping another table at the Interlude when he noticed the sad and lonely figure in a corner seat. He was more or less surprised to find Clara weeping her eyes out, alone. Donnie sat down in front of her.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. Clara shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Again, she shook her head, and the tears flowed. Donnie fetched her a glass of water.

"It's on the house." She didn't touch it.

"Where's Charles?" She calmed down.

"They're keeping him away from me."

"What? Who's they?"

"My father, his father… their men."

"What do you mean?" Donnie was leaning towards her over the table. She had really pretty eyes – no wonder Charles got so lost in them. Trusting eyes. Clara leaned back, and told him.

"So you can't find him."

"I just want to know that he's alright," she replied.

"You're miserable. I'll help you – they're not looking out for me, are they?"

"Tell him… everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

Donnie stood and nodded.

"My shift ends in an hour. I'll visit him then. You sure you'll be alright?"

"Thank you, yes."

Clara sat awhile longer, then left. Donnie watched her receding figure and sighed. Now he'd have to play rebounding messenger between the two.

When his shift ended at six, Donnie left his waiter uniform and headed to Charles's mansion. His friend opened the door at the second ring. It was almost as if he'd been waiting for someone. But when he saw Donnie, Charles let out a tremendous sigh. Was it agony? He turned around and headed back.

"Come in, close the door."

Donnie did so, and sat down at Charles's table.

"Are you okay?" said Donnie.

"It's a long story."

"Yeah, I know. I ran into Clara today."

"Clara?" Charles straightened at the name, suddenly alert. "Where?"

"She was by the Interlude. Broken down. Crying so hard I though the place would flood."

"How is she?"

"She told me about your run-in with the guards. Not a dumb girl, you know. Understands it all."

"Is she hurt?"

"Not physically. At least, that's not what's bothering her. She's desperate to see you. Just like you want to see her, huh?"

"What did she say?"

"She wanted me to tell you everything."

Charles smirked. "Everything."

"What's that mean, anyway?"

"Nothing."

"Inside joke?"

"No. Not really."

Donnie nodded. "You okay? Look a bit bruised up there."

"It looks worse than it feels. I had a few stitches on my leg, and my head's pulsing. Nothing that I can't handle."

"You're desperate."

"How perceptive."

"Where's your uncle?"

"Out."

"Your mother?"

"Upstairs."

"Clara's a great girl, you know."

"I know."

"You're dying."

"I need to get out of this. I need… You and Clara are all I have now, and Flenn's trying to deny me her. I won't let him to that."

"And I suppose I'm going to help you."

"Thank you for volunteering."

"Anything for a miserable friend in need."