Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel, DC or The 100.
A lot of this story was inspired by SoaringHurricane's Safe-Haven. Even the name, "Lavigne," was inspired by SoaringHurricane's Safe-Haven, since "Lavigne," was the name of her lawyer in it.
Chapter one-The House
When Clarke had gotten the letter from her godfather, Steve Rogers, soon after her mother disowned her for not obeying the woman, Clarke had thought she might just cry in relief. While Steve had asked Clarke if she wanted to move in with him, after her mother had disowned her, Clarke knew she didn't want to inconvenience Steve. That wasn't what she had told him. But after being rejected utterly by her mother, Clarke didn't want to make someone else feel like she was a burden.
So, she had resigned herself to finding a place of her own by herself. Or she had originally. But then Steve had presented her with an answer.
Steve Rogers was her godfather, and had been a good friend of her father's. When she had been born, her father had asked Steve if he could be Clarke's godfather/uncle.
Steve had been honored to do so. And he had looked after Clarke whenever Clarke's parents couldn't, ever since.
And the letter that Steve had received and had given to Clarke, as an answer to her current homeless problem?
It was a letter that had been sent to Jake, from a family member who recently had passed. His paternal grandmother had died only about two years before he had died. His grandmother, Isabelle, was very old, on her last legs-in her late nineties, and had been sick for a long time. So, it was no surprise when news of her passing was announced.
Now, Jake's death? Was another story. He had died very healthy, as far as everyone else could tell, and he had died in his very early forties.
In theory? Nothing had been wrong with him.
Which had led Clarke to the very strong suspicion that her mother had poisoned him somehow.
Her suspicions weren't helped by Abby, soon afterwards, moving into a new house with her two boyfriends, Markus Kane and Bellamy Blake.
To do something like that so soon after your supposedly darling husband was murdered?
That stunk of suspiciousness.
However, Clarke hadn't wanted Steve to be pulled in the middle of Clarke's eventual investigation.
So, that was just one more reason why she hadn't decided to live with Steve.
And the letter that Clarke's paternal great-grandmother had sent to her father? That eventually was Clarke's answer.
The letter explained that Clarke's paternal great-grandfather, Isabelle, had died and as a result, her house, known as "Lavigne Manor," had become Jake Griffin's house. And with Jake's death, it was now Clarke's house.
In Isabelle's will, it had listed Jake Griffin and only Jake Griffin as the inheritor of her house, after she eventually passed on. And Isabelle apparently had written the letter a month before her death, in hopes that Jake wouldn't sell the house, and would keep it owned by a family member.
Jake Griffin himself, hadn't sold the house and after he had inherited the house, he had signed in his will that the house would go to Clarke when Clarke was of age. Legally it would belong only to her.
From what Clarke knew of her father's side of the family, the "Lavigne family," they were an odd lot. Old blood that apparently, was from the more rural parts of France.
It had startled Clarke when her father had told her that his family was mostly French. She had figured that if anything, they were by blood, mostly Italian.
But after her dad had taken a blood test a few years back, it turned out Jake didn't have a drop of Italian blood in him. Mainly French with very small portions of Spanish and only a tiny percent of West African. That was it. Not that that shocked Clarke at all.
She had no idea what Abby Griffin, her mother's DNA said, and she honestly didn't care.
Her mother didn't matter to her anymore.
The Lavigne family had supposedly immigrated to the United States a long time ago. Clarke had originally thought it was during World War II, when this had happened. But if the stories were to be believed? They had left before that. Supposedly almost a century before that.
And they had left in a hurry.
So, what had they been running from?
Then again, Clarke realized that there must have been all types of things to make people flee back then.
Hell, there were things like that today, right?
Wars happened-not just World Wars, bandits were common in some areas than others, disease as well.
Her ancestors could have fled wherever they came from in France, for all sorts of reasons. Maybe even just for something as banal as financial reasons, for all she knew.
Eventually, the Lavigne family had supposedly built the house that now belonged to Clarke, and eventually, it had become owned by Isabelle Lavigne, who eventually, had married a young man named Matt Griffin. They'd had two children. One of them, their older son, stayed behind. But the younger son, after he grew up, left the house and went off to a city.
He then had married a young woman and they'd had Jake.
Knowing what Clarke knew now? She understood why she hadn't learned about the house till now. She understood that there was a "degree of separation."
Her paternal grandfather barely had talked about his side of the family. And after his death-from cancer, at the age of seventy, and later his wife's death, from a heart attack at the age of eighty-one, there was really no tie from the house to Clarke or Jake.
But, as it turned out, Isabelle had learned of Jake's existence-meaning that either Jake had met her a few times or her younger son had sent pictures of Jake to his mother, because in Isabelle's will, the house was left to Jake.
Clarke hadn't even known about the house. For years and years.
But the house that had belonged to her paternal great-grandmother? Had belonged to her father alone, it had been signed to her alone, for when her father eventually died. And now that her father was dead? Now she owned the house.
A house that her mother had no tie to, no claim over. The house was hers. And only hers.
It belonged to her.
No one else got to have it.
Which meant that if Clarke wanted to? She could go all the way to the house, stay there and have her own private place, where she didn't have to see Abby, didn't have to see her two sleazy boyfriends, Markus Kane and Bellamy Blake. She could just go there and be her.
Clarke was positive that Steve had known that when he had found the letter and had shown it to Clarke.
Clarke had gone to her father's family lawyer, Bruce Banner, and he had made it clear that the house was her, solely hers. Not Abby's or anyone else's, now that Jake was dead.
She thanked him and hugged her godfather and assured Steve that she'd be fine and wanted to be driven to the house, so she could stay there a while.
She was sure that a part of Steve was worried about Clarke deciding to live in the house permanently and using the house as an excuse to stay in the house and cut herself off from the rest of the world.
But he didn't try to stop her.
Clarke was an adult. She was almost twenty-one, and her father had died only a year ago. So, she had been an adult for a while now.
And she could do what she wanted.
So, Steve was currently driving Clarke off to Lavigne Manor.
Occasionally, Steve would ask awkwardly if Clarke actually wanted to do this. Clarke had nodded and had assured him she did.
Steve reminded her that she could always move in with him and his girlfriend, Sharon.
Clarke told him she appreciated it, but she would be fine.
Steve had sighed, but nodded and continued to drive the old pickup down the road, to their destination.
They finally reached the location. 51 Labrador Road.
Steve brought the pickup to a stop by the road that went off of the main road, and led up into the forest.
Steve stared up along the foreboding gravel path. "Uh, Clarke?" He said, "This looks sort of unsettling."
Clarke smiled at Steve and asked, "Steve, what are the chances that someone will break into the house, right during the time I'm living there?"
Steve groaned, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince her. "Alright," he said, still not able to take his eyes off of the gravel road leading up to the forest, "But remember to lock all the doors and windows. And remember to keep what I gave you close."
Clarke chuckled. She wouldn't. The reassuring presence of the two tasers, the two cannisters of pepper spray and the baton in one of her bags that Steve had gotten for her before helping her make this trip, made her feel safer, definitely.
Steve hesitantly steered the wheel so that the truck would go slowly up the road. When the truck went up the pathway, they passed many, many trees, then made a new turn, and went further into the forest.
And to both Steve and Clarke's surprise, they finally reached the house where that they had been seeking.
Bringing the truck to a stop, Steve stared up at the large, proud structure of the former Lavigne Manor.
Steve supposed it was the "Griffin Manor" now.
The house was wide and large. Sturdy looking, even if there were vines clasped to different parts of the house. And at least one window on the top floor looked cracked. Not broken. But cracked.
"Clarke," Steve said, "This isn't a good idea."
And Clarke? Regardless of knowing that this basically was one of those "really stupid decisions" a person made in horror movies, already had made her choice. Because wasn't this better than putting Steve and Sharon through her issues or her investigation in trying to find out if her mother had murdered her father? Wasn't this better than having to deal with seeing her mother and those two shitheads of boyfriends of hers, Bellamy and Markus?
She was better off staying by herself at this manor. For now, at least. She could figure out the rest later.
"Steve," Clarke said, smiling at him, "Thank you for driving me here. And I've made my decision."
Steve lowered his head and smacked it against the steering wheel, making his goddaughter chuckle.
"Look, Steve," she began, "This is New Hampshire. In one of the most safest neighborhoods imaginable. You really think I'll be in any danger here? You heard what Banner said from the information my dad gave him. The house has electricity. And it has wi-fi. And I'll be able to get a phone signal. And I'll be able to charge my phone. So, if anything happens and I need help? I can call you. Or the police."
Steve nodded, still looking worried.
"Alright," he groaned, "Just…just promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise I will be," Clarke assured Steve.
Eventually, Clarke got out of the truck and Steve got out and they carried Clarke's things to the house. Clarke had been given the keys to the manor by Bruce Banner and so, Clarke was able to unlock the door and pushed open the door, watching as it creaked loudly as it opened up, and Clarke moved in, right hand still holding the keys, searching for light switches.
She found one after a few seconds and flipped it on.
Light ran throughout the house, allowing Clarke to see mostly everything.
She smiled, seeing the huge length of the house. "Wow," she said, eyes going up along the walls, seeing the many large, rectangular portraits. Actual portraits. Not pictures taken with a camera. Painted portraits.
She gazed up along the fancy looking lamps. Not chandeliers, but still fancy looking lamps.
Her eyes then found a big, wide portrait, right next to the entrance to the hallway, facing the front door, where Clarke was.
She eyed the couple in that portrait. A slim young man, perhaps he had been in his late or very early thirties when this portrait was painted, with short light brown hair and dark blue eyes, dressed in a dark blue jacket, with black pants. The jacket looked like it belonged to the 1700s era.
The woman next to the man, had long, black hair, tied in a braid, wearing a dark wine-colored dress, one of those old ones, as old as the man's jacket. Probably. The woman had sky-blue eyes and a widow's peak.
The woman was taller than the man.
She had no idea who that portrait was supposed to be of. If anyone important.
Maybe some ancestors way back when.
Clarke heard Steve approaching and she turned, seeing him walk in, carrying the rest of her things.
She smiled at him.
"Thanks, Steve," she said.
Steve nodded, smiling, trying to fight how uncomfortable he was, leaving her alone in this house.
He brought her things in and dropped them on the floor, then looking at her and asking her if she wanted him to take her things and bring them to some other part of the house, to which Clarke shook her head and said that it was fine, that he could just leave her stuff here and she'd figure it out later.
Steve nodded and she promised him she'd be fine. She had the name and password of the wi-fi here at the house, given to her by the information Bruce Banner gave to her in her father's will, so, she'd be fine.
Steve nodded, still not looking happy and again, made her promise to lock all the doors and windows, and to be really, really careful. She promised him she would.
Steve said he'd leave then, but only after checking every inch of the house to make sure no one else was there, and to make sure Clarke locked all the possible entrances to the manor.
Clarke groaned, but agreed.
Which was why, a few seconds later, after Steve had locked his pickup truck, and Clarke had closed the door to the manor behind them and Clarke locked the door, holding the manor's keys in her left hand, and she and Steve started going through the house, searching and inspecting it, bit by bit.
The manor, as they learned, was not as huge as they thought it was on the inside. Somewhat reassuring, because Clarke was worried previously that she might get lost. However, she and Steve tracked their way through the house easily enough.
There were four bathrooms and six bedrooms.
Clarke had no idea how many family members had at one time lived in this manor, but she had to say, even for six people, this big building was sort of a lot.
She understood the need for a lot of bathrooms and bedrooms, but how many people had actually lived here?
Clarke got some ideas about what types of inhabitants had lived here before her, when she saw a few framed photographs decking the old and dust-covered bookshelves and desks.
Pictures of young men and young women and some older men and some older women, and some children. Some teenagers too.
What bugged Clarke, was why her father had never mentioned this house or what his father's family was like before.
"Steve?" Clarke asked, as she walked by a wooden desk layered with dust, with a rectangular black and white photograph of a young man with a black T-shirt and white pants and short, pale blonde hair.
She knew it was pale blonde hair, because black and white photo or not, shades of hair appeared differently in those types of photographs. So, if the man's hair were a dark brown, for example, it would show up differently.
This man must have had very light hair. Clarke presumed the man was most likely a more recent ancestor, due to the very pale hair. She had seen pictures of her paternal grandfather, and she knew this wasn't him.
The brother of her paternal grandfather, maybe? Or perhaps their own father?
"Yeah?" Steve asked in response to Clarke's question.
"I need to ask," Clarke said, not turning to Steve as she said this, "Why didn't my dad ever tell me about this manor? Do you know?"
"No," Steve confessed, and considering how much Steve hated lying, Clarke didn't doubt his words, "He mentioned that he was taking care of some of his father's family's affairs, but he didn't give me details. He did mention that his great-great-aunt, Pepper, disappeared several decades ago. He didn't mention if he learned what happened to her. If Pepper was murdered or if she fell in a ditch somewhere or just ran off with someone and didn't tell the rest of the family because she was afraid that they would disapprove of whatever relationship she had going on. Or she ran off because she just didn't want to deal with the family anymore, or something."
Clarke nodded, finally turning back to Steve.
She suspected that last theory that Steve came up with, could entail anything. Assuming that that third theory was true, then Pepper could have run off with just about anyone, right? A lower-class man. Someone who was of another ethnicity, or religion-which back then, would have been considered a scandal because it was considered "acceptable" to be racist and bigoted against other religions, back then.
Then again, unfortunately, it still was in some places today, depending on where you lived.
Maybe this "Pepper" had even run off with a woman, for all Clarke knew. Which certainly would have been considered a scandal back then, since homophobia was also considered acceptable back then.
And again, unfortunately, it still was, in some places, depending on where you lived.
Then again, there were always the other two options. Which were that she fell in a ditch somewhere, or was murdered.
The fourth theory; that maybe Pepper had run off, not because she wanted to be with some potential lover, but because she just wanted to be independent of her possibly eccentric and rich family? That was something Clarke supposed was possible, as well.
Whether Pepper got murdered or died in some other way, or lived a ripe full life till she was ninety-nine or something and just never told her family? Who could say?
"Anything else?" She asked Steve.
Steve shook his head, frowning. "Not much," he confessed, "Something about a rumor his father heard about why the family Lavigne left France in the first place. It was during the late 1700s. And I don't know what this was a metaphor for? But apparently, there was some talk of a "monster" in the village where your ancestors lived and the family was fleeing so that the monsters didn't kill them."
Clarke's eyes widened.
Well, this talk of "monsters" easily could be a euphemism. A metaphor for something else.
Like a disease. Or a murderer. Or an army of invaders.
Either way, Clarke figured her theory before, was right. That there certainly was a reason for why her ancestors had left. They just used a metaphor to explain it later on.
"I see," Clarke said, nodding, "Did dad ever find out where it was in France, the Lavigne family fled from?"
Steve shook his head.
"No," he answered, "Just that the place started with a 'R,' so, it could be anywhere."
Clarke nodded. Alright, then. She said, "So, time to lock everything up, I guess."
Steve smiled and he and Clarke went to work. They made sure all the windows and auxiliary doors, besides the front entrance, were locked. And they made an efficient search of the house, making sure no one was lurking anywhere in the house somewhere. When they were satisfied with the end results of the house, that being that Clarke and Steve were the only people present? Clarke decided it was time for Steve to leave.
She thanked him and he hesitantly walked with her to the front door. They hugged, Steve kissed her forehead and made her promise to be careful again and to always keep the windows and doors locked and to always charge her phone. She promised him she would. And Steve added that she was to keep her baton, tasers and pepper spray close and to eat regular meals.
Laughing, Clarke had promised to both, and watched as Steve walked out of the house, closing the door behind him, telling her to lock it after he left, which she did. As soon as the door was closed, she turned the lock, and effectively, locked the door.
She peered through the window next to the door, watching Steve get to his pickup, get inside and back up out of the driveway, turning around and driving down the pathway, out of the forest and away from the house.
Clarke smiled and walked over to where one of her bags was, picked it up, unzipped it and brought it to the huge kitchen area, unpacking several cans of food.
While Steve had known that fresh food was better, Clarke had reminded him that she couldn't last long on only fresh food, even if he wanted her to keep to a more healthier diet.
Steve had groaned again and had said he understood.
Clarke put a can of chicken stew by the stove, both surprised and pleased to know that several of the pots and pans laid out across the counter, were all clean.
She vaguely wondered if her father had used the kitchen only, and that was why only the kitchen was cleaned off.
But she had to wonder, why only the kitchen area?
She decided not to think about that. She put the house keys down onto the opposite counter behind her, grabbed the can opener she had brought with her, opened up the can, grabbed a pot, placed it onto the closest burner, dumped the stew into the pot, and switched on the flame to a high temperature.
She stood back and waited for the liquid within the pot to boil, deciding to ignore the oddities of the house.
The house wasn't a mystery for her to solve.
Her father's murder was.
Which made this house strictly a location for her to stay and act as an amateur detective.
She hadn't just brought her phone and phone charger. She had brought her laptop and laptop charger.
And this place had wi-fi.
She had saved the password and username for the wi-fi in this building on her phone.
So, she could get to work soon.
She'd just eat some food, then she'd begin her search on the Internet. Anything that might potentially link her mother to her father's death. And hopefully link Markus Kane and Bellamy Blake to her father's death too.