Disclaimer: Right. I owe it. I don't, and never will. Pft.
AN: The usual - thank you all,especially for all the 'update already!' :) Am sorry for not doing it earlier, but it just happened.
Someone told me earlier to update 'Whatsername'- not going to happen. Ever. Sorry, but I have other plans.
Usually, I will update faster and better on my LJ, which can be found at my profile.
As for this story, I have noidea where it is going. I know how this will end. But the rest...I am not even sure if this is gonna be Tim/Eclair much.
Read and review, and, if it's posiible, enjoy. Lead a happy, healthy life, and become sexy musicians!
Paragon, chapter 3
by
Ta-dah!
She stood and absently observed, not minding the wind that hauled her form like a ship during a storm.
Noticed how first there was just a silence, silence like a layer covering, like a canvas protecting earth from cold on lonely nights, full of uncomfortable thoughts. It laid thick, apprehensive and foreboding, and only occasional movement of animals, together with throaty calls of mating, awakened peace. It seemed like a composed landscape, bringing tranquility and capturing time's merciless song. Or rather, it would seem like it if not for that unbearable stench – stench with no genesis, stench that floated in the air and strangled you in a middle of - waiting. Waiting for…what?
A small factory on a hill broke away from that picture perfect. It looked almost homely, save for its box-like characteristic. It was small and ugly, and out of place. The stench covered it like a tune that is stuck in your head and is not able to find a way out. Its windows, though dark, could be clearly seen from the observer's position.
The petite silhouette hugged herself, fingers enveloping thin arm and massaging numbed from the intense wind skin. She let out a sigh. In her eyes, there was a flicker brimming with longing and passion, of awaiting for beauty and wildness.
The dance started. First, in a slowed manner, the windows sluggishly lighted up, as if the dawn was coming.
Then, it happened. No sound. No smell. No taste.
An eruption.
Enormous. Great. Deadly.
It made its way to the sky, polluting it with smoke and fragments of the building. Incandescent, burning, lustful figure illuminating monotonous and constant sky, dancing with the Death.
Then the sound came, as the fire broke away and started whispering through the forest.
Rustling. Laughter. Pacing.
She could feel the heat molting with her skin, making it squirm and weirdly, internally hot.
Does hell, in its overstated and furiously human way, feel like that?
Does insanity look like fire?
She definitely was one for metaphors – but even being one, she could not bring her brilliant mind to form it for Fire and Destruction.
Which one of Seven Deadly Sin was it?
Was it Pride, arrogant and risky, always proving its best?
Or maybe, Avarice? Scooping everything, selfish and egocentric?
Envy – pride-resembling structure, jealous and stinging…?
Sloth…?
Gluttony, never sated, never jaded?
Was it Wrath, frenzied, rabid, fanatic passion, untouched by any bonds?
Maybe – Lust?
With inexplicable craving in clear dark-blue eyes, her mouth let out next sigh.
'Isn't it…isn't this the most captivating sight…?' She whispered most softly, her genuinely orange bangs lightly caressing her face, protecting her and toying with playful wind.
'Like a-'
'Gosh, I'm so hungry! Let's go back! Food, food, food!' A lithe female skipped happily – practically bounced - by her.
'Oh, honestly! We are on a mis-sion! Will you never learn?' Lumiére chided, turning around and walking away, never once glancing back.
'A sandwich, maybe?' A distinctly male voice with an unmistakable arrogant smooth quality, asked.
'No, thank you.'
'No, thanks.'
'Éclair, but you said you were hungry…!'
'Well, yes, but does that require me eating…?'
'Yes? It's kind of logical, even for you.' Armblast shook his head. Women.
'Today is Wednesday.' Lumiére informed him, not bothering to turn.
He gaped.
'Are you on a diet? Not that there is a need for it, kitten. The more precious body, the better.' He flashed her a winning smile.
'You seriously need to work on it.' The precious body snapped and smashed her fist on the control desk, and he jumped in his seat.
'I'm not on a diet. Do you ever listen to me? I just have a dinner with my son on Wednesdays. I see so little of him now!' She sighed sadly.
'So? Nothing could stop you from eating before.' Éclair flashed him a warning glare, while Lumiére hid a smile delicately.
'Your smooth talk won't win me over. Besides, I need to make sure he will eat. And keep him away from Viola and her paws. You know all the small things mothers do!' Lumiére choked and sniggered, Armblast could swear, if he was not utterly horrified and unconvinced.
He put away the sandwiched in his case carefully and stayed calm.
'Right, Lumiére, I wanted to ask you something.'
'Yes…?' She answered politely.
'But the thing is, I forgot!' She seemed to mull over the matter severely for a moment. 'Oh, yes. What was about the mission? I mean, it did seem pretty pointless to me.'
'What was wrong with it? Do not tell me you didn't like the fire. And, pray tell, why hadn't you listen to Eclipse…?'
'Well, I thought about food, cause I hadn't have time to eat breakfast and couldn't eat later – you know, the dinner. Therefore, it's perfectly understandable! And, I liked the fire. But to make something explode like that…? Seemed pretty – radical?'
Armblast muttered something about a kettle in background.
Éclair pretended not to notice.
'A virus resided there. Highly dangerous, because it seems to evolve quite fast. It attacks various organs of digestive tract, it would seem.'
Éclair gulped.
'Such an abominable crime! How could anyone do such a thing!'
'We cannot be sure that was made by humans. We can only suppose, and consider it as linked with what lately hit the headlines – the homicides on famous – and I guess, the term notorious would be suitable, as well – Nobles in Global-Governments Union. These-' and she gestured at the monitors before her, as if saying that these are the evidence. 'Are just my imagination. What is of interest to me now, though, is why we were sent on this mission. For anyo- - well, for anyone with the capability of logical thinking and a bit of psychological sense,' she glanced meaningfully at her partner, who just sat there and listened intently, 'it would be obvious to sent even Cesario and Viola there, not us! Of course, there is a possibility that no other member was available, which I just pass over as nonsense.'
'But the virus...?' Armblast asked in wonder. 'What does that virus do? And what is its name?'
She eyed him thoughtfully.
'Well, for a start, the virus is yet to be named. There is no record of such a virus throughout the net, although my actions now can hardly be described as competent. It is lethal, of that we can be sure, and it causes high temperature at first, but then the changes in internal organs occur. What is the most astounding fact, the virus is similar in nucleus to the viruses used in nanomachines. It could evolve through horizontal gene transfer – which is transferring genetic material to alien cell, Éclair -, of course, but then again, humans tried to avoid and invent this for a few generations, so…? In addition, we suppose that it can be dormant for few generations, and then attack or do something with genes by the way, some serious changes, which is horrifying. No specific data has been disclosed. That is why we captured it, and blasted the factory. The fire for sure killed it., even though it's quite inefficient.'
'You know what, Lumiére?' Éclair spoke abruptly, but softly.
'Hmmm?'
'It – It could be used as a plot in these lame horror films. Like that AIDS thing. Quite scary, isn't it?' She whispered uncertainly. Armblast stared at her, sudden weakness entering his eyes, almost or too loving.
'Viruses co evolve with technology, and when we became sure that there is no other civilization in galaxy – although we cannot be sure, still, can we?' He said, anticipating her response, when she opened her mouth to deny. 'But then, we became painfully aware of the fact that our ultimate death will not be caused by some frightening monsters from space, but by-'
'Viruses.' Lumiére announced loudly.
'Well, come to think of it, Nobles never stopped being afraid of the monsters from space.' The blonde whispered, her head resting against the soft leather, her cheek touching the backrest of her chair, and her eyes closing in weariness.
She smiled softly, ironically, when no violently denying response came.
Éclair stretched her arms when they landed and yawned, feeling the strangely soothing feeling of muscles working overcoming her, flooding and enveloping her skull. She purred in delight and moaned, tilting back her head.
'Told you not to do that.' Armblast threw in, smiling and departing. 'Have a nice day, girls!'
'You too!' Two voices chorused politely.
'I'll wait outside; you say your goodbyes, okay?' Éclair informed her partner, and when she nodded, got out swiftly.
Lumiére waited for a while, alert, and then turned her full attention to the monitor. Her fingers tried to reach it in longing, in vain. She clenched the fist by her side.
'Oh. It's over for today, you can rest, Wirbelwind.' Her tongue clicked on the sound, cherishing the beautiful sound of the word. Then, she hung her head and spoke, defeated. 'Ten years went by, and I can't still reconcile with it. I can't just forget it. It's as if we were together, then broken up, and decided to be friends, but with no passion left. It's pathetic.' She said with no venom in her voice.
'And now – now, even-' She inhaled, and then slowly, most slowly, straightened out her back, till she stood proudly, with her chin stucking out.
'I apologize, it's nothing. No, there's no need to worry,' she told in response to the speedily beeping monitor. 'Really. I'm just not sleeping well lately. You know it happens sometimes. Now now, goodbye, and rest. Sleep well.' She said with the fondest smile, then exited the room.
'Stop toying with food!' A hushed voice exclaimed sharply, betraying annoyance and sulkiness.
The two of them were seated at extravagantly decorated, not-too-fancy Mexican restaurant, called Arenoso Sombrero. It had become a habit for them to attend it occasionally, taking Éclair's cooking skills (or lack thereof) into consideration.
An apparently cheap band played in background, a vocalist singing wild and mischievous songs of love, guns and Tequila with his hoarse from drinking voice. It gave the place a great, smoky atmosphere, in Éclair's opinion, and an appearance of dirt's shebeen, in her son's, although he cherished it all the same.
They've been here for an hour and a half, and while he had finished his deliciously spiky Chiles Renellos, once again resolved to learn and start cooking, Éclair has been slowly driving him mad. Sure, they had had a conversation focused on him and his life, with her, politely and in colorless routine, inquiring about his progress in school. However, by her second dish, she seemed to enter another dimension, by which existence he had been lately immensely fascinated, for she seemed to float. The light from the lamp right above them, a funnily pear-shaped fixture, pulsating steadily, dosed the light descending on her face, giving it a serene resemblance to angel.
He knew better than to believe it. Being her son, and all.
'Mother?' He commenced, groaning. 'What's wrong? Can't you tell me? Because, you know, I may be 12 years old, but-'
'That makes you two equal intellectually, doesn't it?' Someone drawled out behind his back, and the boy turned quickly, with narrowed eyes scanning the area for the smirking man.
'Hello, Un-ou, you look as conceited and unwelcome as always.' He shot with disinterest and waved his hand in imperious manner. 'You may go.'
'Chevalier, you should not talk that way to older people. And Un-ou, get lost!' The female snapped in a bossy tone, looking up from her plate, distinctly livened up.
'If the lady says so.' He responded sarcastically and strided towards other table. 'Oh, and I pay for your bill, Heroine!' He shouted in their direction, before turning his attention toward his partner, just as Éclair' returned to her plate.
'Sex.'
'Where?' Éclair exclaimed, and Chevalier fought the urge to vomit.
'One word: gross.'
'I'm sorry, Che. I just have a few things to think about and get them off my chest, and it just that-' she couldn't possibly tell him that he resembled them... 'It is just that with you I relax entirely, and the thoughts just flood me. But I know what definitely could help!' She added after few moments of pondering.
'Oh, NO! At the rate you keep eating chocolate, you are going to be fat! I don't want a fat mother!'
'Hey!' She argued, looking slightly amused and evidently too insensible to feel hurt at his comment.
'But, if you want, I guess we can go. I am paying this time. As long as I get the whole story.'
'You wish!'
She stepped out of shower, feeling greatly refreshened. Droplets of water lazily flowed down her silky skin, chilling her body and lulling it to sleep. She gave a quiet, unwilling yelp, once her small, feminine and sculpture-like feet touched cold tiles, sending shivers up her spine. She quickly nipped out to her slippers, and moved her hair away her shoulders. New spring of water flew down her back, emphasizing the intensive, sunny orange of her locks, which curled slightly because of the humidity. The room – elegant bathroom, with unbelievably neat fixtures, and silvery colouring, - was warm and humid, and vapour settled on the mirror, giving the room all the favourable settings for murder from the old – almost ancient - movies.
Lumiére suddenly got the disturbing feeling that creeps up one gets when is alone at home, and doesn't know whether someone – or something? – alien invades the house. Everybody has it, just people who are more adapted to his or her home, and less fearful, feel it seldom and more strongly.
Don't they?
She slowly, regularly inhaled, closed her eyes, and ignored the feeling, blaming it on the lack of sleep and latest stress and frustration caused by her inability to solve the puzzle. Even if she had no driving need for everything to be clear and evident, like her partner, and enjoyed feeling seductive mystery and a bit of fog enveloping the mind as she delved into it, like in a bath with candles and white lilies around. She still tended to be extremely, violently obstinate where it came to the fact she was unable to do something, and her cursed ineptitude showed up like a white flag.
She wiped the mirror with her hand, and looked at her reflection creasing its brows in concentration.
She most definitely will not lose! It won't get the best of her...!
From the very beginning, as she looked at the data, and the surname of the victim, she knew.
No witnesses.
No trace.
Except that poison, and two letters. Initials of the next victim, as it turned out. She, of course, predicted it, as well as probably Mercredi, she suspected, but now wasn't the time to bring her identity into daylight, especially as she couldn't be sure.
She knew that if she asked openly, she would get sufficient answers and more, but that wasn't what she desired. What she desired was an utter capitulation, them laying down their arms and her ambition sated. She saw no difference between her and Nobles, or ruthless historic figures; but they were all great minds, weren't they?
Pushing all other feelings aside, she focused once more on the latest crimes.
That poison. It was – she saw no other word for it – hilarious. It was arsenic, ordinary good old arsenic. Was that chairman a fool? He was a Noble, occupying a seat in Department of Economy, so it should be essential for him to learn constant vigilance by then...
Only two solutions existed, but to her and others there was one too much.
One, it was someone whom the deceased trusted. It narrowed the list of the suspects, for trust was something extraordinary in that world, among the elite, while love was virtually nonexistent. Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy to point perpetrator as in the recent era, for Noble seemed now at ease and much more gullible than then, it was like they wanted to go with the stream. They invested in education, sure, but truth to be told, that education was always something subjective and malleable, and those who didn't want to be taught, simply weren't. No, she thought with deep conviction, Charles Blake was definitely a fool. Nevertheless, was he foolish enough...? Moreover, if he was, who knew this...? Was trust these days handed out like daily newspaper? Was it contrived, was it with the victim's consent, was it business...?
Two, it was someone from outside. Offices there were now available for ordinary citizens, but it had to be gained with difficulty and almost superhuman effort. Was it someone from Nobles, who wanted to eliminate potential rival? Was it someone from citizens, who wanted the position for themselves, feeling – and rightfully so –, unjustified? Was it someone from upper sphere, aspiring to that seat, or someone ordinary, some Masked Avenger, whom she absolutely could not preclude, because of the deceased's past and connections?
The second victim – death caused by strangulation, name Catherine d'Eudes, 35 years old – brought no new information, but her hands were as dirty as the previous ones.
She was brought back to mother reality as she unconsciously raked her hair with her fingers delicately, and suddenly noticed that they were almost dry, just a little moist and unruly, and her body was completely dry – and mostly – cold.
It was all hidden now. All behind the veil, she thought, toying with words and horrible associations. For now, she silently promised herself.
She knew what they needed, she concluded. She knew exactly what they needed, from the very first time she saw the photographs of the deceased's body, she just needed to make sure, to not to hesitate, just as she always had with her choices – she always knew what she was going to choose in the end, she just slightly, invisibly, hesitated, till she confirmed herself in it.
She needed a psychological make up of the victims. She needed next initials – G.H. – worked out, which was quite simple.
But, what she needed most was not in her power. For trust for her was as sparingly dosed as complements, and so it was hard for her to admit this need.
What she needed the most now was – simple as that – a mole.
A mole.
As the two of them walked steadily to Eclipse's office, called earlier for E-shift (it was such a fortunate thing to rouse her from musings about Éclair's weird state of mind – all morning she seemed to be...reflecting...?), she thought how probable it was for the mission to pass to someone else. They were never truly destined to investigate, despite her skills. There was infiltration, but that was entirely other thing to deal with, and with her partner's temper and her cruelty, the change would be welcome. Maybe Tweedledee and her brother...?
She wondered at the infiltration thing. None of them would do. Eclipse simply had to know that. Especially them. Éclair became a symbol of GOTT, a peculiar Statue of Liberty, and her arrival would cause much stir in the environment. It would be the worst move possible, she was aware, but her mind painfully clung to the case. It was too much of a temptation, too much of an intellectual challenge.
She was a realist, but she was still a woman – a woman, with a feminine instinct, which crept up, slow and fawning on her, and assured her in her hoping against hope.
As Éclair nudged her side for her to turn, she looked at her studiously. She seemed absent up to now, but now she was as fresh as a daisy.
'What? Am I dirty or something?' She asked with a devious, mischievous yet open quality, which seemed to never leave her, no matter at what situation they found themselves in. She positively blinded her with a maddeningly cheerful smile that just forced Lumiére to smile back, and be happy in her own, specific, human way.
'No, you look just fine.' She answered, little quieter than her partner.
'Éclair, Lumiére, how nice to see you!' An elegant, yet a bit obsolete – maybe not exactly that, but having quite harsh quality that brought to mind antiques, maturity and that specific kindness of old people knowing how to get their way – voice spoke to them.
They sat obediently, and listened to the lecture that seemed to go on for hours, a lecture about instability of contemporary time, a lecture that they were too aware of, yet surrendered to without a word of protest.
Why?
Éclair, because she was ever understanding, and there was always a suitable time to take a nap.
Lumiére, because she was somewhat happy and predicting.
'So, is it clear? You will go right away; there is absolutely no time to waste.'
'What? But – my son! – can you not give us a few hours? An hour?'
'No, not really Éclair, you are requested there as soon as possible, and it's really a vital case. Your friends will take care of him, as always...'
Even though Nouvlesse are not as influential as before, they still have pretty much money and assassins. The case makes too stir in environment, and we cannot lose the precious dominance. Eclipse seemed to say in Lumiére head, playing before her like a film, frame after frame.
'Understood?'
'Not really.' Armblast spoke up.
'Yes, what is on your mind?'
'Why us?' He answered simply, straightforwardly. Maybe too straightforwardly, for Chief Executive hid a smile behind her hand, and asked, more Lumiére than him:
'So, you don't want the mission?'
In response, the girl just raised her brows.
'You know it is not it. It's us.' She responded, a bit unnerved.
'You were requested. Specifically. By-' she pretended looking at data, which became unnecessary. It was clear like sky that day. '- a Mr. Constance.'
'Is that so?' Éclair said, her voice hollow, but without a wee bit of surprise.
'Understood?'
'Yes!' Two voices chorused proudly and marched back.
The ride was uneventful. The rides were pretty uneventful these days in general, to Éclair's grief. She complained any time she saw it possible, and did many weird things out of pure boredom, which to the passengers – Lumiére and Armblast – transformed the ride to pure bliss and hell on Earth.
But today, the ride was truly uneventful. Her partner was deep in thought, somewhat vexed and apprehensive, and mourning, and hysterical.
To her great astonishment, she saw that her partner was – nervous!
But, even thought Éclair was priority at all times, she focused on the mission.
Even Armblast looked broody and unfocused, and like he really thought better, and looked forward to saying 'I said so!'
The silence reigned.
It was no surprise, that after silence reigned for quite some time, the noise that followed was quite shell shocking.
'Hey, you're already here!'
'Master!'
'You may leave, Geoffrey.' Tim, shining with happiness and anticipation, said, not unkindly.
'I thought you may take some time, make some amends, and tell your goodbyes? Not that it's not good; it's very good that you are earlier, fantastic!'
Éclair shot him a dark look.
'So, we were in no hurry?'
'Of course not!'
'Of course we were!'
Tim and Lumiére exclaimed simultaneously, while the man was still shaking her hand politely. She noticed his handshake was firm, yet not obtrusive, and admired the way he grew up. She heard from Éclair about him, but didn't believe in all the things she said – after all, her partner always did exaggerate others' virtues. He was tall, but not taller than Armblast, his shoulders were broad, and his eyes sparkled and his mouth widened greatly upon seeing someone into truly cheerful grin, so the person felt welcome and cherished. The boy truly turned into someone precious, she noted, and smiled slightly at the reckless lock of hair, stealing by his a bit wide forehead.
'I suppose you want to talk business right away?' Armblast asked, unperturbed.
'Um... Not really. Surely, it is an important matter, but I thought you might want to settle in. After all, you will stay here for quite some time. I have a few, may I say, pleasant diversions for you, Lumiére. We can talk after dinner, which is at 18 sharp, can we?' He drawled, with an air of disinterest around him that seemed to challenge the black-haired man. 'I will personally show you the rooms. I hope they'll meet your standards.' He said without a bit of cynism.
Lumiére, shot an already traditional scrutinizing look in the direction of Armblast, before she joined him in the hushed conversation, both of them furtively watching the pair talking animatedly. She looked at their relaxed postures, and the gleam in the male's eyes, and shared a smile with Armblast.
'I have a most excellent bottle of wine. Care to share it with me?' He drawled, mocking the earlier line.
AN: So, anyone comment?