Breaking the Broken
Seventeen
Fear Not My Child
Tobacco, coffee, alcohol, hashish, prussic acid, strychnine are weak dilutions:
the surest poison is time.
Emerson
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With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man's past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame.
George Eliot, Middlemarch
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Time is the only enemy and the only ally a person shall ever need. It works with you, against you, in spite of you, regardless of you. No matter what you do, the second will continue to tick away; the hourly chimes will still ring. Church bells sounded loudly, ringing despondently across the deserted campus. There was no one there to see them, but the steady noise in the distance reminded all those who could hear that another hour was gone, and they would never get it back. The events that occurred in the sixty minute intervals between chimes were done, set in stone, and were never to be taken back. That did not mean, of course, that they would not still be felt…
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The television glared defiantly out at the world, illuminating the cavernous living room with flashes of color, interrupting the parlor's quiet with bursts of sound. The dull flashing of the digital clock's brilliant red numbers indicated to whoever chanced a glance at it that two had turned to three. But there was only one woman in that room, and she cared less about the time than she did about the penguins in Central Park Zoo.
Contrary to popular belief, Sebastian Valmont was not only a photographer for pornographic purposes. He was always philosophical, and kind of ridiculous, a camera on him at all times in an attempt to really feel the moment. All it took was a click and a flash-- he had tried to explain to her many, many times--and he would have the moment forever to feel over and over again. Maybe if the picture could bring back the feeling, it would all be worth it. She had laughed cruelly at him then, slightly dismayed as his handsome face crumbled in disappointment before the typically bored expression masked all.
His gift extended beyond mere photography, however. Even she could admit, after seeing the final pictures, that he did have a gift. In all too vivid detail, she recalled those times when he dappled in videography, a camcorder taking the place of his usual camera. His intense gaze would always be on the small screen, seeing what was going on around him through machinery. Yet another way of keeping the world at arm's length.
Once, he had coldly countered to her laughter, "Mind your own business. Or do you even know how to do that? I swear, it'll be the end of you one day." As Kathryn Merteuil sat on the overstuffed living room couch, white knuckles tightly clenching the chenille throw as she rocked slightly, she knew that he may very well be right.
A black leather suitcase sat in their closet. She had never remembered him having one before, but it had gone everywhere with them thus far. It shone brightly; the glossy finish attracted all meager light in the room. Not for the first time in her life, Kathryn Merteuil has let her curiosity get the best of her where Sebastian Valmont was concerned. As her delicate hand grasped the case's handles, she cast a wary glance at the large bed in the center of the room. Sebastian and Juliette were curled up, both sleeping peacefully, which was more than unusual. The brunette had been the last one standing, the only one who managed to stay up through the movie they had all been watching. That was always a mistake, leaving Kathryn to her own devices.
As her trembling fingers worked the clasp on the suitcase, she pondered how out of character it was for him to carry one in the first place. In a way, the expensive luggage seemed to symbolize everything Sebastian was, and wasn't, at the same time. Professional, sleek, elegant, cold, immaculate. Yet Sebastian was never one to allow himself to be weighed down, so he usually went everywhere sans luggage.
Unless, of course, you count emotional baggage, in which case…
When she finally managed to get the icy locks open, she was startled by what she found inside. An avalanche of photographs greeted her, a quick blur of colors and edges before they settled into place. Scattered images, memories of which some Kathryn could identify and some she hadn't the foggiest idea, greeted her. However, the keepsakes from the habitually unsentimental Valmont were not the most startling thing the box contained. Gently removing a layer of pictures, she found letters. Letters from her. Oh God, how had he gotten these! But as she reached for the top letter, her fingers collided with something much harder. Much blacker. Much more like a videotape.
Electric green eyes widening in shock, her mind had reeled at the possibilities of what could be on this tape. She could pretty much rule out religious ceremonies, weddings, and graduations. Unpredictable as Sebastian was, he could always be counted upon to scorn what others held dear. Could it be a conquest? As she took in the label on the side, she had one thought.
'Dear God, I hope not.'
Jules
And now she sat alone in the cavernous living room, a victim of her own curiosity, as the tape blaring mercilessly from the screen.
Perfectly put together as always, Juliette bounced up to the camera with golden curls gleaming. However, they were the only part of her that truly sparkled and bounced, her face retaining a hollow grayish quality. Her clothes hung slightly awkwardly on her frame, made up of only skin and bones, but the child kept the quality that made you just want to hug her.
"Hey Sebastian!"
"Hey Julie. What are you doing?" Sebastian's deep voice questioned from off-screen.
"Talking to you," she giggled slightly. "Can I be in your movie?"
"I'm not really making a movie, Jules. I'm just filming stuff."
Her forehead puckered slightly, and it appeared that she was about to ask why. However, Juliette Merteuil's understanding of Sebastian Valmont went far deeper than that. No questions were needed. "Can you film me?"
"Why?" he laughed.
"Because I'm not always going to be here, and I want you to remember me," she said solemnly, big blue eyes boring holes through the camera.
There was a moment of hesitation, a quiet pause that seemed suspended in time forever. Kathryn could almost feel, though he was behind the camera, the conflicting emotions passing over her stepbrother's face. Finally, he said a quiet, "Okay" and she could hear something raw in his voice that she couldn't quite place. The screen went black for a moment, the camera shutting off. A second later, it flickered back on. It was still Juliette, in the same outfit as the previous footage, but the setting was different. The tiny four year old was perched on a fluffy vanity stool and staring intently at the camera lens.
"So, what's your name?" Sebastian questioned from behind the camera, sounding slightly amused.
"Juliette Annalise Isabelle Merteuil," she replied primly, smoothing her skirt.
"And how old are you, Miss Juliette Annalise Isabelle Merteuil?"
"Four," she tilted her chin defiantly, making eye contact with something just above the camera lens and grinning.
"How many languages do you speak?"
"Five," Juliette grinned proudly.
"Which one is your favorite?"
"French, obviously."
"You don't like English?"
"English counts as a language?" she puzzled. Sebastian laughed from behind the screen.
"Yes, Jules, English counts as a language."
"Then I guess I like that one best. But I really like that my mommy can't speak French, but grandmere can, and so can Kathryn and Cassidy. It's like having a secret code."
"Who are Kathryn and Cassidy?"
"You know who they are, Sebastian," the four year old attempted a withering gaze.
"Ah, ah, ah. Not Sebastian. You're talking to the camera, Jules."
"Oh. Right. Sorry, I forgot. Kathryn and Cassidy are the prettiest, smartest, most cleverest girls in the entire universe. They're my cousins."
"What are your favorite things?"
"French fries, shopping, General Hospital, and you," she smiled, and this time he didn't reprimand her for not speaking to the camera.
"And what are you afraid of?"
This time, her pretty face took on a contemplative look, a far more serious tone falling upon the impromptu interview.
"Time," she said finally, looking up at the camera. "Well, not having enough time. What if I don't have enough time to see everything and feel everything and go everywhere? What if everybody else sees the whole movie, and all I get is the trailer?" she coughed slightly.
"Juliette, you're four years old. You have plenty of time," Sebastian's smooth voice had a harsher quality to it, as if it was being strangled in his throat and he forced it to come out. Juliette said nothing, but when she looked back up at the camera, her deep eyes were pools of sadness.
"I'm really sick, Sebastian."
"You're going to be fine, Jules. Come on, let's go for a ride. Want to ride in my car?"
"Yes," she chirped, a slight smile briefly fleeting across her features.
"What are the rules?"
"I can't touch anything except for the radio," Juliette recited dutifully. The scene turned black again, only the little date timer shown brightly from the corner of the screen. The white words stuck out in great contrast to the darkness of the screen, and Kathryn could feel her heart plummet as she took it in. March 23. Only two days before Juliette's own heart had failed her. It seemed like she knew it would too, in the footage, but accepted it in a sort of resignation too mature for someone of her age.
"I'm okay now, you know?" a little voice called to her from behind the couch, and for a moment, Kathryn thought that the tape had continued. More than startled, the beautiful brunette realized that it wasn't the video-version but the real Juliette.
"I know," Kathryn said, hastily wiping at her eyes and cursing herself silently for letting her voice sound so hoarse.
"That's the thing I loved about Sebastian. He was the only person that knew what was going to happen to me, and kept trying to cheer me up. Everybody else was either one or the other. They either thought I was going to die and walked around whispering quietly and giving me sad looks, as if I already did. Or they were in complete denial, and kept asking me if I wanted to go the circus," Juliette shook her head, mussed golden tendrils flying. "Sebastian knew I could die, and he didn't try and hide it, but he kept trying to make me laugh anyway."
"Well, that's Sebastian for you. He's just a bundle of laughs," Kathryn deadpanned as Juliette made her way around the couch. The blonde stared impenetrably at her cousin, and Kathryn felt bizarrely naked in front of the small child, as if she could see right down into her soul and pass judgment on all that it contained.
"Don't cry, Kathryn. I'm fine," Juliette yawned, her eyelids drooping slightly as she rested her head on Kathryn's shoulder. Taken slightly aback by the warm, comfortable gesture, Kathryn stared at the little girl.
"I'm not crying."
"But you want to. Don't worry about me, I'm just fine."
Wrapping the blanket around Juliette, the two girls sat there in silence for a few moments.
"I'm not that clever," Kathryn admitted, biting her lower lip slightly. Juliette laughed sleepily.
"Yes you are. I heard all about what you did to Court Reynolds. It was brilliant. But he had it coming, you know?"
"I know," Kathryn murmured quietly, relieved that someone finally understood the gnawing urge inside of her to decimate the boy who had so thoroughly humiliated her. It didn't matter much that this someone was only six years old.
Still reeling from the bitter betrayal of years ago, Kathryn Merteuil began to understand why Sebastian Valmont developed such a rapport with the young Juliette. She was young and beautiful and intelligent, full of acceptance for those who had twisted her morals in such a way. Her deep blue eyes looked at the world in the way that it was, neither hating what she saw nor loving it. She just saw. And in the six years she had been walking the earth, Juliette Merteuil had seen many, many things.
As the two beautiful woman lie curled together on the couch, there was a bitter truth that hung in the air around them, one that managed to embed itself even in the golden heart of a child. Time heals all wounds, but a scar will remain.
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It had been a dark and stormy night, a wonderful cliché, on the night that would change Alain Merteuil's life forever. It was on this night, stranded in San Francisco on business, that he realized he could fly as far away as he wanted, and he could marry as Catholics as he pleased, but he would always be a Merteuil, and the legacy that ran through his blood would not let him forget it. That night, his young bride had stayed behind with her ailing father. He carried her picture, placed it on his nightstand, thought about her at every spare moment, and it was never enough. The Merteuil in his veins began to burn and bubble, making him light-headed and reckless. He never could control himself the way his mother wanted.
It had been this night that he had given into the flirtations of his coworker. He had been holding out for weeks, twiddling his thumbs waiting for the business hours to end so he could run home to Camilla and she could remind him of how in love they were. However, on this dark and stormy night, Camilla was hundreds of miles away, and Bethany had been right there. A few hours and a few more cocktails later, and he found himself sweaty and naked and not quite as alone as his wife would've preferred. Guilt set in as he turned his beautiful wife's picture face down, but quickly subsided to anger as he'd realized that everyone had been right all along--- he and Camilla would never last. And of course they wouldn't, they were too different. He was wild and handsome and rich, a notorious playboy. She was beautiful and mild and had morals, and yes, he firmly believed that the blonde was too good for him. But like the spoiled child that he was, it didn't matter if he didn't deserve something. He wanted her, and you'd better believe he would damn well have her. Alain did love Camilla, in some way, but on this night he found himself with a woman who was very much not her, and found himself angrier with his mother being right than with himself for betraying his wife.
They had parted the next day, having her solemn word that the sordid tale would never leave the Hilton suite. While the tale did not, it was not just the two of them that left the hotel.
It had been blustering and cold, the wind whipping leaves across the dewy grass as the gray sky fought to find some semblance of color. He would always remember this day, perhaps even more so than the previously mentioned one, and the scenery stuck out clearly in his mind because it was so similar to the eyes that would haunt his dreams from that point on.
The doorbell had rung, the sound resounding ominously through the massive Merteuil mansion. Cursing himself for letting the butlers have a day off, Alain had taken his time walking to the door. Even in a hurry, he had never been one to actually hurry. Tearing himself away from his sickly three year old's side for only a moment hadn't seemed like such a large deal.
An exquisite creature stood on the other side, a young woman of only fifteen with a heart-shaped face and the lightest gray eyes it was possible for one to have. Long blonde hair tumbled down her back, and she fixed him with a piercing stare that seemed to freeze his insides. It was this feeling that caused his delayed reaction time, that caused him to fail to immediate notice her incredible resemblance to a woman he had known intimately before. But the look in her eyes was not one that could come from her, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew where she would have developed that particular distain for the world…
"I'm Belinda Van Ryan."
"Bethany's daughter?" he asked hesitantly.
"And yours," she smiled, but it was one colder than he had ever bore witness to in his life, and having grown up in Tromperie Manor, that was saying something. "But I see I'm not the only one."
Whipping around, his panicked eyes fell upon the tiny three year old at the foot of the marble staircase. Dressed in a pale blue nightgown with her mussed golden curls forming a halo about her delicate head, she looked just like the little angel everyone made her out to be. However, Daddy's little angel had a look in those deep blue eyes that screaming of betrayal, anger, confusion, and an eerie sort of acceptance and understanding that was entirely misplaced. It was with this eye contact that he had felt their relationship strain, the bond between them splintering as Juliette came under scruntization by the beautiful blonde at the doorway.
"You look revolting," she had sneered, looking down her nose at the frail child. However, the child did not quivering, cower, or cry as all had expected her to. Instead she marched up to the much taller blonde, tilted her head back as far as she could, and commanded eye contact.
"I'm sick. What's your excuse?" Juliette looked her up and down before glaring coldly at her and turning, appearing to float back up the stairs without a second glance, leaving a shocked silence in her wake.
It was this shakeup, this sudden appearance of a secret child that had truly destroyed the family. Juliette took it as a given that she would keep the appearance of Belinda Van Ryan a secret from her pristine mother, and Alain would never know how to break the news. The closeness between them had never been fully restored, the pink elephant in the room coming in the form of cold blonde who became one of the world's top supermodels.
Yet with each passing night, Alain would wonder whether keeping these incidents a secret was the wisest move. With each night he would cuddle with his wife of many years, the betrayals began to eat at him, and he wondered how much longer Belinda Van Ryan could be silenced. He had the uneasy notion that she was not done reeking havoc upon their family. The cold expressions upon the gorgeous girl's face had been reminiscent only of an angry Merteuil, conjuring images of his mother, his sisters, his nieces. Now, as he grew older and so did his pride and joy, Juliette retained the same characteristics and bore an uncanny resemblance to the model wedging them apart. Sometimes it appeared that she thought so too, idly tugging at her curls or glaring at herself with great distain in one of her many mirrors.
Alain Merteuil was right, of course. As he lie awake that night thinking ominous thoughts, she was closer to blowing his carefully constructed world apart than he thought, and closer to his daughter than he could ever imagine.
What he could never have imagined was the new family setting Juliette had grown into in the short time she had been gone, one equally threatened by Belinda Van Ryan's presence in the hotel.
What no one could foresee was that the supermodel would find a far worthier adversary in the small child than she could ever imagine. Juliette still felt the sting of her arrival, the pain of having familial stability ripped away just when her health had taken a turn for the worse. She would not let anyone ruin the new family she had just formed. She would die first.
Time heals all wounds, but the scars remain.
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Sigh. I know that this sucked, so in your reviews, please just tell me how I can improve lol. I actually had most of the chapter written, and it was probably the first one I've written that I ever liked… and my computer crashed. And I just couldn't write it the same way again. So hopefully this didn't make you run screaming from your computers, and I'm sorry you didn't get to see the first edition lol.
Now, I'm proud of this story for one reason—I managed to make Maggie love Kathryn and hate Annette. Maggie is my friend from waaay back when I first starting writing One Tree Hill fanfiction, and she isn't totally warped like the rest of us, so I feel that it's an accomplishment that we managed to make her see the dark side.
Hehe… and none of you wondered why Juliette knew what an illegitimate love child was…
I really had to post this though, as I noticed that there hasn't been a single new CI thing to read for all of November. What's with that!
WashedOut- Thank you for elaborating. And reviewing. Lol. I finally stopped having panic attacks over your reviews…
Ocfan108- Merci!
Luvs-bitch01- More k/s is coming, but there are a lot of things I need to establish before I forget to put them in the story completely lol. I'm glad I made it Halloween+Christmas-like for you. Hopefully this chapter hasn't turned you off the story completely.
Babeekim- it really means a lot to me that you like this fic so much. I love it that you love Juliette. Lol, I'm starting to love this character more than like… chocolate. And that's serious. Haha
Keri- well, I actually e-mailed you in a rambling response to your review, so instead of repeating, I'll just keep that between us and thank you for reviewing. I love getting your insight into things.
Katie- Lol yeah, I know, you tried to drill it into my rock-hard-head… NO C/S. I got the message, lol. Don't worry. I'll save you from yourself regarding CI.