A/N. First prompt for fictober. Don't know if I will end up doing them all, Will just see where the inspiration leads. Also, I won't be sticking to one a day, since I'm already behind. Some days there might be two, some days there might be none.
Jean heard the front door slam, followed by a slurred curse word. She frowned, and throwing the damp tea towel over her shoulder, made her way to the hallway. Sticking her head around the corner Jean's suspicions were realised. Lucien stood with his back against the wall. His eyes were closed and his clothes dishevelled. She sighed and made her way to him.
"Bad day?" she asked pointedly.
"Jean. Jean Jean Jeanie Jean Jean," Lucien mumbled. He didn't open his eyes but his lips turned upwards with a smile.
Jean reached for the bottle in his hand and caught it just in time as it slipped through his fingers. Placing it on the sideboard she put her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow at the sight before her.
"Any day a murderer gets away scott free is a bad day Jean," Lucien slurred as he finally opened his eyes and pushed himself off the wall, swaying slightly.
Jean caught him mid sway and began to walk him down the hallway. "And you thought that getting drunk was the answer?" There was no answer. "Lucien you can't do this every time you don't get justice."
Lucien didn't speak but pulled away from her, making a move to go to his bedroom.
Jean pulled him back, "Oh no. First things first, you're coming with me to the kitchen. You're going to drink some water, have a strong coffee and something to eat to try and soak up some of that alcohol."
Lucien let himself be lead to the kitchen where he gratefully collapsed into a chair as Jean went to fill the kettle. Glancing back at him she saw him with his head in his hands. He was completely still and for a moment Jean wondered if he'd fallen asleep sitting upright at the kitchen table. Finally he spoke.
"He was six years old Jean," he mumbled as he rubbed his face, "Six years old. And the murdering bastard got off on a technicality."
Jeans anger evaporated as she put a glass of water down in front of him. "Here drink this," she offered gently.
"It just makes me so mad!" Lucien suddenly roared, as he waved his hands in frustration. Knocking over the glass, water spilled out and Lucien yelped as it dripped into his lap. The glass rolled off the table and smashed onto the ground.
"Oh Lucien," Jean made her way to him as he stared blankly down at the glass fragments.
Mattie and Charlie appeared in the doorway in pajamas.
"Jean?" Mattie's eyes moved from Jean to Lucien to the smashed glass.
Charlie was also surveying the scene, his policeman's eyes taking in Lucien's vague look and untucked shirt. "Is everything alright Mrs Beazley?"
"Yes, yes, Just a broken glass, nothing I can't handle. You two pop back to bed." Jean smiled and waved them away.
As they left Lucien got out of his seat and knelt down next to the glass, his eyes trying to focus on trying to pick up the broken shards. "I'm sorry Jean. I must be such a disappointment to you," he rambled.
Jean moved to him and joined him on the floor. "Lucien let me do this, You're in no fit state to be handling broken glass."
"Damn and blast it!" Lucien swore as glass sliced his finger. Sticking the bloody finger into his mouth he sucked on it.
Jean sighed and handed him the tea towel from her shoulder. "Wrap it in this and sit back up at the table. I'll clean this up and get you a bandage."
Lucien fixed his unfocused eyes on her and taking the towel, he did as she said and sat back in the chair. "You know Jean, You're a marvel," he slurred.
Jean smiled sadly. "I'm just the housekeeper." She swept the broken glass into the dustpan and shook it into the bin. "Now, lets have a look at your finger." She sat next to him at the table and took his hand in her own. She wasn't surprised to find his hands were shaking as she unwrapped the bleeding finger. Thankfully it was only a superficial cut that wouldn't need stitches. "No lasting damage. I'll get a plaster." She stood and swiftly made her way to the bathroom cabinet where she kept the first aid supplies.
When she returned she found Lucien still sat at the table, eyes closed and head slumped down to his chest.
"Come on Lucien. Wake up, you can't sleep here."
He forced his eyes open and stared at her as she took his hand once again, and administered the plaster. Standing, she made her way back to the kettle which had now boiled and poured out a strong black coffee.
"Shall I play you a song Jean?" He made a move as if to go to the piano, but overbalanced once again and almost fell off the chair.
Jean buttered a piece of bread and shook her head. "Shh, no it's late Lucien, Mattie and Charlie are sleeping."
Lucien swung his head around as if he was half expecting them to still be standing in the doorway where he'd seen them last. "Hmm." He thought for a moment then pushed himself off the chair and launched himself at Jean, "Dance with me then?"
Jean was taken by surprise. His hands were at her waist as she stared into his face. For a moment she let herself be swept away as they rocked together to the music only Lucien could hear. She felt that familiar pull to him that she'd been fighting on and off since he had arrived, and it was nice to be in a mans arms again, although she knew Lucien wouldn't remember any of this the next day. She smiled sadly and disentangled herself from his arms. "Drink your coffee Lucien. Eat something and go to bed" she said softly.
Lucien blinked at the abrupt ending to their dance. He looked into her eyes and reaching for the coffee downed it in a gulp, his eyes never leaving hers.
After finishing the bread Jean had buttered, Lucien started towards the doorway, and stumbling fell onto the chair. Seated he began to laugh.
"Come on, Up you get" Jean pulled him up throwing his arm around her neck, she wound her own around his waist as her cheeks coloured slightly. She knew the town talked about what went on between her and her employer behind closed doors but this wasn't anything like what they were imagining.
She led him to his room where he obligingly lay on his bed and closed his eyes.
"Jean, What would I do without you?"
Jean gave a half smile at his drunken musings and reached to take off his shoes.
"Sweet Jean. I need you."
Jean paused slightly in the act of removing his shoes.
"Don't ever leave me will you?"
His voice sounded so sad and almost childlike.
"Of course not Lucien. I'm right here." She pulled the blanket over him and turned to go.
"My Jean," he sighed.
She froze.
"My fair, sweet Jean," he breathed and then fell silent as his breathing turned to light snores.