Un-betaed. Please review! ;)
JOHNHAMMOND1993 says: Colette and Vandevere are married, but Vandevere is so caught up running Dreamland that he has not been able to spend time with her recently. One day, a child who is at the park saves Colette from being injured in an accident and Vandavere rewards the child and cancels the rest of his plans for the day to spend the day with his wife. Remember, "Adventure is out there!"
Dear JOHNHAMMOND1993, although not my style, I didn't want to disappoint you. Please accept my try; for the sake of the fic and the characters involved, I've made your child a teen and Vandevere and Colette not really married but pretending to be for the public, just to match the rough idea that came to my mind while reading the prompt.
Titles from the final line of La Grande Bellezza, 2013.
3. It's just a trick
Colette swayed on her trapeze, her mind completely out-focused. It should've been her day off and Vandevere had promised her lunch and dinner, along with a stroll during the afternoon, crossing Dreamlands hand in hand as they waved at the visitors and signed autographs for the admirers. It was something they used to do frequently now, to bond directly with the public; it was something that brought Vandevere more money, more fame, more popularity – and then the press flocked each day demanding more and more.
And yet there she was, swinging on her lyra with a bored expression, practicing her new tricks because Vandevere was nowhere to be found. His man came into her rooms early that morning, announcing that he would've been too busy to spend the day with her: new investors to value, he said. That animal hadn't even had the guts to tell her in person!
For the public, they were the happily married couple, always supporting each other. He the wealthy tycoon while she the bright star who made him shine. Together, they were invincible, the winning pair, beauty and brain. It was all for show, all on the outside.
In reality, she was getting tired of being called his wife when he didn't behave like a husband: he didn't particularly care for her, not when it wasn't convenient, at least.
Colette felt suddenly irked: she was the fool, not him. She was the one who still hoped to be considered, to be treated fairly by him, as a sort of wife even if she wasn't. She was responsible for her own fate and her own sorrow – that needed to stop.
She gripped the handle on her lyra and attempted a backflip. The first went by smoothly, so she tried another. All of a sudden, the curtains of the rehearsing tent flapped open, a young male voice announcing unceremoniously its owner entrance. Colette slipped.
Her mouth opened up into a silent gasp, her eyes fixed on the ring swinging by itself, shrinking in size alarmingly as she dropped into thin air. She waited for the safety nets to arrest her fall, but instead, she found herself laying into a young lad's muscular embrace. Her arms automatically flung to his neck, clinging at him as she was still falling.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" Asked him, slightly panting, his eyes wide in horror.
"Oui." Colette gasped back, blinking in confusion. The boy was barely adult, maybe not even sixteen years old, with black eyes and dark, short hair; despite his gentle face and innocent features, Colette could feel his muscles popping out under his shirt. "Thank you, for saving me." She managed to whisper. "You're very strong." She remarked.
The boy put her down and giggled embarrassed, his cheeks turning immediately red.
"I was looking for Mr. Vandevere." The boy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "They told me I would find him here."
Colette let out a snort.
"Unfortunately, he's busy." She answered promptly, her voice bearing hints of annoyance.
"Then maybe you can help me, Mrs. Vandevere."
Colette tried not to recoil at the name. She'd always hated when someone referred to her using it, but after all those years, she'd managed to cover her disgust with a bright smile and a collected flutter of eyelashes, like the most in love of wives would react when hearing the name of her beloved.
She studied for a quick moment the boy in front of her. He's saved her life, the least she could do was listening to him.
"Go on." She spurred.
"Name's Clark, ma'am. I'm here to see Mr. Vandevere, you see – I'm strong, very strong."
Colette smiled sympathetically. She knew that look, she knew that sparkle in his eyes.
"Come with me, then. I'll take you to him."
Colette slipped on her robe and lead the boy up until the tower, where Vandevere's office was. She hopped inside the elevator, Clark in tow as he walked silently. He checked himself into the mirror and flattened his shirt right before the door opened on the last floor.
Colette exited first, warding off with a quick gesture of her hand when the footmen guarding his office door warned her about the boss being busy. She knocked once, twice, and when no answer came, she pushed the handle and stormed in, a calm smile painted on her lips.
"Bonjour, mon cher." She gleefully said, a note of sarcasm in her voice that no one would get. Clark slipped in right after her, a second before the doors closed behind his back automatically.
"Colette." Vandevere glared at her, raising his head from the papers scattered around his desk. "What are you doing here? Who's this?" He asked, twitching his nose.
"Clark, sir." The boy stammered, clearly intimidating by Vandevere's presence. He, on the other hand, seemed quite satisfied and proud of the reaction.
"What is he doing here, Colette? I've got things to do." He protested right after, eyeing the clock.
The aerialist rolled her eyes.
"I know you have. But he just saved my life and I promised him you would hear him." She said calmly, like nothing serious had happened. It was a test for her boss – the one who should've been her husband – to see if he was actually listening to her. After a couple of instants, Vandevere's eyes drifted on her. "I slipped and fell from the trapeze." She explained.
"Don't be ridiculous, Colette! You've got nets." He replied with a scoff.
"The nets were loose, sir." Clark cut in, his voice barely above breath. Being the office a large room, mostly hollow, his words were carried around with a soft echo.
Vandevere glared at him in disgust.
"At least pretend you care." Colette scolded, obviously referring to more than one thing. Vandevere, fortunately, caught her hint and leaned back in his chair, silently inviting the boy to talk and tell what he had to say.
"Thank you, Mr. Vandevere." He beamed, already over the moon. "As I was telling and proving your wife that I'm really strong and -"
"We don't need a strongman at Dreamland." Vandevere interrupted.
Colette folded her arms, glaring at her boss. She suddenly felt a sort of protective instinct toward the boy.
"Give him a chance, mon cher." She almost pleaded.
Vandevere stared back, shifting his firm glance from the two people inside his office.
"We have wonders, mystiques – I don't need a simple strongman! Your kind belongs to traveling circuses. I don't have a place for you, here." He shook slowly his head, trying to make himself clear. "It's nothing personal, my young lad, it's business. You'll understand."
Clark's smiled and enthusiasm had completely drained out of his body, but being a polite human being, he bowed his head.
"Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Vandevere." He said.
"Here. For your trouble." Vandevere took a gold coin from his jacket and threw it with his thumb toward the boy. Clark immediately caught it. "Good catch." The tycoon praised.
After the boy had gone, Colette was still with her arms crossed, glaring at Vandevere with intent, fidgeting on the spot and tapping her foot, waiting for her boss to notice her vexation.
"Why did you do that?" She asked with a raspy voice. "He saved my life."
"Did what, cherie?" He questioned back, completely calm as he returned to his papers. "We don't need plain acts. Just think a lad lifting his weights compared to you soaring in the air. Besides, if you'd been more careful when you're up there-"
"I wouldn't have been up there in the first place if you'd stick to our plan for the day!" She snapped back. "You've been rude to him." She sighed, spinning on her heels.
"On the contrary, Colette, I was being honest." Said Vandevere perfectly collected. Then, he sighed, raising his glance on her face and frowned. "What's bothering you so much?" He asked and his voice sounded genuinely preoccupied.
Colette turned slightly her head, peeking at him with the corner of her eye over her shoulder. Sometimes he liked to play husband and wife and those times he was damn good in faking his feelings, pretending he cared.
"You were supposed to spend the day with me." She snorted. She tried to show it didn't really trouble her, but her voice gave her away.
"Are you unhappy?" Vandevere asked rhetorically. "You never slipped from the trapeze and you always double-check the nets. What happened today?"
Colette turned to face him completely again. She tightened her jaw.
"I feel like I'm at your disposal." She blurted out. "Everybody thinks we're happy and supportive to one another, while I feel like I'm one of your pretty toy you play with when it's convenient."
Vandevere immediately stood up from his chair. In a couple of steps or more, he was beside her, his large hands placed on each of her slender shoulders.
"We work so well as husband and wife because we're a perfect team, ma cherie." He said, looking straight into her eyes. Perhaps he was just charming her with his sweet talks, like always, maybe he really meant it, she could never really tell. "I'll tell you what, now. You let me finish with my papers and we'll spend the rest of the day together." He beamed, smacking a loud kiss on her jawline.
Colette swallowed the lump in her throat. Was he really feeling guilty? She didn't know. Was he just giving her the sweetener to keep her quiet? The only thing she knew was that he had the last say on everything – like with Clark. If he'd decided that he was going to take her out to dinner and make everything better, it would be like that and she would have obeyed, because, really, what else she could do?
"I'm not just a toy for you?" She asked finally with a dim voice. Perhaps she already knew the answer to that, but maybe she wanted him to give her his point of view to wash all her certainties away and replace those with more pleasant lies or coverages.
"You're my gem, ma cherie, my brightest one." He said, his voice soft and dreamy. That was it, not a toy, but a jewel, another inanimate thing to make him shine – it was like that and, sadly, it would always be so. A perfect team and a more perfect couple on the outside, for the world to see and two people who merely knew each other in private.
It was all a charade, but really, what wasn't?
From beginning to end, the nature of their relationship was a trick. Just like all Dreamland itself: nothing more than a trick.