A/N: For the sake of pacing, let's say that divorce doesn't take an eternity and a half to go through.
Chapter 14
After exchanging some information with Margaret, the group heads home, giving up on going anywhere else without being bothered. On the way back Victor had received a call letting him know that the divorce had gone through. Victoria is now an Everglot once again, not that the title carries much weight now. She's in their bedroom, apartment hunting, while Emily has gone back with Bonejangles to write some music, take her mind off things.
Well, his bedroom now.
He can hardly believe it. Victoria hadn't even given him a chance to offer her the house. She seems so ready to leave.
He turns her ring over in his fingers. The tiny gold band that symbolized their love. Fragile and small. She had given it back to him the moment they arrived home. He sets it on the coffee table beside his own band.
Done.
x
Emily limps around Bonejangles's apartment, going towards the piano. Victoria had done an excellent job prettying up the place. It looks a lot more lived in now. She opens the piano bench, looking for the blank staff paper to start some new material. Instead, she finds a rumpled piece of paper with crudely drawn staves and roughly outlined melodies entitled "Victoria".
What?
She skims over the words, barely legible but still readable.
Victoria, what are you doing to me?
Summers have shifted and winds have blown
But I'm still on my own
Victoria
Am I going to be alone?
She smooths the paper across the stand.
Oh, boy.
"Bonejangles!" she calls.
Bonejangles bounds down the stairs, pencil in his teeth, sax under his arm, strap thrown over his shoulder. "Yeah?" he asks. He spots the page, and reddens immediately. "O-o-oh. You saw that, did you?"
"Yes." Emily closes the bench and sits down. "When were you planning on telling me you were in love?"
Bonejangles raises an eyebrow. "Love? S'more of a passin' fancy, really." He hurriedly hooks the strap in, fumbling with it a little, hanging the sax around his neck. "Nothin' more to it."
Emily rolls her eyes. "Please. You and I both know that isn't true. We're musicians, and when we're in love, we write songs."
Bonejangles fixes the reed. "Fine. Supposing that I'm in love with her—"
"You are."
"Pfft. Anyway, so what? Nothin's gonna come of it." He puffs out a few notes, then adjusts his embouchure.
"You don't know that for sure."
Bonejangles seats himself on one of the arms of the couch. "Forget it. Let's just get started. We need to submit these songs in about a week, and we've only got three of the ten."
Emily plays a few of the chords, filling the room with soft, jazzy piano melodies. "Why don't we use this one? It's quite pretty. We can put it with 'Moon Dance'."
"Her name's in it 'bout ten times!"
"We can change it."
"To what?"
"Baby."
Bonejangles approaches the stand and looks the song over. That could work. With her name gone, Victoria would never know.
"Alright then. Scoot over."
Bonejangles wiggles in beside Emily. "We're gonna have to change the title."
"Noted." she smiles at him. "I think you should tell her, though."
…
"I don't think so."
x
Victor walks into the bedroom. Victoria is scrolling on her laptop, lying on her stomach in a decidedly un-Victoria-like manner. She seems to be loosening a little more each day, yet still carrying a ball of tension wadded up inside. As he draws closer, he notices the beginnings of tiny bags underneath her eyes.
He sits on the bed next to her. She flinches a little at the sudden dip in the bed, then goes back to her searching.
Victor speaks first.
"Hello."
Victoria gives him a small glance. "Hello."
…
"How's the search going?"
Victoria sighs and closes the laptop, giving up. "Not well. I can't really focus on it right now, actually." She rests her chin on the lid, simply staring straight ahead. Her eyes are tired, but they never droop shut.
"Anything I can do to help?"
Victoria's lower lip starts quivering. Concerned, Victor places a hand on her shoulder, unsure of what to do. Victoria hasn't allowed herself to appear so vulnerable in years.
"Just… just leave me for a moment, alright?"
Victor frowns. "Why?"
Tears spill over before Victoria can pull them back. "Victor, please!" she chokes out, turning on her side to hide her face.
Victor feels as if someone is slowly shredding his heart to pieces. He throws his legs onto the bed and turns on his side, enveloping Victoria in his arms. She doesn't resist, instead she simply lies there, trembling.
"I'm sorry." she says, her voice small and barely audible, a pained whisper. "I've just been holding all this in for so long."
Victor thinks back to the papers on the table, the finalization of their separation. "This isn't about the divorce, is it?"
"No. Yes. I don't know!" she sighs. "I just don't know what I'm going to do with myself now. I'm not particularly good at anything, not like you and Emily and Bonejangles with your music. All I know is data entry and taking care of you. I'm a housewife, Victor. My life has been planned to lead to that and nothing more." she sniffles. "Well, I don't have a plan anymore."
Victor pulls her up into a sitting position. He has to be the strong one, the man he's supposed to be. "Look at me." He tilts her head up gently. "You don't have to leave right away if you don't want to. No one is going to throw you out. And don't feel like you have to push your feelings down, or bury them." He smiles. "You're my sister. You don't have to be brave for me."
The beginnings of a smile appear on Victoria. "Thank you, so much." She wraps her arms around him and embraces him. She peers up at him through damp eyelashes. "You've really grown up."
"Oi!" he says, playfully squeezing her arm. "I'm not that childish."
"You take a pound of sugar with your coffee."
He chuckles. "Alright, that's fair." He pulls back. "Will you be alright with Emily living here? Because she doesn't have to move in right away. I'm sure Bonejangles could —"
Victoria shushes him. "I won't mind. It doesn't really bother me anymore. I can see how much you love each other, and I'm happy for you."
"Thank you. That means the world to me."
x
Collin scrolls through his email, going through the monotonous task of deleting his spam, trying to distract himself from his failure, and the temptation Barkis had offered him. Of course, he had said that he would be willing to kill Emily from the beginning if it came to that, but that was just talk to intimidate Hunter. In reality, he isn't sure how he'd go about it if he had the chance. Contemplating it is one thing, but going through with it is another. It isn't the act itself that intimidates him. It's dealing with the aftermath that makes him uneasy.
The spam folder contains mostly Viagra ads with the occasional flirtatious bot, until he sees an email from mfinch .uk. The name appears familiar to him, and he opens it immediately without reading the subject.
HERE TO HELP
Margaret Finch mfinch .uk
Mr. Collin Percival,
I read your article when it was first published, and I must say that it was very informative. I enjoyed the clever bits about Emily being "a dead girl walking" and your call to "raise awareness". I also have an interest in Miss Hunter and am glad to have a fellow researcher taking part in this fascinating study.
Recently, I have conversed with Victor Van Dort, and he has no objection whatsoever to me interviewing his Corpse Bride. If you'd like, we can collaborate and publish stronger evidence and expose this "zombie among us", as you call her.
We both possess great minds, Mr. Percival. And great minds think alike, as you can see in my very own article on the subject (DIGG). So, come work with me. Together, we can achieve greatness.
Margaret Finch
DIGG Photography
+44 3069 990586
mfinch .uk
Collin clenches his fists. Now he remembers. He had used Finch's article as part of his evidence ages ago, back when he still had a chance to create a career. Why should he even bother with her? His career in the publishing world is over.
Then again, maybe this is Fate, putting his seemingly impossible dream within reach again.
Or Fate's sick sense of humour, taunting him only to rip it away from him.
Or maybe it's a second chance.
Or maybe it's not.
Or maybe it is.
Either way, he knows it'll kill him not to know.
He glances at the knife sitting inches from his keyboard.
Besides, if this goes well, he can get his revenge on Van Dort and Hunter. Bonejangles too.
He clicks reply and begins to type the most diplomatic response he knows how to produce.
RE: HERE TO HELP
Collin Percival cman22
Hello Margaret,
Thank you for taking the time to read my brilliant work and actually believe it. In a world full of fools, it's difficult to find minds that know greatness when they see it.
Yes, I think you working for me will be just fine. I know of your work and I have deemed it satisfactory, so if you set a time I will inform you of my availability. As an esteemed author I have a very busy schedule as it is, so you'll have to work around that.
Collin Percival
The City Shuttle
+44 7911 123456
cman22
And, send.
In hindsight, he might have exaggerated a little. Then again, it was only accent exaggerating. He simply gave his qualities a bit more shine.
RE: RE: HERE TO HELP
Margaret Finch mfinch .uk
How does tomorrow at five o'clock sound?
Margaret Finch
DIGG Photography
+44 3069 990586
mfinch .uk
At that moment, Barkis walks in to check on him, or rather, his progress. He looks slightly different today, a bluish hue that seems to push from beneath his skin. The whites of his eyes seem to have a tinge of yellow, like aged paper. He reads over Collin's shoulder and frowns.
"I thought we agreed that this was a dead end, my boy."
Collin glances up at him. Quick, think of a lie! He can't disappoint his father, not now. Wait, father? Well, he supposes it's official now. Anyway, lie, now!
"It's a trap. I need to get them to meet me again, and this Finch woman is offering to help. They'll be dead soon, don't worry."
Barkis affectionately ruffles his hair, his fingers roughly scraping his scalp. "Clever boy." He goes to leave, then adds, "Don't forget the knife."
x
Barkis shuts the door behind him, fighting all urges to slam it. Collin is going at an agonizingly slow rate. If murder wouldn't send him right back to the Basement, he would have killed Collin along with Emily and Victor and Bonejangles long ago.
Well, at least now he seems to be getting somewhere, but he's running out of patience.
And worst of all, he's running out of foundation.