Author's Notes: (pained whimper) You'd think that the summer months at a college would be easier, right? NO! Oy vey, the last two weeks have been … ugh. (shakes head) Naturally, because of the stress at work has done a number on my creativity. Fortunately, a comedy of errors yesterday morning while I was getting ready for work provided me with something to work with. So … this chapter. Well, I promised some Athos-whump (in a roundabout way), and never let it be said that I don't keep my word. This will not be the last of the Athos-whump-nightmares, because our evil force of the week underestimates Anne (and misjudges her fierce love for her child). Also … yes. As you see from this first block, I figured out a way to work Sylvie into things. She won't be in this story or the one that follows. This is more an acknowledgment that she exists, and yes, here she is Alex's niece. In this timeline, she's in her mid-teens, the daughter of Tanya Moreau and Daniel Euware (PTL episode, The Spirit Thief). If I recall correctly from the episode, Daniel was technically Tanya's mentor, but to me, there was a definite vibe between them (and Derek being Alex's mentor didn't prevent feelings from springing up there). Sylvie grew up in London and likely shares her aunt's psychic abilities. And no, I don't see Anne as having a lot of use/respect for Rachel. So … in this chapter, we see the events of the past day through Alex's eyes; Anne has a nightmare that leaves her badly shaken; and the two ladies have a late night conversation.
Chapter Three
Not So Easily Destroyed
San Francisco Legacy House
Angel Island
2013 (Anne's first night at the House)
This was not how this night was supposed to be going. Then again, there were times when the theme of her life seemed to be, 'if not for bad luck, she'd have no luck at all.' On the other hand, there were also days when her life seemed to be made of luck. This past day hadn't been one of them. She'd been awakened at four thirty in the morning with a leg cramp that had her close to tears and using some very unladylike language (Gramma Rose would have washed her mouth out with lye soap if she'd heard even half of those words). The cramp eased enough to let her doze off, but she was still limping for the better part of the morning.
Next, her bra strap broke while she was dressing. While she was fairly certain that she could fix it, she was running late as it was. She and Nick were interviewing for the newly vacant security chief slot … Nick, because it used to be his job, tended to be somewhat of a control freak when it came to the interviews. Add to that, he really didn't enjoy conducting interviews, and it all added up to an extremely uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Fortunately (for them, at least), their sole interviewee for today had to reschedule due to a dead battery. Instead, they had a tour group from the mainland, led by Kat.
Alexandra Moreau frowned thoughtfully as she gave up on getting any sleep right now, choosing instead to try to get some reading done. It wasn't light reading, either … that would keep her up until the crack of dawn. No, this was another read-through of Elspeth Hanlon's CV … Ms. Hanlon being the nearly frantic young woman who phoned at nine am this morning, asking to reschedule their eleven am interview because her car wouldn't start. Alex had to give her credit … she was determined to make this interview with time to spare, if she was leaving her home in the city at eight thirty am.
She had the purest of intentions, but even as she tried to focus on Ms. Hanlon's past accomplishments, Alex's mind kept drifting to Kat and the mysterious young woman who accompanied her to the island. She was a pretty girl, about fifteen years younger than Alex herself, and there was something hauntingly familiar about her. Alex couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew this girl … this Anne … from somewhere. She'd been quiet during dinner, although that was likely due to Rachel's monologue about one of her patients. Anne just stared at her in shock as she talked about this particular patient, and while Alex just met her, there was no mistaking an 'are you even serious?' expression when she saw one.
She answered Nick's questions succinctly … no, she'd never seen Kat before and no, she'd never encountered Ryder before (lucky girl … once was more than enough with that jackass, and Alex met him on several occasions). She just left a position as a corporate headhunter and the man she was in love with walked out on her. Alex noticed the way Kat shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but her 'little sister' didn't say anything. Hmm. Interesting.
After dinner, Nick gave Anne a tour of the 'new' House. Funny. Fifteen years later, she was still calling the rebuilt Legacy House the 'new' House. Largely because it was … not just because it was finished two years after the original was destroyed, but also because it didn't look like the House where they'd lived for so many years before Derek … before it was destroyed. Instead, after conferring with Alex, Rachel and Kat, Nick proposed coming up with a new design for the House. And Kat, darling Kat, remembered a sketch her father did a few weeks before his death. Against all odds, she found that sketch again and presented it to Nick.
It was perfect. Just similar enough to the previous Legacy House so that it would be familiar, and just different enough that Alex didn't break down sobbing when they moved in. According to Kat (who was very much her daddy's girl), her father got the idea after visiting English manor homes that were transplanted, stone by stone, to the United States. It took a little over three years to build, but it was built … and it was home, for all that Derek wasn't here. At least, that was what she told herself. But over the last few weeks, she could have sworn that she caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was ludicrous, of course … Derek had been dead for years, and while he could be a ruthless bastard, he would have never let them mourn him if he was really alive.
Alex blinked back tears, and put Elspeth Hanlon's CV away with an angry huff. Instead, she picked up her tablet, wanting to check her email. Her niece was starting boarding school in Switzerland, and she was desperately homesick. God knew Alex loved her sister, and she knew that her sister loved her daughter … unfortunately, her niece didn't know that. She only knew that her mother couldn't bear to look at her. And she couldn't, although that was hardly Sylvie's fault. Every time Tanya looked at Sylvie, she saw her daughter's father, Daniel Euware, the man who used her and nearly destroyed her. It wasn't an issue when Sylvie was a little girl, but as she grew into her teens, Tanya began seeing more and more of Daniel in her.
To make matters worse, Alex's attempts to help her niece met with resistance from Tanya. Rather than tear Sylvie apart in an ongoing tug-of-war, Alex let go … but every night, she emailed her niece. Thus far, Sylvie hadn't responded to any of her emails, but Alex never gave up hope.
Never.
14AA41
Unknown Location
Approximately the same time
She crept down the stairs, glancing over her shoulder every time she heard something. The rational part of her knew that it was nothing more than the house settling, but this was an unfamiliar place and her nerves were already on edge. Down, down, down she went … and if she felt a bit like a heroine in those horrid Gothic romances she read as a teenager to distract herself, that wasn't something she was inclined to share with anyone. As she reached the bottom of the stairs and came face to face with a door, she hesitated. This was a strange house, and there was a part of her which feared opening the door … especially given the red glow she saw emanating from under said door. She scolded herself … it wasn't as if she would open the door and find human sacrifice being practiced on the other side!
With that, she determinedly reached for the door handle and found to her astonishment (and unease), that the door opened as soon as she touched it. Swallowing hard (dammit, she was Milady de Winter … she'd faced down far worse!), she pushed the door open … only to stop short. It wasn't a human sacrifice that lay in front of her. In some ways, what she beheld was far worse. As a young girl, she often heard people referencing Dante's Inferno whenever they spoke of fires … but until this moment, she hadn't ever understood the actual horror, as it seemed she was stepping into Hell itself.
There was fire all around her, the red glow she'd seen under the door. But the worse was yet to come. As she moved further into the room (why wasn't the fire touching her?), she heard soft groaning … the sounds of someone in terrible pain. Someone who was hurting so badly, they were only capable of making those small, muffled noises. She turned toward the source of the sound, a startled gasp breaking free when she saw the source of the groans. A slim figure hung in chains, head bowed … but Anne didn't need to see his face. She recognized the dark hair falling in sweaty ringlets, the lean body. She knew exactly who hung here, and she could have cried. Even before her husband raised his head to look at her, the strips of his clothes falling away to reveal the hideous marks on his body, she could have cried. But at seeing what was done to him, to her Athos, Anne did cry out.
Terrible gouges were torn into his flesh, and were even now weeping blood. For the first time, too, she noticed the fire lighting up at his feet … fire that was even now licking at what remained of his boots. Fire that would consume her husband, and Anne knew she couldn't let that happen. However angry she was with Athos, she couldn't let him die, unless she was ready to die with him. And she wasn't. Not yet.
We are bound together, she told him, and she meant it. Athos would not die here, not like this. But as she moved forward, toward Athos, flames leapt up in front of her, and a strangely familiar voice asked (in French), 'are you sure that's what you want to do? Are you sure you want to save him? After everything he did to you, after all the times he failed you, after all the times he chose others over you? Why not just let him die … why not just let him burn? It's what he deserves.' The flames at Athos' feet were licking at his ankles now, and his head fell back between his shoulders, as if someone just struck him in the face, and blood began to run down into his beard from his split lip.
But … was it what he deserved? Did anyone, except the most heinous of criminals, deserve this? Anne realized as she stared at the battered body of the only man she could ever truly love, she didn't care what he deserved. She wasn't sure if she would ever forgive him for choosing his brothers over her, time and again, but … but she remembered what things were like when she thought he was dead. It was as if a light in the world went out. Remembering that, remembering how lost she felt when she thought she'd achieved her heart's desire, Anne once more moved to free her husband (he was her husband, would always be her husband … she couldn't let him go).
Only to find her way blocked once more … this time, by a figure in a dark cloak. And once more, the question was asked, 'why not let him burn? He failed you again, he will always fail you.' Anne felt her throat tighten with frustration and with unshed tears, but this time, she chose to respond, "We failed each other. I told him that we were bound together, and I meant it." And because Kat Corrigan raised a good point when she spoke of her father and brother's deaths, she added, "And maybe he tried to come, but was prevented. I just know that I won't let him die, much less like this." No, when he died, it would be at her hand, and not like this.
With those words, she pushed the cloaked figure out of her way, trying not to think about how familiar it/she/whatever seemed. Instead, she focused on saving Athos, because of course her dear husband just had to make things as difficult as possible. He mumbled some noble nonsense about her getting away, that she shouldn't risk her life for him. What rot! He should know by now that she would always do what she wanted, rather than what he told her to do! And she meant what she said, about leaving the person she'd become behind her.
Once more, she reached for her husband, only to be pulled backward … by the same cloaked figure from before. Anne, who never forgot her childhood on the streets, immediately threw her elbow back into the face of her assailant, stomping on his/her/its foot at the same time, and followed that up with a back kick to the knee. She whirled around as the cloaked figure fell to the ground, cursing in French, but the very breath was sucked out of Anne's lungs. As she (yes, it was a woman) … as she fell to the ground, the hood on the cloak fell back to reveal her face. It was a face Anne recognized immediately.
It belonged to her. And yet, it didn't … it was twisted with madness and hatred. Not just for Athos, but for her as well … the other Anne's smile was promising death …
14AA41
Angel Island
San Francisco Bay
San Francisco, CA
Same Time
She bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath and trembling, bedcovers twisted up with her limbs. It was a dream … just a horrible, horrible nightmare. That didn't prevent her from hugging the nearest pillow against her chest as tightly as she could manage, until her shaking eased enough for her to glance at the clock beside her bed. Anne groaned a little … two thirty in the morning. Four hours of sleep, and she wasn't about to get up for good at this time of the night … or morning, either one. She closed her eyes, pressing her back against the headboard, and waited for the tremors to abate.
It had been a long time since she had a nightmare that bad … even longer since one of her nightmares was about Athos. Then again, the last time she had a nightmare about Athos, it involved her being stabbed instead of Thomas (no, she hadn't actually stabbed him, but God how she wanted to) … and Athos holding the knife as it dug into her chest. That was the day before she encountered Rochefort for the first time, and oh, what a mistake allying with him had been.
Going back to sleep at this point wasn't an option. Anne knew enough about her nightmares to know that if she went back to sleep, the nightmare would resume or start over. She threw back the covers and stepped to the window, her breath leaving her lungs in a soft 'oh' at the sight of San Francisco lit up at night. It was beautiful by night … many cities were, she supposed. The darkness covered up the ugliness, until only light remained. Just a fantasy, she knew … just a façade, but that image remained in her head. As did Kat's observation that looking at the night sky reminded her of a black velvet blanket.
She was still feeling unsettled, making it impossible for her to go back to sleep even if she wanted to. There was nothing in her room to distract her, and so she slipped out into the hallway, padding down the hall in her bare feet. Nick Boyle provided her with a tour earlier that day, telling her that gas main explosion destroyed the previous house nearly fifteen years earlier. He ignored the 'if you want to call it that' comment from Rachel Corrigan (how such an unpleasant woman gave birth to and raised a sweet girl like Kat, Anne had no idea … and she would deny to her dying breath that she regarded Kat as sweet).
Anne hadn't missed the reactions from Boyle or Alex Moreau, but it was Kat who said quietly, "None of us have ever stopped missing Derek." She looked at Anne, adding, "Our friend, the original owner of the house … he died while checking to make sure everyone got out safely." That … sounded like an Athos thing to do, and Anne immediately chastised herself for thinking of her husband again. It was then that she caught sight of Moreau's expression. There was a flash of pain in her dark eyes … a pain Anne immediately recognized.
That was the only explanation for her own observation, "Some more than others, though?" Kat looked at her, looked at Alex, and then inclined her head, ever so slightly. Yeah. She thought as much. Conversation next turned to the interviews which Boyle and Moreau were conducting to replace their head of security (which made Anne wonder … what did they have here that required security? Hmm. Interesting question). After dinner, she drifted into the library, regretting it immediately, as it reminded her of Athos. That didn't stop her from returning there now, maybe because she needed fresh memories of Athos to clear her mind … stop her from seeing the battered, bloody body of her husband in her mind's eye.
Athos would have loved this place … probably the house as a hold, but definitely the library. It reminded her a great deal of the library at his family home in New Brunswick … two floors, filled with dark wood furniture. She smiled when she saw the ladder. No, she and Athos never made love on a ladder, although she did have some sweet memories of jumping off the ladder in the library into Athos' arms … and hearing stories of a drunk Tommy hanging from the chandelier (which, now that she thought about it, looked a lot like the chandelier even now hanging over her head). Also over her head was a big window, and Anne lightly raced up the curved staircase to the second floor.
The window (actually a door, which led to a balcony) overlooked the grounds, which she couldn't see much of. However, Moreau mentioned at dinner that after the death of this Derek, she'd started gardening once the new house was built. It was obvious to Anne that she'd been in love with the man … and that there were many regrets tied up with that love. Anne was familiar with that feeling. As if summoned by Anne's memory of dinner, a soft voice observed, "I thought I was the only one who couldn't sleep. Strange place?"
Anne turned to face Alex Moreau, who was staring up at her with a small smile. Anne started to answer, but instead of the noncommittal 'yes,' she found herself saying, "Bad dreams. About my husband." Moreau frowned and Anne's runaway mouth continued to run away with her as she added, "I asked him to meet me somewhere, and he didn't do it. Something Dr. Corrigan junior asked this afternoon … never mind." Moreau said nothing as she ascended the steps. Anne was irrationally afraid at first that she would touch her arm … or worse, hug her … but instead, Moreau stepped to the window, her back to Anne.
"Would you like to trade your bad dreams for the leg cramps that woke me this morning? Or rather, yesterday morning?" she asked, looking out into the night. Anne actually considered that a few minutes. It was tempting. But the nightmare was starting to fade … and leg cramps took far longer to fade. She shook her head, and Moreau laughed softly. She said, "I don't blame you. It took me hours to stop limping this morning. I couldn't get to sleep tonight. Tried to read and that didn't work … checked my email to see if I'd heard anything from my niece, and I just got angry at what I did have."
Anne didn't know what to say to that, and Moreau went on, "A dear friend of ours is a priest, and he's in Texas right now. He opened a … sanctuary for lack of a better word. Last week, a volunteer's husband … excuse me, ex-husband … decided to show up and make trouble. It just … their marriage is over, the divorce papers are signed, and she's moved on with her life. Maybe that was what set him off … she's moved on with her life, and he decided to be a jerk about it. I don't know. I just know that Philip is one of the most even-tempered people I know, and this creep set him off in a big way."
Anne wondered to herself why Moreau was telling her this and why she should care. Newsflash … there were creeps, jerks, and assholes in the world. Getting angry about it didn't help a damn thing … it just hurt you. Anne was through poisoning herself. She started down the steps, intending to return to bed and hopefully not fall asleep before the last vestiges of the nightmare disappeared from her mind, but Moreau's voice again stopped her as she said, "I lost the man I loved fifteen years ago. I never really told him how I felt about him … spent time being angry with him because of … stupid things."
Those words froze Anne in her tracks (as they were probably meant to), and Moreau went on, "I forever lost my chance with Derek. I have plenty of excuses. I don't know what happened with the man you loved, the one who didn't meet you. I know Kat already offered the possibility that he couldn't. There was a massive explosion in Montreal, right around the time you left. Did you ever consider the possibility that the blockage in traffic prevented him from coming to you? Or did you just leave, thinking it easier?"
"It doesn't matter. He's there … I'm here. And this is … I'll be moving on from here in a few days. I don't know where I'm going next," Anne lied (she planned to go see Justinian, see how big her little boy was now). She turned to face the older woman, whose arms were folded over her chest as she listened, and went on, "I thought we might have a chance together, but if he really wanted to be with me, he would have found a way." Moreau's eyebrow arched, reminding Anne suddenly, painfully of Athos, and a small smile touched her lips.
"And if you really wanted to be with him, you would have waited until it was no longer safe for you to be there. But, you're not ready to hear that, not yet. Sleep well, Anne de Brueil," Moreau answered. She turned away from the window, and headed down the stairs. Anne once more looked out into the night, thinking about the nightmare she just had. She thought about the invitation she'd made to Athos, and wondered if Moreau was right. Could she have waited longer for him to come? She heard about the explosion in Montreal while she was at the airport, and it never occurred to her that the resulting tangle in traffic might have delayed Athos. She had no idea … she just knew that he wasn't there when she left, when she asked him to be there.
It was none of Moreau's business and Anne didn't care what she thought. That didn't stop her from turning away from the dark night, to call after the other woman, "He never put me first. He always chose other people over me … whether it was his little brother Tommy or his brothers-in-arms, he always chose other people over me." Moreau stopped and for a moment, Anne thought she'd gotten the better of her. But then she turned to face Anne, her expression neutral … which made it hard to ignore what she said next.
"And when did you put him first?" Moreau asked. She began walking once more without giving Anne the chance to answer, although a rejoinder was already on her lips. When did she put Athos first? When she chose him over her employment with the cardinal, when she fell in love with him … she put Athos first then. As Moreau reached the door to the library, she paused and turned to face Anne once again, saying, "I have an older sister, Tanya. There are very few things I wouldn't do for her. And if I had to choose between Derek and Tanya … if Derek asked me to make such a choice, I would have never forgiven him. And he didn't … he made sure I could be there for her, could save her when she needed to be saved. But if he tried to prevent me from protecting her, I would have never forgiven him. Derek was the man I loved, but Tanya is my sister, she's my big sister, and she was my first friend, long before I met Derek. Those bonds are not easily destroyed."
With those words, she strode from the library. Anne whispered to the empty library, "I never had brothers or sisters. Just myself." As far back as she could remember, she was alone. There was no one else. Just Anne. And Anne had to take care of herself, because no one else would. She learned that lesson the hard way. The only person who ever tried to take care of her was Athos, and even he betrayed her. She sat down on the first step to the staircase, wrapping her arms around herself as she whispered, "Just myself."
She never saw the man, watching her from behind a bookcase. And she ended up falling asleep on that staircase, leaning against the railing. She never heard the man enter the room from the sliding bookcase. She never felt that man drape a blanket around her or ease her into a reclining position or kiss her forehead tenderly. Nor did she hear him whisper, "Not just Anne. Never just Anne. My precious daughter, always and forever. I never knew about you, Anneke … if I had known, I swear I would have come for you." She was still sleeping there when the first rays of light came through the window a few hours later … the father she'd never met watching over her from his secret room inside the library all the while.
TBC
Additional Notes: Interesting idea here ... Nick, Alex, Kat, Derek and Philip all have siblings. Nick, Philip, and Kat all lost their older brothers. Alex and Derek both have older sisters. Rachel is an only child. I have no idea where I'm going with this, except that Rachel may be the only one of them who knows what it's like to be an only child. I need to think about that some more.
