"Ce doit être trés important, Jim."
"Oui, c'est important…mais je ne suis pas sûre qu'est-ce qu'il est. Vieux Franz dit tu as rentrer." Jim scratched his head. "Mais j'ai un sentiment il est exact…"
They approached the house, calm and normal as always. Jim stepped aside, letting Jean-Pierre open the door to his own home. As he stepped in, he was met with a cold, stony silence, even with the bright light and warmth in the hall.
"Ah…bonjour? Franz? Medea?" He looked around. "Personne?"
"En ici." The voice was soft, quiet. Intrigued, Jean-Pierre hurried into the opposite hall.
He quickly found his way blocked by his employee, Franz Hopper. His expression was unreadable through his thick glasses, but he was stiff, still, and appeared to want to say something. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
"Franz, porquoi, qu'est-ce qu'il?" His eyes widened in confusion. Franz merely shrugged, and looked at the ground.
"Porquoi-"He looked around wildly. His eyes stopped dead on his daughter, standing beside Franz, not smiling or laughing as she always was, but silent, her face expressionless. This unnerved him quite a bit.
"Elisabeth?" He bent to her height, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Elisabeth, qu'est-ce qu'il?"
She didn't respond. She just stared up at him, silently looking for an answer.
"Je ne comprende pas ce! Admettez moi!" He pushed past Franz, taking special care not to trod on his daughter, and ran into the kitchen.
He did not notice the unfamiliar boy backed into the wall, holding a girl to his chest. In fact, he did not notice anything wrong with the room at all, other than that stillness... He only had a moment to be puzzled, however, when all other thoughts were driven out of his mind. Every single last one of them.
He turned to see the other side of his kitchen, and froze. There, facedown on the floor, was his wife, his true love. Small spots of blood littered the area, and the woman showed no signs of stirring. It was as though all his nightmares had come true at once.
"Gkkkk…" That was all he could manage. He staggered closer to her corpse, and dropped on his knees. His eyes were locked on her, wide, resembling those of the rest of his family.
Hand trembling madly, he reached down, gently as he could, to brush some hair from her face. His living eyes met her dead, and his face blanched. Slowly, he caressed her face. "Muh…muh muh muh…Mèdea…"
That was as far as he got. He trembled, and then slumped over her. He was still alive, as seen by his breathing, but the breath was erratic, and labored. Above him, Franz balked.
He turned to the children in the corner, who appeared terrified- or at least, the boy did. "C'est meilleur…si tu vas maintenant. Ce n'est pas trés belle."
Jeremie nodded. Quietly, he put a hand over Aelita's mouth, and left the house.
Franz Hopper was not lying. No sooner had they left the door, an inhuman roar split the silence- one of the utmost pain and anguish. Jeremie's eyes widened, wondering if he could disable all of Aelita's senses, prevent her from being tainted like this. But one thing was for sure. As long as he lived, he never, ever wanted to hear a human scream like that. Ever again.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…"
Chapter 14
Band-Aids on Broken Hearts
"Now come along, nothing to see, nothing to see…no, no, stop, get your hands off the Caution tape! I told you there was nothing to see!"
Jeremie cringed as he peeked out from behind the house, sweating, holding Aelita in an iron grip, watching Jim try to prevent four hundred students from breaking through the plastic barriers of Caution tape that the police, who had arrived about ten minutes earlier complete with an ambulance and medical staff, had set up. Of course it had attracted the students's attention, and of course everyone wanted to see. They just didn't know what all the commotion was about yet.
The moment of truth had to come eventually. A door swung open loudly, followed by a scream that pierced the silence as two official looking men marched out of the house, carrying something wrapped in a slightly bloodstained white sheet. A shock of black hair stuck out of the outside end. They were followed up immediately by Jean-Pierre, who was tripping over his own feet and babbling incoherently, screaming at the men carrying the corpse; Franz, who looked shocked but held his own; and finally Sissi, who was perfectly, eerily calm.
Everyone figured it out instantly. More screams joined the first; everyone was now ripping at the Caution tape. It took Jim, ten teachers, and five policemen to get everyone under control, and even then it wasn't as much control as it was a forced standstill.
"All civilians, clear the area!" one medic screamed. He stood by Jean-Pierre, who was still screaming at the men with his wife's body. "I'm sorry, sir, but we do have to take the body in for an autopsy, rule out the cause of death and such. Everything will be just fine as long as you cooperate, okay?"
Jean-Pierre stopped screaming, but looked back at the medic, revulsed. He didn't look ready to cooperate with anyone at all. The medic sighed. There was a spark of fire as he lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. "It's a confusing case, that's for sure. She doesn't seem to have been bludgeoned, and we can't find any entrance sites for poison. There's a chance that this may have been an illness of which she- or you- was unaware, but we'll have to go to autopsy for that. You say there were no witnesses?"
"Just the girl," Franz interrupted, gesturing towards Sissi, who had not moved. "I was outside when I heard a scream…and when I came inside, she was lying on the floor."
"Is that your alibi?" a nearby policeman asked.
"Yes."
"Fine then." The policeman also lit a cigarette. "It is certainly very curious how these things can play out in a case…"
"A case?" There was a collective gasp as Jean-Pierre finally spoke, turning away from the wrapped body. His face was livid. "That's all she is to you? A case? A case?" He lunged for the policeman, but the medic held him back. Jean-Pierre didn't like this- he screamed and fought against him. "You have no idea what you're talking about! Damn you! DAMN YOU! Get off me! Don't take her away! DON'T TAKE HER AWAY!" More policemen and several teachers entered the fray, trying to restrain him with little success.
Jeremie's eyes widened as he witnessed all the insanity. "I guess grief really can drive you to madness," he said to himself. Sensing that Aelita had calmed herself, he took his hand off her mouth, and gave her a bit more room for movement. Finally free, she shook her head, and then looked up at him, eyes wide, questioning. She tried to speak, but seemed to be unable to make words. "I…I…"
"I know. I know it's hard." He looked to the side, trying not to react to her pained expression. "But…" He lost his voice as well. Instead, he just looked across at the front lawn, where things were getting a bit ugly. Jean-Pierre, in his flailing, had torn the cloth from Medea's face. This had generated more screaming from the students, who were now struggling even harder against the teachers.
"Hey! I told them all to clear out! HEY! Where'd he go?" The medic whirled around to find that Jean-Pierre had broken away, and had lunged for body, grabbing his wife's face and screaming, as though that could bring her back. "No, no! Get away from that! It's ours now! You have to let us take it! You have to…"
A few feet away from the spectacle, Sissi stood by Mr. Hopper, eyes still blank and staring.
She had seen it happen, she was watching now, but she didn't understand. Usually, when someone fell over, you helped them back up, didn't you? But Mommy had fallen over, and nobody had helped her up. Instead, these funny men in the white coats were wrapping her in a sheet and taking her into a van. Why were they doing that? And why was Daddy crying so much? Because they wouldn't give Mommy back? Why were they taking her if it was making him sad? You were supposed to make someone happy if they were sad. But Daddy was still unhappy, and nobody was helping him.
She wanted to ask all of these questions, but she was afraid to. She was sure it wouldn't make sense to her. Or that they would lie. Or that she wouldn't know the right words. After all, she was only two.
She looked at her mother. They had taken the sheet off her face, so everyone could see her. This was good. Mommy was very pretty. But usually her mother smiled, which made her even prettier. But now everything about her was blank, not happy or sad or anything. Was that because she fell? Or because Daddy was sad? She couldn't see why.
As she took a step forward, trying to get a closer look, Sissi saw something on her mother's forehead- a faint, red dot. Mommy was hurt. Had the black bird hurt her? No matter. One thing was certain- nobody else had seen it. So she had to do something about it.
But first, she needed some help. And help came from grown-ups. She looked around, and saw one of the women in white coats. Slowly, she walked towards her. The woman took a quick look at her, and then whirled around, looking concerned.
"Oh! You, why, you really shouldn't be watching this, dear-"
That wasn't what Sissi wanted to hear. Unabated, she stretched her hand out. "Band-Aid," she said in a monotone.
The woman stared at her, and then her face changed, a mixture of surprise and awe, almost fear. "Oh, well, okay then…" She reached into her bag, pulling out a small, flimsy, comfortingly familiar plastic Band-Aid in a sterile wrapper. "Hope this helps."
"Thank you." She turned away from the woman, and began walking, slowly, calmly, away from the sidelines and towards the spectacle on the lawn. All of the commotion seemed to freeze as she stepped closer, into the sight of all present. Even Jean-Pierre ceased resistance, watching, though his eyes remained frozen in terror. Some of the police and medics attempted to call her away, talking to her softly, offering her anything, anything to make her stop, but she simply walked around them. The teachers, however, stepped aside, giving her a clear path to her destination.
All watched silently as she finally approached the body, still held by two very confused medics. Mommy's face was still unwrapped, her blank eyes staring right through her daughter. On her forehead, right in the middle, was the faint red dot that Sissi had seen from the distance. Now, it was clearer, larger…and it had a shape. Like an eye. With eyelashes, she thought.
Whatever this eye was, she reasoned, it must have hurt Mommy. It must have been the reason why they were taking her away. And in her mind, there was one way to reverse a hurt. Slowly, she unwrapped the Band-Aid, stretched it out in her hands, and applied it to the wound. She smiled down at the blank face. She knew that when this cut had healed, Mommy would be okay. Then they'd bring her back, Daddy would be happy, and they'd all go out for ice cream.
She didn't notice how everyone had stopped in their tracks, watching her, not knowing what to say. The medics and police were whispering to one another, coming to no certain conclusion. Franz, who still stood out of the way, gave her a small, approving smile. But her father looked the most dramatic of all- panting heavily, eyes wide, tears filling his eyes. "Elis…Elisabeth…"
He began struggling against his captors again. Sensing he was only reaching for his daughter, they tentatively let him go, but stayed close behind. He fell to his knees, and crawled to his daughter, who had stepped away from the body, and was now staring off into space, lost in her victory.
"Elisabeth…you…you shouldn't be here…" He reached out to her with a shaking hand, held it there, and then withdrew it when he saw she did not reach for it. "Don't worry, Elisabeth…Mommy's…going to be okay…" He sounded more as though he was trying to convince himself, rather than Sissi. But the girl did not respond. She just stood still, her back to her father.
"Elisabeth…?"
No reply. And then, slowly, she turned her head to face him. Her face was more blank than ever.
"Sissi."
Jean-Pierre stopped crying, but not in the best of ways. His eyes widened, absorbing the tears, and when he spoke, it was nothing more than a nervous, high whisper. "What… what did you say?"
"Sissi. I'm Sissi, Daddy."
Jeremie couldn't tell what, exactly, had happened, but he did see Jean-Pierre collapse, bawling, again. Some teachers were trying to calm him down, as others pulled Sissi away from the entire scene, past the Caution tape. The kids had stepped away from the barrier; they were no longer visible, and Jeremie could see cars beginning to arrive over the gate. He supposed the parents had been called and told.
Slowly, without any sort of expression, Franz walked over to the body, and did something. Jeremie couldn't tell what he had done, as his back was to him, but as he did it, he spoke. "It was a gesture of love. You should be proud of her." He paused. "Ah… but it's unfortunate that it can't help. She had so much going for her. If it weren't for the fact that she's dead, she's at the pinnacle of health… but the fright on her face…" He sighed. "Is it possible for someone to be frightened to death?"
These words brought about a great change in Jean-Pierre. Where he had been sniveling on the ground, he suddenly snapped up, a sinister grin on his face. He chuckled. "You certainly seem very certain about that, Franz."
"Perhaps," he replied. "I am merely inferring-"
Jean-Pierre completely ignored him. "Am I right in saying that you were a witness to the murder?"
Franz looked up, eyes raised. "I did not witness the death itself, if that's what you mean-" He looked around. "And who here said it was a murder?"
"I did!" He leapt up, to the surprise of those behind him. "Because perfectly healthy people do not drop dead for no reason!"
Franz stared at him for a moment…and then a look of clarification came over his face. Horrible, horrible clarification. "Jean-Pierre Delmas," he said, surprised, "Are you implying-"
"As well," he rambled on, "You were the only one present when I got there, besides my daughter, of course… but it's a good thing I got there when I did." He panted, in a feral way. "Because you might have finished her off too."
There was a gasp from the medics and police. The teachers put their hands over their mouths. The two carrying Medea's body took this opportunity of his distraction to rewrap the woman's face, and to edge slowly towards the ambulance. ---
Franz tugged at his collar nervously. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about-" He didn't finish. Before anyone could react, Jean-Pierre had lunged towards him, grabbing his throat.
"You know damn well, Hopper!" He tightened his grip. "You killed my wife, that's what you did! Yes…yes…" The smile never left him. "You're perfectly calm…you seem to know so much…I always knew something was wrong with you, Hopper…I should have known all along!"
"Oh my god," Jeremie gasped. He looked down at Aelita- she was staring at her father, eyes wide, trying to figure it all out. He moved to cover her eyes, but she reached up to push his hand away.
Franz's breath came in short gasps. "Trust me…Jean-Pierre…Medea was…a wonderful friend..and a good coworker, as are you." It was clear he was trying to calm him, even as he was being strangled. "Why would…you ever think-"
"The evidence is against you! I don't know why you did it, or how, but you…you BASTARD! BASTARD!" He kept one hand around Franz's neck and used the other to beat him as hard as he could, screaming "BASTARD!" with every hit. The ones who had restrained him before tried again, but to no avail. His determination was too much.
One policeman, watching this, ran to Franz, talking over Jean-Pierre's wails. He attempted to release the grip on his neck. "As overwrought as this man is, you have to admit he has a point. We'll have to take you in for more thorough questioning…sir, are you listening to me? Sir?"
Franz wasn't listening to him, or Jean-Pierre, or anyone. His eyes were dead on the road, in response to a noise that had just sounded, ignored by most. A car with very screechy brakes had just pulled up to the school- a small, sleek black one. Franz stared at it a moment, and then turned his attention back to Jean-Pierre, who had been pulled off of him and restrained once more in the meantime, but was still panting, a hungry look in his eyes, as if he wanted nothing else but to go for Franz's neck again.
"Well?" he said, eerily calmly. "Do you confess to it? Do you? DO YOU?" He struggled again.
Franz just kept staring at him, a weary, sad look on his face. After taking another glance at the car, which had not moved, he straightened up, and stepped closer to Jean-Pierre, placing a hand on his shoulder, and looking dead in his eyes. He sighed.
"It's a harsh world, Jean-Pierre. Good luck with it." He lowered his head, and made what looked like a casual glance to the side, but Jeremie noticed that under his shaggy hair and beard, his face was sharp, and he seemed to be staring right at him.
"Run," he mouthed.
Jeremie nodded quickly, and looked down at Aelita. She stared back at him- she evidently didn't understand. He shook his head, and then looked back at Franz. He hadn't moved- he just looked at Jean-Pierre, almost in pity, and then, suddenly, he ran. Everything was frozen for a moment, and then pandaemonium broke out. Policemen ran after him, but he just dodged him, and disappeared from sight through the trees.
Jean-Pierre roared; he fought still harder, to no avail. Several policemen disappeared from sight, and if Jeremie's eyes were correct, the door to the small, black car was opening. But he didn't want to stick around to see what would happen, not when everything was like this. He grabbed Aelita and ran into the adjacent forest.
"We can't let him get away!"
Jean-Pierre made moves as though he wanted to chase after Franz, but of course, he was bound by about four people. So instead, he just kept struggling and screaming to the others. "Why are you just standing around? Get him! Get…"
He heard an engine start behind him. Horrified, he whirled his head around. The two very confused medics had deposited the body in the ambulance, and were now preparing to leave. A priority shifted in his mind. Medea.
"No! NO! Don't take her away! PLEASE! NO!" With an almighty shove, Jean-Pierre broke free, and ran after the ambulance. Several of those remaining, including Jim, ran after him, trying to coerce him into slowing down, but he didn't, wouldn't listen. It was Ms. Hertz who finally had an effect on him- or at the very least, the most noticeable effect. Entirely nonchalant, she stepped out in front of him, waited for him to come close enough, and-
SMACK. She hit him across the face, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Get a hold of yourself!" she screamed, jabbing a finger at him. "We understand that this is a hard time for everyone, but at the very least, keep some common sense!"
Jean-Pierre couldn't speak. He had a large, red, hand-shaped mark on his face now, and he looked absolutely dumbfounded. "Guh…Guh…"
"You are the authority figure in this school, in case you have forgotten, and the behavior you have just shown is beyond unacceptable! Look around! Your own daughter is handling this better than you are! I can hardly believe this, a grown man…" She slapped her own face, shaking her head. "I never thought I'd see it, never thought it could happen." ("It's like she's his mother," Jim said, not noticing that nobody else was making light of the situation.)
"I know, I know, Suzanne…" Jean-Pierre looked at the ground, calmer now, but a deep sadness still penetrating his voice. "I just thought…I thought I was going to…"
"Well, you're not. Don't think that I don't care for your loss…never think that…" She choked for a moment, and then continued. "But she is gone, and all the pleading, crying, and carrying on in the world won't bring her back. You're still here, you've got a daughter to raise, and that's what matters to you now."
He still looked at the ground, deeply shamed, breathing heavily. His lips moved, but he didn't speak. Her face softened considerably, perhaps in pity.
"…Medea wouldn't want to see you like this, would she?" she said in a quiet voice. "She'd hate it. You know she would. She'd want you to go on."
Jean-Pierre stood, silent…and then looked up, smiling calmly. "She…she would." He laughed a little to himself. "She'd probably pound my face in if I didn't…"
"That's what I'm talking about." She smiled. "Now, do I have to do it for her, or are you going to-"
"Excuse me."
Jean-Pierre looked up- and then got to his feet immediately, straightening his tie and brushing off his coat. Standing next to him, as though they had come out of nowhere, were two men in identical black suits. One was bald, the other not. They stared at Jean-Pierre with identical apathetic looks. The others in the area slowly backed away from them…not that they noticed. "We saw a man run away from this area a moment ago. Do you know which way he went?"
He blinked. "Uh…who are you?" he asked, putting on a falsely confident voice.
"We…well, the police sent us." The main with hair nodded, looking back at the police. They looked rather confused. One, braver than the rest, stepped forward a step or two. "No we didn't. What are you-"
The bald man gave him a steely glare, and he fell silent. His partner continued talking to Jean-Pierre. "We understand you have some scores to settle with this man. When we catch him, we will bring him straight to you."
"Uhm…" Jean-Pierre looked around in several directions, and finally pointed in one that looked right to him. "That way. Through that clump of trees. That's all I know, really…"
"Good enough. Thank you." They turned in the direction Jean-Pierre had pointed. As they did so, some of the policemen whispered to each other, and apparently coming to an agreement, they marched in front of the two men, blocking their path. They were headed by the same man as before, who seemed to have scooped up a little more bravery.
"Now wait a second," he said, pointing at the bald man. "We definitely didn't send for backup, and you're definitely not part of the police force. Who are you? Why are you going after this man? His crime was only just reported to the city department, let alone the general public…"
The man with hair laughed. His partner looked the policeman in the eye, as well as he could with his wraparound black shades. He spoke in a slightly lower voice than before, so that Jean-Pierre and Ms. Hertz could not hear. "You will find, sir, that we are hardly the general public. But…then again, neither is our target."
"It is hardly this insignificant incident that we are intrested in." The man with hair gave a sly smile. "'Franz Hopper'…he and our agency go far, far back." He withdrew his wallet, and flashed its contents at the policeman. "You must let us pass."
The policeman stared at whatever the wallet contained. His jaw dropped. "So, so you're the-"
"If you ask no questions, you will get no wrong answers. We will be going now." Without waiting for an excusion, the men simply walked around the group of policemen, and continued on into the woods. They stood motionless, some watching the men, others looking at the head policeman for an explanation.
"We…have to let them go." The man was still staring, as though the wallet was still in front of him. "This is…this is completely out of our hands. They'll take care of it, and they'll take care of it well." He nodded. The others said nothing.
Jean-Pierre's eyebrow twitched. "Wait…so, so you mean…what's going on?" The tension in his voice grew with every syllable.
"What's going on is," the policeman said, taking a breath as he extinguished his cigarette, placed it in his pocket, and immediately lit a new one, "Assuming everything that's said before now is true, your employee may be in a bit more trouble than the average everyday serial killer."
"Ghh…ghhh…"
Jeremie ran through the forest, not really knowing where he was going, just trying to avoid trees. He was sure that he had to get to the Hermitage at some point… but Franz had just told him to run. He didn't say where to run.
Aelita was still pressed against him. It had been so long since had let her go, it was almost as though she were as much a part of his body as his head, or his left leg. He knew he couldn't let her go until she was safe. And she wasn't safe here.
Aelita whimpered in his arms. In concern, he stopped, letting her head loose for a moment to place what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something meaningful, but he didn't get the chance. As soon as he had relaxed his grip, Aelita thrust her knee into his stomach, and kicked him backward.
"Ack…dammit…" Jeremie recoiled on instinct, clutching his hands to his stomach- and in that instant, Aelita was gone. Or at least, she was running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Jeremie gasped.
"No, no no- wait! Wait!" Recovering as fast as he could, he sprinted off after her. He was no athlete, of course, but by most definitions, neither was Aelita. He actually caught up with her rather quickly. "I- I just want to help!" She looked back at him, face wrought with obvious disbelief, and kept running.
"No! Seriously! Just- stop-" Seeing a tree come up in their path, he got an idea. He sped up, got within a close distance of her, and then, concentrating as hard as he could, grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her back. Then, he lunged for the tree with his other hand, pulling Aelita forward against the bark. He skidded to a halt, and pinned her there.
Even cornered like this, Aelita still struggled violently against him, punching, kicking and biting even more than Jean-Pierre had. Jeremie could hardly keep her down.
"Look," he tried to say, swerving to avoid her fist, "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Just stay still, and-"
He caught her arm mid-swing. She stared at his arm for a moment, and then up at his face. She looked livid.
"It's not about you," she snarled. "Just leave me alone."
Jeremie's eyes widened. "No, I can't-" He thought again about his phrasing, and took a deep breath. "Why?"
"Why? WHY?" She wrenched his arm away. Painfully. "Because my life is falling apart, that's why! She's dead…I can't…I can't…I just had class with her this morning…"
"Things will go back to normal, Aelita, you know they will…" He moved his hand back. "It's only a matter of time…"
"How can you be so calm? Did you not SEE what happened?" Tears formed in her eyes. "My dad…I don't understand…how they could think…"
"He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…"
"But they don't know that! I mean, you heard them…as far as evidence stands…"
She choked. Jeremie tried to reach his other hand out to her, but recoiled as she kept talking.
"And what about the Delmases? The principal…and Sissi…" A new level of horror entered her eyes. "Sissi! What's going to happen to her? I mean…she's too young to remember this, right? She can't be scarred for life or anything?"
"I don't really-"
"But I don't…I don't know…oh god…" She slumped. "It's all just happening so fast, you know…you'd never think…"
"You don't think that the impossible would happen when you don't expect it. Yeah. I know what you mean." Slowly, softly as he could, he reached out again, taking the back of her head. She looked up at him, in an almost bemused way. A tear escaped from her left eye. Then, roughly, she buried her head in his chest, moaning loudly even when muffled by his sweater.
Not really knowing what else to do, and nervous at the sight of it all, Jeremie patted her awkwardly on the head, and smiled. "It's going to be okay…you'll see."
"No it won't."
"…ah…" He looked away from her to recollect his thoughts. An odd notion came to him…calmly as he could, he ran his fingers through her hair, and began to sing. He was completely off-key, and his voice cracked quite a bit, but at this time, it didn't matter.
"Ah vous dirai-je, maman, ce qui cause mon tourment. Papa veut que je raisonne, comme une grande personne..."
It seemed to work. Though Aelita was still crying, it was quieter now, more subdued. Her entire body seemed to relax and go limp in his arms, though she didn't move more than that. She just lay there, listening. If one listened close enough, one could almost hear her humming along with him.
"Moi, je dis que les bonbons valent mieux que la…"
Crunch. Jeremie's head snapped up in panic, and he looked in all directions. His jaw dropped as he saw what had caused the noise. Chris was running through the forest towards them, stepping on just about every stick he could. Jeremie gasped, and moved Aelita around, trying to make her presence less prominent from Chris's view.
"Oh- oh, it's you!" He skidded to a halt in front of Jeremie, panting and looking flustered. He looked up at him, with wide eyes. "Hey, what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you said you went home."
"Uh-"
"Well, anyway, do you have any idea what's going on? I mean, I saw the ambulance and I heard screaming and stuff, but I couldn't get through all the crowds. There's all these wild rumors flying around, about murder and the principal going insane, but I don't know if they're true or not."
"Well-"
"But either way, I couldn't find Aelita, and I need to know where she-" He stopped dead midsentence as he looked down as Jeremie's lap, where Aelita still lay, now looking up at Chris with wide eyes. She had stopped crying, though her face was blotchy, and Jeremie's sweater had a large, wet stain on it. Her lips trembled. Chris's expression cycled rapidly from surprise, to confusion, to anger.
"You…you…" He seemed almost too shocked to speak. "What did you do to her?"
"He didn't do anything, Chris," Aelita tried to plead, but he ignored her as he yelled at Jeremie. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but unless you explain yourself right now, I'm gonna- gonna-"
He clenched his fist, trying to think of the next thing to say. In this time, Jeremie saw his chance. He gently moved Aelita's head off his lap, stood himself to his full height (about four inches shorter than Chris), and looked him in the eye. They stared at each other, brown meeting blue for a tense moment. Jeremie smiled with confidence.
"It's a harsh world, Chris," he said.
Before Chris could react, Jeremie grabbed Aelita's hand, pulled her off the ground, and sped off. He went so fast, powered by adrenaline, that she stumbled a few times behind him, but eventually got her footing. He didn't look back at her, but if he did, he would have seen that she was smiling.
Far behind him, he could hear Chris screaming. "Hey! Come back here! Damn you…" There were some footsteps- and then a sickening crunch. "Ow- stupid root…" And then silence. Sweet, sweet silence.
They ran through the forest, out the back entrances, onto a small, disused road. Only here, where they couldn't possibly be seen, did Jeremie chance a look back at Aelita. "Well, you okay?"
"Yeah, I guess so." She looked at the ground. "This…it's the road to my house."
"So it is."
"Are…are you taking me there?"
"Uh…well, I could, but I don't really know where it is." That was a lie, of course, but in Aelita's mind, he wasn't supposed to know.
"True."
There was silence for a time. Then, Aelita spoke up again.
"Um…thank you. For…before. I really needed it."
Jeremie swerved his head again, smiling with confidence. "Yeah…don't mention it. Now, where'd you say your house was?"
The Hermitage had an empty, airy feeling about it, as if it were already the future, and the house was abandoned. But, it wasn't, and Jeremie and Aelita stood before it together, rather nervously. Aelita was less nervous than Jeremie, after all, it was her home.
"I…I'll go in first," she said to him, as she walked in the gate and towards the front door. "If my dad is there…he'll probably want to see me."
"I doubt he's there…" It wasn't logical for someone accused of murder to run back to his home, but then again, no one really knew where they lived. "But go ahead." He smiled at her, and she stepped ahead, going up the steps, trying the door, and finding that it was unlocked.
She ran inside, skipping every few steps. Jeremie walked slowly behind her, unsure of what he would see when he got to some main room, unsure what he wanted to see. She led him into the living room, the area with the fireplace and piano. Jeremie kept out of sight, but peeked in as Aelita ran in.
To his utter surprise, Franz Hopper was there, having escaped in one piece. Even more surprising, he did not appear to be in any state of panic. Most insane of all, he was just sitting at his piano, playing, as though this was any other day, any other afternoon. It unnerved him a bit. Just a bit. It seemed to unnerve Aelita as well. She shook noticeably as she walked closer, giving him a small wave. "Uh…hi, Daddy."
Franz stopped mid-note, if that was possible, and whirled round to face his daughter. He stared right at her, but did not make a sound.
"Um…" She turned in another direction, facing towards a hallway that Jeremie knew led to a stairway. "I'm going to my room now."
Franz just nodded his head at her. Aelita seemed to accept this. She walked towards the doorway- and then stopped midstep, as though a thought had struck her, one she didn't want to think about. She turned her head around, and even from a distance, she looked a bit scared. "Daddy…you didn't…" She took a deep breath. "You didn't really kill Medea, right?" Her voice broke on the last word.
Franz hadn't expected this, obviously. His face seemed to fall, and slowly, he shook his head. "You…you heard all that."
Aelita nodded meekly. Sensing that she could not prolong the conversation, she walked out of the room. There were hollow footsteps as she walked up the stairs. Franz returned to his piano playing, tuning out all else.
Jeremie supposed that this was a good time to reveal himself. With as much confidence as he could, he stepped out from behind his hiding spot at the wall and walked over to the piano. He still felt rather uneasy, but he tried to hide that.
"You…didn't, right?" he asked him.
Franz turned around again, still playing for a while afterwards. "Do I look like the kind of person that would kill someone?" he asked him, not in the bitter sarcasm Jeremie might have expected, but as a genuine question.
"Um…no." Yes. "Look…shouldn't you be hiding or something? I mean, the police'll probably get ahold of your home address soon enough, and then they'll…they'll come and…"
Franz interrupted him with an exasperated sigh. "The police, and Jean-Pierre for that matter, are the least of my worries right now." He turned back to the piano keys. "Go. Keep her distracted. There are preparations to be made."
What preparations? Piano playing? Jeremie thought, but kept this in his head. Instead, he nodded. "Yes. Yes, sir." He turned towards the doorway as well, ran through it, and ran up the stairs after Aelita.
…hahaha. Was that an angstfest or what?
I said I probably wouldn't be back until NaNo was over. Well, this weekend, I had a sudden urge to write RTTP again (I've hit a dead end on my NaNo), so I did. The result was this.
The next chapter will be here soon. I can't wait to write it. That's all I'm saying for now. I'm happy you all still seem to like it.
- Carth
PS- Sorry about my terrible, terrible French in the first part there. I made it that way to heighten the emotion. I've only been taking classes for about three months, and I had my book open most of the time I was doing this. I had contacted JeremyxAelita Addict about translating that part but she didn't get back to me (okay, I contacted her a bit late, but…) if she does, I'll definitely replace it with her translation if it's better. For now, here's the English versions of their lines. Regular type is how I originally wrote it, italics is a literal translation of the bad French.
Jean-Pierre: This had really better be important, Jim. This must to be very important, Jim.
Jim: Well, it is important…but I'm not really quite sure what it is. Ol' Franz just said he wanted you there. But I have a feeling he's right… Yes, it is important, but I'm not sure what it is. Old Franz says you have to come back. But I have a feeling he is correct...
Jean-Pierre: Ah…hello? Franz? Medea? Anyone?
Franz: In here.
Jean-Pierre: Come on now, Franz, what is it? Franz, why, what is it?
Why is- Why-
Elisabeth? Elisabeth, what is it?
I don't understand any of this! Let me through! I do not understand it! Admit me!
Franz: It would be best…if you leave now. This won't exactly be very pretty. It is best…if you go now. This is not very beautiful.
A translation of "Ah vous dirai-je Maman" can be found on Wikipedia. It's actually a very funny song.