One More Time
A/N: Well, this story is drawing to a close! Not alot of chapters left my dears, and I love the reviews I have been getting, it makes me smile :D Enjoy!
"The charter from Germany arrived earlier today, no one has been inside the bar," Beelzebub commented turning his head slightly to face Monica. She nodded weakly and held on as he drove through the empty streets.
The winter air had never felt like this to her before, it stung her cheeks and numbed her body. She kept her head rested against her brother's back wanting to escape from everything.
It had been over three months, three months wasted away in the hospital due to the doctors refusing to give her leave. She sneered at the thought; she had wasted too much time. She hadn't seen the Phantom in over four months.
She wondered how the musical was going, if the ballet dancers had finally stopped stumbling around the stage. She wondered if Lucy had finally learned her parts, she wondered if the conductor had lost his patience over the blond.
She shook those thoughts aside; she was going to need a clear head for what was to come.
The tires of the motorcycle crunched against the broken glass scattered over the pavement when they finally arrived at the bar. Monica closed her eyes not wanting to see it; she didn't want to relive the memories of that fateful night.
Her brother helped her off of the bike as she faced the place she had called home for so long. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears as she approached the entrance, the charter that had arrived from Germany stared at her wearily stepping aside for her to get through.
She greeted the men with a sorrowful smile before ascending the stairs leading inside.
No one followed after her; they had been through this routine too many times.
They knew what was coming.
Monica uttered a shaky sigh when she stepped inside and found it empty.
She choked back a sob when she looked at the bar, beer bottles had been tossed aside and shots had been left unfinished. Her eyes swept over to the tables around the large space finding them all empty, chairs were tossed aside while some still remained pushed back.
"There's a grief that can't be spoken," she sang quietly fighting back the tears that begged to fall from her eyes. Her hand caressed the surface of a table before it knocked over a shot of tequila. She stared grimly at the liquid as it dispersed on the ground. The liquor turned into blood as she remembered holding Joker's wound begging for a miracle to happen.
"There's a pain goes on and on," she choked bitterly looking at the patch that hung on the wall. A grinning skull with devil horns stared back at her; she frowned brushing her hand over it. She wondered if it was all worth it, she had lost so many men. Voodoo's dead body flashed before her eyes, she closed them shut tightly and tried to steady her breathing.
So many men.
"Empty chairs at empty tables," she continued walking slowly throughout the bar. She pushed a chair aside gently as she gripped the backrest harshly. Her nails dug into the wood causing pain to shoot up her arms. She didn't care now, she didn't care about anything. An image of Lucifer his hospital bed crossed her mind; she sneered and dismissed it as soon as it came.
"Now my friends are dead and gone," she cried softly stumbling over to the bar once more. She didn't know why her father had left her this charge; she wished he was with her now. He would have been able to put everything in order.
Her eyes landed on her ruined jacket that had been tossed over a chair, the shredded pieces of leather reminded her of the life she was living. Everything was being torn apart; the only thing keeping her together was Kiri and the Phantom.
She collapsed on a stool, she didn't know where she would be without the Phantom, she would have broken down a long time ago.
The images of her men lying on the ground scattered amongst the Jackals' own casualties crossed her mind again, "Oh my friends, my friends forgive me," she sang once more grabbing her jacket and pulling it close to her chest, "that I live and you are gone…" she added bitterly hurling the ruined leather across the bar. It landed on top of some bottles which sent them crashing to the ground.
"Phantom faces at the window," she cried running her hand over a table sending a bottle of vodka flying across the room. It shattered against the large banner on the wall, she glanced at it with bloodshot eyes, they had all died protecting her and Kiri. She could still see Voodoo's smiling face as he jumped on Joker's back when the other biker least expected it days before they were killed. She could still see her other men stumbling around drunk to the point of collapsing with smirks on their expressions.
"Phantom shadows on the floor," she sang, her voice cracking when Joker's booming laughter filled her ears. She could still hear her men singing off key whenever they could find a chance to celebrate and drink themselves until unconsciousness. She grabbed another bottle of tequila off of the bar and hurled it again at the grinning devil on the wall.
"Empty chairs at empty tables…" she choked grabbing more and more bottles and hurling them at the banner she had looked at with pride. Bottle after bottle of liquor shattered against the wall, that wasn't enough.
"They're dead, they are all dead!" she screamed grabbing a chair and throwing it against one of the windows. It shattered and went straight through as several men from the Germany charter stepped back noticing she had already started to throw things.
She grabbed another and threw it against another window as the cracking glass reminded her of the bullets breaking the windows of their cars and motorcycles.
She cried and headed towards the large mirror they kept in the back as she stared at her form. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes bloodshot, and her lip bled due to her biting down on it too hard. Her skin had long ago lost its color and her weight had dropped drastically, she looked ghost like.
"You are horrible," she whispered to herself glaring into her own eyes, she was a murderer; the blood of her men was on her hands. The blood of the Jackals was on her hands, she was a despicable excuse of a human being.
She pulled her hand back and brought it back down against the mirror. The shards fell around her; she closed her eyes and leaned into the remaining pieces that were still attached to the mirror. Her bleeding hand didn't trouble her; her mind was her enemy now.
She didn't deserve to live; she didn't deserve the life she had.
She didn't deserve the Phantom.
She sobbed upon realizing that everything her mind had thrown at her was true, she didn't deserve any of it. The Phantom was better off with someone else, Lucy perhaps, he didn't deserve to be stuck with a murderer.
She sunk to the ground and sat amongst the shards of the mirror regret apparent in her eyes.
"Father…what have I become?" she asked quietly looking towards the picture of her father on the wall. She closed her eyes; she was the only one responsible for all of the death around her. She collected her thoughts; she had to pull herself together, perhaps not for herself but for Kiri, the club, and the Phantom.
The Phantom.
She had to see him one last time, just once before she went looking for the Jackals. She knew she wouldn't come out of another confrontation alive, the doctors had been clear on that.
She picked up the shattered pieces of her mind and pulled them all together one last time. This was her last stand, she would make it count.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes; she had cried herself dry by now, before walking to the back of the bar and pulling out another leather jacket. She slipped it on proudly and paused slightly realizing what had to be done.
She collected her thoughts and walked outside calmly, she had taken out her pain and sorrow upon the bar now it was the Jackals turn.
"I want all of you to remain in the city, we'll make those bastards beg for their lives tomorrow," she told her men as they all glanced up from their motorcycles. Her brother looked to her in concern but dismissed it as soon as it came upon realizing the jacket she was wearing.
"Rest for the night, tomorrow might be your last day," she told them descending the wooden stairs in a collected manner. Her boots crushed the glass beneath them as she walked towards her motorcycle.
"The last time Mercedes wore that she was shot, so was Felix," Beelzebub pointed out noticing the bullet wound near his sister's heart on the leather jacket. She glanced down at it blankly before looking up at him.
"I am aware," she replied in understanding. Beelzebub stared at her in concern once more. It was a death wish to wear a dead biker's jacket.
"Enjoy this night, Bastards!" she shouted before revving up her bike. Several men nodded grimly while others welcomed their death with open arms. Beelzebub shook his head and headed towards his own bike, he intended on spending his last night protecting Kiri.
She had been sent to Germany in order to shield her from the Jackals, Beelzebub merely hoped that by tomorrow night the child would still have someone to call mother. He knew Monica wasn't eager to die, the events that had happened however called for revenge.
Blood would have blood there was no denying that.
He stared after his sister as she drove away, one hand over her heart while the other gripped the handle to her bike.
She stared up at the night sky without fear; there was nothing to lose now. Kiri was safe, that was her primary concern.
She drove over to the opera house, perhaps for the last time; she intended to stay there until the musical was over tomorrow night and then leave.
One last night with the Phantom would calm her nerves.
Just one more.
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