CAFARD

CHAPTER 2: Maman

Hello there. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and decided to continue this. My hard drive actually crashed this summer and I foolishly didn't back up the recent chapters of all my other stories, so we'll see how that goes. But in any case, let's get on with this. As usual, I do not own any characters affiliated with Bakugan, and I have no connection to any of the places mentioned.

White light from a phone screen lit up the otherwise dark room. Mallory squinted in an attempt to shield his eyes from the intense glare while he sat up slowly. Alice was lying beside him, half cradled in his arms. His breath hitched when he saw the caller ID.

Incoming call from Lisle

His eyes darted to Alice and back to the vibrating device. This is such a bad time.

Slowly, he stretched over to pick it up. His thumb hovered over the Decline icon shining bright red.

Who am I kidding? There's no way I could ever deny her.

He let out a deep breath and extricated himself from the cocoon of sheets and Alice like he had done so often.

"Hello?" He whispered, when he safely closed the bedroom door behind him.

"Ma petite pêche?" The voice on the other end was wavering and shaky. Something had happened. It was one o'clock in the morning where he was… two in her time.

"Yes. Yes it's me, your little peach."

"Ma petite pêche… Ma petite pêche."

His stomach churned with anxiety.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"The…the little beetles. They have started again. The beetles...they are sleeping on my doorstep…and knocking on my windows. And the spiders. They are spinning their silk…the silk…it's so thick. It covers my house."

Mallory closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Tears were welling up in his eyes. "The medication; are you taking it?"

"Ma pêche… the spider silk is so thick; in some places it turns black and-"

"Answer me. Please, answer me. The tiny sweets, are you eating them?"

"Petits bonbons?"

"Yes, les petits bonbons. Do you still eat them?"

"I…I lost them, I think. I can't remember how they taste."

He let out a shaky breath.

"It is so late, and the beetles are still tapping. Can you make it stop? Ma pêche, please make it stop." Her voice was becoming frantic. Mallory had to try hard not to let his own panic seep into his voice.

"I will come to you very soon. Are you listening, Mom?"

"Yes, yes. Please come quickly. Please make it stop."

"I will. I promise I will come as fast as I can. Until then, do not let anyone in. Understand?"

"Yes. I understand… are you going to sleep now?"

There was no way he could go back to sleep.

"Only if you want me to."

"I…I am sorry. I don't want to intrude…" Her voice broke, and so did her son's.

"Mom, no. Please, no. Don't say such things. You are never a bother."

"Bonne nuit, ma pêche."

The connection to the call was cut. Mallory pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his sobs while he tugged on his hair with the other. Frustration and agony sent his insides into a turmoil. He would have to leave for France that day. It would take him hours to get from the house he and Alice shared in southern Moscow to his hometown of Barjols.

Stifling his emotions, he got up and willed the salty tears to stop flowing. He sighed audibly when he found Alice still sleeping soundly inside her room. She would be none the wiser. Slipping into bed beside her like nothing had even happened was difficult for him to do. His prediction had been correct. He couldn't possibly get any sleep. His ailing mother weighed on his mind.

Instead of pretending to rest, he watched the sleeping woman beside him, silently envying how easy her life had been in comparison to his.

Alice's big brown eyes fluttered open. The sun was already as hot as it would get in the year-round cold, and a few birds sang joyfully as they basked in its warmth. Her face glowed, lips stretched with a happy smile, and why not? The sun was out; she had a great job; her friends would be flying in soon for a get together; and best of all, she was engaged to the kindest, most loving man she had ever met. The familiarity of his body pressed against hers never failed to warm her chest.

She shifted so that she was facing him and wasn't surprised to find his green eyes wide open and turned towards the ceiling. He was often up hours before her body even considered stirring from its own rest. Initially, it had worried her, but now it was another fact of their simple life.

This morning, however, she noticed that something was wrong. "Morning," she said, some of the cheer seeping into the air.

There was no response. He looked strangely pensive and worried; so much so that he hadn't even realized she was awake.

"Mallory? Is something wrong?" She sat up, staring at him.

"Huh?" he jolted forward. "Oh, Alice. Morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Same as usual, I guess." He had already collected himself, and any trace of his previous emotions had disappeared. That made her anxious.

"I can see that much," she sighed, pinching her nose with her fingers. "The bags under your eyes are explanation enough."

"Permanent accessories," he half joked.

"Mallory." Her tone was much more serious now. He took the chance of glancing into her eyes, and what he saw there made his stomach twist into a painful knot. Concern. "Please. If something has happened, I need to know," she begged. He hated when she pled with him for anything at all. After all, if anything, he was beneath her.

"I need to leave for France right away."

"W-what? I thought your trip was scheduled for next week."

"It was. Things just… things just spiralled out of control." He leaned his head against the headboard and knotted his hands in the sheets.

Alice's concern grew by the minute. "Hey," she placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Open your eyes."

He couldn't deny her anything either. Slowly, he slipped one open, then the other. Her gaze was so reassuring that for a second, he was almost convinced that everything would be alright. But he knew better than that.

"Talk to me?" she asked, caressing his cheek.

"It's my mom. I'm just so anxious about her that I can't wait a second longer. She needs me by her side."

Alice's face fell. "She's still in the hospital, right?"

"Y-yes."

"And you still won't take me with you?"

Mallory shook his head sadly. I won't carry you. Meeting you would only anger her, remember?"

His fiancée sighed. "I just don't get it. Surely if she meets me she will change her mind. Can't you let me go with you, just this once?" No use. She already knew the answer, however she wouldn't let up. He needed her too. "I want to meet the woman who raised you into such an amazing person. I want to see your hometown. I want to understand where you're coming from. Can't you share your experiences with me?"

He held her cheeks and kissed her tenderly. "I wish I could, Alice."

That was it. She knew very little about his pre-Russian life. He would barely disclose any information. In fact, she didn't even know the exact town he was from; but that hadn't prevented her from trusting him completely. No evil person could hide their true nature so well for so long, and for all the years she'd known him, he hadn't given her any reason to doubt him.

"I've been thinking…why don't we move to France so you could be closer to her?"

His gaze drifted away from hers again. It was as if he couldn't bear to look at her. "I've thought about that too."

"Really? So why don't we?"

"Because there would be no 'we'. I'd have to go alone."

"What? Not this again, Mallory," she groaned.

Suddenly, all his strength seemed to leave him in one sigh. "Please… I can't- I can't discuss this anymore."

He looked exhausted and tormented at the same time. A large part of her was guilty that she had only added to it. She understood that he loved his mother dearly, but it still hurt when he had to leave. Naturally, nobody would want their loved one to be all alone in that condition. "I- I'm sorry. I'll go pack your things."

Mallory felt that annoying knot in his stomach wrap and curl itself into a dense little ball. This was not what he wanted. All he was doing was pushing her away. Arm outstretched, he started after her. "Alice, wait."

The only response he got was a shake of her head and a wavering, "Hurry up and reschedule your flight. I'll have your breakfast ready in a bit, too."

In only two hours, they were standing outside the airport. He had thirty minutes to check in and board his flight. They stood facing each other, neither one really eager to part from the other. For Alice, the loneliness would be agonizing. For Mallory, anxiety would always eat away at him. It didn't matter which country he was in, he was always worrying.

"Aeroflot Russian Airlines, flight 706, due to leave in thirty minutes. Any passengers who have not already done so are advised to make their way to the boarding station." The polite feminine voice made the announcement.

Alice crumbled into herself. Sobs wracked her small body as she clutched her shoulders. She would follow him to the ends of the earth if she could, and he knew it.

"Alice, ma douce, everything will be fine, okay? I won't be gone for too long." He enveloped her into a loving embrace, kissing the top of her head.

"You will be strong for me, yes?" His smile was strengthening to her, although he could feel his own fading. How long could his heart take this? He needed her as much as oxygen.

"Yes." She hugged him tighter and offered no resistance when his lips met hers; tongues brushing sweetly against each other before they parted.

"All passengers who have not yet boarded flight 706 must do so immediately. All departing passengers are to be seated within the next twenty-seven minutes."

"You have to go. Be safe, love." Alice gave him a quick peck on the cheek before ushering him through the large automatic doors and watching him go. When he looked back, a wave of nostalgia almost choked him.

She was smiling at him the same way his mother was when she had finally gotten him to leave her a couple years back; one full of sadness but laced with hope.

With a shaky sigh, he turned his head away.

He ended up delaying his flight by ten minutes at least, and the other passengers were quite discontent. If he was anyone else, they would have left him behind. The four hours passed excruciatingly slowly. The single thought that occupied his mind was his mother. He had to see her. He had to get to her.

He wished there was someone who could cure her. He would spend all his money – give up all his possessions – so that could happen. But there was no such person; he didn't believe in miracles.

As soon as they landed, he tried to escape the plane and the airport as quickly as possible. The moment he set foot on French soil, he felt that familiar insecurity envelope him. He felt more out of place here in his homeland than anywhere else. Instinctively, he walked with his head down and made as little contact with people as possible. He took a shuttle into the city and made his way into a well-stocked pharmacy.

"Bonjour Monsieur," a pretty blonde woman at the counter said. She eyed him amusedly, attributing his discomfort to shyness. "How can I help you?" she asked gently, as if speaking to a child.

That made him want to curl into himself. He hated when people used that tone with him. He was not stupid. He was not sick. That was the same voice he used on his mother sometimes. That was the same tone used on the insane.

He wanted to speak out, but his voice came out small. He couldn't help it. He was self-conscious and afraid. It was as though people could see MADMAN written across his forehead.

"Two bottles each of clozapine and aripiprazole, please."

He noticed how thinly stretched the woman's smile had become. It was taking everything in her to not recoil. "Do you have a prescription?"

"Uh, no. They're not for me, actually." He supplied an identification card which showed him enlisted as a worker at a university hospital in Russia. "They are for research," he lied.

Immediately she recovered and retrieved the items without complaint. "All the best with your research, Monsieur Lascaux. I hope these will be useful."

"They will be. Merҫi et adieu."

If it weren't for the long sleeves hiding his skin, his goosebump riddled arms would be on display for all to see. That was the common response. If anyone figured out that he had a relationship with a near-psychotic person, he would be ostracized just as much as she, then they would both be doomed.

The fleet of buses that would take him home weren't very far from the pharmacy, but he felt like a thousand eyes were on him, watching his every move.

"Bonjour!" the driver greeted loudly as soon as he stepped in.

Mallory flinched, his green eyes flitting all over the vehicle. It was only half full, but the engine was already running. "Oui… bonjour." He shuffled around to a back seat, preferring to tuck his suitcase neatly beneath the seat instead of in the luggage compartment on the outside.

"What a shy man you are," the boisterous man chuckled, closing the doors and switching gears. "Ladies love your type."

Correspondingly, everyone on board giggled good naturedly, especially said ladies. A flush rose to his cheeks, but again, they misinterpreted it as bashfulness.

The ride to his hometown was even longer than the flight, but he was much more jittery and uneasy than earlier that day. The driver noticed this when he let him off at the end of his street. "Anxious to see family, eh?"

"Yes," was the simple answer.

"Do not worry. They must long to see you," and with that, the driver gave him a tip of the hat and left. By this time it was night. Streetlamps cast pretty halos of yellow light all the way up the road, and all the houses had their outside lights on. All but one. He could spot it from a distance; the place of his childhood memories.

His feet propelled him down the pavement at a rapid pace, suitcase rolling a steady hum behind him. He skidded to a halt right in front of his driveway. The small two storey building was sandwiched between two identical ones, however, this one stood out. In the lights from the neighbouring buildings, he could see almost clearly what people had done to his mother's home. This was worse than it had ever been.

Several reams of toilet paper had been draped over the building, some even coming to rest on the roof. All of the windows had been either boarded up, covered in paper or blocked up with duct tape; only the attic had been spared. 'Fou' had been sprayed in black and red spray-paint all over the homely white picket fence.

Mallory was stunned. His heart ached. This would not continue. This could not go on. Slowly, he stepped through the gate which barely stood on its hinges and onto the doorstep. Ragged black stones littered it. Suddenly, he understood what beetles and spider webs she had been going on about.

With a shaking hand, he tapped out a strange beat on the front door which swung open only about a few seconds after. A pale hand shot out and dragged him inside. Even in the darkness, he could see that the place was in disarray. He could do nothing; say nothing – only stare at the slightly shorter woman before him.

"Ma…petite…pêche? Is that you?" the woman asked, her voice wary.

"Mallory? I am sorry. You told me not to let anyone inside, but I've been waiting for that knock for so long that I just… I'm sorry. Ma pêche, I did not think you meant I should not let you in also."

He could feel all the tears that had backed up in his system since his parting with Alice start making their grand entrance.

"Oh! Ma pêche, I am sorry I upset you. Mon chéri Mallory, I apologize."

His lips quivered.

"Mallory!"

Hearing his name on her lips never failed to break his heart. "Maman!" he cried, dropping whatever was in his hands and pulling her into a crushing hug. They sank to the floor together. "Maman… maman, do not apologize! You have nothing to be sorry for. I am a terrible son. Oh, Maman, please forgive me." Sobs wracked his frame.

Their tears blended together and soaked into their clothes. Lisle cradled her adult son in her arms and hushed him the way she always used to. No matter how old they grew, he would always be her son, and she his mother. Nothing would change that. So even then, mind clouded by the haze of her madness, he was a constant, and she loved him all the same.

After his eyes had run dry, all the tiredness and exhaustion of the day came crashing down on both of them.

"The beetles stopped their tapping earlier today. Was it you?"

"No mom. It wasn't. Take these. They are new candies I brought for you," he said, handing her a bottle of water and breaking a pill each from the two types he had bought into half. He dropped two halves into her hand and watched her take them with all the glee of a little girl.

"Come, I will put you to bed." He gathered her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room.

It was dark inside, but quite neat. It hadn't looked as if she had used it for a while. He laid her down gently and covered her with the blankets, kissing her forehead softly. "You won't tuck me in too?"

He bit back a fresh bout of tears. "Alright. If you insist." And so he acquiesced, treating her like a child. As he made his way back down the stairs, turning the lights on as he went, his anger and frustration returned. He hated this illness, this schizophrenia which reduced his mother to a babbling babe. It had destroyed her life and was a plague that loomed over him. He was in constant fear, being the child of a schizophrenic woman. Both he and his mother had two things they desperately hoped would never happen.

One of them was that he'd never develop her disorder. She had sheltered him from every potential stressful experience that she possibly could within her boundaries, but just being related to her was stress enough for him. Keeping it a secret was the next task. Everyone knew what happened to the 'mentally challenged'. They got carted away like animals to a mental 'hospital' and were left to rot in the most unsightly manner. That place was their biggest fear, and both of them were running from it for as long as they could remember.

Now that his mother had her medication once more and was safely in bed, his racing mind turned to Alice. She had no clue he was leading a double life. There was no telling what she would think if she found out that there was a strong possibility that he could go mad later in life. People's kindness only extended so far; he knew that much. If she found out about any of this, she would call off the engagement and leave him. Then he would die. Or go crazy.

He slipped his hand into a pocket and got out his cell phone, proceeding to dial her number. It only rang twice before there was an answer. She was really worried about him.

"Mallory? You've arrived okay?"

"Yes, I have," he said, leaning against a cool wall and listening to her soothing voice.

"That's great." A relieved laugh brought a smile to his face. "Your mother… have you seen her? Will she be alright?"

He thought for a moment. Would his mom really be okay? He allowed himself to hope foolishly. "Yes. She'll be doing better soon."

"That's great too. I know she probably doesn't want to hear this, but send her my best wishes, and tell her that when she's feeling better I'll come pay her a visit."

"Sure sweetheart. I think I should get some sleep now."

"You should. And don't skip breakfast tomorrow morning either. I know you haven't eaten a single thing today. Night. I love you."

He blushed. She couldn't have been more correct. Neither food nor water had touched his lips since the day before. The breakfast she had packed for him remained untouched; to be honest, he was so out of it that he had lost it somewhere. "Goodnight. I love you too."

The place was extremely silent without her voice. He dared not look at the pictures on the wall lest choking memories of good times return. He retraced his steps upstairs and went to his old room where he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he woke up at a considerably late hour. The sun was up before him. Delicious smells crept beneath the doorway and stole out his window. He sat up groggily, body aching all over. Still half asleep, he pushed his feet into his bed slippers and shuffled out into the hall and down the staircase. He slipped around a stool at the counter and watched his mother sleepily as she prepared breakfast. The smell of sausages made his mouth water and his stomach growl.

"Somebody's hungry," Lisle muttered, setting two full plates down. She set an overturned stool right and sat down beside him. The place was still a mess, but that could be dealt with later.

His mother's home cooking always looked and smelled amazing. "Maman, I love you so much," he moaned, just inhaling the scent as if Alice was starving him for days. He leaned his head against her shoulder.

"Oh please. It's the food you love," she scoffed playfully, taking her pills before anything else. Mallory then stared carefully at the two plates before switching them around. "You gave me more than yourself," he explained.

"Because you're a growing young man."

"I've stopped growing, in case you've forgotten. Plus, you need it more. Besides, I eat less than you. Doesn't it show?" he grinned deviously.

His mother just shook her head before digging into her meal just as wolfishly as he.

She stared at him between mouthfuls of French toast, carefully cataloguing his features. She had only seen him a month before. His visits were regular, but each time she saw him, it was as though he had changed just a little bit. But one thing didn't change; she could still read him like an open book.

"Why are you staring at me, Mom?" he asked indifferently, spearing a fat sausage wickedly with his fork.

"You look like a young lion who's just sprouting his mane," she said blankly. He frowned. More than likely his hair was sticking up in all directions, but hers was basically the same.

"You're no sunflower yourself, you know," he said, staring into her brown eyes. Eyes that reminded him so much of Alice. He looked away, trying to ignore the pang in his chest.

His mom didn't miss it. "How is the fiancée by the way? I'm really eager to meet the girl you know."

He choked on a malicious piece of sausage; the same piece he had stabbed moments before. "She…she sends her best wishes. And she says that when you're feeling better, she'll come pay you a visit." He looked away from her, ashamed of his obvious lie.

"Mallory, are you still telling this girl that I'm in the hospital with some awful physical illness?"

The silence was all she needed to confirm his guilt. "I thought you'd manned up and told her the truth already."

"Come on, mom. You know what will happen if I tell Alice."

"Nope." She sipped her tea calmly. "I don't know, and you don't know either. You're only speculating, son."

"We've had this conversation before…"

"Yes. And we're having it again, because things can't stay like this between you two. She's going to find out eventually, so the longer you put it off, the worse you'll make it for yourself. Based on all you've told me about that girl, I'd say that she simply adores you just as much as you adore her. She'll be more understanding than you think. Sometimes, Mallory you just have to take chances."

Stunned at what this woman was saying, he lifted his head. "Take chances, Mom? Really? This relationship isn't something I just want to leave to chance!" His voice rose a notch.

She remained calm. "I don't think you understand-"

"No, Mom, you're the one who doesn't understand." His hand rose to point at a certain spot on the wall. Her eyes followed its path to a portrait of much younger versions of them standing with a green eyed man, and a baby wrapped neatly in swaddling cloth.

Her eyes glossed over. "It hurts for me too, you know," she whispered.

Mallory's jaw fell. In his anger, he didn't even realize that he had pointed to the old photograph. There was no need to turn around. He knew exactly what he had brought her attention to. Guilt immediately filled his face, plain as day. The crushing weight of regret sank heavily onto his shoulders.

"I remember what I did…I remember how I broke this family apart. Honestly, every time I see you, the memories just come flooding back. All the joy, and the excitement, and the horror, and the heartbreak. Don't you think it hurts me just as much, maybe even more, that I can't even get to meet my daughter in law? That my son has to lead a double life all because of me? Excuse me, Mallory, but I have emotions too, and I've experienced everything that you are now, maybe even more; so I know what I'm talking about."

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. He deserved that. He was just being selfish, looking out for his own interests instead of those of the two women he loved. That familiar knot settled within him. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said that." His shoulders shook. She was telling the truth. Just staying in the silence of this house for a few hours was stifling. He couldn't understand how she could bear to live there…but then, he did. He was her child after all.

She saw the old place as a prison, and she locked herself away to atone for her crime. No matter how often he pled with her, he couldn't get her out, and if he forced her out, he knew she would flip for good.

It was a stalemate. He couldn't stay and she couldn't leave, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Lisle watched as her son knotted his hands in the fabric of his shirt, a habit he never seemed to grow out of. "Hey, Mom?"

"Hm?"

"Come away with me. Leave this place behind. You can't leave the country, but we can go to another part of France. Somewhere where nobody knows us…and Alice would want to come too. I'd tell her. I'd do it if you leave with me." His voice shook.

Sighing, the blonde woman slid off her stool and cradled his head in his hands. It was like he never got tired of crying all the time.

"You're such an idiot, Mallory."

Maman: Mom

Fou: Crazy

Ma petite pêche: My little peach

Ma douce: My sweet

Mon chéri: My darling

So there we have it. Don't forget to drop a review by, if you want to.