Chapter IX

Tintin Fugitive, part II

-Mom? Dad?- Tintin asked

-What happened to you?- Germaine asked

-Nothing, I just decided to change the way of my life.- their son replied

-You know that's not true.- Remy said

Tintin then remained shut.

-Why are you doing this?- his mother asked

-No one believes in my innocence, so I decided to keep moving forward.- her son replied, still, not directing them his sight.

-Keep moving forward?- Remy asked.- What you are really doing is running away...-

-...to never return.- Tintin finished.- I'll change my name to an American one, then, I might get a job as a teacher, possibly in an Elementary School.-

-Augustin...- His father tried to call him with a calmed voice.- Really, why are you doing this?-

-You still have opportunity.- Germaine continued.- There are many things you can do to prove your innocence.-

-It doesn't matter what I do.- Tintin replied, finally giving all his attention to the ghosts as he sat in his bed.- I'm "Europe's Most Wanted". Even my head is enough to make somebody even more than a billionaire.-

The dead couple then directed their sight to each other, with a worried expression, then, they watched their son, who, was still in that "negation-like phase".

-Augustin, I know how you feel.- Remy said.- I was there.-

-But your head was not valuated back then.- his son replied, trying not to sound rude.

-Son, my head does not need a price just to know how you feel.- said as he and Germaine approached and sat behind Tintin. One in each side.

The lad then noticed his parents were no longer transparent.

Either that or he's too tired and wants to get a rest.

-We're worried.- Germaine said

-You're going into the wrong way, son.- Remy said.- You don't even know who you are.-

-Of course I know.- he replied.- My name's Jean-Pierre Talbot, and I'm a soon-to-be American. I will have a new beginning. A quiet life, far, far away from adventures, gangsters, danger, and...-

-Your family.- his mother finished what her son was saying.

-They will soon find a new friend whom they will at least believe.- Tintin defended himself

-Mr. Haddock believed in you.- Remy said

-He didn't.- Tintin said.- If he really did, he wouldn't have doubted I am no murderer.-

-Just because the clues have sense at 100% doesn't mean it's the truth.- Mr. Van Kuifje said.-

-Augustin, what you really did also has sense.- his mother continued.- You wanted fresh air, went to investigate, and your messy look was because of the strong air of that area.-

-I already explained that to the Captain, and he didn't believe it.- Tintin replied.

-Because he was shocked.- Remy said.- Mr. Haddock, in the depths of his being, believes in your innocence.-

-What about Snowy?- his father asked.- Did he believed in you?-

-He did.- Tintin replied with a saddened expression.

-And what about you?- Germaine asked.- Do you believe in yourself?-

-...yes... I do.- her son replied with a breaking voice

-Augustin, then, why are you running away if you know you're innocent?- Remy asked with a soft voice

-Because I'm repeating the same you did when I was a baby?- Tintin answered

-You knew repeating the same stuff a predecessor did is one of the many ways how a vicious circle is born?- Remy said.- Son, what I did is in the past.- continued as he was hugging him.- You are "recreating" what I did when you were still a baby. Leaving your beloved ones behind just to start a new life, believing you will someday forget about your origins and who you really were.-

Tintin then meditated what his father said.

It was true.

Until now, he realized he was now following his father's footsteps: abandoning the family to start a new life, with a new identity in a different place, while the original identity vanishes from the memory of those who knew its name.

-You still have time to turn back.- Germaine said as she hugged her son.

Tintin then, started to let a few tears out, showing remorse of what he did to himself.

-Let it go.- Remy said as he rubbed his son's back.- Don't let any single drop of confusion to stay in your mind.-

-Remember who you really are.- Germaine said, comforting his son.

-Tell me, who are you.- His father said in a low voice.

Tintin didn't want to say it, as that meant breaking (again) a personal promise he did years ago: saying his real name.

-Jean-Pierre Talbot...- Tintin replied.

-That's not you.- Remy said.- Who are you?- repeated with the same low voice.

-Tintin...- the lad replied

-Your real name.- Germaine insisted.

Tintin then remained silent.

After a few seconds, he finally decided to say it.

-...Augustin...van Kuifje. Reporter for "Le Vingtième Siècle". Intrepid adventurer. Loyal friend...- Tintin said with a breaking voice.- ...Europe's Most Wanted.- said under his breath as he continued crying.

Remy and Germaine smiled at each other after hearing their son finally remembered who he was.

-We'll always be with you.- Germaine said as she kissed Tintin's cheek.

The lad continued crying until he finally fell asleep.

-xxx-

At the next morning, he woke up, and wondered what happened last night, as his head was hurting him a lot. He then examined himself, and passed one of his hands through his hair.

Then, he realized his body was a little light.

Tintin then went to where the mirror was, and checked himself once again.

Yes, still the same "Jean-Pierre Talbot". Blond hair, no quiff, denim pants and jacket, white shirt, and black boots.

Odd.

He didn't know why he was feeling... better. The sun was striking through his window, the seas were calmed, and the air was fresh. It was like the extinguishing of a nightmare.

Tintin then went to take a bath, trying to recall the events of the last night.

He finally succeeded on remembering, and, somehow, he was still attached to his plan on living in America. He pictured it as the best thing he could have done. The lad imagined himself as being an Elementary School teacher, probably teaching either literature, grammar, or a few foreign languages, as he knew a few, thanks to Germaine. Tintin was not sure if the so-famous "baby-face syndrome" was also present in that continent. But, as he has done before, he could use make-up and stuff to look like someone from his age.

What he was very sure was about the disappearing of "Tintin". Once he arrives to the offices, and receives his citizen papers, he'll be a new person. No trace from the adventurer reporter will be left. All what used to belong to the quiff-haired European, such as his trademark clothes and passport, will be destroyed in the fire.

He then finished his bath, and took another set of denim clothes he had. This time, he used the black shirt he had reserved for it.

Meanwhile, in the restaurant of the boat, Dmitri was sitting alone. He brought a few papers, which were written in his native language. Those appeared to be a few notes he has been taking, probably recently. He seemed to have gotten bored of his strawberry yogurt with granola, judging by the half-emptied crystal glass in front of him.

The man was more concentrated in whatever it was written there rather than his breakfast. Dmitri was writing, erasing, marking, and making emphasis in a few notes... all in the Russian language.

It looked like a puzzle or a riddle.

He mumbled, in Russian, about what the answer was. He said a few things more, but, he was the only one who could understand whatever he said.

Suddenly, the door was opened and, like a number of the people in that area, he looked who was the one who joined the rest.

It was Tintin.

Dmitri smiled, as he was getting bored of being alone and solving whatever he was solving.

-Hey, Jean-Pierre!- He greeted as he was waving one of his hands.

Then, the lad went towards him.

-Good morning.- Tintin said.-

-Good morning.- the Russian replied.- Take the seat. It's not taken yet.-

-Thanks.- said as he sat and watched weird instruments in the table.- Um, excuse me because of my ignorance, but, what are those?- he asked.- Torture instruments?-

Dmitri gave a friendly laugh.

-My friend.- Dmitri said.- These are not torture instruments. These are special instruments I invented. They allow me to write and do a lot of stuff that arthritis makes painful.-

-So, no pain while using those?- Tintin asked

-Zero pain.- the Russian-born replied with a smile.- Oh, and the patent's still pending.-

-I get it.- Tintin laughed very friendly

-Want something to eat?- He asked.- Order whatever you want, I invite.-

-Are you sure?- The lad asked

-Go ahead.- he replied.

-Thanks.- he said

Then, Dmitri called one of the waiters and the lad ordered something.

After taking the order, the employee left.

-So, why you insisted in this?- Tintin wondered

-I like you.- the Russian replied.- Nobody seems to trust in someone who's in a wheelchair.-

-You've been judged by that, right?-

-In times.-

Tintin then looked at the papers the Russian had.

-Are those letters from a friend of yours?- the blond-haired lad asked

-Oh, no.- Dmitri replied as he looked around, then, he continued talking, with a low, yet audible, voice.- I think you might not have heard the rumours.-

-What rumours?-

-People say Tintin is among us.-

Somebody knows. The lad said in his mind.- Who?- Asked like if he didn't knew whom Dmitri was talking about.

-You don't know who Tintin is?-

-I'm sorry, but that's a name I'm not familiar with.-

-Oh, yeah. You Mennonites are not used to know much stuff like that. Well, he's a reporter, the number one of Europe's Most Wanted.-

-What did he do? Betrayal?-

-He's linked to the murder of three British men in Italy.-

-Three?-

-A lawyer, his assistant, and some random tourist.-

-What kind of person would do that?-

-A psycho.- Dmitri said as he made sure nobody was watching them.- But... I believe he's not the murderer.-

-Really? How?-

-Tintin went to this party the same night the lawyer and his assistant were murdered. The last two were also invited.-

-How do you know that?-

-My father told me all what happened. He said the reporter snapped at the lawyer because of an offensive commentary. Then, the British men left and later, the reporter, probably after I sent a note to Mr. Rawlins.-

-Mr. Rawlins?-

-The British lawyer. He was my brother-in-law. I had a grudge against him, but, I wanted to start all-over again, by knowing him better.-

-What happened later?-

-They never came. At first I thought he preferred to be in the party rather than hearing me, but then, I saw in the news he was murdered.-

-I'm sorry to hear that.-

-Me too. Now, my sister's depressed, my parents are worried, and I think it got worse when I told my father I was going to America. He thought I was leaving, until I told why I was really going... oh! I got out of the topic!-

-It doesn't matter.-

-I believe Tintin is innocent, because, the killer was a few centimetres taller than him. The wounds and marks left by the bullets were in horizontal lines.-

-How do you know that?-

-One of my art students, she works with the police, took me to see the bodies after "some ambush". She said it was a little odd, unless Tintin is able to stay on the tips of his toes for a long time. That's enough to clear him, but nobody believes her.-

-Why?-

-Because they think she wants to protect the Belgian reporter. That's why.-

Then, the waiter finally arrived with Tintin's order and gave it to him.

-Bon appetite!- Dmitri said as he looked and analyzed his notes.

The lad started to eat.

He could not believe there were people inside the law body who actually believed in his innocence. But, why didn't they believe anything? Probably because of the description of the murderer. I must say, Tintin was feeling better, and was almost smiling. His plans of living in America were now being analyzed again, as he doubted running away like he originally planned was the best thing he could do, for the good of everybody.

-xxx-

Meanwhile, in the police station at Palermo, the Lieutenant was the dim-witted detectives in her office.

-Listen, I won't be able to stay here for a few days, so I'm leaving you in charge of the British case. You know what to do.- Lt. Bertotti said.

-Don't worry, madam.-Thomson said.

-If "new evidence" appears, don't accept it.- She continued.- Give me a call and then we'll talk about it. Remember a few people tried to give me evidence that was later proven as false.-

-We understand, Lieutenant.- Thompson said.

-Good.- she replied.- And be sure the house arrest doesn't get violated. The people being in there were classified as accomplices.-

-We get it.- both said

And then, she left.

-Isn't it odd, Thomson?-

-To be precise, this is strange.- Thomson said.

-She at first shouted at us because we made the house arrest without her permit, but now, the Lieutenant looked odd.-

-What makes you think that?-

-An hour after we made the arrest, she threatened us with taking us out from the case and sending us back to Belgium. Now, she looked calmed.-

-I have the answer for that.- the other said.- Women.-

-Oh, that's true. They have these days where they are bossy, and even worse than a monster... but why?-

-A mystery, that's for sure.- said as he was sitting in the black-coloured couch.

Meanwhile, Allan was exploring abandoned places at Palermo with Tom, who managed to escape from jail a few hours ago.

-Hey, thanks for helping me to escape from that rotten place, Allan.-

-It's nothing.- Allan replied as he was concentrated in his hunting.

-Why did you need me again?-

-That quiff-haired little pest is hiding somewhere. And the sooner we found him, the better.-

-And can you repeat me why are we searching in these old buildings?-

Allan perfectly knew the surroundings could be the perfect place to hide when being searched. The Italian police are superstitious. A number of ghost tales and paranormal activities surround those buildings. Thompson didn't believe on those.

As the minutes were passing, he was now admitting he was getting sick of searching his prey, even with the help of one of the men of his trustful "crew", to reduce the time and finish the pending business of his Boss as soon as possible.

-Allan?-

-That kid might be hiding here. It's the only place where those freaking bunch of idiots in uniform have not searched.-

-Oh, they are superstitious?- Tom asked.- That's an advantage.-

-Keep searching, if that boy is hiding here, and it happens to hear us, he'd hide better.-

They kept searching in the surroundings for around a couple of hours, then, both men decided to get a rest.

-That boy has a lot of guts!- Allan said

-What were you waiting for?- Tom asked.- That kid has that scrawny mutt with him. It can smell our odour, and tell his owner.-

-Wait... what do you said?-

-What, you didn't get a bath?-

-No, the mutt part.-

-Oh.- Tom continued.- I said he has that dog, and it might have told his owner about our presence.-

-I think I have an idea.- Allan said with a grin.- Do you still own that hound?-

-Yes, why?-

-Let's go.- Allan said as he was leaving.

-Hey, what's the plan?-

-I'll tell you in the way.-

-xxx-

A/N: There you go! Chapter IX!

Almost forgetting!

I'm in a good mood, so...

The first two who answer the following CORRECTLY will make a cameo in the next chapter! I already have the roles. Want a hint? You'll help to decide Tintin's fate.

So, here are the questions.

a) In Chapter VIII, who was the one whom Gérémi was talking to in the "Allan hiding" part?

b) Dmitri's falcon is named after whom?

BONUS (because I'm that good ;D):

c) According to this fanfiction series, how old is Tintin?

d) In "Tintin in Mexico", who were the people who were talking in the final scene?

You have five days to answer those. The winners, in case of having a account, will be contacted. Then, the chapter would be submitted eventually.

If there's something OOC, please tell me so I can fix it!

Please Read and Review!