Paris Life - Part VIII
Saint Vincent de Paul Hospital, Paris, France, 2291.197, 1002 hours. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NOTHING?!" Se'tak roared.
"Monsieur, s'il vous plaît…" the nurse at the station stage-whispered.
Lieutenant Bonhomme waved her off, no doubt knowing he deserved the reproof. "I'm sorry…"
"There are security cameras in the foyer AND on the street! How could you not have a picture of her? And what about the message on the mirror?! There's got to be fingerprints!" The officer shook his head no. "Not even a hair?!"
Another shake. "As I was saying, yesterday afternoon there was a power failure in your neighborhood. The cameras…'
"What about a back-up system? Shouldn't there be a back-up for something like this?"
"That was tampered with too," he replied with a pointed look.
Se'tak stared at him for a moment before understanding dawned. "The breach was deliberate. You think she's responsible."
"Oui. What we cannot discern is how she was able to enter the apartment. The door could not be opened without power and there were no tool marks visible."
"The window…" Lost in his own train of thought he didn't immediately see Lieutenant Bonhomme's confused look. "Rorschach likes—liked—to sit on the fire escape. Marie would open the window above the sink a crack so he could wriggle in and out when we weren't home."
"Then this person simply closed it behind her. I'll have my people look for prints there as well but I doubt we'll find anything useful. There were traces of latex in the blood on the mirror so we're fairly certain she wore gloves."
Se'tak ran his hand through his hair. "Well that's just great then. She's still out there and we're..." he gestured futilely at the antiseptic hallway.
Lieutenant Bonhomme placed a commiserating hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry, Monsieur. I wish that there was more that we could do."
"Me too, Lieutenant." Both knew things were going to get worse before they got better.
1034 hours. Marie was sitting upright in bed staring vacantly at the breakfast tray an orderly brought in earlier. Se'tak hated the haunted expression she wore; her green eyes, which once dazzled him daily, were lackluster now and it was all his fault.
The doctor could've told her but Se'tak took it upon himself to tell Marie that she'd miscarried. He didn't think it was possible but she seemed to go numb at the news. It would've been better if she'd cried, screamed, anything but she didn't even blink. After 10 minutes of watching her in this catatonic state he was about to page the nurse when she finally asked a simple question.
"How long?"
"How long?" he repeated. She nodded. "7 weeks."
"San Francisco?" she asked.
He nodded. "Oui."
Finally looked at him and he saw her eyes pool with tears. "I didn't know. I thought I was getting a cold. I didn't…I…I…"
"I know, mon ange. I know."
She nodded and started to cry, her pent up tears now pouring forth in a great rush. Pushing aside the hospital table Se'tak climbed onto the bed and wrapped her up in his arms. The baby might not have been planned but it's loss was still devastating.
2356 Gatlin Street, Paris, France, 2291.197, 2130 hours. The doctors planned to keep her for another night of observation. Only after she fell asleep (with the aid of a high dose sedative) and knowing she was under the care of a floor of doctors and nurses did Se'tak dare leave the hospital. The crime scene had been released back to them earlier that afternoon and he had to prepare the apartment for his k'diwa's homecoming.
With a bag of cleaning supplies in hand Se'tak stood before their front door a full minute bracing himself. When he finally opened the door the stale, copper-scented air hit him smack dab in the face. Their home, quite literally (and rightfully so given everything that happened inside), smelled like death.
Taking another step inside Se'tak debated where to start first. He knew the kitchen looked like a scene straight out of a horror flick but the bedroom was a mystery. He opened the living room side door and the prospect made him want to retch.
The blood trailed under the door connecting the bedroom to the kitchen and ended in front of the vanity table. There was a gouge in the hardwood where poor Rorschach was pinned and bled out. Dried blood caked the mirror, making the note left behind look all the more sinister, and his stalker had smashed the perfume bottles and cosmetic compacts left out there.
He'd have to take note and make another trip to the pharmacy in the morning. Marie had already seen too much—he'd spare her this final indignity if he could.
Se'tak grabbed a bucket from the bathroom and filled it with water then spent the next few hours on his hands and knees scrubbing every last drop of blood from the floors. It was hard work but it helped give vent to his rage…and if a few anguished tears fell into the bucket from time to time too, well, no one was around to comment.
It was a cathartic, if temporary, release.
For 2 weeks their relationship limped along as they emotionally and physically recovered. Marie took an emergency leave from work and staunchly refused to leave the apartment, obsessively checking and re-checking the locks on the doors and windows. She found it difficult to sleep and even when she did doze her rest was riddled with nightmares that left her thrashing and screaming. She avoided the vanity table area entirely.
Se'tak tried his best to help. He ran all the errands, and made sure she showered and ate. He accepted her compulsive tendencies. He didn't comment when she actively skirted an entire corner of the bedroom. But when she recoiled from his touch when he tried to soothe her after her nightmares he felt broken inside.
2356 Gatlin Street, Paris, France, 2291.212, 1830 hours. The end for them came with a whimper, not a bang. That Friday he got up, showered, made breakfast for Marie, saw that she ate, gave her a kiss, and went to work. That night he returned home to find the apartment empty save for some sheets of packing tissue, two crates of his belongings, and a note.
Mon Petit,
I'm sorry. I love you but I cannot live with this axe hanging over my head anymore. The stress of it all—it is too much and I am not strong enough. I hope someday you'll forgive me.
Love, Marie
Se'tak staggered back into the front door and sank to the floor. He knew she'd been miserable lately but this…he never saw this coming. When he recovered his wits enough to think he pulled out his comm and dialed her parent's address.
"Bonjour?"
"Marcel? It's Se'tak."
Her father's voice fell flat. "Ahh, Se'tak."
"Is Marie there?"
"Oui, however…"
"May I talk to her? Please?" he pleaded.
Marcel sighed on the other end of the call. "I'm sorry. She says she doesn't want to talk to you. She needs time to recover."
"I know, and I can help. I can do more, I swear, we just need some time…"
Marie's father interrupted him. "She needs rest and space. Marie told us everything and Helene and I…well, we think it's for the best if you stay away for the time being."
"B-but Monsieur, Monsieur please! I need to talk to her, I need to see her! S'il vous plaît, je l'aime!"
"Au revoir, Se'tak. Stay safe."
"Marcel, s'il vous plaît…!" but the call was terminated before he could finish.
For the next hour Se'tak sat with his head in his hands, trying to figure out how it all went so wrong. He'd had love, real love, for the first time in his life and somehow it slipped right through his fingers.
Heartbroken, Se'tak returned to his dorm in the rain. His room looked gray and bleak in the evening light and he quickly peeled off his wet clothes and crawled under the covers to shut the world away. 'Tak spent the rest of the weekend in bed and would've stayed there all week had his cousin not paid him an unexpected visit.
The sound of insistent knocking roused him from a restless sleep. "Se'tak? Come on, open up." There was a brief pause followed by more knocking while his comm began to chirp. "I know you're in there. I can hear your comm."
He stumbled out of bed and knocked around the room in search of his robe and slippers. Finding the robe (and giving up on the slippers) he at long last answered the door. "Finally!" Max cried, entering the room unbidden. "Dad and I were worried when you didn't come over for dinner. Normally you call if you can't come. Anyway, he sent me over with leftovers." His cousin held a container aloft and shook it. "It's carrot ricotta quiche."
For the first time since entering the teen took note of his disheveled appearance and dour demeanor. "What's wrong with you?"
"Everything," 'Tak mumbled as he shuffled back toward his bed.
"Ooooh-kay." Max pulled out a desk chair and took in the room. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
His cousin eyed the container of food longingly. "Wanna eat?"
"No."
But his cousin wasn't having any of it, opening the lid and wafting the delicious scent of homemade quiche in his direction. "You know you want some…" Se'tak glared at him but Max simply ignored him. "Oh, I almost forgot!" From the pocket of his windbreaker his cousin produced a baggie. "Dad made some Irish shortbread too. I think he was feeling homesick."
"Whatever." In spite of himself Se'tak's stomach growled.
"You know you want some!" Max teased in a sing-songy voice. "Come on man, it's your favorite!"
"Meh." His stomach growled again. "Maybe just a bite."
"Catch!" Max tossed the bag his way then reached into his other pocket and pulled out 2 forks for the quiche. "Oh yeah. Party time."
It seemed his cousin was hell bent on returning the favor Se'tak paid him last year, only this time instead of trailing him all over Paris Max would just randomly show up at his dorm. He was always making him do something—get up, get dressed, go eat—and it was getting really annoying. They never actually talked about the break-up even though it was clear his cousin knew something was wrong. Uncle Callan probably assumed what happened and told Max not to pry. 'Tak was a bit of a bear to Max in the beginning, grunting and grumbling and generally being a jerk, but deep down he was grateful he wasn't alone.
Paris, France, 2291.233, 1508 hours. "So I've got some applications out for early admission," Max said. They were headed to the park to shoot some hoops, his cousin (as always) running circles around him like an eager puppy as he dribbled the ball. "I haven't figured out my major yet but I've got a couple options. I really want to go to Princeton or Stanford but UCL* might give me a really good scholarship so there's that to think about too, plus it's close to Dad. On the other hand, if I really wanted to stay close to Dad I could just go to Université Paris-Sorbonne…but I don't know if I want to be that close."
His cousin paused to take a breath of air. "Man I can't wait to be out in a dorm! Living on my own, eating what I want when I want, sleeping when I want…it's gonna be great!"
"Yeah. Great." Se'tak stepped around Max and pushed the gate open so they could enter the court. Stepping into the center of the court he held his hands out. "Ball." As he dribbled and warmed up his cousin still kept talking. What was he, Dilithium charged or something? "All I know is wherever I go it's gonna be awesome and I can't wait. One more year and I'm outta here! Woo!" he cried, fist pumping the air.
Se'tak rolled his eyes. Max was 15—what'd he know about living on his own? Life was hard and mean; it wasn't all about sleeping 'til 2 in the afternoon and eating nothing but junk food. He bet within a week of being out in the 'real world' his cousin would be begging his Dad to let him come home.
"Are we going to play or what?" he barked.
Max's face fell and he stopped jumping around. "Yeah. Sure. You first." Se'tak stood on the center line and took a shot. It should've been nothing but net.
It bounced off the rim.
He wasn't planning to go back to tutoring when the new school year started. 'Tak figured he had enough money saved up from the summer to get him through most of the year; after all, his expenses were minimal. It's not like he was paying to take anyone out on dates or anything. That part of his life was over. Just last week he'd tried reaching out to Marie again but she still wouldn't see him—and if he couldn't be with her then he didn't want to be with anybody.
But within the first few days of classes it was apparent his former students had other ideas. His in-box was flooded with messages from Venn, Desiree, Zosia, Ifama, Oliver; even shy Helia asked if they were still meeting in their usual spot on Tuesdays and Thursdays. There were also a few new people who'd heard about the group and expressed an interest in signing up. With so many people expecting him to teach, how could he say no?
Paris, France, 2291.259, 1630 hours.They filed in slowly, the old students greeting him with smiles and the new eyeing him curiously. Before he had a chance to speak Desiree and Zosia approached bearing a covered aluminum tray between them.
"Hey Se'tak, guess what we made?" bubbly Desiree asked excitedly.
He raised an eyebrow and peered down at the covered tray. "No idea."
"Oh come on," Zosia said, lightly rapping him on the arm, "You're supposed to guess!"
"Uhhh…"
Desiree whipped the cover off with her perfectly manicured hand. "They're pumpkin cheesecake bars!" She looked around the room at the expanded group. "Gosh, I hope we made enough for everybody."
"Dee!" Zosia hissed, "He was supposed to guess!" With a sigh and a roll of her eyes she reached into the tray and handed him a bar. "I hope you like them."
'Tak wasn't really interested but he knew it'd be rude not to try one. Careful not to touch her he accepted the treat and took a small bite while Desiree passed the container around. "Thanks," he said, his smile weak, "They're good."
"I'm glad." She flashed him a pearly white smile and returned to her seat.
He cleared his throat, picked up his PADD, and with a subdued air started the class. "Tonk'peh orensus*…"
The next day, Wednesday, he returned to his room to find a new note. At this point he didn't even care anymore and didn't bother reporting it to the police. After reading it once he balled it up and threw it in the trash.
"I wish you'd smile more; you look so handsome when you smile. Don't worry though, I know things will get better soon. XOXOX"
* UCL = University College London
* "Tonk'peh orensus…" = Vulkhansu, "Hello students…"