Chapter XVIII: Ballad of the Bonapartes
Hello again, everyone and welcome back to "Darkness Falls." We're glad to see you're sticking with this tale despite the delays and madness. Anyway, first, if you noticed a change in our writing style in that last chapter, it may be related to the fact that this and the previous few chapters were written after Peach's hard drive died and the story had to be redone. We hope that difference hasn't jarred your enjoyment of the tale.
Well, let's get right to the new chapter! Last time, Seto and Kisara… enjoyed themselves in Jaden and Alexis's room. Then the students got back to normal and devoted themselves to finding out the truth about Marcel and Professor Bonaparte. Thanks to Blair and Professor Viper, the gang got Marcel to hang out with them and confirmed his last name. At Dorothy's snack shop, the gang tries to get him to talk, but instead he goes into a reverie. What is he remembering? Read on…
Legal stuff: Please see the previous chapter for what we do and don't own. Thank you.
Authors' note: You may need tissues for this chapter. It's sad. We have taken certain liberties with the Bonapartes' story, perhaps filling in blanks. We hope you don't mind. Thank you.
Three years previously, ten-year-old Marcel Bonaparte sat down to the usual dinner at home with his parents. His mother had made bouillabaisse, a fish soup. The three sat around the table of their small house, Marcel happily digging into the French cuisine he'd been raised on. For a moment, little Marcel was oblivious to the tension in the room as he ate. His parents exchanged calm conversation, but they seemed to be avoiding something major. Jean-Louis Bonaparte was strongly considering getting the training and then going to teach at Duel Academy Central in the US, but his wife was not happy with this idea, despite the extra money the family would receive. Finally, Jean-Louis spoke. "Antoinette, we need to discuss... the future," he said slowly, hoping she wouldn't react badly.
Antoinette wasn't the most radiant of women, but she had a pretty face and a petite build. Her blonde hair was curled and fell to her shoulders, and her blue eyes were the same shade as the sky on a clear day. With a sigh, she laid down her spoon and didn't look at her husband. Marcel continued to eat, though a bit less vigorously. He knew what the word "future" and that sigh put together meant. "Jean, I know what you're going to say. And I am still against this radical idea of yours," Antoinette began, obviously making her voice stay at a calm level.
"But darling, it means more money for us... and a better future for Marcel. Proper school isn't exactly cheap and he will be nearly grown before we know it," Jean-Louis reasoned. "I cannot find a well-enough paying job in Paris or anywhere in France, and I could double my salary..."
Antoinette brought her hand up to her temple, already feeling a headache coming on. How many times had they argued over this? "You believe flying away to another country—no, another continent, even—will make a better future for Marcel?? He needs his father! What boy his age doesn't have a father at home to look up to? Every boy needs his father for guidance; they will shun him! Yes, we need the money. But there must be another way." Marcel cringed as his mother's voice raised slightly, his big, blue eyes focusing hard on what was left of his soup. He hated when they argued like this; it was getting harder and harder to tell himself nothing would happen.
Jean-Louis could see the pain in his son's eyes, knowing what was coming. He could've insisted that he and Antoinette go in another room and discuss this after dinner, but the truth was if they got into another of their screaming matches, Marcel would hear from any point in the house. "Don't you think I've looked for another way?" he asked in a still-calm tone, meeting her eyes with his own. "And I know Marcel, that you need me, my boy... I will come home in the summer and at breaks so we can be together..."
Marcel nodded a bit meekly, but put on a smile for his father and mother. However, he knew that if his father left, he would indeed feel very lonely. And the children at school would only increase their torment of him. They already made fun of him for his size and weak frame. It was as if Antoinette could see what her son was thinking, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "And how often will these 'breaks' be, Jean? And when you do come back, will Marcel not be busy with school? This...'Duel Academy' you wish to work at so badly has a very different schedule from Marcel's school. What will the other children think? When Marcel is the only boy whose father is not there for school functions or events? We know how they treat you already, honey," she said, reaching over to gently place her hand over her only child's.
Jean-Louis fought his own emotions. "Marcel... I don't make this decision lightly... Antoinette, do you not think that I weighed this in the balance?" he asked, clearly pained. "But when I know we are just struggling to make ends meet and put bread on this table, I feel I have no choice but to take this job. And then we can make up for that lost time..." He would not yell at his wife if he could avoid it. Not in front of their son.
And then Antoinette snapped. "Oh, stop it with the excuses, Jean! We both know that you just want to go overseas to teach! The money is simply a reason for you to give us so that you can go!! In the end you're only thinking of yourself."
Jean-Louis looked at his son's dinner plate and bowl and noticed the boy had finished his food. "Marcel... go upstairs to your room please," he said, clearly feeling terrible that it had come to this.
Marcel didn't argue; he simply pushed back his chair and stood. Heading out of the room, he stopped behind the wall of the doorway and walked in place. The past few nights he had done this, so that he could secretly hear what his parents were talking about. Yes, he could hear yelling from his room, but it was muffled. And so he now pressed his back against the wall and held his breath, waiting for it to start.
"Antoinette, this isn't fair. Do you think you and Marcel are not my entire universe? And that I am somehow happy to leave all that I know and love?" Jean-Louis asked, raising his voice slightly.
"Of course this isn't fair! If we were your entire universe, as you said, you would at least stay in the country! Money cannot possibly be the only reason you would go so far away from your family!!" Antoinette countered, her own voice rising fast. Marcel cringed, fingertips tightening against the wall as he shrank a little. They'd started yelling sooner than usual.
"You know we just get by, and that is with Marcel's current schooling! We can't just keep him in his current school with my pay level!" Jean-Louis shouted back, his temper taking control, and he hoped that Marcel didn't hear that.
"And you think leaving and putting him in a new school is going to change all of that?! With the way he is now, AND not having his father, it will be many times worse!! He would be better off staying at his current school if that would be the case!!" Antoinette's voice had risen to a fever pitch, her temper even shorter than her husband's.
Marcel's eyes snapped wide, his heart stopping mid-beat. It felt as if his blood had run cold, even though he was suddenly sweating. 'It's...because of me...?' he thought, shocked. Slowly, he slid down the wall, sitting on the floor. 'Papa is going to leave...because of me not being strong enough... It's...my fault,' he realized with a pang of guilt.
Jean-Louis shouted back, "Marcel can stay at his current school if I get this job! L'amour, can't you understand that? His tuition will be raised shortly and we will be forced to pull him out of that school... Unless you are willing to give up that stupid class of yours..." And then the truth of the matter came up. "Or is Monsieur LaMonte more important than me?" he asked, voice going deceptively soft.
That did it. Marcel jumped slightly as a banging sound was heard, daring a quick peek around the side of the doorway. From the looks of it, his mother had slammed her hands down on the table as she had stood in her rage. The cutlery had clattered, and even the salt shaker had spilled over. The tiny white grains slid across the brown surface of the table, and his mother's face was hidden by her hair. "Do not...drag Monsieur LaMonte into this, Jean. He has NOTHING to do with any of this! He is only my teacher! And it is a class I am taking so that I can also get a job to raise money for this family!! If you cannot understand that and respect him, then we have nothing to say to each other!!" And with that, Antoinette turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Marcel pressed his tiny body against the wall as she stomped past, but she was far too angry to see him. He winced as a door slammed, likely his mother either locking herself in the bathroom or bedroom.
The truth was that Antoinette had been having an affair and one afternoon, Jean-Louis had seen her and the teacher in a park together acting more like lovers than student and teacher. And it had broken his heart. He went and picked up the fallen cutlery and the rest of the mess, and then sat at the table and wept.
Marcel slowly stood, not really understanding that the core of this problem was the affair. He was too young to grasp such a concept. All he knew was that both of his parents had stated that he was one of the causes. And that was enough for him to blame himself and feel guilty. For a moment, he stood in the open doorway, debating on what to do. But finally, he decided that to simply go to his room would cause less trouble for his father. Perhaps it hadn't been the best of decisions, but there was no turning back time.
The next day, Jean-Louis left the house. He hugged Marcel good-bye, telling the boy how much he loved him and that what was going on was not his fault. But Marcel couldn't shake the feeling that it was his fault.
And then Marcel was back in the present, not even realizing that he had completely zoned out for a good five minutes or so. He blinked when he felt someone waving a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Anyone in there?" Violet asked, pulling her hand back. Everyone at the table was staring at the petite Ra in a mixture of worry and curiosity.
"Marcel?" Blair asked softly, laying her hand on his, "Are you okay? You... spaced out for a minute..." Her amber eyes locked onto his sky-blue ones, and her face was the most worried of the group.
Marcel swallowed down the lump in his throat, cursing himself for having such a memory at a time like this. It was one of the worst he had. "O-Oui...I am fine. But...I, uh, need to use the toilet," he muttered, standing up.
"Need any help?" Bastion offered kindly, hoping the little Ra wasn't getting sick.
"Er, no, merci. I will be all right," Marcel said quickly, giving a slight wave before leaving the snack shop. He hadn't touched his pretzel, and the second he was far enough away he ran. Marcel ran straight back to his dorm, needing to be alone. He hated that he'd had to lie, but thought for sure that the others would have held him back had he said where he was really going.
"He didn't head to the latrine," Tyson muttered after Marcel had gone, his face tight. "He just needed to retreat..."
"Yeah," Axel agreed, his own face a bit pained.
"He didn't eat his pretzel," Blair added, the worry not abating from her expression.
"And he didn't exactly say much, either... This didn't exactly go as we'd hoped it would, did it?" Syrus asked, frowning.
"No... he didn't," Jaden groaned. "But... we need to talk to Professor Sartyr too... If Marcel's not eating right, he could really make himself sick..."
"Yeah," Annie agreed, looking at her still-very-thin arm and knowing what not eating right or enough could do, "it can give him more trouble..."
"Maybe Professor Sartyr knows some French recipes. Marcel might be more interested in eating the food he grew up on," Alexis added.
Rosa nodded. "Si. That is right. Last year, I was a little uncomfortable with the food they served."
The group, a lot more subdued, finished their afternoon snacks and headed straight for the Ra Yellow dorms. "Hello, Professor," Bastion greeted when they arrived.
Professor Sartyr had just finished talking with some Ra students, and he smiled happily when the group walked over. "Hello, Bastion, everyone! What brings you here?" he greeted warmly.
"Sir... we're worried about Marcel... You see... we aren't sure if he's eating right and he seems depressed," Bastion explained, his eyes sad.
Sartyr frowned a bit, placing a hand to his chin. "Yes...I noticed that myself. He was already petite when he came here, but he has become even thinner... At this rate, he'll need to be admitted into the infirmary. Did you have an idea on how to solve this problem?"
Bastion looked at the rest of the group and gripped his fiancée's hand. "Sir... we think he needs his father to talk to him. We've done investigative work and we know his father is on staff... Marcel needs him to be whole..."
Professor Sartyr sighed; he'd thought that was coming. "Sir, we know that you and the other teachers have been trying to do it. But maybe if we help, it can happen," Violet asserted sincerely. The card design teacher and Ra proctor considered all of this for a few moments before speaking. "Perhaps...you are right. But if this is going to be a success, I believe you should at least speak with the chancellor first." Together, they nodded, seeing the logic.
It was then that one of the Ra boys came running. This boy, like Tyson, was from Texas and had sandy blonde-brown hair and blue eyes. "Professor, come quick!" Phil McGraw called. "Marcel's passed out in the bathroom!" The entire group exchanged horrified glances.
"What?!" Professor Sartyr gasped in shock. His responsibilities as a teacher taking over, he didn't hesitate to break into a run for the boys' bathroom. The group along with Phil ran after him, knowing this might be serious.
When they arrived, the small Ra was sprawled near the sink while one of the other boys was trying to restore him to consciousness. "Marcel!" Blair yelped, falling to her knees next to the boy. "Please wake up!" He was out cold, though.
"Let's try to revive him. Phil, prop up his head and shoulders with your jacket. Bastion, get a damp washcloth for his head," Sartyr ordered quickly. He pulled off his own blazer, carefully folding it up to prop up Marcel's legs.
Bastion and Phil moved quickly and Tyson also took his jacket off and put it under Marcel's legs. But the small boy wouldn't wake up. "Why won't he wake up?" Blair asked, terrified.
Annie moved to the boy's side and checked his pulse. "It's steady... he should be okay... If he hasn't eaten, his body's weak..."
"Basically, Blair, his body is lacking proper nutrition. It looks like I will have to call Miss Fontaine," Professor Sartyr explained, pulling out his PDA. He had the nurse on speed dial.
"Hello, this is Miss Fontaine," the pretty nurse answered her PDA.
"Fonda, it's me, Don. We have a situation here at Ra..." The proctor's voice was serious, as well as worried.
"Don, what is it?" she asked, getting up to get her medical bag.
"You know Marcel Bonaparte, right? He's been malnourished for a few weeks now... I'm afraid it has finally gotten to him; he's passed out in the boys' bathroom here at Ra," he explained, sighing.
"Okay... I'll come down with a stretcher. Is he breathing all right?"
"Yes, and his pulse is steady."
Fonda nodded. "Okay... We'll get him stabilized and then call his father... I'll be down in a couple of minutes!" They said goodbye and then hung up.
It didn't take long for the nurse to get down to Ra and determine that Marcel needed to be moved to the infirmary. He was moved and then hooked to IVs to get his body fluids working right. "Marcel," Blair whispered as he started to wake up, "it's okay... I'm here..."
Slowly, Marcel opened his large, round eyes, a soft groan leaving his lips. The last thing he remembered was standing in the bathroom, feeling sick. And then the floor had spun upward to meet him. "M...Mademoiselle...Blair...?"
"Yeah," she answered, relief flooding her features. "And... your dad's coming..."
The small teen instantly tensed, eyes going wide. "H-He is coming??" Marcel shook, yanking up the blankets over his face. "I don't want to see him..."
"Marcel... it's all right," Miss Fontaine soothed, moving into his field of vision. "We need him here..." She gently moved the blanket so he could see her and explained, "Since your father's here, he needs to talk to me and to you..."
"No..." He frowned deeply, closing his eyes. "I don't want to talk to him. I'm only causing him trouble again..."
"You never cause me trouble, my sweet boy," Jean-Louis Bonaparte said from the door of the room. His plump face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear and concern for his only child.
Marcel looked over at his father for just a moment, but quickly looked away. "Yes I do... I always did..."
The group of teens parted, and the tween girl moved away to allow the professor to get to his son. "Marcel... why would you think that?" he asked, pained.
Marcel's eyes only saddened; he'd never been one to cry, but to simply feel the sadness. "You...and Mère... Both of you said it was because of me...and what was happening at school," he stated, as if it was painstakingly obvious.
"No... no," Bonaparte murmured, gathering Marcel into his arms as if he were a much smaller child. "No... Marcel... I'll tell you what happened... and it was not your fault..."
"Guys... I think they need some privacy," Annie whispered.
"Good idea, Annie," Syrus whispered. The large group quickly took their leave, so that it was only father and soon in the room. "P-Papa...wasn't it because of me that you left...?" Marcel asked shakily.
"No... You heard that last fight, didn't you," Jean-Louis asked sadly. Marcel nodded, gaze turning to the bed sheets. "Our marriage was falling apart before that," the worried father explained in their native tongue. "And it was not your fault... What else did you hear?"
"Papa...I know about...Monsieur LaMonte," Marcel muttered, frowning.
Jean-Louis held his boy close. "I had a feeling... Perhaps I was not a good enough husband... or I was too old for Maman..."
"I don't know, but...I-I missed you, Papa... I avoided you....because I thought I was a...a burden..."
Jean-Louis looked his son straight in the eyes. "You are not... nor will you ever be a burden... Marcel... I love you so much...."
"Papa..." Marcel wrapped his arms around his father in a tight hug. "I love you, too..."
"Are you hungry?"
"A...A little...I guess," the small boy admitted.
"Okay," Jean-Louis murmured, pleased to hear it. A short time later, Professor Sartyr came into the room with a simple but delicious beef stew from an old French recipe.
The sight and smell of something from home comforted Marcel, and he actually seemed to put effort into eating. "Mmm...c'est délicieux, Professor Sartyr."
Sartyr grinned. "I'm glad you like it, Marcel. You need to eat and regain your strength."
"Merci, Don... for the food and for looking after my boy," Jean-Louis said, helping his son to sit up and eat.
"You're quite welcome, Jean. I am always glad to help my students," Don replied happily as the boy ate his food.
It wasn't too long after that that Marcel began to fall asleep. His father sang a gentle lullaby from France. It felt like ages since Marcel had felt this peaceful, and it had barely been a minute before he had drifted off. The sadness that had clung to him had lessened significantly, replaced by a calm feeling.
Jean-Louis brushed his child's bangs and kept singing, remembering how Marcel would sometimes stay awake until the song was over. But something was different tonight. "How did anyone find out who he was?" he asked the Ra teacher.
Don couldn't help the smile that made its way onto his face. "I'm not sure, Jean. I suggest speaking with Jaden and his friends. They were the ones who knew..."
"We can't keep it secret anymore... I just hope it doesn't lead to more trouble for him," the French instructor sighed softly.
"Well...I don't know how that will turn out. But, I do know that the school has become much more tolerant. Also, Marcel has a strong group of friends around to support him this time," Don assured his colleague.
"They won't leave him," Jean-Louis said gently. "I'm so glad..."
GXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGXGX
Marcel slept through the night and awoke the next morning to see his father still with him. "Nnn...Papa?" he muttered, a little surprised.
"Good morning, Marcel," Jean-Louis greeted softly, hugging his son. "Did you sleep well?"
"O-Oui...but, what are you doing here still, Papa?"
"I stayed here last night, son... You needed me... And my class has been cancelled this morning so I can help you..."
"But...Papa...I don't want to cause you trouble like this... I...I'm sorry..."
The still-worried father sat on the bed, holding his son close. "Shh... don't worry... And don't apologize, sweet boy. You are my world," Jean-Louis murmured.
"I...I am?" Marcel asked, unused to the feeling of being held like this.
It had been a long time since Jean-Louis had held his child like this. "Yes... you are my world... and being away from you hurt so much..."
"R-Really? Mère said that...you wouldn't miss me..."
Jean-Louis took a breath. His relationship with Antoinette had worsened since the divorce and he had worried about what his son had been told. "You are part of me... to be without you... is painful..." He needed Marcel to understand that he, Jean-Louis, didn't just leave without it hurting to do so.
Marcel looked at his father in understanding. "It was the same for me... I missed you so much, Papa... I needed to be by you, at least..."
"I know... how did you decide to come here?" the father asked curiously.
"I remembered where you said you were going to teach... Dueling was already popular in school, so I tried it. I liked it, so I thought I could come here to see you... Mère didn't mind." Marcel didn't add that his mother had seemed almost pleased that her son wanted to leave.
"I'm so glad..." Father and son talked for a long time that morning, and later in the day, they emerged from the infirmary. "Shall we find your friends, son?" Jean-Louis asked.
"My...friends?" Marcel answered with a question of his own, blinking.
"Yes... all of your friends who were with you yesterday..."
"Oh... They... are not mad at me for leaving them?"
"No. They were all worried about you. In fact... they had figured out who you were and who I was," Jean-Louis smiled, blushing slightly.
Marcel's eyes widened. "They knew? And they still wanted to be my friends?"
The teacher/father nodded. "That's right. They think you're a smart and wonderful boy. And Blair seems to like you a lot..."
Marcel's face instantly heated up, and he looked down. "I think.....I like her, too...."
"Just start as friends... You are only thirteen and she is eleven, after all,"
"I'm still not used to having friends, Papa..."
"Just let things happen..."
"Okay," the boy promised, holding his father's hand as they walked.
The Bonaparte men are back together, and Jean-Louis has learned that to the students, favoritism doesn't mean you ignore your child. So for those two, things are better. Next time, the group has some holiday fun, so please join us for "DA Holiday!" So until then, please read, review and stay tuned! Thank you!