Young Offender, Part 5:
Francoise couldn't repress her smile as she stepped off the small, fishing boat onto a Monaco dock. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and turned her smile towards Albert's grim expression. Her smile faded when Jet jumped onto the dock behind Albert and he sneered towards the city.
"Wow! What a dump," he grumbled and shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis. "This old city is crumbling down."
"What?! How could you dare criticize one of the most beautiful European cities!" She balled up her fists, but stopped her tirade at his glum expression and slumped shoulders. No doubt he was just being sour apples about being here, rather than America. How many times did she have to hear him nag constantly over the last several months about their destination?
It had sparked off more then a handful of arguments. At first, she tried being kind and patient with Jet, but he made it so difficult with how he just shoved away her overtures of friendship with gruffness and snarky 'Who asked you?'s. She had given up and tried to ignore him, but that had been impossible with their traveling situation.
Jet waved his hand dismissively at her nose and spoke in flawed, haphazard German. "Hey, no city beats New York, but I am grateful to be out of that floating garbage can." Oh, he was still so miserable at German. Albert's face twinged, but he didn't correct the tall, young man. Then Jet did one of the things that had quickly become a pet peeve of Francoise's. He slipped into that annoying, American slang and switched to English. "Three months of being locked up with you three buzz kills was certainly no blast."
"Your incessant complaining was unbearable!" she said in French with ire. She knew full well he now understood every word she uttered in her native language. To her annoyance, he seemed to want to stick with German or English slang. Jet had picked up French almost overnight because all of his grandparents were Italian immigrants and had only spoke to him in Italian. He could actually speak French almost fluently when he put his lazy mind to it. When it came to the German Jet picked up, it seemed to Francoise he was trying very hard to prove something, but she couldn't grasp what.
Jet's face scrunched and turned red; he continued in English and said, "You ain't exactly a prize!"
"Would you two stop your childish behavior for once!" Albert snapped gravely in German. He shot them both a glare. France felt her own face flush. It had been a hard three months trapped with Albert, Jet, and Ivan. They had, more or less, tried to maintain peaceful travel while sequestered in the belly of the small, Japanese fishing ship, but the situation had worn hard on all their nerves.
Mainly, Francoise found herself bickering with Jet. Sometimes, for variety, Albert bickered with Jet. From time to time, she bickered with Albert when Jet was sulking. Ivan had remained silent almost the whole time. The peacemaker role shifted around between Francoise, Albert, and Jet as it was required. Ivan remained aloof.
She had come to the conclusion it was well past time to part ways from her male compatriots. Besides, she agreed with Jet about one thing. They would be safer separated from each other; it'd be harder for the Black Ghost to trace them if they were spread out. Ivan seemed stuck on the notion of them banding together. Albert was ambivalent.
"We need to quickly travel to Paris," Ivan said, standing by Francoise's elbow.
"What about those fishermen?" Albert asked the psychic boy.
"They'll go back to Japan and forget everything about us. We won't be traced. I made sure of that," Ivan assured Albert.
Albert said, "What we need to do is find a way to get cleaned up and new clothes. We can't wear these around." He pointed at the suitcase with the uniforms Ivan carried.
"I can't agree more," Francoise said, glancing down at the the wrinkled plaid skirt and stained blouse she wore.
"Hey! Can't you hypnotize some of these shop people into giving us clothes?" Jet asked Ivan.
The Russian shook his head. "If I use my abilities too much, it could bring unnecessary attention to us. I don't want to run the risk of catching Erika's attention again. We should try to manage without using our abilities."
"He's right. Maybe there is some sort of day work around," Albert mused, looking towards a row of shops and then back at the docks.
"I'll get us money. Don't worry about a thing," Jet said, jogging down the street.
"Wait a minute, you stupid donkey!" Albert snarled.
Jet swirled around and shook his head. "Wait right here. I'll be back soon."
Francoise gasped as Jet disappeared from sight down an alleyway. She heard a high-pitched, metallic whine and wondered what it was. "Herr Heinrich, what do you think he's up to?"
"I don't know, Mademoiselle Francoise. Let's go have a seat on those benches and wait on that fool."
The three of them waited, sitting on a bench by the dock. Francoise kept checking Jean-Paul's pocket watch in aggravation. Another high pitched metallic whine hit her ears after twelve minutes elapsed. Jet's body went from a blur into a solid form.
"You used your acceleration device in spite of Ivan's warning?" Francoise asked as she now realized it was the sound of him activating and deactivating that powerful ability. She didn't like the smug look on the New Yorker.
"Yeah, well, I wanted to test it out. Besides, I got us plenty of bread," Jet said, waving a fist full of francs in front of Francoise's face.
"Where did you get all that money?" she asked after a sharp gasp.
"I bagged it," he said with a shrug and mild annoyance. He shot Francoise a patronizing look that finished sending her temper over the edge. Albert clasped her wrist with his gloved hand.
"No fighting. Now is not the time for a fight in the street to draw attention to ourselves, especially since our American friend has already pushed the limit. We have little choice now that it's done. We need to quickly get clothes and then get on a train to Paris. It is an all day trip, so we need to get started."
Jet glared at Albert. "You're a pair of ingrates. I got us money, and all you guys can do is bitch at me how I got it. I didn't see either of you coming up with ideas to get us out of this jam."
"We'll talk later." Albert grabbed the money and handed Francoise some of the francs. He tucked the rest in his pocket. "Meet us at the train station in half an hour. We can clean up and change in the restrooms."
She clenched the money, swirled on her heels, and marched down the street to the nearest ladies' boutique.
"I mean, what is it about dames? I'm getting us cash and making sure she gets her pretty butt back to Paris. Why is she so sore at me?" Jet was drying his hair off with paper towels after washing it in the sink. He looked at Albert's reflection in the neighboring mirror. The man stopped combing his graying hair and met Jet's eyes in the mirror.
"She thinks you're immoral." Albert replied in English.
"Immoral? No, not after what we've been through. Stealing some money is not a big deal after that! Especially, if we're in a jam like this."
"I do agree with you. Sometimes laws have to be broken, however you're reckless. You proved that over and over."
"Better to take a gamble sometimes. What if we just sat back at that freak show because it was safe? Hun?"
"You're... what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"
"Eighteen!"
"Then you still need to learn some moderation. It comes with age."
Jet shot him a wicked smirk. "Oh yeah? What about Franny then? She certainly wants to run back to big brother and hunker down. When I get back to New York I won't be looking up my parents, that's for sure. So where is the moderation in what she's doing?"
"She needs to learn some moderation too, but hers is to take more risks."
"You got me there."
"How do I look?" Jet turned towards Ivan and chuckled at the odd-fitting navy suit.
"You should've let me pick out your clothes. You look like a square."
"You look fine. Let's go," Albert said, shooting Jet's smirking face a dirty look.
She smoothed the front of her yellow dress down as she left the train station's restroom. Francoise admitted she felt better in clean clothes and with cleansed skin and hair, in spite of how she came about acquiring the clothes. She quickly joined Albert, Jet, and Ivan by the ticket window.
Albert was wearing a dark green suit, and Ivan wore an over-sized dark blue suit. Jet, on the other hand, was dressed like some of the beatniks that hung around Parisian cafes, a black turtle-neck and jeans. At least he would fit in with the other Americans that usually roamed Paris.
"We have the tickets. It'll be ten minutes," Albert said, leading the group towards the platform. People were boarding the train; they integrated into the crowd and made their way to the ticket taker. Francoise didn't release her breath until after Albert had all four tickets punched and secure in his jacket pocket again.
She followed Albert into a set of four seats, two facing the other two. Francoise quickly sat by Albert to avoid being near Jet. Ivan thankfully sat across from her. As the train lurched, Albert unfurled a newspaper. A few minutes later, he looked up and announced, "Things haven't changed too much since our time away."
"It's been... what? Five, six months? What were you expecting?" Jet asked. There was curiosity, rather than the sarcasm Francoise expected.
"Not sure, but we need to keep our eyes out for anything odd. Governments coming under attack, strange banking collapses, anything that's not explained, but affects entire populations."
"You're trying to keep track of their influence to avoid them," Jet said.
Albert gave him a lop-sided smile. "You're not as dumb as you act." Jet gave him scowl, but didn't rise to the bait. Albert continued, "After Francoise is back with her brother, I'll send you back to America. I recommend someplace other than New York."
Jet was silent, he looked thoughtful as he leaned against the train window. Francoise felt a surge of pity for the hardened teenager's brooding look. She could glean there was some trouble Jet had been in before he was kidnapped. He seemed doubtful he could go back to New York without authorities looking for him. He kept everything else a mystery, and that was a frustration to her.
She felt empathy for him being parted from his beloved hometown. After all, what if the Black Ghost had gotten to Paris and were watching Jean-Paul? What if she couldn't settle back into her life as a ballerina? She took part of Albert's newspaper, the arts section, to keep these thoughts at bay.
Francoise couldn't help clutching Albert's left, flesh-like hand in both of hers. They were across the street in a narrow alleyway. They both peered towards the apartment where she and Jean-Paul lived. The apartment building was dark as the night sky. The city around them, however, was bright, vibrant, and noisy.
"Now Paris is pretty cool. It reminds me of New York. Only old."
Francoise shot a vexed look over her shoulder at Jet. "This is my home. I don't think Jean-Paul is home, though."
"No. He's not. I sense no one in your apartment. Everyone in the building is asleep. We need to be careful when we slip in, so no one sees you, Francoise. I don't sense anyone from the Black Ghost, but it doesn't mean they can't come around and look for us later. You should only contact your brother until we know the whole situation."
She turned to look at Ivan. He was in the shadows, nursing a bleeding nose with Albert's handkerchief while leaning against a brick wall. She suppressed her instinct to care for his bloody nose, she nodded instead.
He swiped away the last of his blood and said, "Lets go while we won't be observed."
Francoise took out a head scarf and wrapped it over her golden hair. Indeed, Albert was already wearing a traditional German jeager hat, matching his suit. Jet pulled on a homburg hat and glanced out of the alleyway. The four of them jogged across the street. Francoise let them in the apartment building and lead them to the loft apartment. She quickly retrieved the spare key from the top of the door frame and let everyone in the dark, front room.
She went right away and drew the drapes shut and lit a few candles on the kitchen table. Jet whistled low and said, "Snazzy digs you got here."
"What? This is a rather modest apartment," Francoise replied, waving matches out. "It's all Jean-Paul can afford. He's worked so hard to put me through ballet school since our parents passed away six years ago."
"It's nicer than the dump my parents have," Jet said, looking around.
"Aren't you worried about your parents? You never mentioned them until now," Francoise asked as they all peeled off their coats and hats. Jet's whole body stiffened as his face flushed. At first Francoise thought he was angry and would bellow at her, but she caught the brief ache and longing in those brandy colored eyes. Jet vigorously shook his head and settled on a hostile attitude.
"I could care less about them." His tone was eerie and flat.
"That's a horrible thing to say about your parents. I would give anything to see my parents again. You're so lucky to still be able to talk to them." Francoise started boiling hot water for tea. Jet flopped down at the kitchen table where Albert and Ivan now sat.
"You don't know them, Frannie." Jet crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. His bitter eyes were locked on her.
Her jaw clenched, but it was Ivan who soothed her by projecting in her mind, /Francoise, his parents were excessively cruel towards him. He's been deeply scarred by their abuse./ She glanced over at Ivan, his right eye pulsed light blue. /He's a surviver as much as Albert is. You should cleave to them from now on. You'll need to learn how to be like them, and they'll need to learn how to regain their humanity through you. Don't you see, Francoise, that we all need each other?/
/But, Ivan, we need to go back to our old lives and try to find wholeness again. How can I possiblybe responsible for some juvenile delinquent and a grieving widower? I don't understand? Why come with us and encourage us to come here if the plan wasn't to part ways?/
/Those aren't my plans. They're the plans you, Jet, and Albert have in mind, but they'll fall apart after you see your brother./
She shivered, not liking Ivan's firm, authoritative tone in his thoughts. Francoise turned away from Ivan in aggravation and tended her kettle. Soon they'd be out of her life, and she wouldn't have to cope with their jaded personalities any longer. The kettle started to whistle; she started pouring hot tea into four mugs.
As she set the kettle down she heard Jean-Paul's voice faintly, coming from down the street. He was saying, "...and I still am unsure. I'll start again tomorrow. How about a nightcap?"
"I'd love to. You know, I'll have to go back to the company in two days," Natalie replied.
"I know. I appreciate all you've done to help try to find Francoise," Jean-Paul said. There was a somberness to his voice Francoise hadn't heard since they had lost their parents.
She looked over at her compatriots at the dining room table and said, "Jean-Paul is coming up the stairs right now with my best friend."
"Do you want us...?" Albert's question was cut off by the turning of a key in the lock. The front door swung open. Francoise teared up as she laid eyes on her beloved, older brother.
The shock on the blond man's face was almost too much for Francoise to bear. Tears fully sprang forth as she walked over to Jean-Paul.
"Francoise? Where have you been?"
All she could do was cry after she threw herself in his arms. He slowly embraced her and murmured her name softly three times. He jerked away slightly and held her by the shoulders. He looked down into her eyes, then he shook his head in disbelief.
"I'm real, Jean-Paul, please believe me! I'm back!"
"But Francoise, what happened? Where have you been? I've been scared to death!"
"I was kidnapped, but I have to stay hidden. My kidnappers are still after me."
Jean-Paul tensed and looked over at the kitchen table where Ivan, Jet, and Albert sat fiddling with teacups. "You bastards! What the hell did you do to my sister!"
"No! They had nothing to do with it! They helped save my life, Jean-Paul! They are in as much danger as I am in right now! You must help them too!"
Jean-Paul turned a confused face towards Francoise. "What? What's going on?"
"Please sit down." Francoise turned towards Natalie, who clutched the collar of her light sweater. She had been waiting silently in the doorway the whole time. Her face looked stunned, pale, and uncertain. She seemed almost mistrustful of Francoise. "You too, Natalie. I'll tell you some of what happened to me." She turned to the other cyborgs. "This is Herr Heinrich, Jet Link, and Ivan Gamo. Gentlemen, this is my brother, Jean-Paul Arnoul, and my best friend, Natalie."
To be continued.