Blue, disdainful eyes observed the two boys from a second story window, watching the way Gaelstrom held Polnareff in his embrace. Nevermind that it was he that playfully threw himself in his arms to begin with. Every gentle stroke Gaelstrom's hands made against his skin, every hint of affection those eyes perceived of him from afar, churned disgust.
Adel lifted a coffee mug to her curled, red lip. "So, the little shit likes boys, does he? Hmmm. I can make that work to my advantage."
She savored her sip of coffee. Arabica with a hint of hazelnut. The morning sun rising over the countryside painted her room in a shade of romance, Adel's scorn tainting its beauty like a speck of mold on a loaf of bread.
"Look at him: so vulnerable around that brainless twit." she muttered, watching Gaelstrom and Polnareff race each other down the dirt road. "Maybe he'll twist his ankle."
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After racing with Gaelstrom for the second time, Polnareff burst through the front door, breathing heavily from running. His shoes clonked over the floor and he pressed his palms to his knees, fighting to catch his breath. "I won again!" he wheezed.
Gaelstrom was gave out as he trudged through the doorway behind him, panting. "Come on, best out of five?"
"Geez, why don't we take a break? I'm kind of thirsty. Aren't you?"
"I'm pretty thirsty myself." Gaelstrom admitted.
They made their way into the kitchen, where standing in a pink bathrobe was Adel. Her face was bare, with the exception of eyeshadow and lipstick for some odd reason. She was pouring herself a second cup of coffee when she caught a glimpse of the boys rummaging through the fridge. A sneer formed on her pock-marked face. Gaelstrom was standing close to Polnareff. Too close, in her opinion.
He tossed Gaelstrom a box of apple juice and poked his straw through the hole. She stopped sneering as Polnareff's eyes glanced over to her. "Oh! Good morning, auntie!" he said.
Adel managed a faint smile, concealing that their presence was all the more annoying. "You're very energetic for someone who just woke up. Must be nice."
"That's because my best friend's here," Polnareff told her, "Aunt Adel, this is Gaelstrom. He's staying the summer with me."
"Hi, nice to meetcha!" Gaelstrom said with a wave.
Her fake smile slumped and she eyed him from head to toe. "Oh. I see. Aren't you feeling the least bit tired? It's still too early. Why don't you both go take a nap upstairs, or something?"
Polnareff shrugged. "What for? I'm not tired at all. Oh! By the way, I was wondering where dad went. Have you seen him? I need to borrow his video camera."
Adel stirred her coffee, gritting her teeth as he went on and on. "My god, I just woke up, you annoying little brat..."
"What?"
She stopped stirring her coffee, putting on yet another innocent act. "I said I don't know. Best to go and see for yourself, non?"
"I guess...?"
Walking back into the foyer, Polnareff spotted Jean-Luc coming in from the back yard. He was toting his video camera down into the storage room. Kind of odd, as he normally kept it in his room upstairs. Not down there, of all places. When he asked him what he was doing with it, Jean-Luc's only response was that he was using it for work. What kind of work? Filming animals in the woods? With it going into storage, there was no telling when Polnareff or his sister would get to use it again. So much for making home videos that summer, he supposed.
There was something he couldn't shake about his father's expression. His eyes were puffy as if he'd been crying, and speaking to Polnareff only seemed to make him more emotional.
"Dad? What -"
"Not now, Jean. You boys go play, I need to get some rest."
Polnareff watched him with concern and confusion as Jean-Luc climbed the stairs to his room. "What the heck was that about?"
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A midnight gown blanketed the sky above, adorning a bright, full moon. Frogs peeped off in the woods, where there was a small pond. Few clouds passed over the house that night as Gaelstrom tossed and turned. He was having a strange, frightening dream about a man with a Russian accent; knives were coming out of his back. The man with knives chased after him. Where he was chasing him felt cold, and the ground was covered in snow.
Like some dreams, the more he tried to run away, his legs turned to sludge. But he was fully capable of running. He knew this. Yet he tripped over the snow, and the man with the knives swiftly caught up, severing him in two with an enormous blade. His insides dyed the snow a bright red under him. His heartbeat sped up until he could hear it pounding in his ears. Gaelstrom's breath quickened. He tried desperately to lift his legs, but he was little more than a torso. The fear of death - of losing the ones he loved - grew to an unbearable intensity, until...
...his mind's need to disassociate with the utter terror woke him. Gaelstrom gasped for breath, shooting up to a sitting position. He desperately felt around his waist with his hands, then brushed over his legs. The sensation that he'd been rended in half drifted away and ceased to exist. But it felt so real! Creepy. Gaelstrom let out a sigh of relief. The chill in the room, however, was indeed real; kind of odd how even in the dream he could feel it. Rubbing an eye, he glanced over at Polnareff's bed.
Empty.
Curtains danced on a soft breeze that entered through an open window. Where's Jean, he wondered. The covers on Polnareff's bed were disheveled. He knew he went to bed around the same time as him, however long ago that was. Clearly, sleep never found him. Climbing out of bed, Gaelstrom stepped into the moonglow and took a look outside.
Fireflies blinked all around the yard below. The pleasant sound of crickets and frogs filled his ears - music of the night. Through a veil of clouds, he could see the vast expanse of stars twinkling above. Infinite and mysterious. Just below the window where he stood was part of the roof. On it lied his best friend, who watched the night sky restfully. Not a care in the world. He'd taken his hair down, letting it drape over his shoulders.
"Whatcha thinkin' about so hard?" Gaelstrom said. They smiled at each other as he climbed out onto the roof to join him in star gazing.
"Nothing. What're you doing awake?"
"I had a bad dream."
"That's awful. Do you want to talk about it?"
Gaelstrom rested both hands behind his head, propping it up for comfort. "It's kind of weird. A man had knives in his back and he chased me through the snow for some reason. Then he cut me in half like a cantaloupe. That's it. Then I woke up. How about you? Did you have a bad dream, too?"
"I haven't been to sleep yet."
Gaelstrom turned his head, looking at him. "Why not?"
Polnareff sighed. "Just restless."
There was a moment of silence between them as a star shot across the sky. Gaelstrom pointed to it, calling out that it was there and that it was time for them to make a wish. He closed his eyes and pictured in his mind what he wanted most. It was something he already had. Something he never wanted to lose. It lied beside him there in the light of the moon, as well as his sister who slept in the room next to his. Focusing on that alone, he wished to always be there for them. From then on to the day he died.
Gaelstrom opened his eyes. When he looked over at Polnareff to ask him what he wished for, he could see his distant expression as he gazed up at the infinite night. Gaelstrom's smile fell away.
"What's wrong?"
"What's it like?" Polnareff asked.
"What?"
"Having a mother and a father around all the time."
Gaelstrom's heart sank. He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question, though he wanted to satisfy him. Still, he knew how heartbroken he'd feel regardless of what he said. If he had told him how great it was, he stood the chance of making him sad for not having his own parents. If he told him it was just okay, and not a big deal, he risked possibly offending him. Because to Polnareff, it was a big deal.
His mother grew ill and died when he was only four-years-old. Sherry never got the chance to know her like he had. Gaelstrom only remembered Jean-Luc telling him how not long after her death, Polnareff would throw ceaseless tantrums and demand that he wanted his mother. No matter how hard his father tried, there was no calming him. Regretfully, he'd have to leave him be in solitude and cry it out for a while just to gain any sense of sanity.
Jean-Luc made it clear that he blamed himself for not having as strong a bond with him as he did with his mother. This was due to the fact that he was hardly ever home to give him the attention he deserved. When Gaelstrom inquired as to why that was, Jean-Luc just dismissed it as work-related and left it at that.
About three summers ago, Polnareff told him about the conversation he and his father had about his mother's passing when he was only seven.
She was sick and you abandoned her? How could you do that!? Didn't you care about her at all?
Of course I cared for your mother! Jean-Luc had said. His explanation on the matter was then interrupted by Polnareff's rage.
Why couldn't you come home then? You just said you knew she was sick, so why didn't you stay? You think your dumb job is more important than us? I can't believe how selfish you are! She's dead and it's all your fault!
Jean, I - Polnareff had slammed his door shut. Jean-Luc pushed against it, trying his best to turn the knob, but it was hopeless. His son had it firmly in his grasp, pressing his body against the door. Jean! Open this door!
No! I hate you! Because of you, Sherry will never get to have a mother. I'll never forgive you for that!
Jean-Luc had rattled the door knob, but Polnareff locked it, refusing to let him in and explain himself the best he could. Open. This. Door.
Leave me alone!
Unable to form an answer to Polnareff's heartbreaking question, Gaelstrom gazed up at the sky speechless. "It's...well, sometimes it can be stressful."
"Yeah?"
"Truth is, my dad complains a lot. He's always lecturing me about this and that. Gets old. He and mom get into it sometimes, but I can tell they love each other. See, my mum is..."
He looked over at Polnareff who was looking right back, anticipating what he was going to say next. Gaelstrom didn't want what he was about to say to bother him in the slightest, but he continued, seeing how invested he was in the subject.
"...my mum is a wonderful person. Since I was born, we've done everything together. Sit by the fireplace, walk down by the bay, read stories - she even taught me a bunch of songs she learned when she was little. I'm always singin' one of them when you and I are drawing pictures. You know the one."
"Oh," Polnareff cracked a smile, "you mean Dull-mawn."
"What? No, it's pronounced doo-luh-mon."
"Ohhh!"
Gaelstrom chuckled. "But yeah. I know that one an' a few others. One's a bit slow, though. Not sure you'd like it in the least bit."
"Will you sing it to me?" Polnareff said.
"Huh?"
"I'm sure I won't hate it, so do you mind? You don't have to if you don't want to."
Gaelstrom's cheeks flushed. He wasn't expecting him to request him to sing anything, just listen to him ramble a bit. Never thought his childhood sweetheart would ask him to do so. Ah well, here it goes. Taking a deep breath into his diaphragm, his lips parted and he sang, the tone of his voice beginning on G3.
Éirigh suas a stóirín
Mura bfhuil tú do shuí
Foscail a' doras
Agus lig mise 'un tí
Ta buidéal im aice
Bhéarfas deoch do mhnaoi an tí
A's tá súil 'gam nach ndiúltuigheann
Tú mé fa do níon
After only hearing the first few lines of the song, Polnareff's brows furrowed and his eyes widened. By the end of the first verse, he turned towards Gaelstrom, propping himself up with his forearm. The way he moved so quickly startled him.
"You know that song!?"
Gaelstrom sat up. "Sure I do. My mum sings it all the time. Why?"
"...that's the song maman used to sing to me when I was little."
"Really? It's an old traditional Irish song. Your mum was French, wasn't she? How did she know it?"
"I don't know, but I have an old video somewhere she made of her walking in the woods singing it. I've probably worn the tape out by now, though. Her voice was really nice. Really sweet sounding. It always makes me happy when I'm having a horrible day. I show it to Sherry whenever dad leaves because he's such a jerk and makes her upset. Our family will never be the same because of him. If he leaves again, we'll be all alone. We're always alone."
Mustering up the courage, Gaelstrom reached his hand over and placed it on top of Polnareff's. He looked up at him, uncertain. Gaelstrom sat there just looking back, the warmth in his eyes letting him know that everything was going to be alright.
"I'm here for you." he said softly, stroking his thumb across his hand. "Both of you. I may live in Ireland, but my heart's always gonna be here in France."
"You really mean that?"
"O' course I -"
Before Gaelstrom could finish speaking, Polnareff smiled and hugged him without warning. Gaelstrom's eyes shot open, dumbstruck by his sudden show of affection. As well as the sound of him crying on his shoulder. Empathy tugged at Gaelstrom's heart. He gently embraced him, offering any comfort he could give. The way his chest quaked against him, he wondered what was ailing him all of a sudden. But if he was willing to explain, Gaelstrom had an ear to listen.
"Other kids were really mean to me before, you know," Polnareff said, wiping his nose on his wrist, "they'd take one look at me and call me horrible names. No one really gave me a chance to be myself. I've been so alone and I don't know what I did to deserve it."
Gaelstrom pat him gently on the back, almost feeling like crying himself. "I know how that feels." he said.
"Now that I look like this, people seem to notice me more. I'm not the scrawny, bucktoothed nobody they used to know. They claim me and them are friends. But you and I are friends, and you're not like them. You know why?"
"Why?" Gaelstrom asked, desperately wanting to hear every detail.
"You saw me -" his hiccup-like sobs tightened his throat. "When we first met, I was scared that you would be like everybody else. You'd take one look at me and decide I wasn't good enough to be your friend. But you didn't. Since then, you've only ever been so honest and kind. Sherry thinks the world of you. You don't know how much that means to me!"
Gaelstrom closed his eyes, a single tear streaming down his cheek as he hugged him tighter. "I've never had friends, either," he said, "you're the only friends I've ever really had. You and Sherry."
"Gaelstrom, I don't want us to ever stop being friends. I don't care if we disagree sometimes, you're my best friend and that's the way it's going to stay."
That's the way it's going to stay.
Those words made Gaelstrom feel elated, and at the same time, crushed his spirit. Still, he wasn't about to let those depressing thoughts tear him down. Not when he and his dearest friend were embracing one another, something they almost never did. Holding him as closely as he was felt absolutely magical. Gaelstrom wanted to hold him and never let go.
As far as he was concerned, France was where he belonged. Where his heart was always guiding him since day one - where fate had brought him. As Gaelstrom sat there and savored the tender moment, he heard loud sobs coming from Sherry's room.
"Sherry!" Polnareff cried.
He pulled away from Gaelstrom immediately and ran over to her window. The doors of her window swang open and both boys climbed in to find her wailing in her sleep. She shook her head frantically back and forth, fighting off her brother as he tried to soothe her.
"Sherry, it's me. Hey! I'm here, everything's okay."
Her eyes opened as she took in a gasp for breath. "Big brother...?" Realizing it was him, she buried her face into his chest and sobbed. "You weren't there!"
"What do you mean?"
"You weren't there!" her voice was more rigid, nearly shouting. "How could you leave me alone like that?! You meanie! There was a big, ugly man and he was hurting me! Don't you know I called a billion times for you?!"
"Seems like everyone's havin' nightmares tonight." Gaelstrom remarked.
Polnareff's voice was reassuring - gentle. "It's okay, I'm here now. There's no ugly man. I promise."
"You didn't come for me..."
"Yes, I did. I'm right here."
"It was the worst dream ever." Sherry wept, refusing to let go of him. "I don't want to go back to sleep. He'll kill me." She sniffed and rubbed her nose with her hand. "I want water." she said.
Gaelstrom stood up from the end of her bed. "I'll get it."
As he stepped out of the room, he could hear Polnareff start humming to the tune of his mother's song. That sound drifted further and further away from him as he walked up the hall. Approaching one of the guest bedrooms, Gaelstrom discerned something else. Voices having a heated discussion. Behind a partially closed door, Jean-Luc and Adel were at odds with one another.
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Adel sighed heavily, slamming something down on her bed. "I don't see why you had to call and beg like a little child for me to come crawling back here like you always do. You're such a miserable old man. I was just fine in Paris. No kids, no responsibilities forced on me -"
"Just fine?!" Jean-Luc snapped. "Adelaide, you have never been just fine. Nobody in the Polnareff family has ever been just fine. You know that."
"And?! If papa had destroyed Stigmata, I wouldn't be in this predicament! But no. Just like him, you think if you abandon your children to go play sun wizard, you'll make all our problems just disappear! It's absolutely stupid!"
"Stigmata...?" Gaelstrom mused.
A chair squeaked across the floor as Jean-Luc shot up from his seat. "Stupid?! You think ending a generational curse is stupid!?"
Adel poked her finger into his chest. "What's stupid is you got involved with Rhiannon and passed all this garbage on to your annoying children. That's the problem with the men in this family: always thinking with their dicks before using an ounce of their brain. All these empty promises, and lies - feeding us bullshit about how things will one day get better. And look! It never does! Ever since you've been in the world it's always been about you! You! You were father's pride and joy and what of me, huh? Trying to get papa's affection was like digging for water in the desert. But no, god forbid he doesn't give all his love to the goddamn child prodigy!"
Gaelstrom jolted when he heard a loud smack. Skin on skin. Adel let out an immediate grunt on impact.
"How dare you," Jean-Luc said, "he was only trying to protect you - the training he put me through was for our own good. So you could have a chance at being happy. You're right, father wasn't as involved as he should've been, but I have always looked out for your best interests when he couldn't. I've given away everything I ever had just to make you happy. For you, I would have climbed to the heavens and plucked a star right out of the sky if it was what you wanted. Is what I've done for you all these years not enough?"
Adel laughed bitterly, nearly crying. "All I ever wanted...was to be loved."
"You are loved! I love you, I always have. What, is that not good enough for you?"
"...It's not that. I...I don't know how to explain it."
Jean-Luc took ahold of her hand. "Sister, you need help. Badly."
There was a disgusted scowl on her face as she yanked her hand away. "I don't need anyone's help," she snarled, "you want to help me? Destroy that damn thing that's ruining our lives, so I can get on with mine."
"Don't you think I've tried?! That everyone in this family has tried?" He took ahold of her hand again. "I want to see you live a happy life. Stop chasing after illusions of grandeur. It doesn't matter which path you take in life, cherie - or where fate brings you - this family is destined for great sorrow no matter how far away we run from this curse. No matter what good we bring into this world. I don't want that for you. I especially don't want that for my children."
"Why should you care?" she lamented. "It's not like your annoy- I mean, it's not like Jean will ever hail you as his childhood hero. And what of your little girl? If you leave tomorrow on your witch hunt for Mordred, you'll definitely never live to see her get married."
"Who's Mordred?" Gaelstrom wondered. He could hear Jean-Luc's voice welling with sorrow as he responded to Adel.
"It is for the best," he stated, gripping his cane tightly, "if I can put an end to Mordred's reign of terror on mine and Merlin's life, we won't need to worry about the relic being used for evil purposes. Since I may as well have already failed to end the curse myself, the least I can do is prevent my son from being butchered by those connards when he takes my place."
"And if you can't do that?" Adel questioned.
"Then...I have failed him as a father."
Gaelstrom removed his ear from the door, a numbing shock coursing through his body. Curses? Witch hunts? Was that the reason that Polnareff rarely saw his dad? Was his father traveling around the world fighting off horrible people? Dr. Callaghan mentioned that same word before. The night before he first left for France in 1974, as a matter of fact. Ouroboros. There had to be a connection.
Paper rustled in Jean-Luc's hand. "As you have suggested last night, I've made the arrangements," he told Adel, handing her the rolled up parchment, "I have everything put in place for when I don't return."
Gaelstrom's eyes widened as he listened closely. Did he really say that he wasn't coming back? No, he couldn't have meant that literally. This was hypothetical, it had to be. Adel was silent for a moment, going over everything Jean-Luc had written down in his will. Scanning over every detail, every word, Adel's eyes grew wider in disbelief. Fire surged behind them once she reached the very end. Her fingers gripped around the edges, crinkling it under her long, red fingernails.
"Que diable! What the fuck are you thinking!? Leaving this place in the hands of that...that...! That boy! What is the meaning of this, Jean-Luc!? Answer me!"
Jean-Luc kept himself composed, speaking calmly in spite of her outburst. "That boy is my son."
"How can you do this to me!?" she growled, "You leave the finances and the home in my care until he's of age? That's as stupid as it gets. I grew up here all these years, same as you. You're the one that wants me to live here, make me your only beneficiary. I can take better care of this damn place. I thought you of all people would've had more sense than this."
"Adel!"
"Didn't you say that you'd give away everything you had to make me happy? What happened to you climbing to the heavens and plucking a star out of the night sky for your dear, sweet sister? Face it, you liar...you don't love me...you're just like father. You'll tell me anything I want to hear just to shut me up."
Jean-Luc snatched his will right out of her hand. "I do love you, Adelaide. You know I do. But my children come first. And whether you like it or not, that's the way it's going to be. My decision is final. Goodnight."
Startled by the bedroom door coming open, Gaelstrom froze. His gaze traversed up Jean-Luc's figure, becoming trapped in his addled stare. He cracked the door enough that his body would block Gaelstrom from Adel's view, who was still going off on a tirade behind him. While she screeched her lungs out, Jean-Luc slipped an index finger over his own lips to Gaelstrom. He understood, giving him a curt nod, and stepped quietly behind the wall.
Adel threw herself onto the floor in a rage, pounding her fist. "But you said you would do anything for me! I will not let some worthless little shit one-up me, do you hear?! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Jean-Luc hesitated. He looked over his shoulder, noting how she huffed and puffed in the floor like a rabid creature. As much as it pained him to accept the truth, there could be no denying that Adel was beyond his help. He flattened his trembling lips and said nothing as he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
The hall was silent. Behind the bedroom door came an uproar of enraged screams and miscellaneous items hitting the floor. Gaelstrom frowned, seeing the hurt in Jean-Luc's eyes, who could only stand there with his back to the door and lament.
"I never should've made her come back here."