A/N: Argh! Back again with one of the last few chapters of this absolute lunacyfest of an exorcize-the-demons story!
Read, review, and above all, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Urgh.
Viktor stirred, shuddering out of sleep for the briefest of moments, already knowing that he'd probably drift off to sleep all over again soon. All the same, he had the uncanniest feeling that he knew what had woken him up.
There had been light, hadn't there? Yes, he'd seen it behind his closed eyes, a dazzling golden light pouring across the room, and even though he couldn't see a source of it anywhere in the room or outside his window, he knew it wasn't a dream. No dreams were vivid enough to be seen while you were still awake. True, Klaus had differing opinions on that front, but after spending most of his life on psychotropics and feeling miserable as a result, Viktor wasn't inclined to put this idea to the test.
Sighing, he lay back in bed, resigned to ignorance as always. It was the way of things that he never figured out the truth about anything until it was too late to make any difference: his power, his past again, Allison's betrayal, it all passed him by and he didn't catch up until everything had gone to shit without his knowledge.
What was the point in even trying? The only thing that puzzling over this mystery would get him would be a sleepless night, and he desperately needed all the sleep he could get: tomorrow marked the beginning of the concert season, and the orchestra needed all hands on deck for the most demanding period of its short existence, especially with the threat of a critical musician being arrested or investigated at any time looming over the conductor's head like the fucking Sword of Damocles.
So, Viktor lay down, pillow aplump, and waited for the inexorable plunge back into sleep to begin.
Instead, someone began hammering on the door – and didn't stop.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he groaned.
For the next few seconds, he lay there, despairingly hoping that whoever it was would go away if he remained perfectly still and waited for the noise to stop. After all, the secret police rarely knocked this late at night or this early in the morning, depending on how you regarded time: it their policy to kick down doors and burst through windows when it came to late night/early morning visits. No, this visit would almost certainly be from a neighbour, probably about a missing cat or help finding keys or some such mundane thing. As long as they weren't literally begging for help, Viktor could just lie still and wait for the bastard to pester someone else.
And as if by magic, the knocking increased in speed and intensity, and from behind his front door, a woman's voice called out, "Viktor! Please, you have to open the door! I'm in terrible danger! The secret police are on their way and I think they're going to kill me! I think they're going to kill us both!"
"For god's sake," Viktor sighed, thumping his head against the pillow.
But he got up anyway.
Hastily arranging his pyjamas so that he at least looked halfway presentable, he staggered across the apartment and flung the door open, expecting to find himself face to face with one of his many neighbours, all of whom could find themselves on the receiving end of the secret police's wrath as surely as any citizen.
Instead, he found himself staring into the pallid, terrified face of Helen Li, his former rival for the part of first chair violin… and in another timeline, the first chair violin murdered by Harold Jenkins.
He'd forgotten about the drama that had played out between the two of them back in the original timeline, and even when the family members who'd been in the know had helpfully clued him in, it still took some effort to keep their petty rivalry from the original timeline in his memory – if you could even call it that. When pushed, the most Viktor could remember was a brief encounter in a bathroom and a few biting words being exchanged about Viktor's mediocrity as a violinist, and maybe a very brief snippet of argument from his final confrontation with Harold/Leonard, in which the envy-driven psychopath had admitted to killing her. Presumably, her body had been hidden away in Harold's attic before Allison had a second chance to investigate in the company of Diego and Five, that having been the only place that Allison hadn't had time to check on her first visit to the Jenkins house. After that, though, what had become of the poor woman's corpse was anyone's guess.
Now, here she was, standing on Viktor's doorstep in a hastily donned trenchcoat and a terrified expression, skin sweating bullets from her wild charge up the stairs, violin case on the verge of slipping off her shoulder, and a very distinctive whiff of Red Level hooch on her breath.
The moment the door opened, Helen almost catapulted herself over the threshold and into the apartment, grabbing Viktor by the arm and all but dragging him towards the nearest window.
"We need to get out of here!" she babbled. "They were right on my tail, they were just a couple of steps behind me, they could be after you or they could be after me, but either way we've gotta go!"
"Just a second, Helen," said Viktor, trying desperately to keep up with the frantic chattering. "What happened? Why are you even here?"
Helen paused. For the first time, she seemed just a tiny bit embarrassed. "I, um… I was going to visit you," she admitted. "I paid some of the gangsters down in Red Level to give me a shortcut to your apartment so I could dodge the curfew-"
"You did what?! How much did that even cost?"
"Er… they accepted a downpayment of $15000."
"Helen, why the hell would you even bother coming here for that much?! The orchestra pays well, but it doesn't pay that well, okay?"
"Look, I was drunk, okay? I was in Red Level all night, getting drunk and maybe doing a few too many uppers, and I just got really, really lonely. It sounded like a good idea at the time, and I sobered up on the way and then I saw secret police lining up on the street outside-"
"Wait, what?"
"They'll be here any minute, Viktor! We have to get out here right now before they attack?"
Suddenly wide awake, Viktor lunged across the apartment, wrenched the curtains open, and peered outside. He had just enough time to recognize the distinct figure of a sniper setting up on the rooftop across the street, before instinct took over: darting away from the window at whiplash speed, he flung himself flat against the carpet, grabbing Helen by the arm and dragging her along with him. She landed slightly awkwardly, almost collapsing on top of him.
"What the fuck-"
"Snipers!" he hissed. "Stay down!"
"Already? I thought we'd have at least a few minutes before they all arrived!"
There was a muffled crunch from somewhere downstairs, courtesy of a door being hammered with a battering ram. Fortunately, the building's doors had always been a lot thicker than they looked, so the door didn't completely tear off its hinges, and Viktor could already hear the screamed expletives and the strained grunts of secret police operatives gearing up for a second strike.
And no sooner had Viktor started counting his blessings, there was the screech of the roof access door being torn open, followed by the sound of booted feet making their way down the stairwell towards them, pausing only to smash their way through every door between them and Viktor's apartment.
In that moment, Viktor realized at once that he was going to die.
More importantly, there was nothing he could do to escape it this time around: there was no escape route, no hiding place, no siblings to rescue him from impossible odds, no Five to turn back time, no Ben to free him from his own mind, no Lila to join forces with him against unstoppable warriors, no opportunity to be redeemed and given a second chance. Just a hail of gunfire, a body bag, and a crematorium, his remains being scattered across the sky and lost amidst all the other plumes of ash left by so many other condemned victims from across Reggie's paradise.
And for some reason, he didn't feel fear at the thought of death. He didn't feel sorrow over what he was about to lose, or even anger at Reginald for once again taking away what little life he had. In that moment, Viktor was almost improbably calm.
By contrast, Helen was in tears.
"I thought I'd gotten here ahead of them!" she all but screamed.
"They're always ahead of everyone, Helen, it's not your fault."
"I should've been quicker! I should have been here earlier, and maybe I could have seen them and warned you earlier!"
"Oh come on, Helen, you're not a superhuman: there's nothing could you have done. I'm just sorry you had to get mixed up with all this."
"Fuck that! You're the one who was going to be killed; I should have done better for you! You're first chair! I'm just the loser who couldn't make the grade!"
Viktor, who'd been focussing on the distant thud and crash of the secret police hitsquad barging their way through the building, turned and looked at Helen in growing bewilderment. Given that she smelled quite distinctively of things distilled in sewer pipes and filtered with industrial kerosene, her behaviour wasn't that strange, but there was something about her that drew Viktor's attention.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
Helen sniffled loudly, furiously wiping away tears. "It's my own fault," she whimpered. "I should have told you sooner. I've just… ever since you became first chair, I've been obsessed with you. I've never met anyone like you: you're not just a brilliant musician, you're something I've never met before, not in this lifetime. It seems like ever since I joined the orchestra, I've been watching people die or vanish or lose their talents to the interrogation rooms or give up on being musicians because the world decided it needed control more than it needed music a long time ago, but somehow, even after everything this world's thrown at you, you're still here. You're still just as devoted as you were the day I met you; you still care about people; you still listen; you're still willing to keep the few things worth living for in this world alive…"
Viktor, who'd stayed a musician mainly because he'd proved himself good at it and didn't know what else to do with his life without it, executed a perfect double take. "What are you saying?" he asked, trying not to sound too incredulous.
"Isn't it obvious?" Helen whispered. "You're beautiful… and I'm so sorry it took me so long to tell you that."
And then, just as the final doorway between Viktor's apartment and the oncoming hitsquad broke down, just as Viktor was starting to wonder just how drunk Helen really was, she leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips.
Viktor blinked in surprise.
He'd known that Helen had been in awe of him, yes, and he'd known that she'd gotten a little tongue-tied around him in the last few years. Back in his old life, back when he'd been too cowed by medication and conditioning to be open with his feelings, he'd been in awe around Helen as well, almost too shy to speak up for himself when she'd dismissed his fumbling praise. And yes, looking back now, he knew for a fact that he'd had a crush on her, though his own drug-fuelled anxieties would have made such feelings impossible to acknowledge, and by the time Leonard had stolen his prescription and brought his emotions rolling back to the front of his brain like a tidal wave, Helen had already been murdered.
But in all his dreams of what might have been, Viktor never thought that Helen could ever feel the same way about him.
And in the moment between him closing his eyes and opening them again, time seemed to stand still.
Something was happening to Viktor's brain, something terrifying and beautiful: maybe it was the threat of imminent death, maybe it was the kiss, maybe it was the realization that Viktor might have a chance for a relationship – the first since he'd lost Sissy all those years ago. Whatever it was, something that had been planted inside Viktor's skull rallied wildly, and in that split-second before he opened his eyes, a cavalcade of visions erupted behind his eyelids.
He saw himself, white violin in hand, playing before his old orchestra, mind blink except for the desperate frenzied need to play and exorcize the terrible silence from his life.
He saw Ben hugging him in his final moments of unlife, showing him that there was still a chance to find another path.
He saw Reginald Hargreeves at work on the Hotel Oblivion's controls, eyes glittering with avarice and hunger.
He saw a vast fissure splitting reality in two, swallowing a vast tower of obsidian.
He saw himself as he'd been as a child, staring back at him with dead eyes, just as he had in that nightmarish room beneath the mansion where the all-consuming silence had crushed his brain until all that remained was madness.
He saw a woman in white looking down on him with interest and saying, "That dreamworld of yours is even more active than Reginald believes, young Viktor, even when you're not on hallucinogens. Maybe it's time I got that white violin of mine out of storage. Oh shit, did you hear that? Can you hear me? Uh, pretend you didn't hear that. Just… just find me, okay? It'll make sense in a bit. Dammit, I really must stop talking to myself…"
He saw Sissy, all in white, with Harlan by her side – as he'd been before Viktor had ruined his life.
"Ain't you turned out beautiful?" Sissy said with a smile. "Don't lose hope now, darlin': you've made mistakes, sure, but you've still got so much good to do in this life. You don't need to go chasin' what's gone forever. You can make something new for yourself right here in the present: you've proved that already by goin' back to the violin… and if you let her, I think that cute girl next to you can help you be happy again – twice in a row, if things go well," she added with a wink.
"But how can I protect her?" Viktor asked deliriously. "I've failed so many times at doing the right thing. How is she going to be any different?"
"Because you're still tryin'. Because even when everythin' seems hopeless, you're still helping the family, still shellin' out a little extra from your paycheck along with your crazy brother to keep your brothers afloat. You're still playin' your heart out… and maybe that's what you need to do."
"What?"
"Play on, honey. Your violin's on the floor next to you: play on. Play like the world's waiting for you to play. Play like you can tear a man apart with a concerto. Play like you can save the planet… because you can. Play on, darlin'. Play on…"
The light blossomed and bloomed around them, and though Viktor cried for them not to go, Sissy and Harlan slowly faded away into the light.
Back in the real world, Viktor found himself getting to his feet, ignoring Helen's attempts to drag him back down to the safety of the floor.
He'd left his violin and bow by his bed, its case open and ready to play whenever the need for practice and play overcame him, and now it came to hand. Slowly, not sure what he was doing and only dimly aware of Helen's desperate pleas, Viktor began to play.
At first, it was simply the same well-practiced notes he'd played for the last few years. Ever since he'd been freed from the terrible anxiety that had ruled his music for as long as Reggie had been drugging him into mediocrity, he'd played with equal parts precision and passion, and it had won him the role of first chair – in much the same way that precision and passion had won Helen the same role in another lifetime.
But then, as the thundering footsteps edged ever closer to Viktor's door, he felt something else enter his music, something he hadn't felt for five long years.
Power, at once within him and within the soundwaves he created, his mind instinctively conducting the sound and sharpening it into something wilder, stranger, stronger. It could charm listeners into an awestruck stupor, just as it had back when he'd unconsciously flexed his power during the audition and left the notoriously hard-to-please conductor staring in awe. It could defy gravity, could lift tonnes and tonnes of weight. It could carve through flesh and bone easier than any blade. It could strike with herculean strength, enough to pulverize concrete and tear metal. It could drain life and reduce healthy bodies to withered husks in seconds. It could even punch holes in planets if another symphonic inertia had built up.
And now, it was that power that Viktor felt rippling through him once again.
All around him, he heard secret police operatives backing away in confusion, driven by impulses they couldn't understand. He heard some of them dropping their rifles and crashing against walls as they fought the urge to run in fear. He even heard some of the officers attempting to calm the troops, trying to make themselves heard over his solo even as their voices withered away in the face of the music.
And yet, there was something missing. Viktor could easily handle this by himself, just as he had on the last night of the old timeline, but he wanted – no, needed something more than that: in all the time he'd had access to his powers, the sound he'd channelled had almost entirely been his own, from his violin solos to the terrified hammering of his own heartbeat. Oh, there were times when it had been borrowed from others, like Reggie's tuning fork or Leonard's furious slamming of his notebook, but other than that, the sound been from Viktor and the ambience of the world around him.
Now, a terrible, desperate loneliness gripped his music. He needed someone else to play, to hear their own song, to channel it as surely as he channelled his own. For so many years, he'd been labouring alone to try to find some reason for living despite everything the world had thrown at him – in much the same way as the rest of the family had, of course, he ruefully acknowledged – not realizing just how desperately lonely he was. Now, he needed company.
He needed another song.
"Helen," he whispered, without stopping. "You've still got your violin with you, right?"
Helen, who'd spent the last few minutes boggling in astonishment at both the sight and the sound of Viktor somehow holding an army at bay, could only gawp for a moment. Then, she held up her violin case by way of explanation.
"Good. Um… are you up for a duet?"
As if hypnotized, Helen brought out her violin without even bothering to ask why. The expression on her face was a mixture of bewilderment and acceptance: she clearly thought she was about to die and presumed that everything she was witnessing was just a hallucination, so she took it without question. The fact that she'd just confessed to a long-running case of unrequited love no doubt made her even woozier.
"Um… what are we playing?" she asked. "I think I left all my sheet music at home."
"Doesn't matter! Just follow my lead!"
Moving like a sleepwalker, she began to play, bow dancing across the strings with all the grace she'd shown back in her first life, following Viktor's melody. And little by little, the volume grew; the music grew more intricate, more passionate, more powerful… and as Viktor reached out with his power, the duet was an even greater and more beautiful weapon than ever before.
And as the music rippled out across the building, the effects began to change. Suddenly, the secret police were no longer struggling with the urge to run; they were fleeing for their lives. Gunmen halfway through kicking down doors or taking aim at citizens doomed to be purged in order to "send a message" suddenly found themselves throwing their guns to the ground and running for their lives. Grown men who'd slaughtered entire populations of unarmed civilians and thought nothing of rape, torture, or child murder, found themselves sobbing in terror as they fled, urine trickling down their legs as they ran.
Back in Viktor's apartment, a secret police lieutenant somehow managed to force the door open and try to take aim at the two violinists, but the music soared and blossomed so powerfully around him that he couldn't even bring himself to take aim. The rifle dropped from his trembling fingers, his knees buckled beneath him, and the officer fell to the ground, prostrating himself on the carpet before them.
Viktor knew it would be easy to kill the man where he lay, to kill all of them. He could simply tear the building to pieces and crush the entire hitsquad in the wreckage while he and Helen remained safe in the eye of the storm.
But he didn't.
He'd had enough of destroying worlds.
He didn't need to flex his muscles to prove himself, not even to himself. What he wanted now was to set things right… and so, instead of slaughtering them, he drove them away: he put the fear of God into them and let them flee in terror, the other residents untouched.
And then Viktor let the music soar higher and further than ever, carrying him and Helen with it. He'd flown before, in Five's vision of the future and in his clash with the Temps Commission, and now he flew again upon the wings of sound, bringing Helen along for the ride. The window overlooking the bedroom simply disintegrated as the two of them glided out into the night sky.
Within seconds, they were floating high above the apartment block, rising higher with every moment. Beneath them, people were staring out through the windows with awestruck eyes; seeing the hitsquad in full flight, other citizens flooded the streets, cheering and crying out in awe – some at the sound of the music, some at the sight of the two musicians soaring high above the street.
Viktor's heart soared as well, but he didn't stop playing: the song, the concerto, the symphony, whatever you wanted to call it – the music needed to continue
Eventually, their flight paused at the top of a building several hundred yards from Vikotr's apartment, allowing them to land and catch the breath. There, Helen, delirious with the exhilaration of flight, paused in her playing just long enough to ask, "Am I dead?"
"No, Helen: you're very much alive. No matter how crazy this looks and sounds, it's real."
"Promise? I've never felt this good in my entire life. I'd hate it to be just a dream."
"You have my word. This isn't a dream, and if it is, I've been living something like it for most my life, so it's too late to wake up now. Might as well live the dream, no matter how crazy it is."
"Rebellions, superpowers, and flying off into the night? If that's been your life, Viktor, how did you end up playing violin in an orchestra where half the musicians are in jail?"
"I'll tell you later, once we've had a chance to sit down and have a drink," Viktor laughed.
"Just promise me one more thing."
"Name it."
"I'm a big believer in reincarnation, so if all this goes to hell, promise me you'll meet me again and give this rebellion stuff a second try. I'd hate this to have been the only extraordinary thing that ever happened in this world."
Viktor just laughed and kissed her.
It would soon be time to make music once more. The world had been too quiet and too lonely these last few years, the music caged in concert halls, smothered with censorship, and silenced at the edict of Reginald Hargreeves. Music liberated people, music gave people release from fear and doubt, music inspired people to courses of action that lay beyond what Emperors and Presidents dictated.
Music was freedom, just it as it was power.
He would use that power to save, as he should have from the very beginning.
He would save his family.
He would save his fellow musicians.
He would save the world and drive away the silence once and for all.
Once he'd followed the directions of the mysterious woman in white, the symphony could begin in earnest…
A/N: Yeah, one fringe idea that was creeping around back in season 1 was that Viktor and Helen would end up in a relationship - and I just couldn't resist bringing it back in this new dimension.
Up next... CHAOS.