Marguerite Blakeney is clearly beyond scruples (blazeinhereyes) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-05-08 08:56:00 |
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To say that Marguerite was anxious would be an understatement, so the fact that she hadn’t slept all that well the night before? Not terribly shocking. She hadn’t needed to see the face of her stalker in over two years since he’d been convicted of stalking and put into jail. But it was time for his appeals trial, to plead he was better and could be released and well no matter what Marguerite said, she was actually nervous. Then again given the fact he’d not only left her the intense poem anonymously, but had taken pictures of her, sent her threatening pictures with Armand’s face crossed out? There was a concern that she brushed away so only those who truly knew her knew that she was concerned.
Add in a new set of dreams, and once again having to deal with St.Cyr only in a whole new dimension? Well. She was on edge. Even so, she was determined to get through this whole ordeal and put it behind her. Make up on as if war paint, dressed and ready, she left the flat she now shared with Percy and made her way to the court house. Take a deep breath. Step inside….
Once past the metal detectors, Marguerite went to where she was told to go and went to sit down. Looking over to the side where the defendant’s friends and family were, her brows knit forward. Why did the older man look familiar….? There wasn’t too much time to question it though as the judge was walking in, as was the man who had made her life a nightmare for a month before being caught and his lawyers.
Marguerite also had a feeling, like something wasn’t quite right, but she pushed it aside for now. It was undoubtedly nerves, as well as overlap from the dreams. Besides, she needed to focus and listen to what the lawyers were saying. Most of it just sounded like hollow words to her. He’s changed, he’s doing much better. The typical things one heard in these sorts of situations. She could see in the judge that he was buying it though which…. Great, that was just great.
“Do you have anything you wish to say.”
Right, before she was supposed to say something, the defendant got to speak.
“I do.”
Tensing, Marguerite watched as he faced her, eyes locking. The feeling that something was off was growing, making her go cold.
“Marguerite, I thought you knew, I understand the dark of you…”
Her eyes widened as she recognized the words from the poem he had sent to her. And just like that, things seemed to freeze and go fast all at once. Somehow, Marguerite didn’t know how, he had grabbed the gun of the bailiff in the courtroom and was pointing it at her, hand shaking.
And then, the gun was pointed under his chin and went off, blood splattering on her face.
And the frozen feeling was gone as everyone started to move around her even as Marguerite remained rooted in spot, just staring at the place where her stalker once stood and was now… dead.
“You….”
Hearing a raspy voice, Marguerite turned only to get slapped by the man she had noticed before.
“This is your fault! You led him to this!”
And that was when she finally placed him. St.Cyr. And his son… the one who had proposed to her in the dream from the night before. The man who had just slapped her before being pulled off the one who had her arrested and put into jail where she’d been prepared to… Stumbling back, Marguerite just looked at the lawyer who’d been representing her.
“Do you need me to call you a car?”
“She needs to be questioned!”
“She will be.” Feeling herself led away, Marguerite answered the questions she could but it wasn’t like she knew, she hadn’t seen him since he’d been sentenced two years ago. Once that was done, the car was finally called for her and Marguerite was back at the flat. Knowing that the news would undoubtedly get to those who knew about it, she turned her phone off, not wanting to talk to anyone.
Making her way to the bathroom, the actress stared at her face in the mirror. She was pale, which was contrasted by blood, clearly still in shock. Shaking, she went and drew a bath, dropping in a bath bomb for relaxation, which turned the water purple and blue, bubbles and bath oil added. Stripping out of her blood spotted blouse and skirt, Marguerite slipped into the water, closing her eyes.
Which… was still bad as she was getting flashes of Armand thrashed, St.Cyr’s orders, of being locked in jail and wanting to die, of the scene from the courthouse. God. It was all swarming over her, like she couldn’t breathe. Slipping under the water, Marguerite remained there for a bit before coming up and pressing her hair down. Relax. Just… she needed to relax.
Percy had noticed Marguerite’s anxiety, it was difficult for him to miss. Especially when they lived together. He did his best to try and help her relax where he could, though he wasn’t certain if it did any sort of good, but trying was better than not trying.
That day, he knew she was going to be at the courthouse. He would’ve gone if he hadn’t had an important teleconference he couldn’t get out of. While sometimes it was nice being the head of his own business, it had its drawbacks. Such as these sorts of meetings with people from different parts of the world. He was trying to work out an acquisition for his business, but it wasn’t the smoothest, or the quickest, process this time around.
As it was, the teleconference had still been going when news first broke about the events at the courthouse. However, once the meeting had finished, Percy returned to his office, hanging his suit coat on the hanger behind the door, sunk into the chair at his desk and loosening his tie. Switching on the TV, he was about to turn to do some paperwork when he saw the news. His heart stopped for a few seconds as he took in what had happened.
Immediately, he tried calling Marguerite, but her phone was off. He needed to get home. Flipping the tv off, he stood and rushed to the door, grabbed his suit coat on the way out.
“Mrs. Evans, I’m leaving for the day. If any calls come for me, tell them I am occupied the rest of the day. I will get back to them tomorrow. And no calls are to be forwarded to me. I have an urgent matter to tend to.” He said to his secretary, hoping he was coming across as relatively calm. But considering Percy never refused calls like this, that was enough for his secretary to know something bad was going on.
Percy rushed out of the building, got to his car and drove home. Reaching the flat, he tried to calm himself as best as he could before stepping inside. He cast his coat over the back of the first chair he passed as he went to find Marguerite.
“Marguerite?” He asked as he went to the bedroom, then ultimately found her in the bathroom. “I saw the news,” he said gently as he moved towards the bathtub. At least she was in one piece.
Lost in her thoughts, Marguerite didn’t initially hear Percy calling for her until he was already in the bathroom, at which point she seemed to snap out of the thoughts and memories which had been plaguing her as she stared out the window to look to her boyfriend.
“Percy…”
All things considered, she shouldn’t be so surprised that he was there. She had known that he had his teleconference that morning which was why he hadn’t been at the appeals hearing in the first place. She probably could have (and should have) called Armand to go with her, but she knew he was busy with school. She would have to call him later once she had calmed down. Hopefully he wouldn’t have seen the news and thus wouldn’t be too worried.
Still, if Percy had seen the news and he’d been busy with work…. Well. She would cross that bridge once she got to it.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t need to come home early.”
She wasn’t surprised that he had, but she did feel bad about it. Besides, she still wasn’t exactly sure what to make of what had transpired. It was all so surreal. The fact that it had ended up with St. Cyr slapping her? That it had been his son who had stalked her and she hadn’t known? It was jarring.
It certainly wasn’t a surprise that he’d come home as soon as he’d heard. Percy was the type to worry, especially when something like that happened. And it could have been so much worse than it had been. Too many times people like that young man tended to kill the person they fixated on. Percy was more than grateful that Marguerite was alive.
Though it wasn’t long before he noticed the bruising on her cheek and a slight frown crossed his face briefly. Marguerite wasn’t unharmed, but at least she hadn’t been shot. That was something positive to take from it.
“You don’t need to apologize. I came as soon as I saw the news. I’d finished what I need to finish today. Everything else can wait.” Hopefully by saying that he could demonstrate that he hadn’t cut off his conference to come home, and hope that could alleviate her guilt over that. However, Marguerite was far more important to him than simple work. His work could wait, the business wouldn’t collapse without him for one day.
Marguerite, however, couldn’t wait. He knelt down beside the bathtub, looking at his girlfriend as he reached out to very gently brush his fingers against her cheek, careful to not press on the bruise.
Marguerite well knew that it could have been worse, she knew how stalker situations could go. She had been worried enough when he had first started. The poem had been enough to concern her, the photos though? Those had terrified her and she had hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Now it would be stuck in her mind even if physically the man was no longer a threat.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Percy was the type to rush off into danger to save strangers, Marguerite well knew that. Which meant she knew he’d have come home so while she was appreciative of his presence, she still didn’t want to interfere with his work and she knew he’d say it was fine even if it wasn’t. However, there was no point arguing it as he was already there.
Settling back against the end of the claw foot tub, she winced slightly as Percy brushed his fingers over the bruising area.
“It appears his father was St. Cyr… needless to say, he felt I was the one to blame for the entire situation.”
Sometimes Percy’s empathy could get in the way of things, but right now he didn’t care if something went to hell at work. He’d deal with it later. He was the type to jump into the fire to save others, both strangers and those he cared about the most, and damn whatever else was going on. He had a staff of competent people working for him, he trusted that if a crisis arose, they could deal with it enough to get them through the day.
Percy frowned a bit at hearing that. “St. Cyr? The ironies between the dreams and this life never cease,” he commented briefly before moving on. “Blame the victim, that’s what they all do. None of what happened was your fault.” He felt Marguerite knew that, but he was going to reinforce it. “That young man had a choice, and he made a bad one. He also needed help long before it even got to this point.”
There was a lot of fault to go around. The father for denying anything was wrong with his son. The other adults around the young man for not trying harder to get him help. The system for not giving him enough help. But Marguerite had done nothing except to exist and not allow a stalker to get what he wanted from her.
Marguerite would feel bad for it, but in the end it was Percy’s decision. Even in the dreams, or the second set he’d made a comment that had she not been in such danger at one point, he might never have known how much she meant to him. So in that way, it was reassuring that he was there and that the situation wasn’t so much her life for his men’s and pride and instead was just her facing down the barrel of a gun briefly in an already stressful situation while he’d been at work.
“Mm…” As Percy commented on how none of it was her fault, Marguerite leaned back against the basin of the tub and rested her neck against the edge to stare up at the ceiling, still distracted. “I know. Or at least I think I know that.”
Logically she did, but she wasn’t in the most logical of mind frames at the moment.
“I know there was nothing I could have done. He just...started to quote his poem and then…” Then he’d grabbed the gun before pointing it at her and then killing himself. What he had meant to do, what lasting impression he had wanted to leave…. Marguerite didn’t know but it would haunt her, just as her guilt for the deaths of the St. Cyr family even when that was from the dreams, when she’d been lied to. No matter how much she hated the man…
“The dreams do seem to have a tendency to overlap with our lives, or to happen at inopportune moments for most impact.”
It was clear that Marguerite wasn’t in the best state of mind, not that Percy would’ve thought or expected otherwise. This was a situation that was going to be sensitive for a while. And considering the level of guilt Marguerite carried about St. Cyr in the dreams, Percy felt this one would stick with her just as much.
As she described what happened, it became obvious to Percy that the young man wanted Marguerite to always remember him. What better to burn a permanent impression on someone else than to take their life in front of them? That, to Percy, seemed to be the motivation for the events that morning.
“Indeed they do. Though this time around, you are not alone in getting through this. I know it’s not easy, but I’m here for you.” And he was going to help Marguerite come out of the shock she was in and get her head back on straight. He wasn’t about to let this drag her down forever.
It took a lot to really get Marguerite into a state like this. Yes, she was passionate and that meant that she could be quick to anger and felt things deeply anyway. However, she was usually better able to deal with it. Perhaps in the end it would be like that again, it had only been a few hours after all. But given the fact that it just had to be tied to St.Cyr… that was something she had not been prepared for in the slightest.
As Percy said she wasn’t going to go through this alone this time, Marguerite turned her head to face her boyfriend and gave a faint smile,
“I know.”
And that in and of itself meant a lot given how in two sets of dreams now she’d been isolated from Percy, unable to tell Armand as well and dealing with that guilt on her own, all while wondering why Percy was pulling away from her and no longer the man she’d fallen in love with. This time at least there wouldn’t be that.
This time was going to be different. Percy had been adamant that he not follow the path his dream self had taken. The one of distancing himself from Marguerite when he’d thought she’d betrayed them yet hadn’t actually spoken to her about it. He’d simply assumed. Well. Percy wasn’t going to be making that mistake here. This time, he’d be with Marguerite and do what he could to help her through it. It wasn’t easy to move past watching someone shoot themselves like that, but he was going to make certain that she came out of this for the better.
“Good.” He gave her a smile in return. Even though the smile was faint, it was still something, and he could work with that. “Though I think for now you need to relax and loosen up a little, get your mind off of what happened for a little while.”
And what did Percy have on his mind? He was going to join her in the bathtub. While still clothed. But he hoped that it would bring a larger smile to Marguerite’s face. Or at the very least, make her wonder what the hell he was thinking and pull her mind into a somewhat better place for a while. Dwelling on things would not get anyone anywhere good. So Percy stood up and started to step into the tub.
“Make room,” he said with that smile of his that was part charm and part silly.
There was something to be said about the dreams that they could also show you what not to do, or in Marguerite’s case, what she was capable of doing if it meant saving Armand or now Percy. It was one thing to theoretically know she would do what was necessary, it was different to see it and experience it.
“Oh?” Hearing that Percy had an idea on how to make her relax and get her mind off of what had happened, Marguerite quirked a brow in confusion. There were many ways that the conversation could go though as he stood up and started to step into the tub, Marguerite eyes widened.
“Percy, you’ll ruin your outfit!”
But he had succeeded in what his main goal had been, which was to get her to laugh some. Because even in shock, she did laugh some as she made the comment. Afterall, she had used a bath bomb and thus the water was currently colored.
Percy had taken some aspects of his dreams as the blueprint of what not to do. The dreams tended to give one some perspective on that life, and as much as he could understand the actions he took in his dreams, he still wanted to smack him silly for not seeing fit to go talk to Marguerite. He’d changed that here and things were definitely better than in the dreams.
And perhaps he had forgotten about what Marguerite had put in the water, but he really didn’t care. They were only clothes, and he had other suits to wear. Ruining one wouldn’t be a bad thing. Besides, making Marguerite laugh was worth it, in his opinion. His smile widened.
“It’s just clothing. Besides, it could be a new style or something.” He laughed a bit. At least his suit jacket was safe from this. But this suit was going to be a lost cause as he leaned closer to her. “How many colors do you think my shirt can turn?”
“Percy Blakeney saying something is ‘just clothing’, will wonders never cease.” While she knew that the nincompoop facade was just that, a facade, it was still shocking sometimes as she was used to his inanities in the dreams when it came to fashion. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own facade here that Marguerite usually was the only one to see past as he wanted to keep the press from prying too much.
Even so, it was comforting as well as able to distract and remind her of what she had here and now and not to dwell on what had happened.
“Well… I suppose we’ll just have to find out now that you’re in the water, hmm?”
“I could break into hysterics over what’s happening to my clothes, if you would rather?” He replied cooly. If that would make Marguerite laugh, he probably would. Even with his facade, Percy still had an eye for clothing. He just didn’t prance about shouting about it. Except when he was embracing his facade. Sometimes he rather enjoyed playing the part of a nincompoop. It was freeing sometimes, and it also gave him immense joy to befuddle the press at times.
“I suppose we shall, yes. Hopefully it will be something pretty. Maybe even an intriguing pattern?” He said, waggling his eyebrows a bit. His eyes were glinting a bit. It was good to see Marguerite lightening up a bit. He wouldn’t ignore what had happened this morning, but breaking up the heavy emotions with some lighter ones was a good thing.
“Please don’t.” As much as she loved Percy, it had taken time (basically once she realized it was a ruse) for her to get comfortable with how passionate he could be about clothing as it was a reminder of the different worlds they’d grown up in and things that had seemed important to each. So even knowing that, sometimes it could rub her the wrong way. Especially when it was just them.
“Anything on you will be a pretty design.” All in all, Marguerite knew this was not the end of what had happened this morning and that it would be something that lingered. However for now she would take the break in heavy emotions.