the_duprees (the_duprees) wrote in weddedto_sonora, @ 2008-07-26 14:00:00 |
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Current mood: | determined |
Truth will not be Denied
Whoever termed the phrase ‘may all your Christmases be white,’ must have had a morbid sense of humor in Chris’ opinion, as he looked out upon the grounds that weren’t just covered, but buried in the white death. It was considered a death for it ended any possibility of fun he might have had while home. The snow seemed rather determined to make his stay seem like an eternity for which he was doomed to suffer and all he could do was make his pitiful curses upon that which laughed at him, as it began to come down in its shimmering flakes once more.
With a sigh, he tore himself from the window to explore the house that had become his prison sentence. It had once been his sanctuary, a place once so full of energy, but now it stood as though the heart had been stabbed with a dull dagger and the life force was slowly draining out. The windows that had once seen so far and shined as bright as eyes now hung heavy, glossed over with dust and drapery. The air that used to be scented with various aromas, whether it was fresh cut flowers in the spring and summer or the delectable delights of treats in the fall and winter, was left in but a mere memory for it rang stale as it drifted past the nostrils. It was as though the entire mansion had given up and was just slowly waiting to die, much like the body that lay in the very room down the hall, second door on the right.
The body. How long had he been calling it that? But what else was he to call it? The body had long since ceased being his father for it was nothing more than a living corpse. It couldn’t do anything on its own. There were charms and potions for nearly every function that one could think of. All of it was done to keep what was left of his father alive. No one knew the actual details of what had happened. Only his uncle Alain had been there at the time, but that was pitiful at best. He claimed that they had been ambushed and he had been knocked unconscious, only to come to see his dear brother barely hanging onto life.
He crept down the hallway slowly. His shoulders were hunched within the realm of the atmosphere that hung its depressing cloak upon him. Reaching his destination, surprise lurked for the door was slightly open and a harsh voice sounded from within. His hand paused on the cold knob and he recoiled a bit from the noise. While the voice was rough, it was also vaguely familiar. Peering through the opening of the door, Chris saw the shadowed outline of a man lit by the small amount of candlelight in the room. “There was a time when I loved you so. You were my best friend, my brother, and my mentor.” While the words were ones often associated with affection, the tone suggested that they were anything but. So, it was Alain that had come to visit his father. It wasn’t actually an odd affair for since the accident, his uncle had become a frequent visitor in taking over the familial duties, but what was going on now seemed out of place.
Leaning forward, he was able to get a better view of the situation. Alain was hanging over the body. His hand caressed the side of Delano’s face. “You had everything. Everything that I wanted, yet I still faulted you nothing.” The hand became more aggressive in its stroking as the words became angrier. He suddenly turned from the bedridden man, a sneer on his face. “You took absolutely everything, including the one thing I wanted most! You could have had anyone, but you took her from me! She was to be mine! To be my wife!” He paused, panting. The expression suddenly changed to a leer of self-satisfaction, the hand returned to pat the cheek once more. “It seems rather befitting that the one thing you have left should be the one thing that will be taken away on the anniversary that you stole her from me.” The chuckle he produced resounded deeply off the burgundy walls. “I do hope that your last Christmas Eve will be a most joyous one, big brother.”
As he left, Chris pressed himself into the wall, hoping against hope that he blended into the woodwork, his heart racing. Either he had done a tremendous job or his uncle was too distracted to actually notice him, but it was not something he was about to complain about. Once Chris saw that he had gone down the stairs, he slipped into the dimly lit room. He inched ever closer to the body, to his father. Here lay the man who used to swing him up onto his shoulders to see above everyone else. Here lay the man who would allow him to win at Wizard Chess. Here lay the man who was to have taught him everything he needed to know. Here lay the man that was nothing more than a remnant of the man he once was. His blue eyes were dull and listless, sunken into the face of translucent skin with veins weaving across it like spider webs. The body was no more than a skeleton covered by a thin sheet and for the first time, Chris felt the weight of grief upon him. The feelings that he had suppressed for so long began bubbling to the surface.
Taking his father’s clammy hand, he gave a deep sigh, slumping into the chair next to his bedside. His head hung down, he began to pour out everything that he was thinking. “I feel so lost, dad. I know that you expected me to be able to take over for you, but I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can do any of this. I don’t know how to do any of this.” He paused for a moment, taking a breath to try and keep himself from getting overly worked up, before he continued. “What were you like when you were my age? Did you feel even remotely like I do? How did you handle it? Why can’t you be here to answer my questions? You were supposed to be here.” The words were beginning to come out in a sea of frustration. “Why did you do what you did? Why did you split our family? Why did you leave? You’re supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be here.” It started to become a mantra until finally tears were falling from his eyes. He sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I miss you, dad.”
Chris gave his father’s hand a final squeeze, before getting up. He had a lot of work to do and no clue as to how he was going to accomplish it. Leaving the room, he shut the door behind him, leaving his father to his peace. Walking back to his room, his mind slowly began to work through everything he had recently learned. He hadn’t wanted to burden his father, even though, in truth, it wouldn’t have mattered. It had felt wrong to do so. Regardless of the state that his father was currently in, regardless of how he previously viewed him, regardless that there was zero chance of recovery, he was still Chris’ father.
He was about to go back to his room, but suddenly shifted direction to go past his father’s room and down the stairs. In his room, he would only end up laying on his bed, staring at the same ordinary, boring ceiling that he had for the majority of his sixteen, nearly seventeen years, and the mere thought was utterly stifling in every sense of the word. He needed to get out of here, needed to be able to breathe, clear his mind and think. Down the stairs he went and out the door, no coat in hand and out into the glistening white night. He didn’t have a set pattern for where he was heading. He just picked a direction and started walking. The air was a bitter cold and nipped at his face as it blew past, but it went unnoticed, as he was lost to his own mind. His uncle was planning on doing something to his father on Christmas Eve. It would be a perfect opportunity, as everyone was coming to their house for the evening rather than going to his grandparents’ house, mostly to pay their respects. There was no way that he could tell everyone not to come, especially since the state that his mother was in with her grief and potions, it had become apparent that she needed the support. All she did was lock herself away in her room, but he couldn’t blame her. She had loved his father in her own way. Maybe not a traditional love, but it was love, nonetheless, which he knew from experience to be an incredibly powerful emotion, whether it was love of family, love of a friend, or love of….
Chris stopped walking. He hadn’t consciously chosen a particular place to go to, but looking up at the house, lit up with Christmas cheer, he knew that this was where he needed to be. Bella was clear across the country and he had turned to his only available friend in his time of need - Andi. He pressed the button on the intercom, his hand shaking. It had taken him forever to get used to the blasted thing. After a few moments, the gate opened to allow him entrance to the grounds. Each step he took seemed to take a lifetime. When he arrived at the door, he slumped against it, weary from his travel into the muggle side of the prominent community.
Slowly, Chris opened his blue eyes, looking at a foreign ceiling. He rolled over to get a better view. “Ow!” he cried aloud. Sitting up, now on the floor, he rubbed his head. It wasn’t quite the way that he had wanted to wake up, but now that he was, he looked around. Where was he? A shift in view brought Andi into view. She was curled up in the chair like a cat with a blanket around her. Getting up off the floor, he threw the blanket that had been tangled around him onto the couch. His hand reached out to shake her slightly. “Andi,” he said softly. “Andi, wake up.” He watched, as her eyes fluttered open, gazing up at him with a slumber-induced gloss.
Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she sat up straighter. “Hi. Are you all right? I was worried when you showed up at the door last night. You passed out. Gerald and I brought you inside and tried to keep you warm. You slept for a good while there.” She waved her hand to indicate the couch that he had fallen from.
His brows knitted together in thought. So, that explained what had happened and where he was. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Everything began to come back little by little – why he had been coming here and what had happened previously. A guttural groan escaped from his mouth, as the burden of it all came crashing down. “No,” the word sounded from his lips, before he could bite it back. He gave a deep sigh, as he sat back on the leather couch. “No, I’m not fine.” He stared at the flames that danced around, creating a ballet. He felt a head on his shoulder and looked to find Andi with her arms around him. He rested his head against hers. “I’m in trouble. Suppose you learned something awful that you weren’t supposed to know, what would you do?”
Three hours later, Chris stood on the doorstep once more with a borrowed coat and an offer of a ride that was declined. “I’ll be fine,” he assured Andi for the millionth time. She really over worried sometimes, though, he wasn’t sure that this time wasn’t actually deserved for he was just as worried himself, though his words said otherwise. He forced a grin on his face. “Okay, I need to head home. I’m sure my mother is worried about me.” In truth, it was doubtful that anyone but the house elves had noticed his disappearance, but if he said as much, she would insist that he stay longer and he really didn’t want to be a burden on her. She really was a sweet kid.
She was a really sweet kid…who was now kissing him? Before he could think, he responded to her kiss, his lips moving with hers. After all, he was but a man. Another minute, his hands curled around her arms that had wrapped themselves around him and gently pushed her away. “Andi, I – I have to go.” He half-jogged down the stairs and down the path, aware that it probably looked like he was trying to get away from her…and he was. He didn’t know how to react to what she had done. He had met her over the summer and since then had viewed her as a friend, but had never thought anything more about her. Maybe that was cruel, yet to start a relationship with her would only complicate matters further, especially when he was still trying to prove himself to the one girl that he could never seem to, but he couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t think about anything other than what was coming.
The walk home took a bit longer than expected and he was exhausted when he finally got there, but he had something to do first. “Hey, dad,” he said, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. He wanted the opportunity to talk to his father one last time, just in case. There was a good chance that the plan, as simple as it was, would not work. It really was a simple plan, but it was one that scared him. Alain had a lot more experience than he did. There was a possibility that he would snake his way out of what he had said. After all, he was the only one that had heard the one-sided conversation. Would they believe him? Only time would tell.
The time came a couple of days later. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Chris woke up with a start with a sense of dread and nervousness that stayed with him through to the evening. In small groups, family and friends began to arrive for the traditional Christmas Eve party. Everything appeared just as it should and judging by Alain’s face when he arrived, he didn’t have a clue as to what Chris was up to, which was just what he was banking on. Even so, it left him feeling uneasy. Regardless of what he knew, Chris was still about to go against his uncle. The man was family. It seemed wrong, especially given that he was also his elder and current Head of Family. But the alternative was not an option.
The events carried on and Chris did his duty of mingling among them. He talked to his uncle Julian, his aunt Evonne, his cousin, Talen, and so on. All the while, his gaze kept drifting over to Alain, who played his part all so well. He talked and laughed. It was as though nothing fazed him. It made Chris wonder just how often these roles would be played. How often had his father played them? He knew that his father had often done so, but the realization of what it all meant was beginning to catch up to him. Did his father lose himself among all of it? Would he? How often were his feelings pushed down? How often did the lies become more than truth? Is that what had happened to Alain?
If it had, it didn’t matter now, as Chris saw what he had been waiting for. Alain was heading towards the stairs, oblivious to everyone. He delayed following only by a few moments. He wanted him to be in his father’s room. He wanted to confront him at the scene. Yet, not too long, not enough time to allow him to do anything. Up the stairs he followed. He caught the door before it had the chance to close. Alain’s wand was drawn with a flourish, as he strode towards the bedridden man, stopping only mid-step when a heart jumping bang sounded. Turning slowly around, there stood Chris, wand in hand, arms folded, leaning against the door, casual as could be, but the tone of voice of what he said next conveyed his true emotion, “What are you doing up here, dear uncle?” The words suggested that he had overheard Alain the other day.
Alain’s eyebrow shot up at Chris’ remark, surprised that his nephew would be so bold as to issue a subtle challenge. He glanced towards his brother, before turning his entire focus on Chris. It was apparent that he was going to have to take care of this little matter first. He couldn’t kill the boy, because it would cause too much suspicion. Wiping a few select memories, however, now that should do the trick. “Now, Christobel, what else would I be doing up here, but visiting poor Delano? Family is most important, isn’t it?” Step by step, he cautiously moved closer to the boy. Just a little further.
“Stop.” One powerful word, and Chris held all the cards. His blue eyes met his uncle’s brown ones in an accusatory stare. He was tired of it all, but more than that, he was willing to do something about it. “You aren’t welcome here any longer and I suggest you leave immediately. You will no longer be – “ A silent spell had him dodging to the left. “Expelliarmus!” He shot back. His spell was blocked by his uncle’s experience, but there was no mistaking that he was willing to play hardball, if necessary. “As I was saying, from now on, I will be taking over all family matters. If you overstep your boundaries, I will not only alert everyone to what you were about to do here, but I would be more than glad to alert the aurors to your other dealings.”
Alain sized him up. If he continued on, there was a good chance that the rest of the family would get involved and that would ruin everything he had planned. No, he could wait longer. “Very well,” he said, tucking his wand away, “as you wish.” He gave a small bow and etched himself out of the room.
Once he was gone, Chris sank down to his knees. His insides felt like jelly, but he had done it. He had saved his father. His gaze wandered over to the man. “I did it, dad.”