Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Sin of the Father ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: arislan

Notes: Right...it occurs to me that when I started this I didn't have the series to hand... and as such have now discovered it doesn't quite fit in with end-of-series canon. So, um, it's technically a little AU. (In places I got book canon mixed in with it too) But, otherwise it mostly fits. :p 

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Silence fell. Albert's mouth moved silently; how could this be? He stared at Valentine in shock, frozen. He didn't know what he could say, even if he could have formed the words. Maximilien seemed to be looking at him with understanding; evidently Monsieur de Villefort was here on Valentine's request, but of course Maximilien would support and respect her wishes.

"I..." He trailed off, looking back and forth between them helplessly. It seemed almost incomprehensible to him - that they would have him here, after everything that had happened. After what he'd done; even disregarding Monsieur de Villefort's hand in what had happened to the Count, he had hardly treated Maximilien and Valentine in an acceptable way. And... thinking about it now, Albert suddenly realised that he'd never even stopped to consider what might have happened to the man - his career over, reputation ruined beyond repair... not to mention the way he had seemed to break down after Cavalcanti -- Benedetto, he corrected himself -- had attacked him in the court room.

Valentine reached out and took hold of his hands, breaking him from his thoughts. "Albert," she began hesitantly, "I know that... that you have little reason to like my father. But, I beg of you -- we would like you to stay, and so it would mean a lot to me if you could put aside your animosity and tolerate him for a short while."

Albert shook his head in confusion. "But, Valentine -- of course; if you wish, but--" he broke off again, trying to formulate the words, "how... after the way he treated you, I just..."

Valentine smiled shaking her head. "My father isn't a bad man, Albert. Truly. He's never been perfect, but he was a victim of circumstance, like any other. He's never intentionally set out to cause others harm -- and, he was only ever protective of me because he loves me. He loved our family deeply. He's more than paid the price for any dishonourable deeds he pay have performed in the past, and... I can't abandon him; not like this, not now. I forgive him, and he needs me." She lowered her head, dark hair falling into her eyes, "you loved the Count, didn't you, Albert? And you forgave him - forgave him for what he did to... to..." she trailed off, and her words struck Albert deeply.

"Valentine, I... of course; you're right. I wouldn't dream of being so selfish as to judge you for taking in your father." He smiled sadly, "how is he? I must admit, I have not seen him since..." She shifted and leaned a little on Maximilien for support, who had been sitting and watching her in concern. The room had been darkening for a while; dark clouds were gathering again. Undoubtedly there would be another storm that night.

She seemed to be deliberating on what to say; her tea lay cold and untouched on the table before her. "He doesn't talk much," she began, "and he... he has to use a wheel chair, too. We're not exactly sure what it was that Andrea Cavalcanti used on him, but, he's very different now." Valentine frowned, and then stood up. "Albert... I'd like you to come and meet him. Please?" Albert was surprised; he'd had no idea that Villefort had been affected so greatly - if he was perfectly honest with himself, it made him feel a little uncomfortable. He'd always thought that Monsieur de Villefort deserved whatever had happened to him, simply because of how he'd treated both the Count and Valentine, but this...

Albert hesitated only for a moment before nodding. "Of course; if I'm to be staying with you, I would like that very much." He and Maximilien stood up, and Valentine led the way out of the room. The house had become so gloomy because of the weather, evidently some of the staff had begun to light the lamps lining the walls in the hall; they made their way through the warmly lit corridor back through to the main hallway. From here Valentine led them up the wide staircase, and across the thickly carpeted corridor to a room near the back. Valentine knocked gently on the dark wooden door, but no response came from within.

They entered slowly; Albert found he was unreasonably nervous, and his breaths came shallow and quick. The room was cosy and welcoming; evidently this was Valentine's touch, because when Monsieur de Villefort came into view, Albert simply couldn't imagine that the man cared in the slightest about his surroundings. Even Albert, who now held no affection for the man he had once respected, found the sight almost painful. Just like his father before him, he was confined to a wheel chair. His head was slightly bowed, and he was dressed in loose, casual clothes; something that Albert could never have imagined the proud, image-conscious man he used to be wearing. His hair was dull, but it was clear that Valentine must brush it carefully everyday. He didn't respond at all to their entrance; as far as the ex-judge was concerned, nothing had changed.

"Father?" Valentine approached Villefort and sat down slowly on the bed near him; it was almost as if she was trying her best not to startle him. She reached out and stroked his hair tenderly; her expression was sad, but when she spoke she forced herself to inject a measure of cheerfulness. "How are you this evening? Look, we're going to have a guest staying with us for a while," she gently lifted up his chin so he could see Albert, "this is our friend Albert. Do you remember him?"

Albert froze as Villefort's gaze alighted on him, and for a split second it seemed oddly piercing. A moment later, though, and it was back to his previous blank stare. Albert glanced at Maximilien, who was standing next to him and watching the scene stoically. He did wonder one thing, though: if this was the extent of Monsieur de Villefort's interactions, what was it about him that had given Maximilien's relatives such cause to leave? The man seemed positively harmless.

"Val...entine...?" Albert jumped as a weak voice rasped through the silence. Somehow, he had not expected Villefort to be able to speak. "Who are... you...?"

Valentine was instantly on her feet, bending over him and cradling his hands in her own. Albert could barely watch; Monsieur de Villefort looked bemused and lost, and was staring at Valentine in confusion while she hushed him and kissed his cheek softly.

"It's me, Father," she gave his hand a squeeze, and smiled encouragingly, "your daughter." Villefort looked back at the floor uncomprehendingly. Albert felt helpless; it seemed as though, for Valentine, this was a regular occurrence.

"Sorry, Albert," she said, turning to face him, "he's having one of his less responsive days. Maximilien - would you mind showing Albert to his room? I'd like to put Father to bed." Maximilien nodded, and walked over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek before returning to Albert.

"Of course, Valentine. Good night, Monsieur de Villefort." Though Maximilien smiled, Albert couldn't quite tell whether it was genuine or not. "Come, Albert. Your room is this way."

Albert followed the ex-soldier back outside into the upstairs landing, and let out a tense breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. The awkwardness of the previous room had not entirely dissipated; though the house's atmosphere was warm and welcoming, there was an uncomfortable feeling that Albert couldn't quite shake. Maximilien led the way back past the stairs in the other direction, and ushered Albert into his bedroom. It was quite small, but comfortably furnished and very clean.

"Ah, thank you," Albert smiled, walking over past the bed and seeing his bags on the floor - (he'd be so glad to finally get out of these clothes) - and noticed that Maximilien still seemed very preoccupied. "Um, Maximilien... I hope you don't mind me asking, but - Monsieur de Villefort - is he always...?" Albert trailed off, slightly worried by the darkening expression on the other's face.

"...always like that? No," Maximilien spoke in clipped tones, as though he would have liked to have spoken harshly, but was attempting to restrain himself. "No, he's not. Tonight is, well... tonight was an example of one of his better moments."

Albert felt his stomach twist unpleasantly; that was Villefort on a good day?

Maximilien continued. "Sometimes he does recognise Valentine; sometimes he even recognises me - but his lucid days aren't always for the best. He can get angry, even violent - though most of the time I think he doesn't even know what he's doing. He'll talk to himself; go off on long nonsensical rants... he's very unpredictable. He likes to maintain the illusion that he still has a job; we let him think whatever keeps him the most docile." Maximilien began to pace the small room, hands clasped behind his back. "Valentine's learned to cope with him, it seems - but when we first took him in, he made her desperately unhappy. I could hardly bare to watch her with him, but she was determined to do it." His mouth was compressed into a thin line, and Albert couldn't help but feel out of his depth.

"I... I'm sorry Maximilien; it must be hard for you. For both of you. If... if there's anything I could do to help--" Maximilien cut him off, smiling.

"No, thank you Albert. I appreciate the sentiment, but, truly, we manage. For the most part, Monsieur de Villefort makes Valentine happy now, so who am I to stand in the way of that? And all of this aside - you are our guest, and I'm sure there's nothing Valentine would want more than for you to relax and enjoy your stay with us here. It was just... necessary that you knew about Monsieur de Villefort; and probably better that you found out sooner rather than later."

Albert nodded his understanding, and gave a tired smile. "Thank you, Maximilien. But I'd like you both to know that, if you ever need me for anything; I'm here." Maximilien inclined his head and smiled.

"Valentine will be very touched to hear that."

Albert gave a little yawn, and then immediately blushed as Maximilien laughed. "Ah, I'm so sorry! I hope you don't mind if I retire now..."

"Of course - I'm sorry we kept you up; you must have had a long tiring journey - I'll let Valentine know. Would you like supper sending up?" Albert shook his head and sat down on the end of the soft bed which dominated the centre of the room.

"No, but thank you for the offer." He watched Maximilien gratefully as the other man smiled at him and turned to leave.

"Goodnight, Albert - we'll see you at breakfast."

"Goodnight." Albert waited until the door had swung shut with a definite 'click' before flopping down backwards onto the bed. He could hardly believe how tired he was; though after a while he had got used to sleeping in the coach when necessary, it was nowhere near a decent substitute for sleeping in a real bed. "Ahh..." The duvet was soft and fluffy, and the mattress was firm; just as he preferred it. The room was decorated in soothing pastels, and though it was not exactly to Albert's taste, it was a pleasant enough environment.

He couldn't help but run over the day's events in his head as he undressed and prepared for bed. It had been... a strange day of unexpected news, to say the least - while some of it was wonderful, like Valentine now being pregnant, some of it was awful - he still could hardly believe that Monsieur Noirtier had passed away. And as for Monsieur de Villefort, well... Albert wasn't even sure what he thought about that yet.

The young man headed into the en-suite bathroom, pondering as he did so. How was it that Maximilien and Valentine had seemed so happy, so content? He envied them in some ways - after all that had happened, they still retained their good cheer and optimism. He felt rather sorry for Maximilien's relatives - but at the same time, having seen Monsieur de Villefort, he could hardly bring himself to blame the man. Though if what Maximilien had said about him was true... He dried off his face and returned to the bedroom, turning off the main light before slipping into bed.

At times like this, he often found himself wondering what Franz would have thought. After all, Valentine was originally destined to be Franz's wife, and Monsieur de Villefort his father-in-law. But... Franz had never liked to talk about them much. Albert knew he had been on reasonable terms with Villefort; he had respected the man, and had wanted to please him, despite being utterly indifferent about his engagement to Valentine. It had been an odd situation.

"Do you love your fiancée?"

He still remembered that day so clearly, as though it was etched permanently in his memory. That day, both he and Franz had been forced to face up to the fact that neither of them actually knew why they were engaged - and that their parents decisions were, in fact, evidently not flawless. He'd always liked the idea of marrying for love. Albert switched off the bedside light, and lay on his back staring at the dark ceiling. All those years ago, in the beginning, he'd known he hadn't loved Eugénie. But later� 

He'd always envied his parents' marriage - or what he thought his parents' marriage was like - chosen by themselves, passionate, and full of love; much like in that opera he and Franz had watched on Luna.

If he was truly honest about it, Albert would probably have said that he still didn't really know what real love was. Truthfully, he had thought himself in love twice. He was now separated from one of those people by distance, and from the other by death. Both times, he had come to realise that some things are, evidently, just not meant to be.

Thunder rattled the window frames; another storm had moved in from the coast, and it looked as though they were in for another long night of rain.

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The next morning, Albert awoke to stripes of sunlight streaming in through the slats in the shuttered windows. He blinked blearily for a few moments, before glancing at the clock on the bedside table and letting out a sigh of relief; for a moment he'd been worried that he'd horribly overslept. He presumed he'd be expected downstairs at breakfast, so reluctantly peeled back the warm covers and began to get ready.

As it turned out, Maximilien was the only one seated at the table when Albert finally made his way downstairs. The place settings were laid for three, but Valentine was nowhere to be seen.

"Did you sleep well?" Maximilien smiled at him genially, reaching for a pastry. Unexpectedly, Albert found that he was actually very hungry - and his stomach quickly growled embarrassingly as though to emphasise that fact.

"Yes, thank you - it's wonderful to be able to sleep in such a comfortable bed again!" Not in the mood for anything sweet, he took some bread and studied the cheese for a while, before selecting a piece. "How... is Valentine this morning?"

Maximilien shrugged lightly, but he didn't look worried, "oh, she's fine - she'll be along any minute, hopefully... it's most likely she'll be with Monsieur de Villefort."

"Ah," Albert took a bite of bread and chewed thoughtfully, "has his condition improved any, since you both took him in?" Maximilien looked surprised at this question, but then slightly pleased.

"Surprisingly, he has indeed. When he was first brought here, I have to admit that I thought it was hopeless. I don't know if you... if you ever saw him in the beginning - right after the court room incident - but, it was awful." He sighed and took a sip of his hot chocolate, "but... Valentine has managed so much," his expression grew proud, and he smiled fondly, "he still has his moments, but for the time being Monsieur de Villefort is, in general, doing very well. Occasionally, he even approaches lucidity! He recognised me once; Valentine was so pleased."

"I'm so glad to hear that," Albert said honestly, "though I hope, for Valentine's sake, that he improves further." 

Maximilien shrugged, "it's possible. But we don't like to build up our hopes too high - we just take each day as it comes."

"Indeed we do!" Valentine said, smiling cheerfully as she entered the breakfast room; she walked around the table to give her husband a kiss on the cheek, and took a seat opposite Albert. "And it's a beautiful morning too, don't you think?"

Albert grinned, glad to see that Valentine was in such a good mood after the down heartening subjects of last night�s conversation. �It is, definitely! I don�t know how you cope with this weather all the time though - horribly stormy one moment, and then perfect blue skies the next. Hopefully this spot of good weather will last a while, though - I�d like to explore Marseille at some point.�

Valentine clasped her hands together, looking pleased. As always, her hair was falling over her eyes, and she tried to push it away ineffectually. �Of course - and we�d love to give you a tour, if you�d like a guide. Although, I�m afraid I wouldn�t be able to move too fast or climb too many hills�� She reached for her tea, and patted her round stomach gently.

�That would be perfect, thank you.� Albert beamed, and finished off his bread. He couldn�t really describe how glad he was that he had decided to halt his travels; he�d certainly needed the time alone, to think and educate himself - as well as do some growing up - but� he�d missed this.

They were just finishing off breakfast when a maid entered the room with an anxious look on her face.

�Um� Madame Morrell? There�s a videophone call for you from Mademoiselle Danglars. She says it�s very urgent.�

Albert jumped slightly at the mention of Eugénie�s name, and the three seated at the table all looked at each other questioningly.

�Yes, I�ll come and take it right away,� Valentine confirmed, before hurrying out with a last backwards glance of concern. Albert sat, frozen, uncertain of what to think, or how to feel. He�d avoided any contact with Eugénie for years - although he told himself that it was just because it would have been impractical.

Their last meeting - or rather, farewell - had been confusing. Half of him had accepted that he would probably never see her again, while the other half had entertained fantasies of spontaneously following her to New York, or just holding her tightly and refusing to let her go. He just� wasn�t sure where he stood anymore. They had both grown up since then; both moved on. But even so�

Something urgent? The thought that Eugénie might be in some kind of trouble worried him greatly - regardless of everything that had happened, and regardless of all the time that had passed, she had still always been one of his best friends. He hated not knowing that she was fine.

He and Maximilien waited silently until Valentine finally returned to the room, twisting a handkerchief wretchedly between her hands. She paused by the end of the table, and gazed at them both worriedly.

�Andrea Cavalcanti is� not gone.� Her voice trailed off near the end, becoming weak: in an instant Maximilien was up out of his chair and supporting Valentine gently.

�Come, let�s move to the drawing room,� he said gruffly, guiding his wife who was trying her best to stand up perfectly straight. They entered the light and airy room - a feeling that was magnified by the fine weather outside - and Maximilien made Valentine lie down on the chaise-longue, despite her protests.

�No, really, I�m fine�� She received a �tsk� from Maximilien for that, but for once she ignored him and focused on both men. �Look, honestly� and this is important, it concerns the safety of my Father!�

Albert and Maximilien both looked horrified, and sat down on chairs opposite Valentine�s.

�What� how is Eugénie? Is she alright? What�s happened with Andre--� Albert stopped himself as he felt the questions pour out of him: how could he be so rude? Valentine would have to cover everything at her own pace. She took a deep breath, and began.

�Well, Eugénie is okay - for the moment. But as it turns out, her mother, Madame Danglars, recently received a letter from Andrea Cavalcanti. He�s� he�s after something, but we�re not entirely sure what. One thing is for certain, though: my father is in danger.�