I Wish I Were The Rain // Edmond

[Madeleine Aguillon]

Madeleine’s hand rested on her son’s head, as Guillaume clung to her legs. They were standing in the street, the darkness illuminated by the terrible dancing of flames as the Winking Rabbit, the inn owned by Madeleine’s late husband and their home for the past six years, blew away, bit by ashy bit.

The sound of crackling flames, a sound Madeleine had once found comforting, was deafening in the freezing hours of the early morning. Dawn was not for another few hours, and Madeleine could just make out the murmurings of her displaced boarders, who were lamenting the loss of their possessions and lodgings.

Madeleine longed to tell them to shove their complaints somewhere impolite, but she couldn’t find the energy to move, nor the ability to look away from the sinisterly flickering tongues of flame that licked at the roof of the Winking Rabbit.

No one was trying to put out the conflagration.

“Mama?” It was Guillaume, of course, who until now had remained perfectly silent.

“Yes, Little Duck?” She answered him, unable to tear her gaze away from the carnage.

“Did everyone get out?” She felt his head turn up to look at her.

“Oh, how I hope so,” she said. “How I do hope so.”

Guillaume tightened his arms around her knees and Madeleine felt him rest his head on her thigh. For the first time since they got out, the young mother looked down at her boy and felt a surge of gratitude to whomever had watched over them that they had gotten out of the inn safely.

“Was it the bad men who started in, Mama?”

Madeleine’s brows knit together. She knew exactly to whom Guillaume was referring, but how he knew they were “bad men,” she did not know. She had always done her best not to speak of them in his presence.

“Which bad men, Duck?”

Guillaume didn’t answer, and Madeleine knelt down to his eye level and placed her hands on his shoulders. She could see flecks of ash in his pale hair, which was only just losing its baby fineness. “Which bad men?”

“The ones who make you give them the money from the till,” he answered with a shrug of his thin shoulders.

Madeleine was certain Guillaume was right; indeed, she’d suspected it herself, but how her son would have come to that conclusion was a mystery to her.

“Don’t you worry about them,” she said, brushing a sooty smear from his cheek and leaving a bigger one in its place. “Don’t you dare worry your head about that. You just start thinking of a lovely place where we can stay for a few days.” And she kissed him on the forehead.

“I’m not worried, Mama. Monsieur Edmond will help us.”
Madeleine had no idea how to respond to this. Guillaume had grown quite attached to their boarder, and if truth be known, Madeleine had, too. He was gentle and kind, and very good with the boy, but when Madeleine had found out about his military affiliations, she’d sent Edmond packing. She wouldn’t have him anywhere near Guillaume, not if he had any pro-Napoleon leanings. Napoleon had already stolen one father from Guillaume, and she would not allow it to happen again.

Madeleine had not given Edmond time to explain when she discovered that he had once been a member of Napoleon’s forces. Napoleon had cost her her husband, and she wanted no traces of any pro-Napoleon feelings in her life. Guillaume had been upset when he realized that Edmond had gone, and Madeleine had not been able to bring herself to tell her son that it was she who had sent the soldier packing.

But now, standing out in the chilly night, Madeleine briefly entertained the thought that she might have been too hasty in expelling her patron upon discovery of the medal in his room. She had gone to leave fresh linens when she’d stumbled across the medal. Of course, she never would have seen it, but that she had taken a brief moment to straighten the small writing desk in one corner of the room and uncovered the medal while moving some papers. She had wasted no time, when Edmond had come down for dinner that evening, in requesting that he settle his bill and be gone.

Guillaume’s voice brought Madeleine back from her reverie.
“He will help us, won’t he, Mama?” His round, sooty face gazed imploringly at her, and Madeleine attempted to force a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. She tucked a stray strand of straw-colored hair behind the boy’s ear, a singed bit of lace from her sleeve brushing his cheek.

“I don’t… I don’t think so, darling. I am sure Monsieur Edmond has moved on.”

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

In the couple of months that had passed since having been expelled from the Winking Rabbit, Edmond had run across an old friend from his regiment, a man who had been living in a small but cozy townhouse in a quieter section of the city. The man had gone bankrupt and had been preparing to put his house up on the market and move back with relatives in Lyon, but Edmond had offered him a small sum of money for it, a gesture that benefited the both of them. After having seen his friend off, Edmond settled into the place, though the house, despite only being meant for a very small family, still felt much too large and empty.

The friend had left most of his bulky possessions behind (read: furniture), only taking with him what he could carry on the road, and so Edmond didn't have to invest too much in the furnishing. For the first few days, he didn't feel any inclination to actually try to 'settle' in, feeling much like a border in a house that was technically his own now; he slept and ate and whatnot in it, but disturbed it very little, spending most of his time reading his own journal from the wars, trying his best to remember anything from before that time. But it was like there was a sheer brick wall there that brought to an abrupt stop any attempt to traverse it, and Edmond would give up, mentally exhausted, only to try again the next evening, with the same results.

One particular evening, he felt a gnawing hunger in his belly again. He had gone out hunting earlier that week and had successfully brought down three ducks. He'd already had one; two were left, already dressed. He remembered a trick (though he didn't know how he'd remembered it - it was actually something they used to do at Versailles) of digging a hole in the yard and filling it with water, then waiting for it to freeze, and burying things in there that needed to be preserved. This was what he had done with the ducks, and so he went to fetch one of them and prepare it for supper.

A couple of hours later, though, he was sitting at the small dining table with a full place setting in front of him, the roast duck's fatty skin glistening in the light from the hearth. But despite the appetizing spread, Edmond just sat there and stared at it for a good few minutes, before shaking his head and pushing it away. He was starving, but didn't actually feel like eating. Well, not eating that, at least.

He folded his hands in his lap and sat there in silence for a while longer, and closed his eyes, drifting off into thought as he always seemed to do lately. Eventually, he was afraid he had dozed off, for he jolted awake rather suddenly - but he wasn't sitting at the table anymore. He wasn't even in the house!

He was out on the street, bundled up in his greatcoat and winter boots. A scent filled his senses, the sort that had probably been appetizing at one point, but had quickly grown sickening on account of having just been sated. He realized the scent was blood.

Red stained the snow, and he blinked, stupefied, as a crumpled body came into view. It was lying at his feet, and, tentatively, he turned it over with his toe.

The face that stared blankly up at him was one he recognized: one of the men that had used to come by the Winking Rabbit to harass Madeleine. The man's eyes were wide open, his face twisted into a frozen expression of horror.

Edmond blinked rapidly, as if willing the image away. What was this? He could taste the blood in his mouth. Was it the same blood that now coated the man's neck, staining his shirt and coat and the snow beneath him?

Edmond looked around, recognizing the area. It was near the gunsmith at which he had freelanced for a bit. Feeling the need to suddenly be out of there as fast as possible, Edmond cupped a hand over his mouth, hurriedly trying to scrub away any blood from his beard, then from his coat, anywhere - he was paranoid that it was everywhere.

As he stumbled out onto the street, however, his attention was quickly diverted to the fire raging across the way. What in - ?

His heart dropped as he realized what that building was. That was the inn!

Coughing, Edmond hastened through the snow towards the building, not even thinking about why he had left it in the first place. Were they safe? Was this an accident? In his subconscious he connected the dead man to the fire, but didn't think much on it in his panic. Poor Madeleine, poor Guillaume. They were good folk and hardly deserving of this misfortune.

It didn't take much to spot them in the crowd. Still subconsciously wiping at the lapels of his coat, he staggered over to them.

He didn't ask them what had happened, because in a way it was obvious - the inn was on fire, that was what had happened. The question was in his eyes, but he said nothing at first, only looking over them sympathetically.

"I have a place now," he suddenly offered, his voice gruff. "If you need somewhere temporary." It only seemed fair, since they had helped him out, even if that had ended on Madeleine's terms as well.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

"I have a place now," said a rough voice somewhere in the distance. "If you need somewhere temporary."

Madeleine, whose attention had returned to the blazing inn, didn't know anyone had approached until Guillaume had detached himself from her skirts and thrown his small frame full-force into Edmond's knees. Though she would not say as much, her face betrayed her relief at seeing a familiar face. She had been too shocked by the events of the evening to really display any one particular emotion, though there were a hundred of them battling for her attention- terror, anger at the men she knew had done this, and relief that she had gotten Guillaume and herself out. But now, hearing Edmond's deep baritone, the strain of the whole affair seemed to settle on her shoulders and she began to weep.

From behind her, Madeleine heard a powerful whoosh!, and she whirled around just in time to see the roof of the Winking Rabbit collapse, sending a roaring column of sparks like twinkling fireflies into the night.

"Oh!" Madeleine gasped, one long-fingered hand flying to her mouth to muffle her cry, the other clutching her chest as though trying to prevent her heart from bursting through her skin. As the swirling cloud of smoke cleared slightly, Madeleine could see the silhouettes of four hulking figures standing just out of the light, and she knew then without doubt who was responsible for the fire.

When she couldn't stand the sight of the disintegrating building any longer, she turned to look at Edmond, who seemed permanently adhered in place by her child, who was looking up at the soldier with a look of admiration bordering on reverence. Perhaps it was because her emotions were in chaos, but the sight of her precious boy bestowing his affection on Edmond, even after several weeks of absence, made her smile.

"I told you, Mama," Guillaume said with surety, "I told you he would come back for us!"

"So he did, Duck," she said, and she met Edmond's eyes with her own, hoping she could convey her apologies for sending him away without actually blurting it out in front of Guillaume. She was ashamed of it now, but she'd found herself unable to tell Guillaume why Edmond had simply disappeared from their lives, choosing instead to answer her boy's questions with vague murmurs of "he's moved on," or something similar.

But now Edmond was standing there in the snow, waiting for her to speak. She felt overwhelmingly guilty for running him out now, and while she wished she could find another set of accommodations (for the sake of her pride, if nothing else), she bit the proverbial bullet and nodded. "If it wouldn't put you out... Perhaps we could trouble you for one night?"

"Oh, yes, could we?" Piped Guillaume, who was now tugging on the older man's coattails. "Can we, Monsieur Edmond?"

Madeleine couldn't help but let out a strangled sort of laugh at Guillaume's eagerness to stay with his hero. "I think he may have missed you," she said with a small smile. She wouldn't admit it, but she had missed him a bit, too. As they began the walk back to Edmond's home, the little boy badgered Edmond for details of the goings on during their separation.

"One night," Guillaume jabbered on, "a traveling fortune teller came to the Rabbit, and she gave me a fortune! And she said I'd grow up to be very rich, and that I would find a pretty girl who would fall madly in love with me, but that's not going to ever happen, not ever, because girls are yucky!"

"Thanks a lot," Madeleine chuckled. "Don't pester Monsieur Edmond so," she chided. Just then they arrived at Edmond's town home, and Madeleine took in its appearance. The small structure seemed to suit Edmond's personality, in that it was basic, but well cared for, and she didn't see Edmond as one who would spend exorbitant amounts of money on unnecessary frills. "Your home is lovely," she ventured. "It suits you."

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Edmond visibly flinched when the building right collapsed. The roaring flames and the crunch of crumbling debris triggered a suddenly overwhelming urge to run from there, but he wasn't quite sure why. He managed not to outwardly display any of it, though.

Staring off into the distance, his thoughts elsewhere (as was often the case), he didn't consciously register the gang men walking away. They were one down, though he didn't know that either.

Anxiously cupping a hand over his mouth again, trying to wipe away something that wasn't there, Edmond blinked and looked down at the kid, Guillaume's badgering bringing Edmond back to the present. Despite the cloud of confusion that seemed to have taken up temporary residence upon his mind, he couldn't help a little smile at Guillaume's antics. He folded his hands behind his back.

"You put too much faith in me, monsieur. Truth be told, I cannot really remember why I was passing by here in the first place ... " He trailed off, looking uncertain.

He did notice that he wasn't hungry anymore, though.

"Of course. I did offer, yes?" His voice was still a bit rough, as if he were just recovering from some sort of mild illness. Without hesitation, though, he turned and started trudging back towards his quartier, leading the way. Despite having extended his hospitality, though, and despite being a bit warmed by Guillaume's enthousiasme, Edmond had only exchanged a quick glance and half smile with Madeleine, still feeling a bit awkward around her after having been expelled from her inn those weeks ago.

He walked mostly in silence, his mind already elsewhere, trying to trace the events that had happened between leaving his home and ending up outside the Winking Rabbit - or what had been left of it. And after thinking on it more, now he did start to recall seeing those gang members there - twice. The dead man in the alley, and then the other men on the street, near the fire ...

"Of course they are, Guillaume," Edmond agreed patronizingly, chuckling. "But you never know. My marriage was arranged. I didn't like her at all at first. It took a few years before I - "

He stopped abruptly, wrinkling his nose. Where had that come from?

"Sorry, my mind is all over the place," he muttered in apology. "Tell me about what you have been doing. Have you been reading still?"

By the time they arrived at the little townhouse, it was already dark.

"It's not really ... mine. Well, on paper it is. But I feel as if I am only borrowing it from a friend." He didn't elaborate on the 'friend' bit, since the man too had been a soldier.

He opened the door and let them in first, before trudging after them. Once inside, he hung his coat and hat up, inviting them to do the same. Boots were exchanged for slippers, and then he padded over to the spare room, the one that his friend had used for storage. There was still a bit of clutter in there; an old sofa, piles of curtains, a few pieces of broken furniture.

Edmond sighed at the lot. "I suppose we can make something of this," he pondered, before starting on trying to pick out items and arrange a makeshift bed for the guests.

Guillaume, meanwhile, had bounded over to the table, and was now eyeballing the untouched supper sitting there. It was now cold, of course, but no less appetizing.

[Madeleine Aguillon]

"It's not really ... mine. Well, on paper it is. But I feel as if I am only borrowing it from a friend."

Madeleine didn't know what to say to this, so she merely nodded and followed Edmond inside. Guillaume immediately busied himself looking around, touching various things as children sometimes do when learning a new environment. Madeleine reprimanded him softly, but Guillaume continued to touch things here and there, albeit with a very gentle hand. Madeleine just shook her head. What a fine thing it would be if Guillaume broke some priceless treasure of Edmond's, one that could never be replaced.

Edmond had moved toward what appeared to be a guest bedroom, and Madeleine followed him, though she felt a bit awkward being in his home. She looked over her shoulder and found that the child was quite well occupied with exploring, and so she took advantage of the short moment "alone" with Edmond.

"I'm sorry for the way we parted company," she said cautiously. "I fear I may have been quite hasty in my judgment." Edmond merely sorted through the items of the sofa. For a moment, Madeleine hesitated, unsure how to gauge her host's silence. Once she was convinced that Guillaume would not interrupt for at least a few moments, she pressed on. "You see, my husband -Gervais was his name- he had a medal just like yours, and seeing it... Well, I'm afraid it undid me more than I might have thought it would. Not," she amended, "that I should have picked the piece up at all, but I just wanted to tidy the desk a bit, and - Oh, I'm making a right pig's ear of things, I suppose," she said, exasperated with her own rambling.

While Madeleine tried to explain her actions in some way that would make sense, Guillaume had found his way to the scrubbed wooden table, where a now-cold meal sat abandoned. He craned his neck to see if his mother was paying attention, and when he saw she was not, he climbed into the chair that sat pushed out from the table and reached a pudgy child's hand toward the plate, and tore a small morsel of meat from the duck. It may have been stone cold, but it was well-seasoned and tasted delicious. Without checking for watchful eyes this time, he tore off another, somewhat larger piece, and before you could say "Jack Robinson" he'd devoured half the bird.

His little belly was rounded following his feast, and he felt very full and very sleepy. He could hear the soft voice of his mother in the next room, and the gentle lilt of her speech made him feel very much at home, even though there was no longer any "home" at all. Guillaume crossed his arms on the hard wooden table and put his head down on them, intending only to close his eyes. But his full belly in combination with the soothing timbre of his mother's voice one room over soon caught up with the little lad, and before long, he was fast asleep.

Back in the second bedroom, the sofa was now clear of the assortment of objects left there, Madeleine assumed, by the townhome's previous owner. All at once, the events of the evening washed over her in a tidal wave, robbing her of all energy. She sank onto the sofa, more because she was too tired to stand anymore than because she actually wanted to take a seat. "I don't know what we will do," she whispered to the world at large. Then she looked up at Edmond, meeting his eyes as she said, "You are very kind to offer your hospitality. Tomorrow, when the fire is put out, I will retrieve whatever I can find by way of payment for your kindness." She looked at her hands with their long, graceful fingers, and her gold wedding band still in its place on her left hand. She had never taken it off, not since the day Gervais placed it there what seemed like so long ago. It was loose on her finger, as she had lost a bit of weight since her wedding, but still she had not removed it.

Suddenly her head felt very heavy with fatigue. She reached up with her right hand and pulled the pearl-and-tortoiseshell combs from her hair, allowing her coffee-colored curls to fall over her shoulders. The removal of the combs eased the weight a bit, and she set them delicately on the table beside the sofa. She massaged her temples for a brief moment, and then occupied herself by combing her fingers through her waist-length hair to remove any snarles.

[Edmond Ivon d'Aoust]

Madeleine was speaking quietly again as Edmond tried to arrange the clutter. At first he thought she was talking to Guillaume, but by her cautious tone, he understood she wasn't, so he lent an ear.

"Truth be told, I suspected something of the sort," he shrugged offhandedly, trying not to appear as if he were still bothered over the matter. It wasn't really that he was sensitive about the parting or personally offended; it was only that she had rather shocked him with the sudden revocation of his boarding contract - he had thought they were getting along nicely, and it had come out of the blue. Well, that, and there was the practical side of having to find somewhere else to room, but that was easier to amend.

"It's a bit of a shadow, my past affiliations. Your anger was not the first bit I'd encountered over matters of the previous emperor, and I doubt it will be the last. But at least your reasoning makes sense to me now. It is better than being asked to leave without any explanation."

Edmond didn't sound spiteful or bitter at all, but neither did he seem especially forgiving. What had happened, happened, and while he wasn't going to think her any less of it, considering the awkward position it had placed him in, it wasn't really something that could just be swept under the rug.

He did make the connection between her reaction to the Cross and the story of her husband. She still wore a ring, even though the man wasn't around, and Edmond easily knew what that meant.

"There are more important things to worry about now, though. But even that can wait. You have had quite the ordeal today, so you should rest."

He then took to gathering up the broken pieces of furniture he had picked out of the lot, throwing them into the fireplace so he could start a small hearthfire for them and keep the room warm. Some of the snow had seemed to find its way in through the windows and doors, the sneaky little buggers.

"Do you wish for something to drink? Tea or ale?" He hoped to keep her mind away from the night's events. "I roasted some duck earlier as well. There is plenty left."