𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏.

[demainvient]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⊹ 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒚 ⊹ 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍
 

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[demainvient]

They haven't had Maelle very long yet, not nearly long enough for Gustave to know her favorite hiding places, where she goes when she's sad or upset, where she might feel safe. In his panic, he rushes through the streets without any kind of plan, but half an hour or so with no luck forces him to pause and take stock. He has to force himself to think through the haze of fear and worry, but he does his best, trying to figure out the most likely path she's taken.

She's still too small to do much climbing on her own, so the rooftops are likely out, and she probably tried to put as much distance between her and the apartment as possible... it's not likely she's hiding somewhere nearby, is it?

But which direction from there? He walks slowly, forcing himself to study the alleys as he passes them, his mind racing. If she'd gone to the market, someone might have seen her; there aren't many people out and about, but the bakers and florists and other artisans with stalls would still be out. So either she went further into the wrecked city, in which case he might never find her, or...

Gustave pauses, looking down the sloping cobblestones toward the harbor. Those two statues have stood there looking over Lumière since before he was born... if only they were alive and could tell him where Maelle had gone. Is she somewhere over there, huddled between stone boots, whipped by the cold wet wind off the bay? Or worse – what if she's there but slipped and fell into the water, with no one around to hear her cries –

He's running before he realizes it, heart hammering in his chest, his light shoes slapping against the cobblestones in a rapid beat. If she's there – it's not safe, not for a little girl alone –

Gustave is barreling toward the waterfront when a shift in the shadows catches his eye: some small figure that could almost be taken for a heap of rags or some broken bit of furniture, except that it's moving. His heart leaps into his throat; he's almost sick with worry. "Maelle?"

Please, please let it be her, let him not have lost this poor little girl on the very first night he alone was left in charge of her...

[maellum]

She's waited too long. The water has always called to her, that barrier between herself and that mysterious land that consumes expeditioners year after year despite once being a part of their home. Once, their world was bigger. Different. In that time, if she were born, would she have been wanted? Kept? Loved?

But the sound of her voice has her turning, eyes wide as Gustave comes into view. She hasn't moved very far from her little den, and there's a railing and discarded rope netting between her and the sea. Left, right, more barrels and broken wood. No easy way to run, and she's not sure she can outrun Gustave with his longer legs. And even if she did run...

All roads lead back to the orphanage. She can guess how this will go: he'll be angry, scruff her and drag her back to their flat, and once Emma gets home they'll decide to drop her off in the morning. So, Maelle stays where she is, watching Gustave with apprehension.

[demainvient]

His steps had slowed as he tried to make out that slight form in the gloom; now they quicken again as he falls into a flat sprint, slipping a little on the damp stones in his haste. "Maelle!"

For a moment he thinks she's going to flee – but then she stays where she is, a tiny pale form in the dark, and he's there in the next heartbeat, skidding to a knee beside her. The cloth of his trousers catches and tears on the rough stone, but he doesn't care, already gathering her up in a rough embrace, arms going around her small frame as he drags her into a hug, pressed right up against his body where his heart is pounding and his breath is coming in quick, rough pants. Putain, she feels so cold –

He's almost shaking, all that fear and worry turned into reaction, but he holds her tight for a moment before getting his hands on her shoulders and pushing himself back to look her over, still worried. "What happened? Are you alright, did you get scared? What–"

No, no. First things first. He unslings her coat from where he'd held it over his arm and lets go of her just long enough to wrap her snugly in the warm material. She's dirty and pale and must be chilled to the bone, but he found her, thank goodness, thank whatever entity might be looking out for them both. "You must be so cold–"

[maellum]

He comes at her so fast Maelle braces for impact, eyes shut and shoulders tensing, but instead of anything painful, she's wrapped in warmth. Held close, she's confused to see that he seems more frightened than angry. Scared rather than upset. Any moment now, and so Maelle says nothing as he hugs her, looks at her. Then, he's draping her coat over her shoulders, and she begins to shake her head.

"I don't need it. You keep it," she says, trying to duck under and away. As if a grown man might have any need for a coat her size. Maelle can't bring herself to look at him and stares down at her shoes. "I left everything as I found it."

[demainvient]

Maelle is loose and pliant for a moment, but only a moment before she's pushing at the coat, stubbornly trying to wriggle out from under it. "Keep it?" he asks, blank. Even after she keeps talking, her gaze downcast, he doesn't understand. "Maelle, don't be ridiculous, it's much too chilly for you to be out here without your coat."

She won't let him put the coat on her, but he wraps it around her slim shoulders anyway, tucking it close and warm around her, his hands rubbing over her upper arms to try and warm her up. "I don't understand why you – left everything as you found it? What do you mean? This is your coat."

[maellum]

This is the worst part. The part where they act like they're not about to reach the end of their rope. So many families seemed fine until it was one disrupted night too many. She's only coaxing it along the natural course.

"The--the gates, at the orphanage, they unlock them at eight," she says, a tremble in her voice. She did really like the bedroom they set up for her. It was so clean and spacious and if not for the nightmares, she knows she would have gotten the best sleep in that bed. "It's too nice for that place. You can keep it for someone else. Someone that's not ruining your life."

Ruining might be a little dramatic.

[demainvient]

There's a shake in her voice, but he doesn't think it's just from the cold, and neither is the stiff way she's holding herself. She sounds like she's barely controlling herself, like maybe she wants to scream or cry, and his heart is ripping in two just to hear that little tremor in her words even before the words themselves process. "The– you want to go back to the orphanage?"

He's surprised, but beneath those startled words wells a slow bubble of distress. What would make her want to go back, was she unhappy, did they do something wrong, does she want to go live with someone else? Except no – she's still talking, that little shake still in her voice as she bravely pushes onward, and Gustave stares at her in outright amazement. "Sorry – wait, wait, wait. Wait. Do you– "

He's frowning, trying to understand, but nothing she's saying is making any kind of sense to him. "Do you think you're ruining my life?"

[maellum]

Hearing go back to the orphanage in his voice stings. But it's a question, and then he's sorry, and others have been sorry too when they've brought her back and walked away. This is different and not simply because Maelle is skipping the song and dance for them. She dares to look at him, her big blue eyes glassy, on the verge of tears.

"I am," she insists quietly. "You don't get to sleep. It's never going to stop."

The nightmares have been with her for as long as she can remember, though the terror in her dreams becomes a blur upon waking. She can never quite recall what it is that frightens her so, and it's been a point of frustration for a number of families. How could anyone expect to help her when she can't name what has her so troubled?

To be fair, Maelle is sure Gustave and Emma were warned.

[demainvient]

Gustave sits back on his haunches, almost dizzy with amazed surprise. She means it, he can tell; she's dead serious even shaking with cold and looking like she might burst into tears at any second. What must it have cost her to come to this decision? How brave to try and do what she thinks is the right thing, when it comes at such a price to herself.

He shakes his head, speechless for a long moment before he reaches to take his scarf out of his own coat pocket where he'd stuffed it, too desperate to get outside and find her to dress appropriately for the damp chill in the air himself. "If my life could be ruined that easily, I'd never have made it past sixteen," he tells her, and puts the scarf around her neck, winding it carefully and tucking it close to block off the chill air from her poor little throat.

Gustave tugs the coat a little more securely over her shoulders, then looks up into her face from where he's kneeling on the cold stones of the walkway. "Why don't we go home and talk about it over something hot to drink, hm? If you... if you still want to go in the morning, then I'll... but let's talk about it, first. Okay?"

[maellum]

He confuses her. This should be what pushes him to decide where she goes, but instead, he's making it sound like it's her decision. The scarf is warm from his pocket, and Maelle glances down at it before looking to Gustave, confused.

"I don't want to go," she says quietly. Vague and unclear given he's talking about going home. It’s not her home. It's his, and Emma's, and she hasn't ever had one. Her brows pinch together, baffled to not be met with frustration. He's being so nice... which he has been, but Maelle knows there's a limit. She finds it with every family.

There's never been any discussion that she's been a part of when it comes to dropping her off at the orphanage.

"Don't... you want me to?"

[demainvient]

She frowns at him, and he waits it out as patiently as he can when he's all but buzzing to get her back to the warm apartment. Her clothes are filthy; had she crammed herself into that narrow little space between the crates this whole time? He shakes his head at that hesitant question, hands firm on her arms. "No, I don't want you to go."

They've only just all started to get used to one another... there's so much still that he wants to give her. A home, yes, with a warm bed and clean clothes that fit and a place at a table where she can eat as much as she wants, but more, too; a place to belong, a family. "I want you to let me take you home and draw you a hot bath, and then I want you to tell me about why you thought you needed to leave."

He arches his brows at her like he might possibly manage a parental enough tone for her to acquiesce and come meekly along — a gossamer dream at the best of times, Maelle might be shy but there's nothing meek about her at all. He draws her coat a little more snugly around her, coaxing her to slide her hand into one arm. "Okay?"

[maellum]

Instead of anger, instead of telling her to gather the few things she has, he's talkimg about hot drinks and hot baths and says he doesn't want her to go. The fact that this is a choice that could be made by someone in charge of her wellfare is astounding. She blinks rapidly, swallowing around a large lump in her throat, but nods. And then she complies, slipping one arm and then the other in her coat.

"I can stay?" She asks, just to be sure. He can always change his mind--they so often do--but Gustave is easy to believe. "You're sure?"

One more out before she starts to let herself realize how cold she feels. Her nose feels like it's not there.

[demainvient]

There's a hanging moment where it seems like she's going to argue more, blinking long lashes over glassy pale eyes, but then she slips her arm into the coat and Gustave could almost melt with relief. He hasn't ruined it after all, hasn't lost her on the very first night he alone was responsible for her.

Everything else can be fixed. He can fix it. That's what he does, isn't it? He nods at her and starts buttoning up that coat, his own fingers a little stiff with the chill. "Yeah, I'm sure. I want you to stay. Emma, too," he adds, a little guiltily; Emma is certainly going to have some choice words for him when she finds out about this little escapade.

Once Maelle is all buttoned up, he sits back, studying her torn and dirty stockings, her pale cold face, and comes to a quick decision, turning on his knee to give her his back. "Come on. How about a ride back?"

It's not that far, but she must be tired. Just as easy for him to carry her back, and it'll keep her warmer, too.

[maellum]

Every word brings her closer and closer to tears. By the time he turns around she can just barely keep them at bay, lips pressed in a thin line. Crying hasn't ever fixed anything. But maybe Gustave can help her fix... whatever is wrong with her, whatever keeps this wall between her and everyone else.

All this, and he offers her a ride. A thing she's seen other children do with their families, and longed for herself. Maelle hesitates and uses a moment to scrub her face--just to be sure there aren't aby stray tears--and ends up with smears of grime along her cheeks from her dirty palms. This can't be real. He's so...

"Okay," Maelle whispers, and when she puts her arms around Gustave's neck, she holds on tightly, with as much strength as she can muster. What's the catch? Where is the disappointment?

"... sorry," she says as soon as she's secure.

[demainvient]

He waits until he feels her little arms lock around his neck, then reaches back to boost her up, looping his arms under her knees until he's wearing her like a backpack. A moment later and he's pushing up to standing, carefully checking his balance so she doesn't get scared. She's still small, light on his back, but he leans forward a little as he starts off, just to help offset his new center of balance.

Her voice is small, but this close to his ear she doesn't need to speak loudly for him to hear. He glances back at her and boosts her up a little further, then shakes his head as he makes his way back up the winding street that will lead them away from the harbor. "I'm just glad you're okay."

That rush of relief hasn't gone anywhere. In fact, it's making his knees feel disconcertingly watery. "I was really worried when I couldn't find you. You're not hurt anywhere, are you? Just cold?"

[maellum]

She can't remember the last time she was carried. Was she, ever? Did her own parents enjoy holding her? It tugs at her heart painfully, and she wonders if this is what having a father is like. Rides and warmth and concern.

"Just cold," she echoes. Less cold with her coat and his scarf. "It's so cold by the water."

She much prefers the harbor during the day. The monolith looms as it ever does, but at night, it feels like the Paintress can actually see her. The thought makes Maelle shiver against Gustave's back, and she ducks her face down to protect her grimy cheeks from the night air.

[demainvient]

Just cold. That's a relief, but only for a moment before it sparks more concern. What if she catches cold? He doesn't know how long she was out here before he found her, but it was at least half an hour. That's enough time to catch a bad chill, and she's already so small and helpless, frail in the way children are even as they seem to be made out of rubber. "Well, we'll get you warm," he promises. A hot bath and bed, maybe... or if she doesn't want to be alone, he could pile blankets and pillows in the living room and make a little fort where she can feel safe.

It's too late to get some chocolate, but they have milk he can warm up and some honey he can use to sweeten it. Maybe that will help calm her.

He's happy enough to put the harbor at their back; the harbor, and the Paintress curled at her Monolith far beyond. It's not close to the Gommage, but no citizen of Lumiere can help but be constantly aware of that glowing number, of the motionless figure beneath it.

Maybe the Expedition this year will succeed. Maybe Maelle will have a chance to not only grow up, but to grow old. "Why... why did you come down here? All the way to the harbor?"

[maellum]

The harbor is where everyone tends to end up, isn't it? Either setting out on their Expedition or meeting the gommage. It's the closest one can get to the continent without leaving Lumière's shores. It's not the first time she's left through a window and ended up there, but Gustave wouldn't know that.

It makes sense to come here but not in any way she can explain.

"I don't know," she says, settling on that. She would have been harder to find in the warehouses or the worse parts of the city, homes and businesses destroyed after the Fracture but rubble left with plenty of spaces she could hide in. "You found me."

He went to the harbor for a reason, too.

"And... you're not mad?"

She asks like she expects it still.

[demainvient]

"Yeah." And isn't that really the only thing that matters? "I guess I did."

If he thinks too much about how easily he could have missed her in the shadows — if he'd gone in the other direction, into the ruins of Lumiere to search fruitlessly among the wreckage — it would freeze him to the bone. He firmly keeps his thoughts on what did happen instead, hiking easily up the gentle sloping street. "And no, I'm not mad."

Desperately relieved, horribly anxious, but there's no trace of anger anywhere in the turmoil of emotions currently running through him. "Mostly I'm sorry you thought you needed to go. I feel like I've let you down already, and it's only been a few weeks."

[maellum]

Maelle shifts, unable to see his face, but his tone sounds sincere enough. Again, she's surprised. No one's ever said that to her before.

"... everyone makes me go eventually," she explains, as if he wasn't aware. She's lost count if how many times she's ended up dropped off at the orphanage. Some families lasted longer than others, but it always ended the same. "It's usually after they're too tired to deal with me anymore."

And Gustave has looked tired. He didn't hear her when she approached him, peered at his face to see if he was truly out like a light.

"It always happens. Eventually," she repeats. She sounds tired, too. She is tired. "I... know I'm weird and difficult. I wish I weren't, but I don't know how to not be."

[demainvient]

He boosts her a little more securely onto his back, taking the turn that leads away from the market square and the street down to the harbor and back towards the apartment that has been his and Emma's since their little family dwindled to only two.

Three, now. He hopes, anyway. "Well, I'm pretty weird, too. And I'm pretty sure some of my friends would call me difficult. Emma, too."

Certainly when he's digging his heels in and being stubborn. "So I think that just means you match."

[maellum]

He makes it sound so simply. So easy. Little does Maelle know, but this is the beginning of Gustave simply making things make sense to her. He's weird, Emma is weird, and he's difficult, and she's weird and difficult and he's not upset with her for running away or keeping him up or making his whole life have to change because she has so much difficulty sleeping through the night.

Her arms tighten around his neck and she breathes in, breath shaky. The effort it's taking to not cry is becoming harder and harder. People have said kind things to her before. No one was especially cruel, and they tried to be patient and understanding and help. But this is the first time it's felt... real.

"Okay," is all she can say without letting the tears bubble out.