Le Marais, Part 5

Previously: Le Marais, Part 4 [U]

Rated: A, for violence.

* * * * *

The sound of Madame Glachant opening the front door and her footsteps on the floor downstairs made both girls jump as though they’d been burnt. Taking a step backwards, Spencer bit her lip and stared at Ashley.

“I should get home, in case my mother wonders where I am.”

The brunette nodded.

“I’m coming with you,” Spencer added. “To the -” As Mme Glachant climbed the stairs, the blonde censored her own sentence, with an added glare from Ashley.

“I’ll walk you home,” Ashley attempted to let the tension out of the air with a smile. Given the look that Ashley’s aunt was giving them, it was difficult. Spencer nodded. The tense atmosphere was starting to make her skin crawl.

They didn’t talk much while walking back to the townhouse which Spencer and her mother occupied. For a start, anything of relevance they had to say couldn’t be said in public and, second, they were both a little caught up in their own heads.

Spencer was relieved to find that there was no-one home. She had no idea where her mother was, probably off with the commandant. It wasn’t a thought which she relished but, at the same time, it allowed her to invite Ashley in.

“Nice house,” the brunette offered.

“When there’s no-one in it, it’s lovely,” Spencer replied dryly. “My mother’s presence doesn’t improve it.”

“You really don’t like her do you?”

“Gee, a traitor to our nation and such a lovely person too.” Spencer almost spat her remark out. “No, I don’t. I don’t like her, I don’t like what she’s doing and I really, really, really don’t like who she’s doing it with.”

“I get that,” Ashley grimaced at her. “I don’t like who she’s doing it with, either.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” the brunette smiled. “What would you like to talk about?”

“How about the railway?”

“How about never in your house?”

“Where then?”

“Tomorrow, after I’ve talked to Jean-Luc.”

Spencer nodded.

“I should get back. Tante will want to know where I am.”

Spencer nodded again.

“Thank you,” Ashley said, her hand on the door, ready to leave.

“What for?” the blonde asked in surprise.

“For being a friend.”

Spencer smiled. “No need to thank me for that.” A shy blush crept across her face. “It’s a genuine pleasure.”

* * *

Mr Ruffles knew that something wasn’t right. He was a pretty savvy elephant when it came down to it. For starters, Elly wasn’t happy. Elly was always happy, except of late when she’d been miserable. When Elly was miserable, Mr. Ruffles was miserable. He was a loyal elephant like that. And Alex was confused which made Humphrey confused. Actually, Humphrey was permanently confused, but Mr Ruffles knew there was more to it this time.

And Ashley was even more miserable than Elly, if that were possible.

It was about Spencer. That was pretty obvious.

Mr Ruffles tucked himself under Spencer’s arm more firmly. He’d been left behind by Elly to look after her mother. Normally, this would have made Mr Ruffles quite riled up. His job was to look after Elly, but if his Elly asked him to look after Spencer, then look after Spencer he would.

Mr Ruffles was a pretty smart elephant like that.

He’d heard what was going on.

Spencer was in a coma.

Mr Ruffles knew what that was.

It was a punctuation mark that separated two clauses or fragments of a sentence.

If he hadn’t been so determined to stay where he was and look after Spencer like he’d promised he would, then he probably would have taken himself off to Grammarland and kicked some punctuation butt. At least until the coma that was attacking Spencer relented and they could all go back to being a happy family.

He’d take Humphrey with him. He was an amiable gnu and quite good company; when he wasn’t asking stupid questions, that was.

Mr Ruffles sighed.

Things could be a lot better, under the circumstances. But he had a job to do. His job was to look after Spencer. Very carefully, he placed his trunk across Spencer’s arm and cuddled in closer.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

“Ashley, it’s been weeks. We have to do something.”

“I’m starting to agree with you.”

The girls were sitting out in a field, watching the grass ripple in the summer breeze. It was an entirely foolhardy thing to do, given what was going on around them. It was clear that the war might come to an end soon. The Germans were in a panic and there was fear in the air. Hanging around in the open was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“They’re waiting,” Ashley said after a while.

“For what?”

“The right moment.”

“There’s a right moment to blow up a railway line?” Spencer asked in amused tone.

“Well, sure. When it’s surrounded by men with machine guns is usually a bad time.”

Spencer giggled. Glancing over at the brunette, she had to hold back a sigh. Here in the sun, the other girl’s curls were shining burnished mahogany. She was beautiful. Spencer was already well aware of that fact, but suddenly it was all around her. The stark shot of emotion that ran through her was something completely new. It tingled down her spine and shot out along her limbs, causing frissons of sensation and goose bumps in its trail.

Spencer swallowed convulsively and stood up, brushing off her trousers. She was suddenly very uncomfortable and considerably nervous.

“We, uh, we should head back to town.”

Ashley looked up at her questioningly and then shrugged. “If you say so.”

They wandered back to town slowly, Spencer acutely aware of the other girl’s hand dangling ever so close to her own.

“Did you talk to Jean-Luc?” she asked. They were still a way from the outskirts of town, and the blonde felt safe enough to talk.

“As I said, they’re waiting for the right time.”

“When is the right time again?”

“When we most need it, I suppose. There’s no reason to blow it up if the Germans are just going to rebuild it before the Allies get here.”

“Fair point.” Spencer sighed. “God, I wish they would already. I feel like we’re walking on glass every day.”

“We practically are.”

They were approaching more built-up areas and both girls went silent on the subject of anything remotely revolutionary.

Spencer left Ashley at the bakery with a smile. It made her feel positively empty to do so, but the more time they spent together, the more paranoid Mme Glachant got. Spencer was never going to be a traitor to Ashley and her friends. As far as she was concerned, they were already more family than her mother was anyway. Unfortunately, her mother was in attendance at home when she arrived. And she was in high dudgeon to boot.

“Where have you been?” the blonde woman demanded as Spencer came through the door.

“Out,” her daughter replied sourly.

Paula, as always, was perfectly coiffured. Her face was unlined, in complete denial of her age. She definitely did not look like she had a daughter of Spencer’s years. She completed her youthful demeanour with a perfect stylish wardrobe and attitude.

Spencer hated her.

“With that baker girl?” Paula sneered.

“She’s my friend.”

“She’s not good enough to be your friend,” Paula countered, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the stair banister.

“You’re not good enough to be my mother, but we can’t be choosy.” Spencer narrowed her eyes. Pushing past her mother, she ran up to her room and slammed the door. Her heart was beating frantically, a common symptom of her arguments with her mother. Either that, or it was a symptom of her morning spent with Ashley.

She hid out in her room, reading and staring out the window, until she heard the welcome sound of her mother leaving. It was early evening and Spencer was well aware as to where she was going: the commandant’s residence. That thought brought another sneer to Spencer’s normally beautiful face. Still, it allowed her to leave her room and at least spend some time in the rest of the house.

She’d been sitting downstairs, reading in the waning evening light, for about half an hour when there came a frantic knocking on the door. At first, she was so surprised that she merely looked up, shocked. When the knocking repeated itself, Spencer made her way to the front door cautiously.

She opened the door a fraction to find Ashley jumping up and down on the doorstep. The brunette pushed her way past the blonde and came in. As the door closed, the girl exploded in low whispered excitement.

“The Allies, they landed at Marseilles days ago!”

“What?”

“They’re carving their way up through the countryside. They’re coming, Spencer. They’re actually coming.” The blonde’s eyes opened wide as Ashley took a deep breath and turned to her. “Tonight. We have to destroy the railway tonight.”

* * *

Ashley propped her feet up on Spencer’s bed and opened the newspaper.

“Front page is pretty boring again,” she said casually to the still unconscious form in the bed. “Some jerk in Washington is being impeached because he’s done something illegal. What’s new?” She rifled through the pages. She’d taken to reading Spencer various bits of the New York Times every day. It helped pass the time and, besides, Ashley held out the hope that Spencer could actually hear something. Ashley wanted to keep her in touch with what was happening in the world. Of course, nothing of interest was actually happening. That sucked. Ashley turned to the entertainment news.

“So Paris Hilton is dating someone else named after a European city… no surprise there… I’m waiting for her to marry Montevideo or something like that…. Let’s see, let’s see… Nicole Ritchie is thinner than a piece of cardboard, Lindsay Lohan is high on coke and Brangelina are trying to adopt a baby from Mars.”

She looked up from her reading. Spencer hadn’t moved. Ashley sighed and put the paper down next to her chair, leaned forward and laced her fingers through the blonde’s. “You don’t care, do you?” Spencer didn’t respond. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Is she answering you yet?” Spencer’s nurse called out from the open door in an amused tone.

“Nah,” Ashley grinned. “But she’s just waiting till I say the right words.”

“It’s not a code, honey. There’s no magic word.”

Ashley grimaced. “Great. There goes that idea.” She looked down at their linked hands and frowned. “She’s moving.” She said the words cautiously, as though she couldn’t quite believe it.

The nurse came further into the room, looking both surprised and alarmed. Ashley looked back at Spencer’s hand, which was starting to shake. Then the tremors moved, flowing up the blonde’s arm and racking her whole body. Ashley jumped up, knocking her chair over and crying out in distress. The nurse rushed past her, hitting the red button on the wall and grabbing the IV pole by the side of the bed.

Before the brunette knew it, the room was full of people, all fussing over Spencer, who was jerking and shaking in the bed. Ashley could hear their words, though it all sounded like it was coming to her through water. She didn’t understand a thing they were saying. Seizures, blood pressures: it was all going over her head. She was slowly but surely pushed out of the room by various people.

Before long, there was nearly a groove in the floor of the corridor outside. It seemed like hundreds of different people were flowing in and out of the room. Then, finally, the door flew open with a bang against the wall. Spencer’s bed was rushed out and down the corridor before Ashley could even open her mouth. Her girlfriend, surrounded by a bevy of very frantic, worried-looking people, just disappeared.

By the time Ashley made it to the nurses’ station, the staff there were all wearing guarded, if sympathetic looks.

“What -”

“Come sit down, honey,” the kind nurse who Ashley knew as Mary said.

“Is she okay?”

“Not sure. They need to do a few more tests, a few things.” Mary patted her shoulder and sat next to her.

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you that, hon,” Mary grimaced.

“But you know I’m…”

“I know, dear, I know. And once her family gets here, you know we’ll tell you everything.”

“Her family,” Ashley echoed hollowly.

“We called her mother,” Mary said, patting Ashley on the knee this time. “She’ll be here soon.”

Ashley trailed back to Spencer’s room and found it too empty to sit in. She instead perched on a chair outside and stared at the floor incomprehensibly. Everything was whirling around inside her head, thoughts flying far too fast to pay attention to any of them. She had no idea how long it was before a very frightened-looking Paula came rushing down the corridor. She looked at Ashley and Ashley stared back at her.

“They took her. I don’t know how long ago. Away. They didn’t say. They wouldn’t tell me.” Ashley’s fractured words fell out of her mouth.

The older blonde’s mouth became a thin line, and she too disappeared down the corridor. Ashley stared after her and then sat back down. There was too much happening, too much for her to understand. She didn’t have the energy to chase after anyone and she knew it wouldn’t help anyway.

Paula reappeared not long after she’d left and sat down next to Ashley. They sat, side-by-side, quietly for a few moments before Spencer’s mother spoke.

“It seems she’s had a bleed into her brain.”

Ashley’s heart froze. No words formed on her lips. She was dumbstruck.

“She’s in theatre now, but there’s not much more they can tell me.” Paula went quiet.

It took some effort, but Ashley managed to lift her head to look at the blonde lady sitting next to her. Suddenly, the brunette could see the innate similarities between Paula and Spencer and it burned her. The older blonde looked both frightened and tired, mirroring the emotions flowing through Ashley herself. But the next move surprised her the most. Paula reached across and grabbed Ashley’s hand, squeezing it tight. The blonde’s eyes squeezed shut, clearly holding back tears.

And together they waited.

* * *

Spencer trailed along behind the group with a hell of a lot of apprehension bubbling through her veins. They were creeping silently along dusty road, sticking to the brush-riddled irrigation ditch that wound its way alongside. Six of them made up the rag tag party: Ashley, Spencer, Jean-Luc and three men Spencer had never seen before. Clearly Michel, a tall, blond man with ice in his eyes, was the group leader. He was the first person that Spencer had met who had so much control that he didn’t have to bark his orders, he just let them whisper out and the other four scurried to do his bidding. The blonde girl didn’t trust him, but she followed him.

They were a large group for such a covert mission and that became clear to everyone quite quickly. Michel whispered some more orders and they split into two groups. Suddenly, Spencer found herself with Ashley – thank God! – and Michel.

They approached the railway from the west. The plan, as Spencer understood it, was to set the explosives on two points roughly a mile-and-a-half apart. By doing it well away from the station or any crossing houses, they ran less risk of being caught. Of course, by doing it out in the open, once the explosions actually went off, they would all be at risk.

Spencer knew she shouldn’t be there. She’d argued and argued with Ashley and finally pointed out that she’d have to be tied up to stop her coming because there was no way she was being left behind. Ashley had regarded her in silence for long moments before shrugging, and so it was that Spencer was with them. Michel hadn’t looked too happy about that.

The blonde was determined to be of use. She’d been of use before, hadn’t she, when she’d saved Jean-Luc. Maybe her lips could come in handy again. Maybe she could kiss Ashley this time.

Oh, where had that thought come from?

As they crept through the countryside quietly, Spencer felt an unfamiliar tingle spread through her body. It was really a very inappropriate time to be having such thoughts. She shook her head and tried to get herself back into concentration mode, where she could actually be of some use. Some non-kissing use.

They were getting closer to their destination, and Spencer could practically smell the fear coming off of the three of them. She was fairly sure that she was producing most of it. Little Spencer Carlin, quiet good girl. This was so not her. This was not what she did. She didn’t rebel against the forces that held them; she just went about her business. What had changed? Why was she out there, in the middle of nowhere, with an angry partisan fighter and a gorgeous girl who was also a partisan fighter?

She had no idea.

Michel held up a hand and they all stopped. In the simmering warmth of an August night, Spencer could hear a medley of sounds that all washed over her: the crickets chirping and the mountain owls creaking as they flew down off of the peaks to find field mice and other delicacies. Ashley’s soft, soft breathing as it puffed in and out of her chest drowned all else out, though, and Spencer watched the brunette’s lips in the moonlight. But she knew that it was a very bad time to start thinking like that.

Michel’s hand flicked, urging them on once more, and Spencer was again thrown back into her own fear.

The part of the railway they were heading toward was a thin mound that twisted its way alongside the same swamp that Spencer had found herself in unexpectedly just a few months previously. Whoever had built the railway had raised the line well above the swamp in a strip that was merely fifteen feet wide. While it was the perfect place to blow the line, sending whatever was travelling along straight into the swamp, it was also wide out in the open. On one side was the swamp, on the other side, a sweeping field that flooded during rainstorms.

In the dark, with the warm plateau breeze sweeping across and rippling the reeds on the swamp, it was beautiful. And scary as hell.

They crouched by the side of the field, breathing softly. Silence seemed an agreement that had never been mentioned, but was unanimous. Michel grabbed the bag from his back and gave it to Ashley. Crooking his finger, he motioned for Spencer to follow him.

The blonde moved off uneasily. She didn’t really like the idea of going with Michel or of leaving Ashley. She didn’t trust the man as far as she could kick him. Plus, when she was this scared, she needed the familiar calming presence of the other girl. No such luck.

She crouched next to the stern man and watched as Ashley scrambled up the embankment and to the line. She watched her warily through wide eyes as the brunette worked fast. Everything was quiet and still below, until, behind Spencer and Michel, something flared. It was a long way away, somewhere on the other side of the field towards Annecy, but it was enough to startle both of them into movement.

“Up,” Michel hissed. “Up and over.”

Together, they scrambled up the embankment to find Ashley shoving the last of whatever it was she was using into a bag. She looked at them with a grim expression. Silently, the three of them made their way down the other side and moved around the side of the swamp.

“When does it go?” Spencer murmured as softly as possible.

“When I tell it to.” The reply came through the night from the deep, almost vibratory tones of the man with them.

Spencer had been expecting Ashley to reply and was surprised. She also really didn’t like the tone in which it had been said. There was something ominous about Michel’s words and his demeanour.

They kept moving around the edges of the swamp, keeping out of the water as well as possible. When Michel stopped, they stopped. After a couple of minutes, Spencer couldn’t handle the silence any more and opened her mouth to speak.

“What are we waiting for?” Ashley’s beautiful lilt whispered through the dark, asking the question Spencer had been about to voice.

“Till it’s time,” Michel replied shortly.

They stared at him.

“Michel, what are we waiting for?” Ashley’s voice was a lot steelier this time.

“For the goddamned train, what do you think we’re waiting for?”

Spencer clutched at Ashley’s arm. “That wasn’t the plan.” Spencer was whispering, but she felt like she’d absorbed some of Ashley’s steel.

“Are you crazy?” Ashley was a little less calm. “You’re not blowing up the fucking train!”

“This is a war, in case you hadn’t noticed. Or are you particularly fond of locomotives?”

“That train driver is going to be French, not German,” Ashley hissed back. “You’re doing nothing to help here. The idea is to blow the line so they notice, so they can’t use it, not so we kill our own people.”

Michel said nothing, but he tightened his grasp on the backpack that he had somehow reacquired from brunette.

“I’m going back there to set it off,” Ashley growled, but was stopped by a firm hand on her arm. She shook it off.

“You go up there and I’ll set it off with you on top of it,” Michel said in menacing low tones.

Spencer found herself moving forward almost by instinct, her fist raised in anger. If she had her way, it would soon be connecting with the man’s nose. A shot in the distance stopped them all from their movements. Another rang out, followed by a third. Then the ratter-tatter of a machine gun stuttered through the dark, sending off sparks in the distance. They all looked up.

“Jean-Luc,” Michel muttered.

“Shit!” the girls swore softly in unison.

Spencer wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but somehow Ashley was racing off in the distance, along the edge of the swamp. The blonde started after her but was jerked abruptly back by Michel’s arm.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Run the other way, NOW.”

Spencer looked at him, blue eyes boring into blue eyes, moonlight shining in both.

“Fuck you,” Spencer replied clearly.

And then the bomb went off.

The ripple of air that blasted out from the site made Spencer’s eyes water and she had to take a step back. That step led straight to the edge of the swamp and she scrambled to stay upright. She failed. Flailing, she fell backwards into the swamp and found herself in a foot of water. She was about to get up when she heard trucks screaming up the road, coming towards them. It sounded as if others were also speeding towards the other explosion that had rocked the night in the distance.

She had no way to get out of there. If she was found on the road, she’d be dead within seconds, or taken in, at any rate. That would mean a slow painful death over days. She had nowhere to go.

To her right, a splash resounded. Spencer rapidly moved her way back into the swamp, deeper into the water. Shaking, she perched as quietly as she could with her head amongst the reeds and tried not to die.

* * *

In the depths of the dark, something stirred.

It was throbbing, almost painful.

As it drifted closer, it became a ball of red light, glowing like an ember as it floated and neared. It stood in front of her, angry and full of seething hate. There was nothing she could do to fend it off.

Flailing her arms about, she managed to hit it, sending the ball flying off into the distance; into the darkened chasm, it flew.

Colours swirled, once again a pulsating rainbow of pain.

Nothing was ever going to be the same.

Nothing good could come of this.

Nothing was going to change.

Another ball approached.

It was not angry.

It was not cautious.

It was not timid or curious or melancholy.

It was powerful and strong. It glowed with a silvery sheen that looked like mercury and tasted bitter.

She swallowed back her bile.

This, this thing was better than her. It was teeming with the self-satisfied air of something that knew everything and also knew that she knew nothing.

It spoke: You are nothing.

She opened her mouth to respond, but her throat was too dry. No words would come.

You are less than nothing.

A fear rose in her throat with acid intent.

You do not deserve her.

She didn’t.

You deserve nothing but pain.

It was true.

And that’s all you’re going to get. Ashley… Ashley… Ashley.

“Ashley.”

The brunette jumped, her eyes flickering before her focus fell on Arthur Carlin. Groggily, she pushed herself up until she was slightly less slumped in the chair.

“Sorry,” she croaked.

He sat down next to her and handed over a take-away coffee cup filled with latte-type goodness.

“Bad dream?”

“Depends what you mean,” she grimaced. “What I was having when I was asleep or what I’m waking up to.”

Arthur gave her a humourless yet understanding smile.

“Spencer?” she asked without hope.

“She’s out of surgery.”

Ashley sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as her heart started to race. “And?”

“And she’s in ICU. She’s okay for the moment.”

Ashley swallowed and Arthur sighed. She’d never seen him so drawn or unhappy. He was always the hopeful one, the cheerful one. That day, however, it had all left him.

“She’s breathing on her own, which is good. They’ll keep her in a coma for awhile.”

“But that’s good, right?” Ashley took a cautious sip of her coffee and then felt her heart plummet when she saw his expression.

“They, they don’t know.” Arthur rubbed his forehead. “Ashley, she had a bad bleed in her head.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that,” he sighed again, “they fixed it. They stopped it bleeding and they released the pressure but -”

Oh God, that ‘but’.

“They don’t know how long she went without oxygen to parts of her brain and the pressure… Ashley, no-one knows if she’ll wake up.”

She was going to throw up. Right there, right then, Ashley was going to hurl, possibly even into her coffee cup.

“Oh God.”

“And if she does -”

“When she does,” Ashley corrected pointedly. Arthur looked at her. She knew what she’d said and how ridiculous it was, especially in the face of everything that Arthur had just stated, but she was holding on to her hope. It was pretty much all she had left to hold on to.

“There could be brain damage. They say there probably will be brain damage.” He sounded so flat.

“Brain damage.” Ashley was now just a little too far gone to vomit. “Brain damage…”

Arthur put his hand on her arm and squeezed gently.

“How much? How much damage? Are we talking permanent, are we -”

“Ashley,” Arthur interrupted her hysterical torrent with another squeeze. “Ashley, hon, we can’t know until she wakes up.”

“But, this will fix the coma, right?” So close to tears, she was so close.

Arthur shook his head sadly. “She was in the coma before the bleed, and the bleed is recent.”

“So she might… she might still be in the coma? Even after all of this?”

“Yeah.”

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut, leaning forward and trying to breathe. “So what do we do?”

Arthur looked straight ahead, his hand steady on her arm.

“We wait.”

* * * * *

Next up: Part 6 [X, for sex]