Lion Parmi Les Hommes

IX.

"Le passé, même un passé amer, est généralement plus piquant que le présent, ou du moins mieux organisé dans l'esprit."

~Lion Parmi Les Hommes, Gregory Maguire

Marth answered the phone with a tired sigh, rubbing her temple with one hand in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there from too little sleep, "Hello?". The voice that crackled over the receiver was immediately recognizable as that of her best friend, Syd, and so she perked up slightly, chatting idly with her for a few hours as she tidied up as much of the counter as she could while remaining within the bounds of the telephone cord.

Marth was just gathering some old receipts to throw them away, stopping when Syd finished reminiscing about her day to instead recount something she had seen in the paper that morning, "Oh! Did you hear about that missing girl? She lived pretty close to the shop I think, you might've even seen her a few times...I mean obviously not recently because she's missing but maybe a few months ago. She was here with the ballet, they didn't realize she was gone for months because she came from so far away, poor thing".

Marth paused then to think for a moment, she hadn't read about it because she didn't really keep up with the news or papers, "Huh, I didn't hear anything about it, (Y/N) might have though, she's with the ballet. There's a better chance that she knew the girl than I did. Do they have any idea where she is?"

Syd snorted unbecomingly then, "They thought it was the boyfriend, Jean-something or other, but the police are stupid so they let him go once they couldnt find anything. I still think it was him though, it's always the boyfriend".

The sound of the stairs creaking tore Marth's attention away from the conversation and she turned to see (Y/N) trying to stealthily make her way downstairs, "Listen Syd, I have to go but I'll phone you back later tonight".

She hung up without saying any further goodbyes or waiting for a response so that she could hurry over to the stairs in order to try to help (Y/N) down. She was only swatted away with a fond smile, "M, I can get around perfectly fine. My ankle is sprained, not severed".

The taller girl huffed out a breath, "Where are you going anyways? If you needed something from down here I could have just brought it to you"

(Y/N) gave a sheepish wince, knowing that Marth wouldn't be too enthused about her plans for the morning, "I'm just going to Jean-Claude's for a few minutes to get a couple of things that I left behind".

Marth grabbed both of her shoulders gently then, trying to level her eyes with (Y/N)'s, "Did you hit your head or something??? That's such a bad idea for so many reasons! Your ankle is sprained, you shouldn't even be walking honestly. On top of that, Jean hit you, like hell you're going back there alone. And if that still isn't enough, a girl's gone missing and they haven't caught whoever took her and I'll be damned if my stubborn, crippled girlfriend is the next missing girl on a milk carton in this city!"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and patted Marth's cheek before slipping out from under her grasp, "Really, I'll be okay. You worry too much. I'll take a cab, he won't even be there as he always works in his studio on Wednesdays, and nobody would want to kidnap a crippled girl. I'll be back in less than an hour probably", with that said, she kissed Marth's cheek lightly and then continued on her way, letting the door shut behind her with a click. Marth could only shake her head, brows furrowed and lip caught between her teeth in worry.

(Y/N) got into the cab and rattled off the address to the driver, resting her head against the window as the car bumped along the cobblestone paved streets. She wanted to know, the nightmare still fresh in her brain. Had it just been a dream, her skull spilling crimson across the kitchen tile, her flesh burnt to the stove? Or would she unlock the apartment to find the floor stained and the scent of scorched skin still in the air? She half expected that she would walk in to find her own body still sprawled on the ground. She needed to know but she still wasn't sure that she wanted to know. (Y/N) didn't want everything to crumble if she did find herself there, she didn't want her time with Marth to end, and god, who would tell Marth if (Y/N) never came back? She couldn't leave her girlfriend to think she had ditched her for all of eternity without cause or explanation. It was this thought that caused her to speak suddenly as she caught sight of the building looming in the distance, "I'm sorry, can you actually let me out right here?"