AC Syndicate: Isolated Files [OS]

Bed of Roses

(Continuation of Hear the Requiem // Chapter image by myself). "Je dors sur des Roses" from Mozart L'Opéra Rock inspired this text.

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Although the sky was rumbling in the distance, the streets of London were quiet. The few citizens outside were either drunk or seeking the warmth of a woman under the glow of the gas street lamps. Most houses and flats were asleep. But in Jacob Frye's home, only Lydia was sleeping peacefully. Evie's brother was still dressed and up at this hour, suffering from a terrible insomnia. No sooner had he closed his eyes than he saw Victoria's smile across the years. These images had been coming back to him for days, and he knew that if he slept, he would see them again. A terrible pain for the Master Assassin, still active in the Brotherhood. So he had not exchanged his day clothes for his night clothes and had been content to stand in front of the large window in his room.

The rain fell on the glass of the window through which he watched, pensive, a slightly drunken man and woman kissing passionately after laughing out loud. The dagger of nostalgia went through old Jacob's heart. It brought a long sigh through his nose. He remembered being like this with the brunette. Another sigh, but shorter and accompanied by a smile, caused his shoulders to spasm. He had remembered the embarrassing and amusing situation of that evening when he was in the place of those two young people laughing in the rain. But the blade of pain was added to that of nostalgia, forcing him to put his hand on his heart.

Without making a sound, to avoid waking little Lydia, he left his room and went into the hall of his house to get his coat, which he put on. He hesitated to take his top hat, which he had abandoned years ago. But he preferred to be without it and took his sword cane for his safety. Despite the best efforts of the Assassins and Rooks that remained, London and some of its districts were still dangerous. He gently opened the door, revealing the heavy rain. In the distance, he heard the storm, which had gotten a little closer in the meantime. He knew that he was in danger of dying under the downpour that was falling from the sky. He needed to get out. Despite the weather, he put one foot outside, then the other, before gently closing the door.

Jacob stepped on the cobblestones, which were drowned by the lash down. To protect himself a little from the rain, he put on his hood, although it was a precarious protection. He wandered like a ghost haunting the streets until he reached his destination. The shadow arrived at the edge of a cemetery. He paused for a moment before the archway over the half-open gate. His throat tightened, and he slipped through the gap, which was large enough for him to pass without difficulty. He swallowed before resuming his walk through the aisles of grave plots. He went to the one next to a tree, which had existed long before the cemetery was built. It was near this tree that he had to go, to visit the loved one he had lost two years ago. Despite these two years, Jacob could not get used to the absence of the deceased. Everyone around him knew this and left him alone. They all felt for him. The old twin Frye arrived at the grave, where he could read the full name of the deceased, as well as her date of birth and death before this line:

Even in death the love goes on

Under the foliage and branches of the tree, which softened the downpour that continued to fall on the capital, Jacob stood motionless in front of Victoria Reid's grave, his head tilted forward, still covered by the rain-soaked hood.

He took off his hood, as if he didn't want to hide anymore, didn't want to wear a mask. The few drops that fell on his hair — already quite soaked — and on the back of his neck hardly bothered him. His sorrow occupied his mind and especially his heart too much to pay attention to it, although he felt a few beads of water running down the first vertebrae, until his shirt absorbed them.

As one-on-one, with his face uncovered, he respectfully saluted the grave and apologised for such a visit at this late hour and in the rain. Then he justified his presence, although a part of him found it absurd to talk to a grave... He said so aloud, allowing himself to look up, hoping that, despite his scepticism about ghosts and spirits, someone or something would hear him. He lowered his head slightly and closed his eyelids. He sighed before opening his eyes again.

"As I was saying, I couldn't resist coming to see you... so to speak... If you only knew how much I miss you," he breathed as his throat tightened. "I seem to see you everywhere, wherever I am, whenever I am... On missions, at night... I sometimes look back when I'm laughing and wonder if you're laughing with me from where you are."

With his head bowed, he paused to breathe more calmly, so as not to fall to his knees at the grave. A drop of rain mingled with the first tear he allowed to fall. Then he felt something behind him, like a presence. This made him raise his head and look at his shoulder, where he felt as if someone had put a comforting hand on it. But there was nothing. No hand. No man, no woman. Just the trunk of the tree he was standing in front of. He turned towards it and looked from its bare branches to the roots that barely bent the earth. As if he had hoped to see, in the shadows, Victoria's face, hidden under her hood, smiling. He too began to smile, but wistfully, remembering the brunette's smile, which always gave her a mischievous look, the one that said she was up to something bad to mess with the Templars who were trying to take over London and England.

Jacob's smile disappeared. He had just remembered that these images came from the pit of pain that his memory had become. He sighed and turned back to the grave. With his head still bowed, he thought how ridiculous it was that he had reacted to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Despite the Ghost Club's adventures with Charles Dickens and the decades that had passed, he still did not believe in any kind of afterlife. He even thought that, in addition to being old, he was going crazy, even senile. He automatically raised his head to the sky, weeping as much as his heart, and still allowed himself a brief moment to think about this possible afterlife. It was the hope of knowing that Victoria was by his side, beyond death, that pushed him into this little reflection before coming to his senses.

"Jacob..." a voice called quietly from behind him.

The Frye twin gasped and turned towards the source of the voice. His hooded landlady stood next to him, her eyes staring up at the sky as it spilled its tears over London. Then she looked at the Master Assassin, without saying anything.

"What are you doing here, Evie?"

"I should be asking you that question, brother mine" she replied as she covered Jacob's head with his hood.

Despite the years and their age, Evie still treated Jacob like a child, even though he had grown up a lot since they were twenty. Jacob smiled slightly, appreciating her sister's gesture of attention.

"But to answer your question, I did well to teach Lydia how to use a telephone." she said before keep silence for a one or two seconds. "Just in case her grandfather wasn't around to do his stupid things."

Indeed, despite her young age, Lydia had called on her great-aunt with Aleck's invention. The poor little girl wanted her grandfather's reassuring arms to comfort her from a terrible nightmare. But she had not found him. After Evie's answer, Jacob chuckled before losing his smile as he looked again at Victoria's grave.

"I needed to see her... in a way..."

He sighed before admitting to his sister that he couldn't get used to the brunette's absence. Evie's face became sadder. She put her hand on her brother's shoulder. For him, this gesture was more comforting, because he was real and therefore could not doubt his senses or his reason. He knew he could take refuge in his sister's arms if he needed to, and he did so. The four-minute-old brunette wrapped her arms around him. Even though she knew that words were useless to relieve her brother's pain, she comforted him as best she could, snuggling him up against her. After a brief silence, she stepped back from her brother, taking his face in her hands. She looked him straight in the eye, even though the other was under an eye patch.

"Let's go home. I don't want us to catch our deaths."

Jacob nodded, saying nothing. They both looked at Victoria's grave for a few more seconds, for a goodbye, and then they went back to his house to warm up and look after little Lydia Frye, who was wisely waiting for them with the general housekeeper.