Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Gankutsuou Reborn ❯ A Sunday Interlude ( Chapter 4 )

CHAPTER FOUR: A Sunday Interlude

Albert had little time to lament the mistakes he had made during his first encounter with the enigmatic Etienne Delacroix. The minute he sat down at his desk at the Embassy, he was immediately inundated by mountain upon mountain of paperwork that, soon, he could not even see his office door from the towering stacks. Albert had a nagging suspicion that much of the paperwork did not belong to his predecessor, and he was right. After reviewing each document, he sent them back to their respective departments, giving each head complete authority to act on these documents within the boundaries of their duties. Beyond that, they were to be sent directly to him. It was a move that surprised everyone. Apparently, the former ambassador distrusted his Luna employees, thinking them to be of the same ilk as the cutthroats roaming the streets. In five days time, Albert had the Embassy running like a well-oiled machine and, to his relief, his paperwork had been whittled down to two to three folders on his desk.

When Sunday at last arrived, Albert found himself sitting in a pew of the crowded little church of the Order of Poor Clares. The nuns sat behind a lattice partition. Still, he could see Sister Bertrille sitting right in front, giving him a smile and a small wave before glaring back at the empty seat in the choir box. Even the orphans, dressed in pure white robes, were anxiously awaiting their soloist.

Feeling rather stifled, Albert loosened his bowtie by running his finger under it. He did not lie to the good nun that he was not a regular churchgoer. His aversion began when he attended Franz's funeral. Back then, it had been difficult for him to accept that it was his best friend lying in repose inside that coffin. It was still the same even now. Every church he went to, all he could remember was Franz dead in a satin-lined box.

Albert squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to block out that memory from his mind. He wanted to remember Franz when he was still alive, certainly not in death.

Believing that he had calmed down enough, he slowly opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a shocking sight.

A young man stood beside the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Baby Jesus. A man with golden hair. There was a charming smile on his face as he waved to Albert.

There was no mistaking that handsome face.

"FRANZ!" Albert leaped to his feet, startling his seatmate. But the young man he had glimpsed was no longer there. In his place was a couple who, Albert realized, had been standing there since he entered the church. He sat down with a disheartened sigh. Franz was dead. How long would it take for him to get over the guilt and the pain?

The ringing of the bells and chimes marked the beginning of the Mass. As he stood up, he noticed that Sister Bertrille had a dark scowl on her face. Then, the children started to sing the entrance hymn, a song called "Sing A New Song." Father Tretini, together with the altar boys, marched solemnly towards the altar.

So, Albert mused in dismay, he's not coming after all.

Then, a voice rose from the back of the small church, its richness causing the disharmonious melodies of the churchgoers to fall silent. The crowd at the opposite aisle parted like the Red Sea, allowing a very familiar figure to stride towards the choir box. Even with each swift step, not once did his voice tremble. When Etienne Delacroix took his place, every man, woman and child had a smile on his or her lips, with Albert's smile being the brightest of them all.

When the opening song ended, Father Tretini cocked his head in the direction of the singer and remarked good-naturedly, "You're late today, Etienne. How about I make your Penance that you sing with me in this Mass' Traditional form?"

Etienne took the thick Missal that was being offered to him by a little girl, but not before giving a sharp glare to Sister Bertrille, who was smiling smugly in the nun's box. "I'll try my best, Father."

As he raised his head, his eyes met Albert's, who mouthed the encouraging words, "You can do it!" Etienne lifted the book to his face to hide the becoming blush on his cheeks.

The next hour and a half, Albert believed himself to be in Heaven. The Holy Mass never failed to drive him into nodding slumber. But not this particular Mass. Somehow, with the magic of his voice, Etienne had revitalized the little church. All sat bright and alert. Father Tretini's sermon was riddled with ribald jokes, reducing everyone to laughter, including Sister Bertrille whose guffaw nearly shocked the novices out of their habits.

When Etienne sang, however, everyone listened. The singer himself appeared to be deep in contemplation, eyes closed and hands clasped before his chest in prayer. Sometimes, he would raise his hands, palms up, as though offering the prayers of all present to the Almighty. God would certainly be deaf if he could not hear the sincerity and earnestness in that enchanting voice.

It was after Communion that Albert was jolted by another surprise. At the urging of Father Tretini, Etienne took his place before the altar. A small shake of his head was signal enough for the organist not to accompany him on the song he had chosen to perform.

There was a moment's silence, and then Etienne began to sing…

Ave Maria, gratia plena.
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus,
dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus,
et benedictus
et benedictus fructus ventris
ventris tui, Jesus.
Ave Maria.

Sancta Maria,
ora pro nobis,
nobis peccatoribus,
nunc et in hora
mortis nostrae.
Amen

Albert felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. The "Ave Maria" had been Franz's favorite song. The one song that soothed the troubled heart of a young man who blamed himself for his father's tragic demise.

The hymn's effect on Albert was totally different. It stirred memories inside his mind that he did not want to remember.

A bitter fight between two friends…

A brief reconciliation…

A huge sword being plunged hard and deep into the heart…

His one, true friend dying in his arms…

Albert was unaware that he was panting heavily, his tears pouring like rain down his face. All he could see was Franz's smiling face as he bled to death.

"Franz! Franz!" Albert muttered his beloved friend's name, as he bent over. "I'm so sorry! It's because of me that you died! I killed you!"

Suddenly, everything became a blinding white that he pressed his hands to his face to shield his eyes from the glare. With Etienne's voice wrapping its melody around his wounded heart, Albert heard Franz's laughter in his ears.

"Stop blubbering like an idiot, Albert!" Franz scolded him with his usual good cheer. "You're making him cry!"

At that remark, Albert's eyelids fluttered open to behold dim shadows looking down at him. Only one face was clearest to him, like the morning sun – Etienne's. Concern furrowed the singer's brow. As Franz had said, Luna's Nightingale was in tears.

The face of Sister Bertrille popped up beside the singer's. "Albert, are you all right? Heavens, you gave all of us quite a fright when you fainted!"

A choked sob escaped Etienne's lips. Pressing his hands over his mouth, he pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and fled.

"ETIENNE!" Albert struggled to get to his feet, but dizziness made him fall back into the seat.

"You must rest, my son," Father Tretini advised kindly. "Give yourself a little time to recover."

"No, I'm fine, Father," Albert said as he stood up with the help of two kind gentlemen. "Please! I must go after Etienne!"

"He is probably in the garden near the fountain with the statue of St. Michael," Sister Bertrille suggested. Pointing to the door beside the nun's box, she said, "You can go through there."

Although still a bit wobbly, Albert headed straight for the door. It was not difficult to find the singer. The wails of children were all too audible, as well as Etienne's frantic pleas, "Please stop! I promise I won't cry again!"

As Albert emerged into the garden, he saw Etienne sitting on the edge of the fountain, surrounded by little children, all of them not more than seven years old. They were huddled around Etienne like chicks. But as he took one approaching step towards them, the children turned as one in his direction, bloody murder written on their tiny faces.

A little boy, who couldn't be more than five years old, stormed towards Albert. Pointing a finger at the startled young man, he shrieked accusingly, "You made my Etienne cry!" and he stomped his heel down hard on Albert's toe.

Etienne was horrified by the move. "Pierre! Stop tha–"

However, another little girl shouted with bloodthirsty glee, "KILL THE BAD MAN!"

Before Albert knew what was happening, he was desperately dodging well-aimed kicks and punches to his groin and legs. Wanting to get away, he ran all over the garden with the children in hot pursuit. Etienne, who was too stunned to act, winced as Sister Bertrille's prized petunias were trampled under foot.

"WAIT! STOP! I SURRENDER!" Albert cried, waving his hands frantically in the air.

To his dismay, the children's counter cry was still, "KILL THE BAD MAN! HE MADE ETIENNE CRY!"

Albert knew where salvation lay, and he headed straight in the direction of the singer, who was, by now, reduced to laugher.

"ETIENNE! HELP ME!"

Etienne's mismatched eyes flew wide, seeing Albert running towards him. "NO! STOP! STAY AWAY!"

But it was too late to stop. Albert barreled into the singer, sending them falling into the fountain with a loud splash. With Albert a heavy weight above him, Etienne found himself submerged underneath the water. Lack of air made him sit up abruptly, mouth opening to breathe…only to have his lips meet a startled Albert's mouth.

Both men were shocked to immobility, the beating of their hearts like thunder in their ears. Instinct was screaming for them to end this accidental kiss, but a much stronger force would not permit their lips to part. It was Albert who surrendered to the needs of his lonely heart. Gripping Etienne's arms, he leaned forward and deepened the kiss.

Albert was shoved back and a hard slap was delivered on his cheek. Etienne was leaning against the statue, breathing heavily.

"How dare you!" the singer exclaimed in fury. "I had hoped you would be different from the others! You're all the same! You all want the same thing from me! None of you care about what I feel!"

"No, you're wrong! I never…" Albert knelt before the angry singer, ignoring the fish that were nipping on his legs. "Forgive me, Etienne. I got carried away and I…"

"Are you going to betray me again, Albert de Morcerf?"

Albert gasped at that muttered query. As he lifted his head, for a brief moment, he thought he saw the singer's eyes glowing with an unearthly light.

Seizing Etienne's shoulders, Albert demanded, "What did you say?"

Anger was instantly replaced by fear. "I…I don't know," Etienne stammered, shocked by the sudden change in demeanor in the other man. "I didn't say anything!"

"Yes, you did!" Albert said this with empathic shakes, causing droplets of water to fly from Etienne's dripping mane. "You called me by another name! Tell me what it is that you called me!"

Desperate to get an answer out of the now terrified singer, Albert did not notice the children run off, screaming for Sister Bertrille.

Tears filled Etienne's eyes as he gazed at the young man before him. "I'm so sorry, Albert! It's all my fault! The 'Ave Maria', my voice…it brought back painful memories, didn't it? That's why you fainted. That's why you're angry with me now. I thought I'd make you happy but instead I… I won't sing it ever again! I swear I won't!"

Albert was seized by guilt and remorse, as he carefully released the trembling singer. What had he done? What he saw earlier could simply be a trick of the bright sunlight. This weeping young man could not be Gankutsuou.

Slowly, so as to not slip in the water, Albert stood up. He held out his hand to the distraught singer, a gentle smile on his face. "We'd better get out of this fountain or we'll both catch a cold."

Etienne hesitated for a minute before tentatively laying his fingertips on that offering hand. Albert's grasp was warm as his fingers closed around the singer's hand, and pulled him out of the fountain.

Sister Bertrille feared murder and mayhem when she arrived at the garden, the children following close behind her together with two nuns. What she saw in the garden filled her heart with joy.

Albert sat at the fountain's edge, his arms wrapped around Etienne, whose head was laid on the young man's chest, his tears glistening like gems on his blue-tinged skin. Albert was soothing the singer with gentle strokes through his luxurious tresses.

"Get some towels, Sisters," the Mother Superior ordered the two nuns. Turning to the children, she ordered, "Come with me."

"But Sister…Etienne…" they were about to argue.

Sister Bertrille shook her head. With a reassuring smile, she said to them, "Let's leave Etienne alone, little ones. Let him be with his Raoul."

~~~~~~~~~~

"I remembered my best friend, Etienne. A very dear friend who loved the 'Ave Maria' with a passion."

The two men sat on a bench underneath a weeping willow in the garden, bundled up in large, thick towels.

Etienne looked at Albert meaningfully. "You must've loved him very much."

"That's the problem. I did not love him enough." That painful admission just burst out of his mouth. "That's why he's dead."

"Albert…"

"I never knew that his love for me was more than that of a friend. I broke off with him, because he dared to speak ill of another whom I admired and, yes, learned to love." Tears fell from Albert's eyes. "When I finally found out the truth…Franz…he took my place in a duel that I had instigated. I saw Franz die at the hands of the man I had given my heart to!"

Etienne was stunned by Albert's confession. He never knew that this cheerful young man held such deep wounds inside his heart.

Albert continued, "It's been seven years, but the guilt remains. I try to remember the happy times of our youth, but I keep going back to that image of him lying in a coffin." He shook his head furiously. "I don't want to remember Franz in death!"

"How did he look inside his coffin?"

Albert was taken aback by that soft query. " What…do you mean?"

"His face, Albert," Etienne prodded patiently. "What did you see when you looked down at his face?"

It tore at Albert's heart to remember. "Franz…it's like he was only sleeping. There was even a hint of a smile on his lips. He looked so…" He never finished what he was going to say as the point the singer was trying to make was driven home to him.

"He looked as though he were at peace," Etienne concluded for him. "That meant he had accomplished his mission in this life, and that is to protect you. Yes, he sacrificed his life, but in my eyes, he is a hero, a noble hero who had been gifted with eternal happiness in the presence of the Almighty." The singer gave Albert a thoughtful smile. "Think of your friend as merely sleeping in a soft bed. Our time here on Earth is as brief as a silent night in eternity. Tomorrow, you'll be sure to see Franz again. All you have to do is just wait and hope."

Albert found himself staring at that beaming face. Wait and hope…the same advice that the Count of Monte Cristo had given to him. Etienne was so like the Count….

"Is something wrong, Albert? You're starting to scare me again."

Hearing the nervous tremor in the singer's words roused Albert from his thoughts. "Forgive me, Etienne. I was just feeling a bit embarrassed to ask this of you, but… Would you please sing the 'Ave Maria' again?"

"But Albert…"

"It's not for me. It's for Franz. Wherever he is, I'm sure he would love to hear you sing it. I promise I won't faint this time."

That heartfelt request touched Etienne's heart. Clearing his throat, he straightened up and sang. Knowing now the story of the two star-crossed friends, he conveyed all of Albert's emotions in every note of the solemn hymn.

Albert loves you deeply, Franz, and he misses you very much, Etienne let these words fill his heart and his song. Please, Franz. Continue to watch over him. Help him to recover from the pain of your loss.

:I never knew…I'm sorry…:

Etienne's voice nearly faltered at the sudden entry of that thought inside his mind. Where had it come from, and why was he feeling guilt and regret?

Probably sensing his hesitation, Albert took Etienne's hands, cupping them between his palms. For a moment, their eyes met. As the song drew to a soft close, Albert slowly leaned forward, his lips slightly parted. Etienne found himself moving as well, closing the distance between them. Then, as their lips met in a tender kiss, their surroundings faded into the ether. Nothing else existed, except for the two of them, the fluttering of their hearts, and the sweet pressure of their lips.

It was Albert who broke the kiss with much reluctance. Etienne's cheeks were rosy, his eyes wide and bright, as his fingertips touched his flushed lips.

"Thank you, Etienne," Albert said with all sincerity. "Thank you so much!"

From the garden door, a nun suddenly called out, "Etienne! Monsieur Tintoretto has arrived to pick you up!"

"Please tell him I'll be right there," Etienne replied, his mismatched eyes still fixed on Albert's sky blue orbs.

As the nun left, the singer stood up, only to have Albert seize his right hand. "When will I see you again?"

"Sunday…if my Master permits it…."

"Let me escort you to the front gate at least."

Etienne, however, shook his head. "No, please don't. It would be better if Monsieur Tintoretto did not see you. I promise I'll do everything I can to be here on Sunday."

The singer pulled his hand out of Albert's grasp as he ran for the door. Reaching the doorway, he paused.

"Albert…" Etienne began haltingly. "The man who killed Franz… Where is he now?"

That question took Albert by surprise. "He is…dead."

"I'm glad," Etienne said firmly, the relief obvious in his voice. "I don't think I could forgive the man who killed your best friend and broke your heart."

Etienne did not wait for Albert's reply as he hurried to the front gate where he knew Tintoretto was waiting for him impatiently. Passing through the church, he somehow glanced at the image of the Blessed Virgin and Her Child. A blond haired young man stood beside the statue, clapping his hands. Strange, the singer thought, that he could not hear those hearty claps. As he neared the doors of the church, the young man bowed to him graciously.

"Thank you…" Etienne heard a warm, gentle voice inside his head. To these two words, three more were added, "…And I promise."

"ETIENNE!"

Tintoretto's sharp voice distracted the singer. When he turned one last time to the statue, the young man had disappeared.

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