Something Blue, Something Borrowed
(3)
“How is he?” Demetri asked, eyeing the door. Just on the other side, was the final member of their band. At the top of the clock tower, the Frenchmen were able to watch over the city. The velvety night gave the illusion of rest, and for a moment they could enjoy it. They could pretend things were like they were before.
“Things may not be as they were before,” Arno had said once, “but moving forward isn’t necessarily an ending.” Why he said that so soberly, none of them knew, but his words of wisdom echoed in their minds.
Returning presently, the men stood in various stages of distress. Phillip by the door, having just stepped outside from his patient. Demetri pacing the small length of the tower’s crumbled ledge, hands clasped behind his back being the only indication that he was his father’s son. Gerard standing completely still beside the point they leapt from, absorbing the conversation and all that had occurred that night.
Phillip confessed, choosing his words wisely. “I...I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Demetri scoffed. The heat from his tone began to tint his cheeks, barely noticeable under his close-cut beard. The skin under his eyes were bruised, and his hair flopped out of its casual messy style to a slick, unkempt tussle. Evidence of sweaty hands palming it all evening. Perhaps even the evening before. “Aren’t you a doctor? What do you mean you don’t know?” Phillip took a step back, and Demetri clasped the bridge of his nose and concentrated on his breathing. When he spoke next, Demetri was kinder. “I apologies, mon ami. Given the circumstances...” Demetri caught himself and inhaled again. When he opened his eyes, he said, “Non. You’re going through the same as I. Putting my emotions before yours is not right. Je suis desole, Phillip.”
A moment passed before Phillip took Demetri’s forearm. “There’s nothing to forgive.” He said, pulling Demetri into a hug before pushing away and resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all worried.”
Demetri’s current burnt out state was reflected amongst the group. Phillip’s normally clean cheeks were beginning to darken from where his beard fighting through. Even sending Gerard home for rest and to be with his family wasn’t working as his eyes were unfocused and tired.
When they pulled apart, Gerard asked, “Phillip, what do you think?”
“Honestly?” Running a hand through his hair, the stress began to show on the youngest Frenchmen. “Observation is needed. I gave him more meds to sleep, but that’s not a long-term solution.” Explaining it as non-threatening as he could, Phillip continued, “Keeping him asleep doesn’t prove his innocence either. From the examinations, Arno has been getting fights. By the look of the wounds, he’s been doing this frequently with some wounds not healed yet.”
Gerard hissed, rubbing a hand over his face, and pulling down his mouth. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he think he could come to us?”
“Given what happened last time he was with the Assassins? I don’t blame him.” Demetri countered, gesturing between the three of them. “We’ve not been in his position, so who are we to say how he should act?”
“He did also say he wanted nothing to do with the life.” Phillip added, voicing what they all knew.
Tension hung in the air, and Demetri cleared this with his throat. “The wounds. Anything to pin him to a certain fight? A location? Here’s what we learned…” As the men shared what they learned in the palace, worry began to set on Phillip’s brow as he nodded along.
“If he’s having, I’m not sure what to call it, an episode?” Phillip said softly, “Then it is important we figure out a way for him to have his best quality of life while protecting those around him. Or, if something is triggering it, how to find and control that trigger. Even then,” Phillip said solemnly, “I cannot guarantee that’s going to stop him.”
“So,” Gerard rose a brow. “You believe he’s responsible for....”
“The attacks?” Demetri finished. The feeling of lead settling in their stomachs.
Phillip looked to the sky, collecting himself before speaking. When he finally did, he looked between his friends, his brothers. “I know nothing of his paternal medical history. Who knows if this runs in his family or...”
Demetri hissed, Gerard growled, and Phillip leaned against the door. They stood there silently a moment before Demetri slapped his hand to his forehead. The sound startled the other men. “We have that meeting tonight.”
“Merde.” Gerard shook his head. Pierre Bellec, son of that Bellec had returned to the Brotherhood. Working tirelessly to undo his damage his father wrought and rid himself of his shame. Gerard didn’t mind the man, but it was the meeting he was dreading.
The meetings at the Bureau were slowly turning from their usual monthly events to weekly, and the pressure to mend France and keep the Templars at bay was difficult enough without a killer running around. Tempers were beginning to fray, and none felt the oncoming storm more than Gerard who, as the new leader of the Frenchmen, was under the ever-observing eyes of the Mentors. It wasn’t that his was the only group running around the land, of which there are dozens, but they were watched solely for what Phillip lovingly called the Dorian factor.
The Dorian factor was simply this, Arno had a way of making impressions. With his entrance to his removal from the Brotherhood, the Assassins kept a close eye on Arno to see what he would do next. The Mentors would’ve intervened when he made the decision to live as a civilian had Gerard, Demetri, and Phillip not insisted against. They ensured them their work would not be affected by keeping an eye on Arno, and that he would cause no problem for the Brotherhood.
That was a year ago.
Then, with the entrance of Pierre, the Assassins’ attentions were moved. Unfortunately for the Frenchmen, this was not a good thing. People loved Pierre. He had a way of speaking that assured one that he spoke from the heart. That his word was good and true. Phillip wanted to get to know him, Demetri disliked him, and Gerard hadn’t yet formed an opinion.
“The Mentors are going to make him join us.” Demetri straightened from his slump to stride to the door dramatically bang his forehead against it. “If that’s the case, give me the same medicine you gave Arno so I may sleep through the pain.”
Phillip rolled his eyes, a small smile pushing up the corners of his mouth. “They’re not going to make him join us. Pierre has enough on his plate. Training the novices, working with the Masters-”
“Have you been speaking with him?” Demetri squinted over his shoulder.
Catching himself, Phillip’s jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide. The trio waited a moment, and Demetri’s gaze intensified. Finally, Phillip put his hands up, gave a sheepish smile, and took a step back. “Now Demetri-”
“Are you serious?!” Demetri leapt forward, and Gerard got between them with barely a second to spare.
“Enough.” Gerard said, but Demetri was too angry and he struggled to hold him back.
“Am I the only one who’s not given up on him yet?” He looked between the men he called his friends. “Am I the only one who remembers everything he went through? This looks bad, I know, but I’m giving Arno the benefit of the doubt! There’s no way in hell Pierre is joining! I’d rather work nights by myself in the southern perimeter than let that scum-”
“Hey! I’m not saying that.” Phillip made a step, but Gerard silenced him with a look.
Turning around, he shoved Demetri back. “Enough? Huh? Had enough, tough guy?” Every time Demetri took a step, Gerard pushed back until he finally gave up and glared at the man. Gerard, unbothered by the sharp grey steel piercing up at him, stood firm. “Demetri, you’ve been awake for two days.” Demetri’s eyes cut to Phillip, but Gerard cocked his head to the side to catch the look. “Do you understand me?” Gerard asked, moving to cover Phillip, and steeling his voice. “Go home. Go to sleep. Check on your plants, check on the cats, sleep for at least 7 hours, and then come back.” Gerard looked over his shoulder and glared at Phillip. “Stay with Arno until he wakes up. Understood?”
“What about the meeting?” Phillip began, but Gerard cut him off with a look. “Oui, Monsieur.”
Demetri threw Gerard’s hands off him and turned the way they’d came. Wind whipped his green coat behind him like a pair of wings. “I’ll sleep after the meeting.” Before Gerard could reply, he dropped. Giving Phillip one last stern look, Gerard followed Greencoat.
Steps echoing off the cobblestone, the pair hurried into the Bureau. Arriving just in time, it seemed, as the meeting had just begun. “Thank you for your patience.” Gerard began, stepping into the center of the room. Staring up at the Mentors peering down at him, Gerard, who stood at 1.8m, the tallest of the Frenchmen, looked very small. Demetri remained on the sideline. His arms crossed and hackles raised, ready to interject if the need arose.
“We understand you’ve been short staffed as of late.” Victoria began, shifting through papers. Gerard kept his face composed, but Demetri grit his teeth. It seemed this meeting would be straight to the jugular then.
Squaring his shoulders back, Gerard nodded. “We have. Greencoat, La Phantome, and I have been patrolling the city since the incidents occurred, and we believe-”
“Believe?” Marcos pffted. Leaning in, his eyes darkened. “What have you to show for it?”
“We found-”
“And where’s Arno?” Edmond asked, furrowing his brow.
“Yes. Where is Monsieur Dorian, Axeman?” Victoria repeated, “I find it rather strange that an Assassin in blue is committing these crimes and no one has had eyes on Monsieur Dorian.”
“We have.” Gerard rose his voice, and then quickly lowered it. Remembering his place, he repeated, “We have, Mentor. Arno is working at his cafe full time. He’s hung up his robes. We know this for certain.”
“I think we need more information.” Edmond countered, looking at the other Masters and dismissing Axeman altogether. “Considering the only people to see Dorian are his friends.”
Demetri shifted to join Gerard but a shadow to his left beat him to it. “Mentors, please.” A crisp, melodic voice interjected. “I mean no disrespect.” He rose his voice and cleared the distance in three strides. Bright blue eyes caught each of the Mentors’ eyes, and they frowned. But listened. The Assassins on the sidelines whispered comments to one another. Pierre waited until silence had fallen before speaking again. “This is a trying time for us all, and we’re all doing our best. Axeman and his group have done more good in this time than what is uncounted for. We didn’t gather here to bring out our frustrations on one another, but to work on bettering France together. Correct?” Allowing the weight of his words to settle, Pierre brought himself upright. “If anyone is to blame for the mistrust among our Brotherhood, it’s me and my blood.” Whispers resounded along the crowd, but Pierre ignored these and spoke only to the Mentors. Even Demetri and Axeman found themselves entranced. “Had my father not spilled blood between Assassins, not killed another Mentor, we would be more trusting of one another. It is because of these things,” Pierre stood tall. “I will find this killer. Alone. No one need to bare the shame of the Brotherhood than I. Though I doubt this person is an Assassin since we would never stoop so low as to murder innocents. I volunteer to find this killer. Along with my duties here, of course.”
As his speech settled, Demetri blinked. He hadn’t been aware he’d been holding his breath. His jaw ached from the stress he held in it. The Mentors spoke lowly to one another, causing the rest of the Assassins to lean in. Finally, they broke apart and Victoria spoke. “So be it. Pierre Bellec, you’re leading charge against this killer.” Pierre smiled, and Gerard and Demetri relaxed. They’d still be able to walk out with their hides. “But not alone.” Their smiles dropped. Victoria’s eyes landed on Gerard. “Axeman, since you’re in need, Pierre will be aiding you in your patrols and you’ll be aiding him with finding this killer.”
“And,” Edmond interjecting, scowling as always. “Bring Arno Dorian to us. Immediately.”
“Of course.” Gerard bowed his head and the Mentors excused them. They were bringing about the next meeting when Gerard exited the center. Striding past Demetri, making Demetri jog to catch up, Gerard heading out for some air.
Once outside, he groaned. “Greencoat, what the hell just happened?”
“You did well, Axeman. Better than I or Ghost could have done, and certainly better than any of those inside.” Demetri assured them. The sound of running footsteps made them turn, and they found Pierre staring between them.
“Apologies, Monsieurs Axeman et Greencoat.”
Gerard waved him in. “Peace, Pierre. Axeman and Greencoat are fine, merci.” Pierre walked towards them with a smile, and Demetri crossed his arms and looked to the stars. They were holding strong, but the soft pinks of morning would banish them soon.
“I wanted you to know that I had no intention for that meeting to end how it did. I am so sorry.” Pierre began and Gerard gripped the bridge of his nose. Pierre rubbed the back of his neck and shyly looked to his shoes. “Listen, the Mentors don’t need to know we’re not working together. I don’t mind helping you with your patrols, if you’ll have me, but you don’t have to help me with the Blue Killer.”
“Blue Killer?” Demetri snapped his neck towards the man, and took him in. A mop of black hair under which sat blue eyes, a straight nose, and a charming smile. Demetri rolled his eyes. “You named it?”
“Well, the ‘Killer Running Around France’ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?” Shrinking under Demetri’s glare, to Demetri’s joy, Pierre looked desperately at Gerard. “Sorry, Axeman, Greencoat. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Before Demetri could open his mouth to respond, Gerard answered. “You haven’t. Greencoat was about to go get some rest and I could use an extra pair of eyes.”
“Really?” Pierre’s eyes shone bright, and Gerard nodded. “I...I won’t let you down, Axeman.”
“I’m sure you won’t. We’re going to begin at the river and work our way in. Together, at first. I’d like you to get used to our route before going off on your own.” Gerard explained before looking at Demetri. “Bonne nuit, Greencoat.”
“Bonne journee, Axeman.” Demetri turned on his heel and leapt from the roof.
But he didn’t go home. He couldn’t. Bothered in his thoughts, Demetri went to the one person he knew would help.
“So,” Phillip asked as Arno slept silently between them. “What was it like?”
Demetri munched on the croissant he’d borrowed from Arno’s cafe. In his defense, Arno had told them they were welcome to anything! Besides, the people at the Café knew him. “He wears Italian shoes.” Phillip choked on the tea he’d sipped. “I can’t believe Gerard actually took him on. Can you believe that?” Phillip was coughing, sputtering a reply. “I mean, can you?” Demetri pressed.
Thumping on his chest, tears welling in his eyes, Phillip croaked. “Well, I can.” Demetri gasped, and opened his hands in protest. Phillip placed a croissant in Demetri’s open hand and continued. “We’re down one man, people are dying, and I don’t mind the extra help.” Phillip shrugged, looking over at Arno’s body. “Did they mention anything else?”
“Bringing Arno to them.” Demetri dismissed it with a wave of his hand before Phillip could panic. “Gerard will figure it out. Not telling them we had him was a good start, and keeping Arno in hiding would be the best route.” A moment of silence passed as both men finished their snack. When he gulped down the rest of his croissant, Demetri said, “When you said you were watching over him, did we really need to do this?” Demetri dusted flakes of bread from Arno’s stomach.
“If his lips go blue that means he’s stopped breathing, and I want to make sure I’m here if that happens.” Phillip sipped his tea.
“Has anyone told you that you’re a little paranoid?”
Phillip thought a moment, taking another sip. “Non. Why?” His eyes flickered to his friend, and he gave him a small smirk. “Has anyone said anything?”
Groaning, Demetri rolled his eyes and leaned back. Raising his feet to prop them on the table, as he usually did, Demetri stopped himself and frowned upon finding Arno’s legs there. Settling on leaning back, he crossed his arms tight to his chest. “I’m sorry about how I was acting earlier. I lost my temper, and that wasn’t right, Phillip. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Phillip commented, “Just wish I had your conviction.”
They both cast their stares to the gentle rise and fall of their comrade’s chest. “You really think he did it?” Demetri whispered, like speaking the words aloud would make them real.
“That’s what the evidence is saying.”
“Et toi?”
“I have to follow the evidence.” Phillip said firmly, “I don’t have to luxury to listen to my heart.” Looking up at Demetri, he said, “Do me a favor? Listen to yours for the both of us.” Demetri nodded.
The two friends chatted until Demetri was sound asleep, head tucked into his chest. Phillip, left alone with two of his unconscious friends, took out a book and pondered how his life had turned out this way. Hours passed and Phillip began contemplating if he too should rest when Gerard dusted his heavy boots on their welcome mat.
It wasn’t a real mat, just a thing Phillip had brought from his house to liven the place up. It was accompanied by the pots and pans Gerard had brought, the shelf Arno had helped Phillip build to hold all his books, and the plants Demetri had placed to add the wilted one Phillip had been neglecting. Good intentions strung together with glue and gum, Arno had called it.
“Bon soiree, mes amis.” Gerard voiced, keeping his head down to ensure all the dust was gone before stepping into the room. Automatically staring at Arno, his brows furrowed and he grimaced. “Comment ca va?”
“Ca va, bien, merci. Et toi?” Phillip set aside the book, and got up from his spot. Stretching as he did so, he enjoyed the pop along his spine.
“Ca va.” Gerard replied honestly. Taking a look at Demetri, who was rubbing his eyes and giving his cheeks mild pats to wake up, Gerard smiled bemused. “You should take more rest, Demetri. When was the last time you’ve slept?”
“Just now.” He replied, rolling to the balls of his feet and began doing little hops. Shaking the sleep from himself, Demetri cracked his neck, to Phillip’s disgust, and began warming up his wrists. “Where to first?”
“You should rest.” Gerard continued, “Don’t make me make that an order.”
Before Demetri could respond, a groaning from the table interrupted them. Phillip dashed across the room just as Arno’s hand went to his forehead and his eyes fluttered. Gerard and Demetri were right behind. Keeping some distance, Phillip took his friend’s free hand and gave him a squeeze. “I know this must be very scary, Arno, so please take your time. You’re in the clock tower. Demetri and Gerard are here with us. You got hurt but you’re better now.” Arno’s eyes opened, but wouldn’t fixate. Phillip smiled, “There you go. Don’t try to remember it all at once, just take in your surroundings. Tell me what you’re seeing, what you’re feeling.”
“I-“ Arno blinked, widening his eyes a moment before groaning and closing them. “I feel sick. Like my head is pounding and my stomach is doing flips.” As his fingers massaging his temples, everyone waited with bated breath. “I’m dizzy. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Before Phillip could ask, Demetri rushed to grab a pail. Phillip squeezed Arno’s hand again and said, “That’s ok, it’s a normal feeling. Just take your time.” Then he looked at Gerard and asked, “Can you make some broth and get some bread? We’re going to have to introduce food slowly.” Nodding once, Gerard disappeared to their makeshift kitchen.
“I don’t…” Arno groaned, attempting to sit up. Without Phillip’s assistance, he would’ve smacked back down on the table. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
Keeping one hand secured on his back and the other gripping his forearm, Phillip helped him up slowly. “No trouble at all, I promise you.”
Arno scoffed, and closed his eyes again. They stayed like that a moment, listening to Gerard in the kitchen and hearing Demetri clamber back with the pail. Rubbing Arno’s shoulder, Demetri moved to sit beside Phillip. Arno’s hand went from Phillip’s to Demetri. His eyes still closed, he gripped tight. “I don’t deserve friends like you.”
Demetri gave him a sad smile and a firm hold. “You’d do the same for us, Arno, don’t deny it.”
Again, Arno scoffed, but finally he opened his eyes and locked them on Demetri’s greys. “I need you to do something for me.”
Concern etching across his face, Demetri got down to Arno’s level and held his hand. “Anything, mon ami. Just name it.”
Tears rimmed Arno’s eyes and he nodded. “I’m sorry, Demetri, to ask this of you, but I could trust no one better.”
Phillip shifted uncomfortably. “Arno, maybe you should rest.” He cautioned, but Arno held Demetri fast.
Arno pressed, holding Demetri hostage, his frown deepening. “If I do anything, anything that raises a suspicion you, you need to kill me.”
Revolted and recoiling, Demetri pulled away, aghast. “Arno! How could you ask-?”
“I remember.” Arno’s voice quivered, a lone tearing rolling down his cheek. Wiping it away with one hand, the other still holding Phillip’s, Arno looked between the two of them. “I remember what I was doing when I was asleep.”
“Arno.” Phillip tried again, but Arno looked down at his chest and began to cry.
“I remember those people dying, I remember feeling their blood on my hands, and I…I think I’m the killer.”
“Arno, you’re…you’re not well.” Demetri fussed, hands hovering over Arno’s shoulders and Arno doubled over and wept. He cast frightened glances at Phillip and found the youngest Frenchmen had grown stoic and composed. “Phillip is going to fix this, aren’t you?” Demetri looked up desperately, but Phillip was rubbing Arno’s back and reaching for the medicine. “Aren’t you?”
“Arno,” Phillip said softly. “What are you talking about?”
“I..I was there.” Arno sobbed, staring at his hands like he could still see the blood on them. Still feel the warmth stick his fingers together. “I was…”
“Arno, Demetri is right. It’s been a long few days’ for all of us.”
“You don’t understand!” Arno wept anew, bringing his knees to his chest and draping his arms around them to cradle himself. “Those were my missions.”
“Missions?” Demetri looked up at Phillip and he shrugged. “Arno, what do you-?”
“I was there!” Arno roared, looking so quickly and grabbing Demetri so forcefully that his thighs slammed into the table.
“You weren’t!” Demetri yelled back, tears blurring his version. Not that it mattered. He didn’t recognize the man before him. “Arno!” Arno slammed Demetri against the table again, and Demetri waved away Phillip’s attempts to help. “We checked your logs! You were-”
There were missions they hadn’t known of when Arno left the Brotherhood. They’d checked all the places he’d run, as a gesture of good will with the Mentors, but they hadn’t given thought to the ones he’d done with…
Just as Arno made move to harm Demetri again, Phillip popped the medicine in his mouth and shut it. Before he could fight, his eyes fluttered.
“Elise…” He breathed, and Phillip caught him. The pair lowered him to the table. A wooden bowl clattered to the ground, spilling broth everywhere.