#He’ll come home soon too but not today. Shadow will be here on the 23rd.

[niko-jpeg]

sighs heavily. I purchased a Shadow plushie.

[castillo-adrian]

A Rainy Day in Paris | Part 1.

Note: Timeline isn’t linear, make sure to take a note of the dates. ♥

December 23rd.  Morning

“We’ve waited six years for this,” the excited snarl was followed by the sound of the fist colliding with Adrian’s cheekbones. “Personally? Me, I’m all for delayed gratification.”

He felt the taste of iron and salt in his mouth. The man in a collared shirt and khakis who delivered the blow was Philippe, and behind him stood three others: Cédric, Agnès and Samir. All of them former GIGN operatives, all of them currently employed by the St. Clair Organization as enforcers and assassins.

Once upon a time, they’d fought literal wars together. Not the mob kind – the real kind.

Now, they were going to kill him.

December 22nd. Late afternoon.

“A friend of mine will be waiting for you in Porto. You can trust him. He’ll drive you to doctor’s appointments and check up on you until Sophia flies out there, too.”

His mother was inconsolable, refusing to leave London, refusing to face the reality of the situation – in order for her daughter to be saved, his son had to give up his life. Perhaps it was merciful that Sophie’s choice wasn’t hers to make – there was no version of the reality where Adrian let his sister suffer for his decisions.

“Mom, I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Mother Castillo sat in the corner, hands clasped around a rosary, praying to the Mother to save both of her children. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face that had still retained its beauty though all the hardships and years she’s been through.

Adrian tossed a few things in his overnight bag, but he knew the only thing he’d make use of would be his passport. He wouldn’t be needing the rest for much longer. “It’s time to go to the airport, mom. We don’t have much time. My plane has to be in Paris at 8.”

He spent the entirety of the car ride giving her last-minute instructions, making sure she’d have everything she needed after he was gone. A part of him wished he had time to say a few goodbyes, but he didn’t want to ruin anyone’s upcoming Christmas, and time wasn’t on his side.

Except Johnathan, whom he filled in with a quick phone call. The man had offered help, but there was nothing to be done. The instructions were clear – Adrian had to go alone, or else his sister would suffer.

"Alright ma, the plane’s leaving soon.” He hugged his mother as they stood in the middle of the Heathrow Airport. Pain stabbed at his heart to be the reason of those tears on her face, for making her say goodbye. Perhaps he should’ve left without saying anything that put her through this agony. What was more cruel? Who could tell.

“Here,” she put the Notre Dame medallion over his neck. “She’ll protect you, son.”

Adrian kissed her on the forehead as his eyes traveled to the information board at the nearest gate that read “PARIS (CDG), boarding”.

December 19th. Evening.

When his sister, Sophia first mentioned her upcoming trip to Paris, Adrian begged her to reconsider. Knowing how badly his former friends wanted him dead, especially after the events of last year, there was no doubt the loyalists would be on a lookout if he or his loved ones ever laid a foot in Paris.

He’d tried to explain it to Sophia, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Do you know just how much I’ve sacrificed, Adrian? Ever since your former friends found out you’re alive, I haven’t been able to go home. Not even once. I had a life there. Friends.”

“I know. I know. But it’s too risky, Sophia. You don’t know what they’re capable –”

“No, you don’t know how important this invitation is. You have no idea how many scientists would kill to be part of this research, how much hard work I’ve poured into getting to where I am. I won’t let your murderer friends get in the way of my career –” Sophia’s voice rose with every next word.

“Your brother is the reason you have a career,” their mother, who had listened in silence up until now interrupted. “You would’ve never been able to afford your 12-year-long education if he hadn’t supported us, and you know it.”

“I’ve never asked for his blood money and I wish for once, for once,  you’d pick my side over his,” Sophia threw the dish cloth on the table and stormed out of the room, frustrated. A minute or a few of angrily packing her suitcase, she barged in back again. “I refuse to pause my life because you’re the most hated man in France.”

“For god’s sake, Sophia. Being a leading scientist at NodThera and living in London is hardly pausing your career...” Adrian groaned, his patience started to thin.

“It’s not about that, Adrian. The research they’re doing at Sorbonne, it’s groundbreaking, I could only get a chance like this once. Why am I even explaining this to you,” she checked her passport and put on the coat, her right foot already in the hallway. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a few months.” The door behind her closed with a thud.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she would be fine. Maybe no one would notice a Castillo had arrived in Paris, or if they did, they wouldn’t do anything about it because that wasn’t the Castillo they had been after.

December 22nd, Early morning.

The second Adrian heard his phone ring, he knew something was terribly wrong, and the unknown number with a France country code made his worst nightmares turn into a reality.

Person on the other end of the call was Cédric. They had his sister, and if he didn’t come to Paris by the end of the day, alone, the only research she’d be good for would be her own autopsy.

There would be no outrunning this one. He had to face his fate, and accept the inevitable.

December 22nd, Evening.

Nostalgia itself had a utopian dimension, one that wasn’t directed toward the future nor the past, but rather sideways. Adrian hadn’t sat in a foot in Paris in six years, hadn’t seen the streets he used to call home, a city he had loved. The country he dedicated his life to serve had become a forbidden Eden he was no longer allowed to enter.

Adrian had been cast out for his sins, and the prodigal son’s return was not welcome. Still, if he had to die today, at least he’d be dying in one place he loved above all – Paris.

The address he’d gotten was somewhere near Gare du Nord, 30-minute-drive from the Charles De Gaulle airport, but he’d asked the driver to take the longer route and go through the 9th arrondissement. One last look...

As the car sped through familiar streets, leaving the familiar landmarks in the rearview mirror one by one, Paris felt strangely foreign, with foreign sounds, with foreign people and no hiding place. A sad realisation hit him all of a sudden – he’d always love Paris, but they’d grown from lovers into strangers.

The destination soon appeared, centuries-old railway station rearing its head menacingly in the distace. He could hear the faint sounds of Vive le Vent coming from somewhere, muddy streets littered with Christmas decorations. Looked like there would be no white Christmas in Paris this year, just rain. Lots, and lots of rain. The streets around the Paris-North were as busy as he left them, people running around with a dash of holiday spirit sparkled on everything. Life would go on, and Adrian was nothing but a disappearing shadow in the city of lights.

He entered a derelict building north the station as instructed. He clocked Sophia right away. Chained to a chair, sweat and tears dripping down her face, scared and terrified. His fault.

“I’m here. Alone. Now let her go,” Adrian addressed the group, hoping Sophia wouldn’t have to be there a minute longer. He raised his hands and took off the jacket. “No guns, no back-up.” They may have been criminals and murderers, but they were military operatives once, too. They still had some moral code, and as expected once they saw Adrian, they cut her loose.

Sophia ran to her brother’s arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he hugged her, probably for the last time, “You’ll be okay. Mom’s on her way to Porto, you should fly there right away.”

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” her voice was shaking, she could barely make her words sound audible, “I’ll call the cops, I’ll-I’ll get the help, I –”

“Just go, Sophia. Tell mom I’m sorry,” he let her go and watched as she neared the door reluctantly, but knowing there was nothing to be done.

His eyes were still fixed on his sister when suddenly lights went out and a blunt object hit his head with full force, knocking him out.

December 23rd. Early Morning.

“Wake up, putain,” the icy water and Cédric’s voice jolted him back to consciousness with equal intensity.

“You’re fucking dead, Castillo,” Philippe put a knife to his throat, he could practically smell whiskey on his breath, “like you should’ve been a long time ago.”

“I guess I just want some answers,” Agnes shrugged. Her curiosity couldn’t have been mistaken for remorse. She was just as angry and resentful as the rest of them. They haven’t been close friends the way Adrian and Laure were, but they had served together, at GIGN and at the French Organization. That had to mean something. Loyalty meant something.

Adrian remained silent.

What was he supposed to say? The truth was far too complicated, and there were simply too many factors at play to give them a short, clear answer. Not that it would’ve made any difference. They’d branded him a traitor and there was no undoing that, no changing their minds, no mercy, no truce.

Not when they had another war to fight, but this time on the opposite sides.