Franz

The bed was still made, untouched and unruffled. Instead, he laid on the wooden floor and observed the stagnant ceiling. There were so many ridges and bumps he had never seen before. Dark circles that almost looked like faces stared back at him, pitying him. Franz sighed and rubbed his hands together.

If time could stop, he wondered, where would he truly go? He was sure that out in the distant lands there existed a place for him. He wanted to be reborn, flesh and all. Most of all he yearned for those years of freedom he experienced as a youth. Despite the precarious days in the coal mines, he had a home to come to, a family to greet. Now all he could imagine waiting for him was a wanted murderer and a maid who he hardly spoke to.

A knock rang and Franz sat up, "Come in."

Clara opened the door slightly and allowed the smell of vegetable soup to enter the room before her.

"I thought you might be hungry, Mr. Schwarz." She set the tray down on his bedside table.

Franz nodded.

She tilted her head, "Sir? Why aren't you in bed? I wouldn't think the floor--"

"--Do you remember when your mother made that soup one Christmas?" He interrupted.

Clara was caught by surprise. She softened and held her rosary, "Yes, I do. That was also the Christmas--"

"--When my mother gave me my scarf. To keep warm for the coming winter."

Clara waited a moment. Franz's shoulders shivered and she took that moment to kneel by his side. Franz could hardly face her.

"Is this about the letter, sir?" She asked.

"It's about everything," he groaned, burying his face in his hands, "I was lied to. No, worse, I was never given peace. I trusted one man. One man. And Peter took my trust and he ran it into the ground. I always thought he was distracted, dissociative and cold. But I never thought that he would be so cruel as to string me along with thinning hope. If I had known--if I had known since the beginning there was no chance I would see them again, I would've been fine. If I knew everything then none of this would be happening, Clara! I hate this! I hate everything I have done. I'm foolish! I'm hopeful and naive. I believe in that light at the end of the tunnel but it keeps getting dimmer and dimmer. If this delinquent is lying to me, then what else is there left for me but more of this never-ending wheel?"

Clara was silent, her eyes were locked on him. Franz couldn't remember the last time he had said so much to Clara. It seemed he had forgotten the history he had with her. The years they spent together without titles and status. After a while, Clara slowly embraced him, and he melted into her arms allowing himself to be enveloped by her long raven hair.

She sniffed and Franz became aware that she had been crying, "I missed you, Franz. I've missed you for so long. I wish you would have spoken to me earlier, I would have known, I would have said something."

Franz mumbled, "Like what?"

"Like how I've felt this monotony, too."

She pulled away and Franz was face to face with her red, puffed face. She ran a hand across her cheek, drying her tears. She was always an empathetic person, Franz recalled.

She grabbed his shoulders, gripping him tightly like a rag doll, "This...Klaus. He says he grants you passage to London if you help him with his strange quest, then do it! I know in my heart this is the right choice. After all, he said he just needs help breaking in, right? So help him, get those tickets, and leave!"

Franz furrowed his brow, "Clara? What about you, Clara?"

She stiffened, "I..."

Franz lowered her hands from his shoulders and rubbed his thumbs over her soft skin, "You're coming with me, Clara Griggs. When I return, it will be both of us who will board that ship. You and I will start anew and leave this island forever."

Clara smiled as tears began to flow once more from her ebony eyes.

Franz meant it. He wasn't going to be another unmarked grave in the valley. He was going to be someone new, and he would do so with her.