Notes: Almost to the end, my darlins. We've got an epilogue to go, and then that's it for this one. I've got two options for what comes next, and I'll be looking for insight from you all on which to pick :) In the meantime, have some final Anton and Camille before we say goodbye--for now.
Title: The Tank: Chapter Seventeen, Part One
***
Chapter Seventeen,
Part One
The series of farewells that followed Anton signing his life
over to the Institute were disconcertingly rapid. Dr. Grable was the easiest to
say goodbye to, and the one that also felt the least permanent, in a way. “You
can’t possibly think I’m giving you up for lost to these bastards, can you?” he
gruffly asked that evening. He was preparing to board the airship—Dr. Wictoryn
was standing by to load him onto it, and perhaps to do a bit more, if the pink
flush in her cheeks was anything to judge by. “We’ll be in touch, Seiber, and I’ll
continue to communicate with Jourdain on a regular basis. The moment you’ve served
your time, I’ll come and get you myself.”
“Thank you, sir,” Anton said quietly. It was as much
enthusiasm as he could manage, the limit of how far he could push his mind to
overcome the fearful flutters of his heart. The second after he’d made his deal
with Lord Jourdain, he’d been frightened of the ramifications, but there was no
way he could go back. His choice was made, and no matter what happened to him,
he would see it through.
“Lord above, don’t thank me for being the one to drag you
into this, lad.” Dr. Grable held out his hand, and Anton took it. His mentor’s grip
was warm and strong. “We’ll see each other again soon,” he promised, and Anton
was warmed by the assurance in the other man’s voice. That sort of confidence
was catching, and when Anton straightened up again his carriage was a bit
taller, his head a bit higher.
Seeing Caroline appear at the entrance to the Institute,
dressed in her traveling clothes with two servants bringing her trunks behind
her, was almost enough to break him down again. She looked elegant, like a
woman who wasn’t being forcibly escorted off the grounds, but the expression on
her face was pure panic. “Anton!” She ran to him, and he held out his arms and
pulled her in close. She trembled, silent sobs wracking her frame, and it was
all he could do to keep himself from joining in.
“I’m so sorry!” she wept into his shoulder. “I should have
been more careful, I should have—I never meant for you to be dragged into such
a mess. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I promise, I didn’t—I would never
prey on your good nature, and when you told me ‘no’ I knew that was the end of
it. I didn’t think you would—that you would—”
“I know,” he said as soon as he could get a word in edgewise.
“I know, I promise. I never thought that, not for a second.” Caroline might
have tried to use their friendship to get him on her side in the beginning, but
his no had been final and she had respected that. If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t
have offered himself in her place.
“I do not deserve it.”
“You do,” he assured her. This part, at least, he felt confident
in. “You deserve to go home to your family.”
“To a husband that doesn’t even notice when we’re in the
same room together and a child who probably won’t remember my face once I
return.”
“He will.” Anton pulled back a bit. “You know he will. Children
need their parents, and he will need you if your husband is neglectful. Be
there for him. Do your research and improve your craft.” A knot welled up in
his throat, but he managed to speak around it. “Try not to think of me.”
Caroline pulled back and stared at him, dumbstruck. “Are you
mad?” she demanded at last. “To ask me not to think of you, as close to me as
any brother, who puts me before you despite my terrible mistakes? Darling.” She
kissed both his cheeks. “You might as well ask me to forget the sun. I will
think about you every day, and pray for the moment that they let you go and you
may come back home. Come straight to me.” It was half plea, half command. “Come
to me and you will always have a place, and never have to worry about money or
providing for your mother. You are always, always welcome in my home.”
“Thank you.” Anton hugged her again, one last time, pressing
a kiss to the top of her head before reluctantly pulling back and letting her
go. “You must leave now,” he said quietly.
“Yes, Lord Jourdain already informed me of where I am to be deposited,”
Caroline said, wiping the corners of her eyes and regaining her composure until
she was once again a lovely, haughty noblewoman. “Which, given the
circumstances, I must be grateful for.” She caught his gaze one last time. “I
love you very much, Anton.”
“And I you,” he replied. Then she was gone, off to the
airship, and he was left to watch as a few minutes later it floated into the
sky, moving so quickly that it vanished into the clouds in moments.
It was so strange, to be here without anyone to anchor him
now. He had come with people he relied on, people he cared for and communicated
with—now there was just him. Hrym came to see him at dinner, which Anton ate in
the big room without the benefit—or blight—of more company, but Hrym was
intensely distraught himself, and not easy company.
“I thought God loved me,” he said, as confused and hurt as a
caged mouse. “I thought I was his child, beloved by him. That’s what Cardinal
Proulx told me. But he wasn’t telling the truth. He thought we were bad.”
“God does love you,” Anton said, feeling greatly out of his
depth but trying anyway. “God loves all of us.”
“Even those with no souls? Or those of us born outside of
holy matrimony?”
“Of course. We are all made in God’s image, aren’t we?”
Anton tried. “How could he despise us for faults that are not of our own
making? If God’s hand is in everything, then it’s in the making of us as well. No
person is perfect, but he loves us just the same.”
“Then why did Cardinal Proulx try to kill Lord Jourdain and
his brother?”
Anton’s meager appetite slipped away, and he set his napkin
down in his lap with a sigh. “I don’t know. He was a man with many harmful
thoughts, Hrym. I don’t know why he did what he did.”
“But you don’t think he was right?”
“No. I don’t think he was right at all.” The rest of the
meal passed in slightly-less-painful silence, which Anton was grateful for.
He kept the rooms he’d been originally given, entering them
was both a relief and a sadness at the end of the interminable day. He’d been
set up with his own laboratory, and all of his possessions left at the
university would be coming back with the airship. He could pick up his research
where he’d left off, with more supplies, more assistance, and more financing
behind him than ever before. He would be unstoppable. And soon, Napoleon III’s
forces would be as well.
He showered that night alone. He undressed and got into bed
alone. He had thought he would fall asleep alone too, his room only brightened
by the light of a huge full moon, but just as he finally began to drowse, the
comforter moved, and a second later a warm body pressed in behind his.
“You came,” Anton murmured.
“I did.”
“Where were you?”
“Readying for my departure.” Camille’s voice was pained. “I
leave before first light.”
“But Montgomery is already here. Who else do they have for
you to hunt down?”
“The list is endless.” There was a moment’s silence, then
Camille pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Anton’s neck. “I don’t expect you
to forgive me. But you should know that I don’t leave lightly, and I will
return to you as often as I can, if you wish it.”
If I wish it… Anton wiped his face across his pillow
before rolling over to look at Camille. He seemed exhausted, a shell of himself,
dry-eyed but pallid and too thin through his face. Even his moustache drooped.
“I always want you with me,” Anton said simply. Fighting his
desires was too much, now. He couldn’t do it, even though he was angry over all
that Camille had kept from him, and all he would have to continue to keep from
him. As a lumière, Camille belonged to his country, to his emperor, first.
Anton had to accept that.
Camille swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Then I shall
return as soon as possible.”
“Good.” There was no lust between them tonight—Anton was too
afraid, and his lover looked too exhausted. He tucked himself into the curve of
Camille’s arms and closed his own eyes. “I shall depend upon it. I’m…” Sorry
I didn’t listen to you, sorry we’re both stuck here, sorry I’m not sorry that
you’re part of my life. “I’m glad I won’t be alone,” he whispered at last,
ashamed but honest.
“Never. As long as I’m alive, I will be here for you
whenever I can.” He kissed Anton’s forehead. “Sleep. We both need it.”
“Yes,” Anton agreed, and with the warmth of Camille’s body
and the thrum of his steady breaths to lull him, he fell asleep in moments. He
slept harder and better than he had in days.
When he woke up, Camille was gone.
