Chapter 1: Arlette
Chapter Text
The phone rings late into the morning. Grey and wet, it was the kind of early December Sunday that you’d carry deep within your bones until the first warm rays of spring would melt it off you. It was the kind of morning, to put it plainly, that one would want to spend in bed, enjoying the comforting heath trapped underneath the covers.
“Arlette!”
When René shakes her awake, Arlette barely even registers it, dazed by the softness of her comforter that she has wrapped around herself during the night.
“Arlette! There’s someone on the phone!” Her little brother insists, shaking her so much her head lolla from side to side for a second. Still disoriented, she blinks a couple times, before her confusion gives way to annoyance.
“René, it’s Sunday morning for Christ’s sake! Tell them to fuck off!” She snaps, before turning her back to her brother and burying her head under the covers for good measure. “But Arlette!” protests her little brother “It’s someone from the police!”
Now that, that fully snaps Arlette wide awake.
“What?”
She sits up in bed, almost hitting her head on the cot above. Bunk beds had been her father’s genius idea when they had moved from their tiny apartment to this slightly less tiny apartment. That way they had managed to squeeze two desks for her and her sister in the room, and the same had been done for her brothers room. All and all a good idea, if it wasn’t for the constant risk of head trauma that Arlette and her brother Édouard ran every day.
Now, in the small space unoccupied by the bed or the desks in her room, stood René, looking at her with the biggest and bluest eyes known to man.
“Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” She asks, struggling to get out of the cocoon of covers of her own making.
“The phone woke me up, and I ran to answer it!” says René, trailing after her as she walks out of the room “And then the man on the phone told me he was from the police! And then he asked how old I was and I told him I couldn’t tell him because Édouard told me it’s not safe” Arlette peers into her brothers room as she makes her way down the hallway, only half listening. For some reason, the sight of the empty bunk beds makes her stomach twist with unease. She knows Édouard picks any shifts he can at his new job, no matter the day or time, so he had probably gotten up early to head to work; and Alaric was staying over at a friend’s house during the weekend, he would be back sometime this evening.
“So she told me I needed to get a grown up because it was important” finishes Renè as she picks up the phone receiver.
Before bringing it to her ear, she takes a good look at her little brother, his hair a disheveled mess from sleep and his impossibly big eyes shining with an anxious glint. She smiles.
“You did good, little creature” she says, ruffling his hair “I’ll take care of this, go put on your glasses and go eat some breakfast”
He hods, eager to please as ever, and for a moment she can’t help but feel for the little kid who somehow jaw always known there was something just a little bit too different about him. An impossible distancethat could never be filled. Both from his siblings and, most especially, from who he called his father. A gap made of blue eyes and blonde hair just a shade too dark, and the look in their father’s eyes when he thought none of them could see him stare, just for a moment, at Renè’s features. Searching and cataloguing every little detail, every piece of undeniable proof, that ultimately led to him. Not Arlette mother’s and certainly not himself. The other guy. The one she left all of them for, including Renè.
Arlette loved her father, she really did. No matter how drunk or fat he got. No matter how late he stayed at work. No matter how boring his lectures on obscure history and sad tormented poets could be. She loved him. That didn’t mean she didn’t hate and pity him just as much.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, she brings the receiver to her ear.
“Hello? Someone there?” A male voice asks. The tone is as sleepy as she had been until 10 minutes ago. It suggests the speaker was distracted, somewhere else almost entirely, and has just remembered he was holding a phone with someone else on the receiving end. Lost in his thoughts, yes. Worried - very worried, a voice in the back of her head whispers unhelpfully - about something. The uneasy feeling in her stomach suddenly gets worse.
“Yes, I’m Arlette Danglard, who’s talking?”
“Good morning Arlette, I’m Commissioner Adamsberg. I work with your father”
Arlette’s stomach lurches.
“Yes, my father’s told us about you” she says, stupidly.
You’re all he talks about, she almost wants to say, it’s always Adamsberg this, Adamsberg that. You’ve been occupying almost his every thought for close to six years now. And then she wants to say: Saint John the Baptist of Adam’s mountain, that’s what your name means, that’s the first thing I told my father after he mentioned you. One hell of a name. I was 9 years old. I asked him if one day I could see you, I wanted to know what you looked like. What face a man with a name like that could possibly have.
The voice - Commissioner Adamsberg, she repeats to herself - goes silent for a moment. It had started raining heavily outside, the patter on the raindrops hitting the old glass of their widows filling the air. She can hear Renè pouring cereal in a bowl back in the kitchen, and for a moment she worries that his favorite bowl, the one with the ninja turtles on it, wasn’t cleaned the day before so he could use it today.
Then, suddenly: “How old are you, Arlette?”
Adamsberg’s voice has gotten so quiet now, he isn’t whispering though, no. His voice has just become as soft as freshly picked cotton. “Are you one of the older kids? The first set of twins?”
“No-“ she says, wondering how much her father has told this man about her family, about her siblings, about her. “That’s Édouard and Lisa, they’re both out now” she adds quickly “I’m -me and Alaric I should say- we’re fourteen”.
“What about your older siblings?” the man asks slowly, like he has all of the time in the world. Arlette, in her end, is starting to feel restless. Why did their ages even matter? What did that have to do with her father?
“They’re sixteen” she says, far too quickly “As I said, they’re both out, I’m the oldest person here, why are you calling our house?”
“Ah.” Adamsberg says “Yes, of course. Your father was involved in an altercation during an arrest, the criminal tried running away and your father stopped him. He was - well he kinda just stepped in front of him at the right time - but he was injured as the man was armed and-“ the voice stops.
Arlette had lost her grip on the receiver, it falls on the table and makes a terrible sound when the plastic hits the hard wood of the floor.
“Arlette?” calls René’s muffled voice from the kitchen “Everything ok? Is dad okay?”
The question shakes her back to life. She bends down and picks up the phone.
“Is my dad okay?” She asks, trying to keep her voice from trembling too much. She needs to call Èdouard, she’s pretty sure dad had him write down the number of his work place somewhere in case of an emergency- Emergency, she repeats in her head, this is an emergency. She needs to call Èdouard. She needs to figure out where the fuck Lisa is, which stupid boyfriend she has disappeared with this time, leaving Arlette alone to deal with this. She would have to wait for Alaric to get back home, he didn’t leave a number or an address, the absolute idiot. She has to find something, anything, to tell René.
“Your father is going to be alright, Arlette” says Saint John the Baptist of Adam’s mountain and Arlette - little Arlette; still in her pyjamas Arlette; fourteen years old Arlette; Arlette who loved her father as much as she hated and pitied him; young, too young, Arlette - wants to cry.
“He is in the hospital, he’s resting right now, I’m here with him.” continues the Saint, his voice soft, kind, weary. “But he’s going to have to stay here for a couple days for monitoring. We wanted to alert his immediate family and make sure you and your siblings were taken care of, as you are all still minors- Arlette, are you listening to me?”
“Yes”
Little Arlette; still in her pyjamas Arlette; fourteen years old Arlette; Arlette who loved her father as much as she hated and pitied him; young, too young, Arlette.
She is five years all over again. Little Arlette; still in her pyjamas Arlette; young, too young, Arlette. Looking at her mother for the last time before she disappeared completely from their - from her - life. Watching her fathers face break as he held one year old René. Holding Alaric’s hand tight. Little Arlette; still in her pyjamas Arlette; young, too young, Arlette.
“Good. I’m going to need for you to give me your address so I can come by. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Try to get a hold of your siblings and tell them to get home quick, we’ll figure out the rest once I we can talk face to face. Understood?”
“Yes-” she hears herself say. Little Arlette.
She can feel René peer from the kitchen door. His big, big, eyes on her. Little René.
She takes a deep breath.
“Understood.“
Chapter 2: Lisa
Summary:
“I’m sick and tired of watching you try to keep this family together Èdouard!” Fuck. She’s crying now isn’t she. “And Arlette, you need to stop worshiping the fucking ground he walks in! Stop looking at him like he’s something that he’s not, like he could be the dear dad you want so badly. He’s not! He never was! He never will be!” she shakes her head “At least Alaric has the decency to mind his own business and ignore us all! Always out with his cool friends, he’s trying to get out of this hole! But you? At this rate you’ll be stuck here forever with him!”
She can’t bring herself to look at her brothers and her sister. They must hate me, she thinks. Oh well, she tells herself, that makes four of us.
“Maybe we would’ve all been better of if he had just left us like her!”
Notes:
Trigger Warning for drunkenness, mentions of suicide and lots of swearing
Take care!
Chapter Text
April 1995
Her father comes back home so drunk he can barley walk. This is not unusual.
She’s laying on the ratty couch in the living room, waiting for her cheap nail polish to dry, when the front door opens.
Sitting on the ground in front of her, Arlette and Alaric look up from the chess board they had been absorbed in for the better part of the last hour.
“Dad?” calls her sister “Are you alright? How was work?” She continues, already standing up at the sight of their father stumbling into the apartment. Lisa rolls her eyes, not even bothering to watch Arlette taking his hand and guiding him to his shitty armchair. There are many idiots walking the earth, Lisa thinks, but sometimes her sister acts like the biggest idiot of them all.
“Oh, thank you Arlette” she hears her father slur “Work was-“ he pauses to let out a deep sigh and Lisa wants to get up and slap him so badly she feels her palms itch
“Challenging” he finally says “This new case we’re dealing with, it’s difficult. Complex. Most of all, it’s just depressing.”
Before the man can go on commiserating himself, her twin appears from the kitchen, holding a big glass of water.
“Here dad, drink some” he says, handing their father the glass, not even hiding the resignation in his voice “I just put Renè to bed, so keep it down okay?”
“Ah, thank you Èdouard” her father says, accepting the glass of water. He looks at all of them, his gaze going first from Èdouard to Arlette, sitting closest to him, then to Alaric and finally to her. Lisa holds his drunken gaze with all the anger she feels in her hearth but the old fuck seems none the wiser to her feelings.
“Children are a poor man’s riches!” He recites waving his hand in the air dramatically “And I am so poor, my creatures” he continues, his words tumbling out to his mouth “You children, you are all I have! I would’ve ended it all a long time ago if it wasn’t for you, my miracles!”
And immediately, almost as if following a script, her siblings shoot a look at each other and worry paints their features in deep and dark furrows.
“Oh come on now dad-“ starts Alaric
“Don’t be like that, you know that’s not true”
adds Arlette
“We‘ll get you to bed okay dad? You just need to sleep this off” finishes Èdouard
Their chorus is honestly almost as pitiful as the drunkard slumped in front of her. Lisa can’t help but let out a groan, causing everyone to suddenly turn around and look at her. She cringes. Whatever.
“You should kick him out and let him die in the street” she says bitterly, getting up from the couch, and Arlette’s horrified expression is enough to make her blood boil.
“Lisa!” but Lisa really isn’t in the mood to listen to miss martyrdom’s fucking lecture.
“Lisa! Lisa! Lisa!” She mocks her, pitching her voice obnoxiously “I know my fucking name! And you know I meant every word! He’s been coming back home either shit faced or about to get shit faced for years now! He is a pathetic fat fuck and he might as well follow through his sad little whining and leave us alone for good!” She’s basically screaming now, and the look of horror in her siblings eyes only fuels her anger. She doesn’t even bother to look at her father.
Èdouard steps in front of her, hands in front of his body, as if he’s trying to protect himself from a wild animal. Good!
“Lisa stop it right now, you don’t know what you’re saying-“ he tries, but she doesn’t let him, pushing him away instead “I know perfectly well what I’m fucking saying! The truth! He’ll do nothing but bring us down with him for the rest of his miserable life! We all know it!”
“That’s not-“
“It is! You know it is! He’s the reason we live in this shitty apartment, he’s the reason we’ve always struggled every single day of our lives, he’s the reason we have to spend our childhoods looking after a disgusting drunk!” she spits out “This house is filled to the brim with books! He acts like he knows so much and yet he works a shitty job with a shitty pay and barley scrapes by!” she pushes Èdouard again, making him stumble a couple steps back.
“He tells us he loves us! He tells us over and over again! But if he really did he wouldn’t drink himself to oblivion! If he really did he wouldn’t have let us grow up like this!” she hates how she can hear her voice breaking “He wouldn’t have let mom ran away with some fucker! He wouldn’t have been so spinless not to say anything when she walked in one day, after MONTHS of being god knows where, and left her and that fucker’s kid with us before disappearing forever!”
Her eyes are stinging now and Lisa she wants to slap herself.
“I’m sick and tired of watching you try to keep this family together Èdouard!” Fuck. She’s crying now isn’t she. “And Arlette, you need to stop worshiping the fucking ground he walks in! Stop looking at him like he’s something that he’s not, like he could be the dear dad you want so badly. He’s not! He never was! He never will be!” she shakes her head “At least Alaric has the decency to mind his own business and ignore us all! Always out with his cool friends, he’s trying to get out of this hole! But you? At this rate you’ll be stuck here forever with him!”
She can’t bring herself to look at her brothers and her sister. They must hate me, she thinks. Oh well, she tells herself, that makes four of us.
“Maybe we would’ve all been better of if he had just left us like her!” her throat hurts from screaming so loud and tears now stream down her face. She opens her mouth again-
“Lisa”
Everyone turns. Adrien Danglard is standing up now, much taller than his small children. His eyes reek of sadness and, she feels herself growing nauseous as she realises this, love.
“I know I’ve been a poor excuse of a father. And a worst example of a man.” He says, his words somehow clear and steady now “But I would never, ever leave you.” and he says this with the kind of absolute certainty that’s so unlike him “There is no world, no universe-“ his voice breaks “where I would’ve been happier without all of you children”
Lisa feels herself shaking. Her dad looks at her with such kind eyes, and she wonders how he does not hate her. After everything she’s said, she would’ve detested herself. Hell, Lisa already does.
“I’m sorry I scared you” he continues, stepping closer to her, she doesn’t find it in herself to step back “I’m so sorry I scared all of you.” he smiles at her sibilings.
“I’ll never say those things again” and his promise sounds so sincere she lets him wrap his arms around her “I’m not going anywhere okay? I’m never leaving you.”
Lisa buries her face in her dad’s chest and cries. He strokes her long, blonde hair with infinite tenderness and she cries harder.
She wants to believe him, she wants to believe that he will never reject her, no matter how angry she gets, no matter how bad she feels about herself.
“Lisa, Lisa- You’re so strong and you’re so smart” he says, but his words are slurring again and Lisa feels him lean more heavily on her “You’ll be nothing like me, you’re already so beautiful, looking just like your mother-“
The world stops. Lisa feels herself freeze on the spot. Her spine going rigid. She wides her eyes in horror.
Lisa’s not stupid, she’s always know she and Èdouard take more after after their mother, despite not sharing her freckles like Alaric, Arlette and René. She knows this, she’s seen the pictures. Every time she looks in the mirror she can faintly see her mother’s face staring back at her. It’s been happening more often lately, her childlike features slowly melting away as puberty sets in. She knows it’s one of the many reasons she wakes up so angry, these days.
She hates it, she hates herself. She hates her mother. And she hates her father. She hates how he still loves her, how he looks at her and sees the ghost of the woman of destroyed their lives and still smiles at her.
Hot, scorching, red ire floods her body. She pushes her father off her with all her strengths. She stumbles back, slips, crashes onto the floor and hits his head, hard. Her sibilings scream, with the corner of her eye she sees little René peeking through the kitchen door, eyes wide in terror and confusion. She runs.
Past her brother, out of the apartment. Into the cold air of the night she feels Édouard rushing after her, calling her name.
*
The following week Lisa buys a bottle of discounted hair dye and some cheap mascara and eyeliner. She asks a friend to help her cut her hair. The same day she pierces her nose in said friend’s bathroom with a needle. She curses from the pain and hold back her tears. By the end of it all Lisa looks at herself in the mirror and barely recognises the girl staring back.
When she gets back home, everyone stares. She keeps her eyes glued to the floor until she hears her father clear his throat.
She looks up. There’s a big white patch on the side of his head, and he’s smiling. She looks back down, not knowing what between the two disturbs her most.
“Do you like your new look?” He asks, simply.
“Yes” she says, and she really, really does. She loves it actually.
“Good. I think you look great.” He says, and he means it, Lisa knows he means it.
She turns around and slams the door of her and her sister’s bedroom hard.
~
December, 1996
“Wait- where are you going?” asks Denis as she puts on her coat and grabs her beg
“I told you, something came up” Lisa replies, sitting on the bed Denis was currently lounging in, while putting on her shoes.
“And your brother came to pick you up?” He asks, suspicious, and Lisa wants to smack him. Denis was the jealous type, and an idiot at that, so of course he was doubting her story. She reminds herself to tell him to get lost next time they meet up.
“Yes, something urgent came up and I have to go home. I’ll call you later okay?” she dismissed him, heading for the door.
“This has to do with your dad?”
She stops in her tracks.
“What?”
“You’ve told me he likes to get drunk no? Did something happen?”
“That’s none of your business”
“Jeez! Sorry for worrying about you!”Denis raises his hands in the air, before shaking his head “Anyways don’t waste your time, I’ve seen it with the parents of multiple friends, his type isn’t worth it”
Lisa raises her eyebrow.
“And since when do you know my own father so well? You two go out for coffee on weekends?”
“No need for the attitude! I’m just telling you, I know the type”
“I suspect” says Lisa “you’ve never known anything in your entire fucking life, Denis”
and slams the door shut behind her
“Hey! Fuck you, Lisa!” she hears him yell through the door
“Don’t ever fucking think of calling me again, asshole!” she yells back as she steps out the apartment.
Her twin shoots her a look, but doesn’t say anything. He simply reaches for her and hugs her.
“Do you have a cigarette you could spare for your dear brother?” He asks, and she can’t help but snicker.
“You hate smoking. You suck at it.”
“Please” he says, and for a moment the exhaustion that Lisa knows her brother has carried with him since childhood seeps through his voice.
She sighs. “Fine.”
And she steps back while fishing out her cigarette packet and lighter from her coat’s pocket.
They smoke in silence as they head back to the car belonging to her father’s famous colleague. She can see Arlette, Alaric and René are sitting inside, and Commissioner Adamsberg at the wheel. She feels a shiver run down her spine, and she knows it’s not because of the cold.
You can’t leave, she tells her father in her mind. You can’t.
You promised.