Don Juan DeMarco’s Interlude

Authors Note: I plan to have a fanfic for all of the characters that I have loved, seriously obsessed over for a lot of time. Jack the Ripper’s going to be next, I have no idea what that’ll be on, maybe a From Hell fic. Yes, quite a few of Johnny Depp’s roles will show up on my portion of As well as Bullseye (Daredevil, because I thought Daredevil was incredibly weak and Bullseye should have been seriously defeated. Collin Farrell did such a great job!) and I have Wolverine, Gambit, Roux, Agent Sands, Jack Sparrow, Arwen, Aragorn... lets get started, shall we?

Chapter 1

“We have an attempted suicide t’report...” I heard the police report as I walked past one of their cars out of the store. “It’s near Baybrey and Sixth. Some lunatic dressed like Casanova.”

“I copy. You say attempted, Rick?” asked the cop.

“Yeah, he hasn’t jumped yet. The guy’s just standin’ there lookin’ down at us.”

“Jesus. I’m on my way.” The policeman said getting into his car. A man dressed as Casonova? How interesting. Those two streets were on my way home anyway... I started the car and subtly followed the police, there would be a clear entrance to the building for backup help.

As I reached the scene police were milling around all over the place. They know what they’re doing, however it seems strange that there was a report of suicide and no net to help him in case he did jump. I saw him as he looked over the edge, it wasn’t a clear image as he was over twenty stories up, but there was pure confidence radiating from his stance.

Since the police had blocked off most exits there was no way I could get up there to talk to him. I’m not an overly curious person, I much prefer to stay in the background and absorb by listening to people’s problems. It's because of this personality quirk I became a psychiatrist. I’ve helped more friends than I can count through various problems in their life, and I read’ people pretty well so this is a good career choice for me.

I wanted to be able to help this man as well. He stepped closer to the edge of the platform and my heart stopped beating for a moment. What was his problem, severe depression, a life-threatening illness, family issues, something to do with finances?

“Don’t jump.” I called and heard the plea echo in my mind. There was a door guarded by only one officer; that would be the way to get to him.

“Professional psychologist.” I said hurriedly reaching towards the doorknob.

“I’ll need to see some I.D.” the officer said hesitating a little. I caught the pause however and stood to my full height, 5’7”.

“Do you want this man to die? Arrest me later.” I yanked the door open and luckily caught an open elevator. “Come on, come on!” I chanted trying to mentally push the elevator cable to move faster.

Finally! The doors opened and I was on the roof’s landing. This man was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. He was dressed in burgundy red, a black cloak was tied at his throat, and a crisp white shirt was a complete opposite to the other darker colors.

“Hello?” I asked hesitantly. I didn’t want to startle him into jumping. Most suicidal people tend to be extremely jumpy or even twitch nervously. He, however, was completely calm and resigned to the fact that he wanted to die.

“Hello.” He said interestedly, “Where is Don Francisco De Silva?”

“Who? Who are you to start with?” I asked.

“Ah, forgive my lack of manners. My name is Don Juan DeMarco and I request the presence of Don Francisco De Silva. I will die by his sword here tonight.” He spoke with a slight accent, almost as if he were Castilian. He unsheathed a wickedly sharp rapier and swung it in a wide arc, before bowing elegantly at the waist. “And who are you fair Doña?”

“Katarina Hawcre is my name, why are you so determined to die?” I asked softly, trying to draw him closer to me and farther from the steel ledge of the billboard on which he stood.

“I have nothing else to live for.” He said simply.

“Come down? Please? There is everything in the world to live for.”

“No, alas, my beauty. She is gone from me forever. I shall wait here for Don Miguel and die honorably.” He was interrupted by the sound of a lift being brought up to the billboard. It was Dr. Mickler. One of the most sought after psychiatrists in New York.

“Where is Don Francisco De Silva? I will fight no other.” Don Juan rested the point of the sword against Dr. Mickler’s chest and looked straight into his eyes.

“Erm... Don Francisco De Silva is in Mallorca for the weekend. I am his uncle, Don Octavio De Flores.”

“Oh this will not do.” Don Juan sighed, sheathing the sword.

“You are the great Don Juan! Why then would you wish to end your life?”

“Have you never met a woman who inspires you to love? Until your every sense is filled with her? You inhale her. You taste her. You see your unborn children in her eyes and know that your heart has at last found a home. Your life begins with her, and without her it must surely end.”

“I have no doubt that losing a love like this can be very painful. But you must understand, my friend, that the power of love, the power of Don Juan's love is eternal and will not be denied.” he opened the bucket lift he was standing in and after a moment Don Juan shrugged tiredly and climbed in.

Dr. Mickler nodded to me, motioning that he wanted to see me downstairs. I took the stairs this time, luckily the guard had long past left his post. Dr. Mickler stood with Don Juan in front of the police and made the public announcement that everyone was waiting for.

“This man had no intention of committing suicide. He has just lost his way and was trying to find bearings home. He’ll be coming with us and we’ll see if we can sort this out. You can all go home now.”

A good excuse but somewhat hard to believe. It didn’t matter, Dr. Mickler’s wife was there too and since he had only a two-person car, he would need me to drive him back to the infirmary.