Disclaimer: I do not own Cyborg 009. Why? Because I wasn't born fifty-some years ago.


Chapter 3: Overture

Author's Notes:

Eh... I should I updated a long time ago but I really didn't have time. High school isn't that bad, but honors biology is! If I hear another thing about the Kreb Cycle or the Calvin Cycle, I'll die! It's a four day weekend for me, so I'll try to put in a lot of stuff. Ara... I wanna have my next chapter of Divine Commiseration (my Rurouni Kenshin fic) done, but I my friend has my videos! It's driving me insane!

Anyway, here's the long awaited next chapter of Nocturne. I apologize if it's short and kind of choppy, and also for my absence at Cyborg 009 Fanfictions (Yahoo!Group).

Once, a long time ago, she had been a happy girl. Once, so long ago, she had been caught in a net of tranquility and peace.

Until her mother died. Until her father's only way of livelihood was destroyed.

Then... Then she became what she was now.

No, not a housewife, married and soon to have a first child, but a dancer.

She remembered when she had been young. When she had danced in front of her friends and laughed and acted like they were. And planned out her future like a map.

But those were only memories, spun like spider silk in the web of time. So delicate, so fragile. One simple gust of wind and—and it would disappear.

Perhaps that was what had happened to her. But one thing was sure—dancing as a young woman was something she never expected.

How lucky she was to live in a place where money could be made by entertaining. And how lucky she was to not damage herself.

If only her father, her once loving and caring father, had been like this.

She had been Alexia... Alexia, the carefree child who ran around, chasing butterflies and gossiping with her friends about dowries, perhaps their future marriages.

Now... She was Alexia, the young woman who danced, danced like it was an elegant art form. Danced like it wasn't forbidden and she wasn't sinning in front of God.

The faces that had grinned up to her when she was on her high stage were misted over. All she could see were grins, lewd expressions from men she didn't know, whose company didn't want, didn't enjoy.

She felt like each and every stare was a stain upon her soul. Dirty smudges against her innocent pride. Forever marring her reputation as a preacher's daughter.

But she had tried. She had tried to hide behind a name that wasn't hers, that was ridicules to all extremes. She been Rose of, Goddess of, Lady of, but they weren't what she had wanted.

And someone.. Someone was bound to find out about her. And then what would happen?

Before... Before he had changed, her father told her about women who sold themselves for simple coins. He had warned her, had preached that their souls would all burn in the fiery pits of damnation.

But it was too late now.

As she walked home slowly, it was what she heard, queried over and over by the cicadas she couldn't see.

Too late... Too late... To late.

Joe didn't feel anything as Françoise unknowingly latched her hands on his arm. Her eyes were flowing with terror unexpressed. And he...

He felt as if his limbs —his very mind— were in water, languidly moving against the waves that held him back, pulling him back until he was no longer himself.

"What was that? Who was that?" Her voice was hushed, was covered by a layer of sand that was choking his senses.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, trying to rid himself of his senses. "That was probably the light. It has to be. Because there's no such thing as spirits, or ghosts, or whatever there is to speak of." The rational thoughts began to return.

Françoise's eyes darted back to the spot the girl had disappeared. She felt like a hunted animal for some reason, though there was nothing there.

Joe walked her over to the spot she had been eyeing. He looked up, where the trees closed over on them like a canopy. Light slithered in like forbidden shards of gold from between the dark leaves.

"We were probably tired, and were seeing things. It was nothing..." Joe felt like he was convincing himself, along with the golden-haired girl next to him.

She gasped, her fingers shaking at the ground. Fear clenched through her again like an anaconda, freezing her insides.

There, on the ground, was a small crystal, a bauble on the end of loose silver chain.

And carved on the crystal, shining like a priceless diamond, was one, small ballet shoe.

Françoise rolled on her bed, her body begging for relief, but her mind denying it of its wishes. The bauble was now around her neck. She twirled the stone between her fingers, relishing the cold smoothness it brought.

Joe, the thoughtful young man she had met that day, had insisted that she hold on to it. He had said that he could do a little research. He said that the necklace proved that they weren't imagining things.

Their other friends had been said 'good-night' to. Joe had pushed her back home, telling her that she needed rest and that he would take care of it.


She looked across to the digital clock, burning from its position on her night stand. 12:27, it read.

Françoise tried to squelch out the urge to call Joe. From what she had learned that day, he would keep working on something until he broke through. She wondered idly if he was still trying to figure out what who the girl might have been.

Have been.

As a student of the modern era, Françoise had long stopped believing in souls and the afterlife. Today's strange occurrence brought out all the doubts she had ever had. What if what they had seen that day was a ghost?! What if the girl had died and now as looking for vengeance?

She shivered, though the warm New Orleans air was drifting through an open window. She also tried to stamp down the urge to shut the window. Ghosts, if what stories held out was true, would be able to get in and get her no matter what—windows closed or not.

And if that was the case, she had better get some rest. If she couldn't fight it, why try to?

She felt her eyes droop down heavily, and emerged herself in the peaceful blanket of black unconsciousness.

Joe tapped his ball-point pen restlessly against the table. The light from the computer burned irritatingly against his sleep-deprived eyes. He closed them momentarily and saw the girl again, dancing gracefully in his mind's eye.

He snapped them open again. No use dreaming about anything. It was time to work if he wanted to crack the question: who was the girl?

He tried to remember the clothes she wore. Not very fancy, and definitely olden styled. On a wild guess, he typed in a random search query: Recent History of New Orleans Swamps.

Instantly, a page of results flashed up. He passed through most of the websites, until he saw one that stopped his heartbeat.

Body of Dancing Girl of New Orleans Found in Swamp Area—Murder or Suicide?


Late chapter update, although short, but it had everything I wanted in it. I'm trying not to change my writing style a lot, and hopefully have this story finished by... by latest Spring Break. Again, sorry for the late chapter. Look for Chapter 4, Sonatina, soon!

Responses to Reviews:

GoldAngel2: Please excuse my absence of both reading and writing! I'm literally being driven over the edge by all my homework, and my other lessons. I'm really waiting for Thanksgiving (I get a week off), so I can write and read to my heart's content. Please accept my groveling at your feet!

Puppkid: Here's the newest chapter, and with another cliffhanger ending, too! Don't worry, late updates are a pain to everyone, not just us two!

Copperline Kitty: I'm glad you like the story so far! Here's the newest chapter, enjoy!

Hi299O: Ah! I'm sorry for the current confusion! It may have something to do with the weird editing from the earlier chapters—I'll change that as soon as possible. Cute, about the Frying Pan of Doom. My friend has one from about a year ago (she used it on Johnny Depp so she could kidnap him).

Rune-Spirit: This has to be the only fic that I've had over ten people wonder I was talking about it. I apologize for the confusion, but I promise you'll get it soon. This chapter should help a bit. Think, ghosts or the sort.

Rachridgeback: I hope you just got back from vacation again! This chapter is so late, even I'm cringing in embarrassment! Congrats on all your stories! I hope you have time to finish them all! I have... er... 17, I think? Of course, most of them are one-shots, because I am a lazy bum.

M-X: I sorry that you're confused, too! I've had so many people say that, but all I can say is that, wait! In time, you'll get it. Thanks for your e-mail on the Group ideas... I didn't get them the first time, I guess, and I think it's a great idea. I'll get it started as soon as Thanksgiving Break starts. One week should give me enough time to actually WORK and WRITE.

Saku: Hi Saku! Sorry for the late updates, with this and with Divine Commiseration! It's just so hard to have time to write when you have clubs galore and tests every week. They are time eaters who eat up all my time!

Reasonswhy77: I'm so happy you get this story (unlike all lot of others, it seems)! Here's the next chapter of Nocturne! Enjoy!

Lil Rose Angel: Yeah! We haven't talked in ages, and I apologize for my lack on Yahoo!Messanger! It's driving me insane because I want to write and talk to you guys for ideas and the like! I hope you like school so far this year. I hope we do get to talk soon, so keep in touch!

Marilda24: I'm so glad I have a new reader (I think... I apologize for my horrid memory, especially since I haven't updated in ages)! Here's the newest chapter—enjoy!

SailorNeo: I'm glad you like 009/003, too! All of my Cyborg 009 fanfiction, cept for one of them (a parody), are 009/003, so go there if you'd like some interesting reads!