Here we go again…. Lord knows it's been years since I've updated this fic. It's actually finished, sitting in my notebook, I just don't have all the chapters typed up. Hopefully someone can still enjoy it, even though I wrote it such a long time ago so it's… not my best work. Sorry this chap's so short, too. In fact, y'know what? If you like it, great, but if you don't, don't even bother telling me what's wrong with it. Because I already know.
I spotted a pretty blonde girl heading out of the Bismark. She looked a lot like Van Esling's daughter. I wondered if she was, then decided to approach her. I tapped her on the shoulder as she was about to leave and she turned around to look at me. Definitely a Van Esling; she was stunning.
"Lorraine Van Esling?" I asked. She exploded.
"What?" she demanded, voice raised and angry eyes flared. "Am I famous among the rats? Who are you?"
"My name is Derrik," I lied. I'd learned that it's dangerous to give out my real name while at a swing party, especially to a Nazi general's daughter.
"How do you know my name?"
"You just look a lot like her is all."
"If you dare touch me again I'll report you," she said. Then she stormed out of the cafe.
I caught myself wondering what exactly had just happened between us. Peter must have scared her away, I thought. When I saw him across the room sitting down at a table, I walked over and sat next to him.
"I saw Lorraine," I said casually.
"She's going to report me," he said, seemingly distant. "And probably the rest of the people here."
"So, what now?"
"I don't know. She might not do it." Though he spoke a word of hope, Peter looked extremely nervous.
"We should stop the band?" I wondered. "So if they come in..."
"We'll know about it," Peter answered me. "They aren't the only people with brains. We have lookouts. We..." He stopped suddenly, then shook his head a little. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"
I smiled and nodded. "Yes, you are. But don't worry; you're right. If they bust in, we'll know about it first."
"Still..." Peter's head perked up. "Leone's here."
I looked over to the door and saw her enter. God put extra effort into her, and that much was obvious to any person who looked at her. It seemed like Leone was always in the center. Everyone was always looking at her, revolving around her, and she was never less than perfect. Leone was the kind of person who could talk a long walk outside on a rainy day and stay dry the whole time; she simply had that essence about her. She could run a marathon, win, and manage to never sweat or mess up her hair. She didn't even try, which made her all the more perfect. She was simply that way. A natural goddess.
"She's perfect," I murmured.
"No she isn't," Peter said, seeing the look on her face. "She's hurt."
Then, after my daydream ended, I was able to see what Peter had seen. Her expression... something was largely wrong. We hurried over to her. When Peter touched her hand, her other one flew up and smacked him in the face.
"Leone! Leone!" I said quickly. "It's Peter and Garrett. It's okay. What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry!" she said instantly. "Which one did I hit? I'm so sorry!"
"Peter," Peter said. "You hit Peter, me. But that's alright; I'm used to it. What's wrong?"
"Where is Arvid?" she asked us.
I looked to Peter. I hadn't seen Arvid yet tonight, and it appeared that Peter hadn't either, because he shook his head. "I don't know. Why?"
"I need to talk to him," she said. "I really need to talk to him. Where does he live? Can you take me there?"
"I don't – "
"Please!" she begged. Tears formed in her vacant, blind eyes. She spoke again with a quivering lip. "I... I need someone."
..."What happened?" I asked, getting off my bed...
..."He hit Conrad. He... he hit him."...
... "Leone, did he touch you?"
... "I heard Conrad yell. I tried to stop it... hold me..."
... Leone sniffed and pulled away to face me. She pulled up her long red hair so that her shoulder showed... it was still bleeding quite a bit...
... "Where are you?" she asked suddenly, her voice slightly shrill. "I can't feel you! Arvid!"