Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This feels strangely familiar, in some ways, I think, eyes flickering over the table and everyone seated there at. It was probably a stretch to fit everyone in here before I came, now it's rather cramped. At least I don't take up much space…

'Ah, scuzi.' My head can't connect the Venetian word with the female voice, and I almost duck a second too late as Rosanna passes a filled plate over my head to Tio.

'Ciao, bella!' Tio says, with an easy grin. An unpleasant thought comes to mind. Am I going to have to keep an eye on those two?

Rosanna rolls her eyes and scoffs. 'Si, si, qualunque cose. Tientelo per se.'

'I didn't know you also spoke Venetian,' I note.

She looks at me, goulash dripping from her ladle and dripping into a bowl. 'I don't really. I just pick up some bits and pieces from Gabe and Tio.'

'I'd teach her some killer pick up lines if she'd let me,' Tio mourns.

Rosanna dumps the filled bowl in of me, and leans past. 'Pick up lines are for men — for that matter, for boys who can't come up with something original, idiota.' She sits back and pulls back her braid with a glare. I start eating. I have the feeling that this will go for a while. 'Besides, with my figure,' she says, 'I don't need pick up lines.'

Tio takes a sip from his glass, and his eyebrows rise and fall. 'Yeah. Di sicuro. Tutte curve e top pesante.'

'Ah, excuse me?' Rosanna raps him with the ladle's handle. You're just jealous because you're three years younger and haven't filled out at all, ramoscello.'

'What the — I'm not — non mi interessa compilando come quello!'

I've been trying to control my reactions, but I promptly choke behind my water glass. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't — I fake a coughing fit. Tio and Rosanna are too busy arguing over my head to notice.

Kat smirks at me. 'What, aren't you going to break up the lovers' quarrel, teach? That kind of thing's going to be your job now, you know.'

It is? But before I can get some kind of confirmation from Sister Mary, Rosanna and Tio both explode.

'You gotta be kidding me!'

'Alcun modo in inferno!'

Rosanna sighs and leans her elbows on the table. 'Good grief. I just said that he was three years younger, if anyone had cared to listen.' Gestures and a smirk punctuate her strongly accented words. 'I'mma gonna go have a sane conversation with a boy my age now, so ciao, bel ragazzo.' And she starts talking to Dainsen, seated across from her at the table.

Tio blows her a kiss. 'Ah, you know you love me anyway!' Then he promptly drops the charade and tucks into his food.

I rest one elbow on the table, throwing etiquette aside. 'What, you like her then?'

Tio laughs, the kind of laugh you get when you try to talk to younger people. 'I'm Venetian, we a love everybody. Still.' He pauses, his fork making figure eights in the air. 'Lei è caldo. Senza dubbio. If only she were three years younger.'

I sit back in my chair. 'If you value your life, don't say you wish the girl were younger, say you wish you were older. And there are decent Venetian pick up lines out there, despite what you've led me to believe. Come, vuoi ballade motto le Estelle di Roma, tesoro?'

Tio abruptly chokes on his mouthful, and I quietly hit him on the back. He clears his throat, 'Y-you speak Venetian?' His eyes widen. 'Wait. Y-You… you heard everything… we… said…' He groans.

'I studied many languages to become a teacher. How am I meant to teach a language if I don't know it, pray tell?'

'Sei un demonio.'

'I merely didn't want to insert myself into the conversation.' Tio laughs. 'Still. Are all of you so…'

'Saucy?'

'Vocally creative.'

Tio scoffs. 'No, no. Rosanna and I are usually having some kind of thing going on. We're not all a little terrors. Ah, okay, some of us a aren't quite so little.'

My shoulders rise. I'm just waiting for a joke about my height to drop. Then Tio's attention is caught by Kat, and he forgets me immediately. One of those ones who just floats around in his own little bubble, I imagine. I'm left to finish eating my meal in peace.

I glance down the other end of the table. The littler children, Isolde, Ada, Gabriel, and Blanca, are clustered together, clumsily wielding their spoons to the best of their ability, and nibbling at hot bread rolls like rabbits. I smile. They are cute, I must admit.

Rosanna's spoon scrapes her bowl as she rapidly shovels down her cooling food, before slamming her bowl back on the table. 'So, you got kids back home?'

It takes me a minute to realise she's talking to me. Kids. Children. Me. I flush. 'Of course I don't. I don't have time for… that.'

Rosanna shrugs, and rests her head on her hand with a bored expression.'What, you don't have time to pick up a cute girl and a couple of kids?'

I adjust my glasses. 'I'm not married, and I…' I stop. Some of these children's parents wouldn't have been married either. I know mine weren't. I give a bitter smile, and change tack. 'Anyway. No. I wouldn't leave my family for the sake of my work. So sorry to disappoint, but I'm a bachelor, for… various reasons.'

'Like what, that you're short?'

Short comes crashing down on me like a hammer. Ugh. I try to force a weary smile, but it turns into a grimace. 'Well, I suppose. But no. I've been studying for my teacher's license. I haven't had time for anything else.'

'So you're a shut in?'

'I was working!'

'I guess you've got a lot of books then,' she says. Is that dreaminess in her voice?

But then her eyes narrow. She sits back in her chair slightly. Her eyes darken. 'Wait. You're talking about this like it's recent. You… Don't tell me. This is your first teaching position?'

'Well, yes?'

'Um, Professor?'

I take my eyes off the growing thunderstorm beside me, and turn to Kat. 'Yes?'

'So… what kind of classes will you be giving us?'

'We'll cover a wide range of subjects, whatever you can think of.'

'Really? Then — '

Rosanna taps my arm and yanks me to face her. 'Okay, hold it. Let me get this straight. This is a test run for you? You came to our backwater little church so that way if you bombed out the only collateral damage would be a few inconsequential orphans?'

I stiffen. 'That is wrong on so many — '

Kat frowns. 'Gee, Rosa, don't interrupt —'

'We're having a discussion, Kat.'

Kat straightens in her chair, like a rigid marionette. 'You can discuss the stuffing out of him whenever you want — he's effectively going to be here all day, every day, indefinitely.'

Rosa ignores her, and her gaze flicks back to me. 'Anyway — wow, Witt-gen-stein,' she says. 'Wow.'

I take a deep breath, and exhale. Then I fix her with a sharp look. 'You're jumping to conclusions. This isn't a test run — this is what I want to do with my life. Life doesn't give you test runs.'

Rosanna narrows her eyes. 'Uh, sorry, but it's not about you?'

'I know it's not.' I force my pride back down my throat, and grit my teeth. 'I know that. Look… I'm aware that you don't know a lot about me, and this kind of situation is less than ideal. I merely want to help.'

'Yeah, so what?'

'So you can think whatever you want of me. I'm not perfect, and I'm not going to get everything right the first time, but all I want is to help you to the best of my ability. That's all.'

Rosanna rubs the bridge of her nose, perhaps stifling a headache. 'Okay, fine. If this is supposedly good, then tell me what would be bad.'

'Bad would be a teacher who couldn't care less about you, your backgrounds, your safety, and only took the job for a salary.'

Something clicks behind Rosanna's eyes. '…You're not getting paid.' For a second she almost looks hopeful. Then she retreats behind the cynicism again. 'Because you're already rich, I imagine.'

'I'm not.' I can see the why? written on her face. 'This is what I wanted to do with my life. Is that so hard to…' Oh. It is hard to believe. It's hard to believe that people do anything because they genuinely want to, anymore.

'Sorry.'

My eyebrows lift. An angry blush lights her face and she stares at the table, pretending as though the apology never touched her lips.

She sighs. 'I'm a cynic,' she says wearily, 'Someone's got to do it.' She forces out more words. 'Sorry. For some of it. I'm still not convinced on everything. I just… these kids need this, all right? We want this to work out. I want you to work out. I just don't want it all to go to pieces, like everything else.'

I force the tension from my shoulders. 'I know. I don't want to botch this up either. I know what it's like.'

She looks at me. '…What do you mean?'

Exactly that I do know what it's like. Being orphaned: that was my childhood too. But… do I really have the right to say that anymore? Is that side of me even still there?

'…I …just want to help you.' I look at her. 'Well? Want to take me on a trial basis?'

She blinks, then smirks. 'So, what, do we cash you in for a refund if this doesn't pan out?'

I try, I really do, but I can't help chuckling. 'You're atrocious.'

She's still smiling, but her eyes dim a little. 'Yeah. I know.'

With a clatter, empty bowls start disappearing off the table and flying into the sink, as one by one the children squeeze out of the room and scatter throughout the church, until only Sister Mary and I are left.

'Can I help?' I ask, getting up from the table.

Sister Mary glances over her shoulder from the washpan, suds foaming beneath her fingers. 'Oh, no, Herr Wittgenstein. I'm sure you have lessons to plan and such like.'

Ah. Yes I do, actually. 'I'll take my leave then. I've met all the children, so I'll go and get to work.'

'Oh, lovely.' She hesitates. 'None of them are causing you trouble, are they?'

Are they? Well… I can't believe I'm saying this, but, despite Rosanna's best efforts, they're not. They're just… looking out for themselves. And for each other. I can't fault them for that, not when I know what that's like myself.

'No. I'm looking forward to working with all of them.'

Sister Mary visibly sags, and splashes bubbles everywhere. 'Oh, that's wonderful. I know some of them can be… challenging. But I imagine it's easier since they can relate to you.'

I pause with a hand on the doorframe. 'Well, I didn't tell them.' Sister Mary looks up, perplexed. 'If it comes out, then that's fine. But I don't want them to feel like they're being forced into accepting me just because we're from similar backgrounds. I'd rather things just play out however they will, I suppose.'

Sister Mary nods. 'As you wish.' She laughs. 'Still, with all ten of us in one place, if you've got any secrets, they'll come to light eventually.'

I step out of the room.'Well, good evening, Sister.'

That's all I can think to say. Because any other response would have to be a lie. And I'd rather not transgress on my first night living in a church.

Because some secrets I just can't give up.

Despite the winter cold and harsh winds outside, the inside of the church is warm, glowing with candlelight, shadows dancing on the walls. I notice Dainsen and Gabriel playing with a roughly-carved chess set, and the little girls darting beneath the pews in movements that reek of habit, playing some sort of game. Rosanna and Kat are standing in front of the stairwell, Rosanna braiding Kat's hair within an inch of its life.

'But doesn't it have to be wet to go curly?'

'Not if it's me braiding it, it doesn't,' Rosanna says, hair pins in her teeth.

'Excuse me, girls,' I say, motioning to the stairs.

'Ah, goodnight — ow!' Kat winces, pulled up short by her braid. 'Gee, Rosa!'

'Well, I'm not done,' Rosa say, offering a quick wave and a smile in my direction, before turning back to knotting the ends of Kat's hair. 'Your hair is so silky that the string comes off every single time. This is ridiculous.'

'I'm flattered. I think,' Kat says, and curls her lip.

I interrupt. 'That reminds me. What subjects do you like? We were talking but we were… interrupted.'

Rosa grimaces, and makes the sign of the cross. 'Pardon mine transgression, brethren.'

Kat whacks her in the ribs. 'Gross, Rosa. That's just plain disturbing. '

'Yeah, I know.' Rosa rolls her shoulders and grimaces. 'Believe me, it tasted weird.'

How these children survive Sunday services is beyond me.

'Okay, if you can keep your words in our face for a minute…' Kat says to Rosa, then turns back to me and waves her hands uncertainly. 'Well, I don't know what you call these… subjects, because I, uh, haven't been to school, sorry, but I like reading, and uh, my hand writing's good. I'm not good at math.'

'That's good, but what do you like to do?'

Kat blinks. 'I… Like sewing? And I write stuff… sometimes… It's pretty bad though,' she says hastily.

'Well, in that case, I think you should try literature studies. You read selected books, answer questions about them, and and occasionally you get to write — '

'That's an actual subject are you kidding me?!' Kat shrieks, and throws her arms around me.

I stagger, and we nearly fall into the stairwell. Her booted feet flail above the ground. 'Well, it's still schoolwork — '

'Who cares?'

'And you still have to do math,' I say sternly.

'Yeah yeah — I can't wait tomorrow can't come fast enough woo-hoo!' she whoops, and rockets up the stairwell.

It takes me a moment to get my balance again. My lips twitch. I try to hold it back, but I can't — I lean against the stairwell wall and laugh until my chest hurts.

'I think you just made her day,' Rosa says, leaning against the opposite wall with crossed arms and a twitching smile.

'I'm glad. Still, I wasn't done. I think I've got some history books with engravings of fashion from different time periods, so if she likes to sew — '

Rosanna holds up a hand. 'Stop. Any more excitement and she'll blast a hole through the roof.'

I smile. 'Very well. Good night. It was a pleasure to meet all of you.'

She raises an eyebrow. 'A pleasure? Really?'

I head up the stairs. 'Of course. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself.'

I could have not glanced over my shoulder. But I did. And her stunned, disbelieving expression echoes through my head all the way up the stairs

I step into my room, close the door and lock it behind myself. My pens and paper are already on my desk, ready for work. I change, hanging my clothes behind the door and slipping on some night clothes, before sinking into my chair.

Rosanna. Dainsen. Kat. Tio. Isolde. Gabriel. Ada. Blanca.

Paper piles up over my desk in snowdrifts. It seems almost surreal, to actually be here, staining my fingers with ink until my hand aches, writing lessons instead of studying myself. I would have laughed if someone told me this is where I'd be ten years ago.

As I work, I hear footsteps on the stairs, doors opening and closing, snatches of conversation and laughter in the rooms next door. I allow myself a brief flicker of a smile.

The cold seeps up through the floorboards and through the walls. I shiver, and pull a blanket off the bed and around my shoulders. I shuffle the paper into eight piles. Finished. I look out the ice-frosted window. You can't see the stars in Wienner the way you can out here.

I reach to blow the candle out, when someone knocks at the door. I glance at my pocket watch. Eleven. It's fairly late.

I shed the blanket and get up to open the door.

Blanca's vacant eyes stare back at me. I flinch, then want to slap myself. You're overreacting. It's dark, and it's quiet, but you knew that someone was there so get a hold of yourself. She doesn't move. Could she be sleepwalking?

'Blanca.'

She blinks, and looks up at me, before tottering into the room. She looks around. She sees my desk, and climbs onto the chair. She looks as though she's dozing. I glance out into the closet-sized hallway. One of the doors is open a crack.

My desk. The padlock. Adrenaline spikes in my chest and I step back into the room. Blanca is still sitting, and the padlock is locked and untouched.

I drop to one knee beside her. Her little fingers grasp the edge of the desk. Despite her lack of expression, she looks almost… happy, deep down. 'Blanca. School starts tomorrow, little one. It's time for bed.'

She looks at me. '…School?'

'That's right.' How can I get her out of my room? Even touching her could upset her. 'Reading and — '

'Stories?'

'Yes, but…'

She slides off the chair, and clings to my hand. 'A story. Please.'

I blink in confusion. 'A story? Now? But I…'

Her eyes. Somewhere deep down, there's a glimmer.

But I don't have any books. They're all due to be sent tomorrow and —

Wait. I reach under the bed, my fingers touching the floorboards.

I pull out a book. In my hurry to pack, I managed to miss a stray book, and I had already tied up all the boxes. A children's picture book. What a coincidence.

I pick up the blanket and the book, and blow out the candle. 'Well, it's cold, so let's…'

She's already burrowed beneath my covers, and sits, waiting expectantly. I manage a weak laugh. She's like a frost sprite, here one moment and gone the next.

I slip under the covers, and take her on my lap, drawing the blanket around us both. My breath makes clouds in the air. I brush off the book's cover, and my breath hitches. This book was a gift from Viktor. A gift from when I was learning to read, a beautifully illustrated collection of fairytales. I don't think I even realised the true monetary value of the book until years later, and by then the book was already well worn from use.

I open the pages. Viktor's signature marks the inside cover, the ink faded with age.

Blanca cautiously turns the page, and the moonlight falls on an illustration of a princess, painstakingly coloured with metallic paints. Blanca makes a soft noise. I read the elaborate calligraphy script aloud, murmuring the words in her ear.

'Once upon a time, in a kingdom across the Sapphire Sea…'

Blanca turns the pages one by one, tracing the illustrations with her fingers as I read the words.

My eyes are starting to close. I take my glasses off, and rub my eyes. I look over the final page. '…and the princess awoke, with a kiss from the prince.'

Blanca touches the illustration of the prince and princess, before I close the book, and push it onto the desk. I'm half asleep, and my vision is blurry.

Blanca slips out the bed. 'Goodnight,' I murmur. I can't see Blanca in great detail in the dark, and with my glasses off, but her face comes into focus as she steps forward.

Her eyes are still blank, but she seems to want something. My thoughts tangle. Goodnight, the book, the princess, a —

I draw her face close with my fingertips, and drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. 'Goodnight.'

She smiles. And I don't know, but it seems to have more life than a mere copy. Her fingers clasp mine for a moment, then she slips out of the room, closing my door in perfect silence.

I force myself up, lock the door, then collapse back into bed. It's cold. I curl up beneath the blankets, one hand closed around my shirt collar.

I wonder. As happy as I am, I can't help but wonder if I truly belong here.

I stare at the ceiling.

Is that side of me still there?

Of course it is. Everything, shattered and held together in a broken vessel.

Of course it is.

And even though it hurts, I smile.

It is.

The End