crystarium | In The Town Of Storybrooke... [Closed]

Crossing the line meant losing everything. Everyone who loved you and all that you loved. But the worst was then losing yourself, to forget everything. All it took was one simple step to be freed of who you were, where you came from. It was a step that a befuddle servant had been contemplating for awhile at the edge of Storybrooke.

Charming had said even bad memories were a part of them but they were memories Lumiere had not been prepared to face. When the curse had been lifted and a moment of clarity befell them, the castles servants were met only with horror to learn what had happened to them. Mr.Gold, their Master, had turned them all into what he’d seen them as: simple objects. A teapot, a clock, a candelabra… He shuddered and fastened his coat buttons higher.

Lumiere had been nothing but loyal to Rumpelstiltskin, foolish enough to believe that ‘the dark one’ could learn to love. He had sworn there to be good in the man’s heart but now, Lumiere could see he had never been a man at all, only a monster. Having put his trust in Rumpelstiltskin had cost him everything, including the woman he loved. His beautiful Babette forever lost with his world. Had he only the chance to say goodbye. He wondered how long she had waited for him the night of the enchantment and if he could ever forgive himself before he could imagine her to.

François - Storybrooke François - saw it differently. He did not blame himself for what had happened, he blamed Rumpelstiltskin entirely. And if there was anyone he believed deserved to feel such heartbreak and betrayal it was him. Lumiere had never been the sort of man to seek revenge but François was many things he had never imagined he could be. François was unruly, a man who fought to survive, and when let loose had seduced more women than Lumiere cared admit to Cogsworth. He - François - had done so much wrong. How could he possibly be both?

Drawing a sigh, the maitre d found himself twenty minutes into dinner service and still no closer to a decision. Perhaps he should have called to inform his fellow staff, most importantly Cogsworth, that he would not be attending the night’s service. The poor man must have been blue in the face when he realized Lumiere had turned his phone off.

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Blue in the face was entirely right. Cogsworth had spent the last forty minutes dashing about in preparation, exercising far more than the manager should ever have had to. Tonight was a busy night; it needed fast service, good food and more than anything, it needed class. So when Lumiere hadn't arrived, he was mad enough to bust his cogs: good food was very much his specialty. Cogsworth could cook, but that was desserts and things that tasted like regular food; they needed Lumiere.

Now he wasn't so much dashing than wearing a hole in the floor, pacing back-and-forth, barely breathing through the well-volumed curses under his breath. Mrs. Potts had had to calm him to even get him to sit down, fearful for the floor.

And then the call came. The (as time would technically tell) elderly man shot up to call it, hoping it would be a certain friend of his, able to save them all and get an ear-full later. Putting on his best, sweetest, most professional voice, he answered the phone as usual. If it was Lumiere, then that tone would change mighty quickly.

"Le Rose Enchantee; Here to- Pardon? Oh? No, no, thank you. Goodbye."

Cogsworth's face had dropped through the short conversation. They had found Lumiere. Oh god, Cogsworth should have known something was up, that it wasn't only him that had been considering it. But then-again, apart from being a candelabra, Lumiere had had everything; he had the charm, the wits, the women... Was he really reluctant to go back to that? It had been debated whether the curse had just negated the effects of Rumplestiltzkin's curse or not, so maybe..?

Mrs Potts had inquired as the what the matter was, noticing Cogsworth staring blankly to the wall in front of him. He hadn't answered, simply announcing to the kitchen, 'I shall be going out, so no slacking whilst I am!' followed by a much quieter, more under his breath 'I'll return as soon as I can.'

New objective: Make way to edge of town, knock sense into Lumiere, bring back to work. It should be simple, surely.

... Sadly, Cogsworth it probably wouldn't be.

Looking up from his watch, Lumiere took a deep breath. He had not expected the smoke that entered his lungs but after smoothly exhaling it he could not have felt more grateful for its presence. He could not recall lighting the cigarette however the relief it brought, even if just for a moment, did not make him question it. It was just the thing had unknowingly needed. Glancing down at the smoke between his fingers, Lumiere played with it thoughtfully. It was only then he noticed the many matches scattered around his feet. So he had lit it. In fact, he had tried a few times to light it. No one struggled as greatly as Lumiere when it came to matches regardless how insistent he was on using them. There was a certain appeal to them; the look, the feel, even smell of a freshly lit match that a lighter could not rival. He could never quite describe it to Cogsworth but somehow he had convinced the man of their use throughout the restaurant. That was, of course, on the one condition that Lumiere had not been the one to light them.

Amused by the thought, Lumiere tapped the ash from his cigarette and turned back to face the dark road ahead of him. If he were he to leave Storybrooke, what would become of the others? He had heard of the unspeakable King George had done, killing an innocent man… A man whose life he considered of no worth because he had been mouse. What would the King think of someone who had been a mere object? What would the others think? Surely their lives were of value, were they not? Lumiere took a long drag and rubbed his forehead. He wondered if it been fear of Gold that had kept them safe. If anyone other than the Queen even knew who they were. Before the curse had been lifted Henry had asked if he and Cogsworth had worked for ‘The Beast’ but Lumiere had not been able to answer. He wondered if he had been referring to Gold.

Looking back at his truck, he began to stagger toward it. The conflict in his heart remained, uncertainty of whether it was better to leave than stay and face the trails that waited them. Was it only a matter of time before they all returned to the state Rumpelstiltskin had left them? The King or Evil Queen – even Gold himself - used them as their pawns? Or was it better to forget? To have a chance to truly live again, free from the forces of magic and such evil.

Key in the ignition, the engine gave loud groan when finally he made to turn it on. However, regardless how persistent Lumiere was, the truck proved equally as stubborn and simply refused to budge. “Sacré bleu!” He cried, slamming his fist on the dashboard in frustration. It did not appear as though either of them would be going anywhere.

Lost under a hood filled with machinery he would never understand, Lumiere felt a small wave of relief when the warmth of an approaching set of lights hit his back. Someone must have had the same idea as he had. Taking one last drag of his cigarette, he cast it aside and stomped it out. It was only then when he began to approach the vehicle did he recognize it as the familiar hum of Cogsworth’s car.

Things were probably about to get a lot worse but they always did before they got better. At least, that was what he had always told himself. He smiled as Cogsworth pulled up, certain of the lecture he was about to receive.

“Salut, Cogsworth!” He called out, a relaxed façade to him as he waved to the man. “Your timing est magnifique.” Gesturing back to his truck, Lumiere asked the unfathomable. “A boost, if you please.”

Thoughts had been racing on the journey to the edge of town, travelling far from the subject of their existence- the subject of both existences- to the state of mind of a man he had considered mentally-strong. No matter how far they travelled, they were only stuck in an unbreakable circle around the line that seperated their world from the ever-so different other. Ever-so different entirely. Was it better?

Magic, monsters, kingdoms- at least far more than the few that Storybrooke Benjamin had knowledge of, God Save the Queen aside- beautiful lands, friends... Cogsworth had no remaining family, at least none he stayed in contact with; his friends were- and he didn't always admit to it- his family, close, familiar, caring, mocking. He had been told that those were the traits of a real family, his own parents having been servants, having raised him to butle; they were stern but loving, caring but stoic, much like Cogsworth had become.

Storybrooke Cogsworth had no family either, it blurs when he tries to think of them and their faces, blurs when he tries to think of what happened to them, but they were 'no longer in contact' as it were. His only friends once again had been the staff of La Rose Enchantee (he had to wonder what on earth possessed them to call it that) and they were- once again- his family by a strong bond.

But if he left alone, they would all be split. Neither place would be the same, the air would never heal after one of them had jumped the line. It would be all or nought, he had thought, all of them would cross or all of them would stay put.

He just had to talk it over with Lumiere, now. His car approaching the man's truck and-

A boost? A BOOST? The first thing he has to say to him after ditching work, leaving them in the pits, possibly making the greatest mistake of his life and he was asking him for a BOOST? The NERVE of that airheaded, nonsensical-

Cogsworth had tried to prepare himself to keep his calm, but it was gone in that instant. He was steaming like a kettle as he climbed from his car, face red, cheeks puffed in anger. All tact had decided that the safe stairs were not the best idea and would instead be best to take the third floor window, likely breaking its legs in the process.

"A BOOST?! You- you-!" He stomps to the taller man, prodding a sausage-like finger into his chest with quite the force, "You traverse all the way out here, endanger yourself with an idiotic idea, have us all on edge, and you expect me to give you a boost?!" Goddamnit Lumiere.

After years of practice, Lumiere had grown exceptionally skilled at the art of hitting every one of Cogsworth's nerves. A misplaced smile held about as much charm as a crooked painting to the servant. It was just the sort of incompetents Cogsworth could not and would not stand for. Lumiere was as certain of this as he was that he'd be ordered to wipe 'that idiotic look' off his face. Still, his smile held true. It was an exceptional trip for Cogsworth to journey all the way to the edge of town just to yell at him, especially in the middle of dinner service. He was flattered.

"It has proven quite the night for surprises," he replied and gently pushed the man's hand away. "I thought it worth to ask, non?"

In The Town Of Storybrooke... [Closed]

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