Chapter 7: Black and blue
December, 1st week
Something was terribly wrong. He could literally smell it, and it wasn't about the few snowflakes that lingered in the air. It wasn't cold enough to stick to the ground; not that he cared, he lived ten minutes from here on foot.
No.
Something was wrong with his little fairy. His eyes had caught her wince as she dragged something out of her bag before Alexandre – her devoted accomplice – helped her with it. And they had switched seats as well, putting Frances against the wall, hidden in a corner. Away from him and his prying eyes ?
Tristan started his class, determined to find out what might have happened to cause such peculiar behaviour. For apart from the occasional wince of pain – something to do with her arm – the young woman seemed as fiery as usual. Cheery, even.
For the better part of the hour, Tristan devoted himself to his band of merry lads as they studied a map of Chamonix and the beautiful ice-sea. A landscape that was a mere two hours from the city and was really worth the detour. Today's assignments covered both geology and geography, and he was as floored as usual by how cultured they were. Many of them enjoyed hiking in the alps, and he was regaled with tales of rock climbing, finding Edelweiss and snow storms. Which derived to skiing as the map displayed the lifts strongly anchored in the granite of the Belledone mountain range. In the corner, he could see Frances snigger with her faithful neighbour and he took advantage of her mirth.
— "Whatever has caused such merriment must be worth sharing, Frances."
There was neither disdain nor sarcasm in his voice, not even an ounce of annoyment but the young woman turned crimson, her eyes wide like those of a doe caught in headlights. Tristan immediately regretted putting her in the spotlight; while she enjoyed bantering with the others, Frances didn't like the attention so much. Or perhaps it was him, for his attention surely was set upon her face… upon the ugly bruise marring her cheekbone. Tristan frowned, a chill running up his spine as his eyes squinted. Realising her mistake, Frances ducked her head instantly.
— "Sorry, sir. The story would be more fitting after a few beers"
She wasn't taking a risk there; Frances never partook in the classes evenings at the bar. Given the situation, though, Tristan wasn't about to sell her ruse away, for he usually came with.
— "That's a deal. Next time at Joe's, we will remind you to share"
— "Meaning we'll have to drag you there", one of her classmates quipped back.
An exclamation ensued, and Tristan had to hide his worry to regain control of the class before it went sideways. And while he gathered his wits to reclaim the attention, dread pooled in his stomach, considering the many reasons why the young woman might have been hurt. He had heard nothing in the staff room, but the specialised teachers scarcely came by anyway. And after the fiasco with her biology teacher… well. Alain should have noticed, at least ! Was everyone ignoring that one of their students had been hurt ? And badly, at that, for now that he knew, he could clearly see how her left arm pained her.
So while a thousand possibilities ran through his clouded mind – a car accident, a fall in the stairs… an attack in the streets, an abusive boyfriend ? – his well-behaved class led the show. He could never thank them enough for making his job easier than today. And when the bell rang, at last – had it been only half an hour ? – Tristan dismissed them with a weary smile.
Of course, Frances was avoiding his gaze. Smart woman, she knew, as much as he did, that one look was all it took for him to pin someone in place. He was bound to interrogate her. Tristan didn't give her time to slip away, putting himself in her path.
— "Frances, a word please"
The young woman protested, her friend stilling by her side.
— "But I have biology tutorial right after…"
— "In half an hour, if I am not mistaken"
Caught in her lie, Frances settled her gaze on the ground. It didn't reassure him the least; why did she seek to avoid him if her injury wasn't caused by someone close ? Would he have to involve the police ? Child services ? No, she was an adult already.
— "I'll stay", Alexandre suggested.
Tristan glared at the boy. He had to give him some credit; Alexandre had some guts to stand up to him. Frances shrugged then, waving her friend away.
— "Ah, don't bother. It will be over soon, take advantage of the break to spend time with Rozenn"
Rozenn ? Girlfriend ? Alexandre nodded, sending him a wary look before walking away. Tristan waited for the door to close before his eyes returned to Frances. She was standing awkwardly, biting her lip nervously. Not one to bit around the bush, the teacher stated sternly.
— "What happened ?", he asked.
— "I fell ?"
So she was going to play dumb. Tristan gestured to his own cheekbone, watching the different emotions that passed in the deep swirl of her chocolate eyes. Seeing that no more explanation was forthcoming, he stated plainly:
— "Right. That's a lame excuse, you know ?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously, anger overtaking awkwardness so suddenly that he took a step back to perch himself upon a table.
— "That's not an excuse, and I never lie, SIR"
The emphasis on the last word lashed out like a whip. Damn, for a twenty-year-old, she certainly could look intimidating. Quite a force to be reckoned with, but he was older and made of sturdier stuff than her classmates.
— "Is this your boyfriend's work ?"
Bafflement took over, followed by amusement then…. She burst out of laughing. So carefree, so unrestrained that he found himself smiling. Her mirth caused him joy; she was so communicative. At last, the young woman wiped a tear out of her eye and looked at him with renewed candor.
— "Is that why you are so stern and mighty ?"
The expression caught him off guard as he realised what she meant. He went into doom and gloom, interrogating like an inspector and imagining the worst. Facing the truth, nailed by a woman ten years younger than him, put him in an awkward position. So he just nodded sheepishly, letting the insecure boy take over the responsible professor. Frances chuckled again before addressing him.
— "Aaah, sorry. Anyway, do I look like someone who would accept to be beaten by a man ?"
Her jab landed true; no, she wasn't that kind of woman. Albeit shy, there was true strength of character behind those chocolate eyes. Sometimes, he had trouble relating her to her age, speaking to her like an equal and not like her senior teacher.
— "No. I don't think you take crap from anyone. So what happened ?"
A brown eyebrow lifted upon her face to mark her words.
— "As I told you, I fell. On the ice"
He winced sympathetically.
— "Ouch, nothing broken?"
The young woman glanced at her arm; the movement was stiff and cautious.
— "No. The elbow is sore, but I had a radio and it's fine. Just swollen but the muscles have seized because of the shock. It will pass. Hopefully, in time for the ice-skating show"
Tristan's shoulders sagged a little; he'd been worrying for nothing and the tightness in his chest was loosening now. Then, her words registered in his brain.
— "Hey, wait, what show ?"
— "The Christmas annual gala. I'm presenting a little piece at the festival, but I can't seem to pass that axel. A simple fu… hum. One turn and a half. I tried a few too many times, my ass is numb and I fell sideways. Believe me, I've been berated enough so if you feel like furrowing your brows and yelling at me that I overtrained, I'll be going right now"
Tristan's eyebrows shot up; figure skating ! He was impressed, truly impressed this time. So impressed that he didn't even remark she had been berating him. Tristan loved dancing, but figure skating was one way above his level of skill. Suddenly, her lithe form and graceful moves made a whole new lot of sense. Frances was a woman of many talents. His mouth ran ahead of his brain; a feat that happened often enough in her presence as he reverted to himself rather than the authority figure.
— "Wow. I never had a student presenting an ice-skating show before."
Frances cocked her head aside, trying to not disturb her bent arm.
— "Are you familiar with Gwendal Peizerat and Marina Anissina ?", she asked.
— "They won the Olympics, right ?"
The impressed look went the other way this time. Finding someone familiar with the dancing discipline rather than the purely 'figure and jumps' one was scarce enough to be praised.
— "Yes. They train in Charlemagne skating rink. This is where I took my first steps on the ice."
The teacher tried to reminisce the piece he'd seen on TV, the long red hair of the Russian dancer coming to the forefront. Oh ! This is where it came from.
— "Is that the reason for your hair color ?"
She gave him a lopsided smile, her eyes caressing him with such fondness that it warmed his heart. What was it, with this young woman, that tugged at him so strongly ? Perhaps it was just the way she was…
— "A little"
A moment passed, when their eyes seemed to communicate a world, lost in time. Then Frances blinked, breaking the charm, removing her sweet presence from his aura. A sudden urge seized his guts.
— "Is it open to everyone ?"
His hopeful tone seemed to strike her and she froze.
— "Uh ?"
— "The show"
A smile broke over her lips, a radiant bright expression that shone like a thousand suns.
— "Yeah. I can probably get you a seat if you want to."
Tristan suddenly felt self-conscious, his hands fiddling with the hem of his untugged shirt. Would his presence at a student's show be crossing the line ? Perhaps not; after all, he was supposed to advocate and cheer for them, right ? But deep down, he knew it was more personal. For once, he was the one whose gaze fell to the ground, watching the rounded tip of her shoes that peeked under the slacks. Her legs seemed rather interminable with the heels hidden like this, quite like his own long legs.
Tristan swallowed.
— "I'd like that."
— "How many ?"
His head shot up. How many ? Oh. Family, wife, children… Yeah. No.
— "Just one."
She gave him a speculative look, as if she quite couldn't believe he was single – he wore a wedding band after all. Was she going to pry ? Ask if his wife didn't like skating ?
No. She just nodded.
— "Your wish is my command, sir Tristan", she quipped playfully.
And the proud young woman was back, teasing him as she reached for her bag. He rushed to pick up the blasted thing – it weighed a fucking ton ! – and settled it on her shoulder, his hands brushing her t-shirt in the process. The gesture left him slightly flustered and Frances left him there, considering the emotions that coursed through his veins. But right before she opened the door, the fiery redhead turned to him.
— "And I don't have time for a boyfriend. I've got too much to do already"
His heart leapt in joy as the door clanged close.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone