Chapter Text
"Do it! You've always wanted to, now's your chance!"
In a different story, Arnaud Deslandes freezes up at these words. In a different story, Victor Deslandes is recognized by his father. In a different story, Victor runs off unscathed, meets his friends at Romane's house, reveals his newfound powers to save Romane, and sets everyone on the path towards possible tragedy.
This is not that story.
Without giving a second thought to the ramblings of the stranger who thinks he can talk about his family, as if he knows anything about what they're going through right now, Arnaud slams his fist into the teen's face.
There is a sickening crack, and the boy stumbles with a pained gasp. Barely a second later, there is blood streaming down his face, and Arnaud realizes what he just did, and how the situation would look to any onlooker.
He pulls out his phone, and quickly calls the police.
Through blurred vision, Victor realizes what is happening. As he scrambles to his feet, blood dripping onto the light gray hoodie and staining it darker, it occurs to him that he really did not think this through. At all.
He can barely see, but he bites out a curse in his father's general direction, and makes a run for it.
Behind him, Arnaud starts to follow, but quickly decides against it. After a short explanation, he hangs up the phone.
He doesn't notice that the grass outside the restaurant is now dead, which is probably for the best.
Romane inhales sharply, glancing frantically around the room. Bilal and Sam are both on the ground, Herve has her cornered, things are bad.
In a different story, this is where Victor shows up. In a different story, this is where the hastily thrown together plan begins to spiral wildly out of control.
This is not that story, and Romane Berthauds is alone.
But she isn't defenseless, is she? She did…something, a minute ago. She acted on instinct, she made everything stop, and she just needs to do it again.
She tries to focus, tries to swallow back the panic bubbling in her throat.
Herve is still demanding to know who she is, his grip tightening dangerously.
Romane's thoughts race desperately. Maybe she isn't supposed to focus, maybe it's about the danger, the reaction…the emotion.
Herve draws back a fist.
And Romane lets herself panic. She screws her eyes shut, and opens her mouth, and screams.
Her thoughts are a tangled mess, raw and bleeding.
She hates Herve.
Her mother died because of Herve.
She's so scared.
Sam and Bilal followed her into danger.
Her mother almost died because of her.
She isn't entirely sure how much of her anger is at Herve and how much is at herself.
But she knows she is furious, and so she screams hard enough for her lungs to ache, hurt and grief and terror all ripping directly out of her throat.
After several moments, she realizes that the hit never landed. She opens her eyes.
And everything is absolutely still.
Several minutes pass.
During these minutes, Romane barely moves, afraid of breaking the spell that she has somehow managed to cast.
During these minutes, Victor makes his way through the woods, one hand lightly pressed against his nose in a futile attempt at dulling the pain.
There is a car in Romane's driveway. That's the first thing Victor notices, the first thought he has that isn't about how badly his nose hurts, how much he hates his father, or how disgusting the blood in his mouth tastes.
Nobody was supposed to be home, he remembers. Something's wrong.
He approaches the door, suddenly very worried about the others. Turning the handle as silently as possible, he eases the door open.
The moment he does, he realizes several things.
Herve is about to hit Romane.
Romane doesn't look injured.
Bilal and Sam aren't moving.
Herve…isn't moving either. At all.
In fact, nothing in the room is moving.
Except for Romane. She's blinking rapidly, and picking at her thumb with her index finger, an anxious habit of hers.
Did she…did Romane freeze time? Victor is pretty sure there's a thousand more reasonable explanations for the sight in front of him, but that's the only one that he can think of right now. It suddenly occurs to him that he's been standing in the doorway for several seconds now, and Romane hasn't noticed him yet.
"Romane?" He calls.
Her head snaps over to him, and the two stare at each other for about three seconds.
"Why are you covered in blood?" Romane shouts.
"Me?" Victor gestures wildly around the room. "Since when can you do that?"
Romane takes a deep breath before answering. "Since…today?" She glances him over, wincing slightly. "What happened to you?"
"My dad punched me in the face."
"What? Why?"
Victor hesitates, but he's in too much pain to think of a good explanation. "I might have provoked him."
"Did he recognize you?"
He almost wishes that he could say yes, that he could say that his father had done this to him knowing full well who he was. It would get Romane to stop frowning at him with clear disapproval.
"No."
"Okay." Romane pauses, looking slightly lost in thought.
Victor suddenly remembers that this isn't a normal conversation, and that the room in front of him is clearly defying the laws of physics. He's about to ask Romane what had happened - he had left the others alone for, what, an hour? - but then she's saying, "Hey, can you do me a favor?"
Victor blinks. "Uh, sure. What?"
"There's a brick behind the screen door, right by where you're standing. Can you grab it?"
He sees it, and picks it up.
"Okay, now, don't come any closer, because I have no idea how any of this works. But I'm gonna try to get over there."
Victor nods. He thinks he might know what she's trying to do, but- "What if the room unfreezes when you move?"
Romane glances at him, and there's something unsettling about her gaze. He wonders if his looked similar when he was confronting his father.
"Then you need to throw that at Herve's head. Don't miss."
He nods again. "Like dodgeball." He mutters under his breath, in a half-hearted attempt at a joke.
"You suck at dodgeball."
Victor snickers. Then he draws back the hand holding the brick, aiming it at Herve the best he can.
Very slowly, Romane starts inching away from the wall, and closer to the doorway. After a few tense moments, she's standing in front of Victor. Wordlessly, she holds out her hand.
He gives her the brick, suddenly realizing that they're both likely operating under the assumption that the room will unfreeze once it is thrown. "Don't miss." He breathes, echoing her previous words.
Romane nods.
Then she chucks the brick at her stepfather's head, and several things happen, almost at once.
The brick connects with the back of Herve's head, and he crumples.
Romane's eyes dart over to Sam and Bilal.
Victor follows her gaze, and realizes that they seem to be stirring slightly.
The room in front of him looks normal again, so he takes a step forward. When nothing happens, he lets out a breath of relief. Then he turns to Romane. "You can get Camille, I'll wake up Sam and Bilal."
"Okay." Romane starts for the hallway, before glancing back. "Do you know how to check for concussions?"
"No, you?"
Romane shakes her head. "We'll figure it out later."
Victor resists the urge to laugh at how quickly they had managed to get in completely over their heads.
His face hurts, he thinks bitterly.