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Francis looked up from his book upon hearing someone at the door. He shoved it back into his desk, then got up. "Oh," he smiled upon opening the door. "It's just you. I wasn't expecting anyone at this hour."
"I'm sorry," Jane said. "I'm usually not out this late."
"No need to apologize," he said. "You're always welcome; come in!"
"About that," she winced. "One moment."
She stepped away from the doorway, whispering to Cesare, who was pressed against the wall of Francis' house, nearly invisible in the darkness, save for his white face and hands. "I think you should wait outside," she said to him. "I'll tell you everything afterwards."
He blinked in surprise. Wait outside? Did she have any idea what could happen if anyone found him alone?
"Go... with... you," he hissed.
She sighed. "Francis might not be... ready... to see you right now," she said. "Wait behind the house; I'll meet you there when we're done talking."
"Promise," he said gravely. She had to promise she'd be back.
She squeezed his hand. "I promise."
Cesare lumbered away, giving Jane a final look back. Once he was out of sight, she turned, returning back to Francis' door.
"Are you sure your parents are okay with you being out this late?" Francis asked as he invited her in. "I don't want to get you in trouble."
She looked down. "They're... if you see them, don't tell them I was here."
Francis smiled. "Is my rebellious streak finally rubbing off on you? It's about time!"
"Rebellious?" Jane whispered to herself. She didn't want to be rebellious; her parents certainly wouldn't approve of that. But since when would they approve of her stealing a document from her father's study, or housing Cesare within their walls? "Well," she said, drawing herself up, "when something must be done, one must do something."
Francis suddenly grew serious. "You have a reason for being here, then. What's wrong? I'll help you; what do you need?"
"Nothing's wrong," Jane said. "At least, I don't think so. I was hoping you could help me find out about some people in a photograph; you spy on everyone in town, so I thought I'd come to you."
He patted her shoulder. "It's not spying, my dear friend. It's observing. You'd be surprised what people are up to; for instance, did you know that Herr Hoffmann doesn't really need a monocle? His wife says it makes him look distinguished, but-"
Jane handed him the newspaper clipping. "Do you recognize any of these people?" she asked.
Francis squinted, taking a closer look at it. "In the middle... is that...?"
"Yes," Jane said. "It's Cesare. We were hoping to find someone who knew anything about his past... look at him. He looks so happy there."
"He does," Francis muttered. "A ballet dancer, huh?"
"Yes. That's what he was before... Isn't it horrible? His whole life in front of him- he must have been about eighteen. I bet Caligari was all too happy to take someone so young and talented and keep him for himself. I bet that's why he took him- it wasn't just that he sleepwalked, was it?"
Francis looked at her, noticing her tremble. "It's... it's a real shame," he said. "Do you need to sit down?"
She blinked a few times. "I'll... I'll be fine."
"Let's look at the rest of the picture, then." He turned his attention back to the cutting. "It's hard to really make out these faces- wait. Right there, on his left. That woman there."
She craned her neck over his shoulder. "Do you recognize her? Who is she?"
"Look at her hand. She's got a monogrammed handkerchief."
"It's too small to read the initials, though."
"We don't need to," Francis said. "That's Anna Gruber. She always carries around that handkerchief."
"Anna Gruber?" Jane said, looking down at the photo. "My mother told me not to associate with her when I was younger. Said her family was indecent, whatever that means."
"Your mother says that about a lot of people," Francis said.
"She's said it about you, too," Jane laughed nervously.
"I'll take the compliment." Francis laughed too, and for a second, they each felt that something that had been missing for a very long time had been restored.
"I suppose I'd better see her, then," Jane said. "Anna Gruber. Do you have her address?"
"I have her address and her schedule," Francis said proudly, taking out a notebook from his desk. "In here is the schedule of almost everyone in town. You'll find all the names are organized alphabetically, see?"
She flipped through it, eyes widening. "Wow," she said. "Is this what you've been doing when you said you were always busy?"
"Sometimes," Francis answered. He suddenly blushed, looking away. "There's, um, no need to look into the O's."
"Am I in there?"
"You're- yes. But- just so I don't come over at the wrong time. I don't want to bother you... or your parents. Anyway, here's Anna Gruber." He flipped the notebook to the correct page. "There's the address, and when you can expect her to be home. Tomorrow morning should be fine."
Jane looked down at the notebook. If Francis' notes were correct, then tomorrow morning, perhaps she would finally learn something about Cesare's past. She shivered; was there really someone out there who could tell them everything?
"Tomorrow morning," she muttered. "Thank you, Francis."
"Oh; it wasn't a problem, really- I'd do anything to help you."
"It was a big help. Cesare will really appreciate it."
Francis cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said. "Cesare."
"I'd better go," she said, "before my parents notice I'm gone. Thank you again." She hugged him quickly, and stepped back, leaving him with a reddened face and a slightly open mouth.
"Hey," Francis said, "when you're done, you can... maybe you can come over again? I'd be interested in what you find- and after that, we can have tea, like we used to. If- if you want to, of course. It's been a long time since we've really... since we've seen each other to just- you know, to just talk."
She smiled. "I'd like that," she said. "I'd really like that."
-
"I think this is the right house," Jane said, looking down at the piece of paper in her hand. "How are you feeling?"
Cesare trailed behind her, wearing a cloak over his head. He looked up at the house, growling. If Francis was right, then someone who knew about his past was behind that door. He didn't recognize the name Anna Gruber, but would she know his name? What if she didn't recognize him, either- or worse, if she was afraid of him? He clung to Jane's hand, breathing heavily. At least with her, he'd be safe.
She knocked on the door, then stepped back as it opened. A woman with an angular face stepped out, one of her long legs positioned in front of the other- in the same way Cesare often stood, Jane noted. She had a handkerchief sticking out of her pocket, which she turned in her bony fingers- the same one from the newspaper picture. The woman muttered to herself, looking sharply down at Jane, then up at Cesare.
"Never thought I'd see an Olsen on my doorstep," she said. "What do you want? I don't have all day."
Jane blinked, taken aback. People didn't usually talk to her like that. Still, she put on a polite face, curtsying. "Hello," she said. "Are you Anna Gruber?"
"Why do you care?"
"I think you might know my friend," she said. "We've been wanting to talk to you about something important; may we come in?"
She snorted. "Not every day one of you wants to talk to me," she said.
“It will only be a moment. We don’t want to cause you any trouble, but we think you may know something we’ve been wanting to learn more about.”
She opened the door, sharply gesturing to them. "Five minutes,” she said. “Don't touch anything."
Jane and Cesare looked at each other, then entered.
"I suppose you want me to offer you something, don't you?" Anna said. "Nothing I can give you that's as good as anything in your fancy mansion. You'll have to make do with bread and weak tea or cheap wine like the rest of us commoners, or forget it."
"I... that sounds nice," Jane answered hesitantly, hoping that was the correct answer. "Now, my friend and I have some questions for you- but please, don't be frightened. Cesare?"
Cesare let go of her hand, and removed the cloak from his head, keeping his eyes closed. Anna gasped, stumbling back.
"You...!" she said. "It can't be!"
"He won't hurt you," Jane said hurriedly. "I promise he's-"
"Oh, he's already done that," Anna said. "You leave our company for a big audition, you don't even show up to it, you disappear for five years, and then all of a sudden you have the nerve to come to my doorstep with some pretty rich girl on your arm!"
Jane's mouth dropped open, and Cesare blinked.
"You weren't... you weren't in town for carnival season, were you?" Jane asked hesitantly.
"Goodness, no. It gets overcrowded, and the tourists are insufferable. I leave Holstenwall to live with my sister's family the second the leaves turn orange. Why would I be here during the carnival?"
"...No reason," Jane answered. "So, you know each other?"
"Hardly!" she scoffed, turning to Cesare. "Every time I asked to go out with you, you said you were too busy preparing for your dance career, and I believed you! You could have just turned me down, instead of pulling a stunt like this! Well, you wouldn't be the first. It's clear that not even her money is satisfying you; look how thin and unkempt you are! If not the money, then she's satisfying you in other ways, isn't she? Acting all prissy and polite and thinking I wouldn’t notice."
Jane gasped, her face drained of color. Cesare only blinked again, his blank expression unchanged.
"Allow me to clarify," Jane said, trying to be firm. "We're just very good friends. I know this whole situation may be shocking to you, but it's very important that you tell us what you know."
"What I know about what? Clearly, you know him much better than I do!"
Jane turned to Cesare. "Should I tell her?" she asked. "About you?"
He shuddered. "Scared," he whispered. "Do... not... want... to hear... it."
"Your voice," Anna said. "Something's wrong with it." She paused. "Something's wrong."
"You have to understand," Jane said. "He... he can't talk much. Five years ago, something... happened, and he doesn't remember much before that. That's why we need your help."
"You seriously don't remember me?" Anna said.
Cesare shook his head no.
“None of our rehearsals together?”
He shook his head again.
“Anything I did for you?”
“Do… not… know,” he whispered.
"I helped you get that audition," she said. "I knew how badly you wanted to get out of the clubs. I made sure you were always the center of attention, that it would be your performances people would talk about and not mine. And I'm still there, doing the same choreography and the same acts, because I gave up my own break for yours! I loved you, but you forgot about me, and you didn't even show up to the audition." Tears in her eyes, she stepped towards him, and raised the back of her hand.
Cesare screeched, covering his face as he cowered behind Jane.
"Don't," Jane warned, in a voice she never knew she had. "Don't touch him."
"Oh, like you're the paragon of virtue here."
"There is so much you don't understand," Jane said. "I'm sorry you gave up the career you wanted. I'm sorry you feel heartbroken. But if you had the slightest idea of what he's been through-"
She suddenly paused as Cesare put a hand on her shoulder. "Will... talk," he said, even though he wasn't sure he had all the right words.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded, and stepped forward. His mouth twitched, and he closed his eyes. "Fell... asleep," he said. "Taken. Became..." He gestured to himself. "Hurting. Made me..."
The words weren't enough. Maybe dancing would help; after all, she was a dancer, too. Maybe she'd understand. He moved to the center of the room, stretched out his arms, and began twisting his body, contorting himself and clawing at the air.
"What is he doing?" Anna asked.
Jane watched as Cesare threw himself to the floor, then slowly arched back up again. "He's telling you," she said.
At times, he was a frenzied dark blur, a wild tangle of limbs and flashing eyes. Then, he'd suddenly freeze, becoming eerily graceful as he stalked about the room, his movements so delicate they were almost painful to watch. Remembering that he was told not to touch anything, he dutifully obeyed, nimbly avoiding tables and chairs as he wove his way around them, his expressionless face masking the array of emotions he hoped to communicate. When he was done, he silently returned to Jane's side, took her hand, and bowed.
"Oh," she said, realizing he'd never done that before. She curtsied as well- it seemed he'd decided she was now a part of his performance. "Now do you understand?" she asked Anna. "Will you tell us what you know?"
"I understand plenty," she said. "I understand that I've been doing the same dances every night while he's able to indulge in actual artistry. I understand the thankless work I've done to get him to where he is now. I understand his horrible screeching voice and your false niceties are nothing but facades to mock me."
"No-"
"Both of you, get out. I don't want to see you at my door again."
"Please," Jane insisted. "Isn't there at least anyone else we can talk to?"
"I don't feel inclined to tell you after that little performance," Anna responded. "Now leave."
“You need to understand,” Jane said. “That’s the best way he knows how to communicate. You clearly had some sort of past; can’t you tell us more about it?”
“And for what? To dredge up my own pain again so that you can inflate your ego once again? You have money, you have influence, you have him. Let me at least keep my dignity.”
“I’m not-”
Cesare twitched. “Will… leave,” he said.
Jane glanced up at him. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll go. I’m sorry.”
-
"Well, that was our one lead," Jane sighed once they'd returned to Cesare's room. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"Should... have... talked... more," he said, curled up on his bed.
"It's fine; you did the best thing you knew how to do. I thought it was very effective. I'm sorry she wasn't a lot of help; she didn't even tell us what your old name was."
He looked at her with his haunted eyes. "Do... not... need... it," he said.
"What? But you really wanted to know it, didn't you? If you knew your old name, you could go back to who you were before."
"Do... not... want... to," he responded, his voice numb.
"We went through all that trouble- don't you want your old life back? You know, before Caligari?"
He shook his head. For once, the name didn't make him flinch.
"Have... new... life... now," he said. "With... you."
She sat down next to him, and he leaned his head on her shoulder.
"I guess I don't understand," she said. "You wanted to know so badly."
"Keep... making... new... life," he said. "Want to be... new... Cesare."
"Oh," Jane said. "I suppose that's all you can do, now that you can't go back."
He grunted sleepily, closing his eyes.
"That's good, I suppose," she answered. "Maybe I'll have to be a new Jane, then. Is that right?"
Cesare didn't respond. He'd fallen asleep- and had done so without the slightest feeling of shame.