[June 25th] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 25

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Lux Aeterna, scene 25
Day/Theme: June 25th - The flowing years
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Mignon Germaine, Edith Fallon, important mentions of Amory Fallon
Rating: K+/PG

Takes place after #23. Now I'm seeking Edith's voice. And I'm not sure what's wrong, but I have the sense that this piece feels like it's hurrying along when it shouldn't be. I'm not sure how to slow it down.


By Lucky_Ladybug

It was always said how quickly time went by, that time flowed seamlessly from one year to another until one’s entire life had passed and they were left old and gray—or dead.

Mignon stood at the edge of the porch, her hand resting on a wooden pillar. She had lived a full, rich life, experiencing many things that people often did not and some things that people sometimes did. She had been an entertainer at an early age, striving to help support her family. She had traveled. She had loved and been in love.

She still sought to protect her son, and he her. They had always had a very close relationship, even moreso after Jack’s tragic death. Hamilton had offered to help with any financial needs they might have, but Mignon had been determined to support Larry herself. Although she had wanted to be a stay-at-home mother, she went back to work. And she was grateful she had. She had managed to keep them afloat for years, saving where she could and spending only what they had to. The money she had saved had helped indescribably when Larry had been ready for college and law school. And he had developed a strong work ethic from her. He had earned everything else he needed.

Now the world was so different. Everything could be ripped away from them so easily. As soon as today, she could die. Larry could die. They were both involved in the rebellion against Florence. And Florence was unforgiving to everyone who was part of it.

There was a part of her that did not want Larry to be mixed up in this. And, she imagined, he was not that thrilled about her participation, either. But when she wavered or doubted, her thoughts returned to how she had pulled out of the fight against Vivalene because of her fears for Larry’s safety. She had not remembered everything then. She did now. And she knew Larry did not want out of this fight.

She did not want to abandon it herself. It was important, to them as well as to the world as a whole. They did not want to live the rest of their lives under Florence’s shadow.

She started back to the present at the sound of a car. To her amazement, it had parked in front of the house. A worried woman whom she had never seen was alighting, gripping her purse as she walked around to the edge of the property. She seemed to be several years younger than Mignon.

“Excuse me, are you Ms. Germaine?”

Mignon nodded. “Yes. But you have the advantage of me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry; my name is Edith Fallon.” She came closer, up the walkway as Mignon started down the porch steps. “My husband and I know Terrance Clay. I was talking with him at the restaurant today and he suggested I come see you.”

“Really?” Mignon raised an eyebrow. “What about?”

“Well . . .” Edith came up next to Mignon, her eyes filled with concern. “It’s about my husband, but it might sound silly. Could we talk inside?”

Mignon went back up the steps. “Of course. Please come in.” She led the other woman into the house and to the living room. When they were comfortably settled, Mignon gave her guest a questioning look. “Now. About your husband.”

Edith ran her tongue over her lips. “My husband is Amory Fallon,” she began. “He owns the Fallon Paint company here in Los Angeles. He had some trouble in the past, with his partner betraying him and then Amory being falsely accused of his murder, but things have settled down since then.

“We haven’t been affected by that woman taking over the world. She’s left us alone and we’ve left her alone. But I can tell Amory isn’t satisfied with that. He wants to fight.”

“And you don’t want him to?” Mignon interjected.

Edith averted her gaze. “I’d rather he didn’t,” she said. “I guess it sounds awful, but . . . well, Amory’s never fought in a physical battle worse than throwing a few punches. He’s already had so much distress and heartache, with Ned’s betrayal and . . . other things, and for the last few years we’ve been peaceful and happy.” She looked up again. “No, Ms. Germaine, I don’t want him to fight. I’m so frightened of him going off and never coming home.”

“That’s understandable,” Mignon said. “However, if he wants to take part in the rebellion . . .”

“That’s it, though,” Edith interrupted. “Something is holding him back. I think he knows how I feel about it and he doesn’t want to hurt me.” She sighed. “I’ve been trying to get up the strength to tell him he should follow his heart. But . . . that’s when the dreams started.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “I see. What kinds of dreams?”

“Very bad ones. It’s always approximately the same thing, Ms. Germaine. It’s dark, and cold, and there’s been some sort of horrible devastation. There’s these pieces of . . . I’m not sure what, but they’re part of a broken building.

“I’m walking through all of this, calling for Amory. I start seeing these bodies lying all around. . . .” Her voice caught and she looked down a moment before returning her desperate, pleading gaze to Mignon. “They’re close to death, if not dead.

“And then I find Amory. He’s lying on the ground next to one of those broken pieces. There’s blood all over it. I fall down next to him, calling to him, pleading for him to answer me. He doesn’t, so I start looking for a pulse. . . . And . . . and . . . he’s dead. . . . He’s dead! My poor Amory, lying there so still and cold and lifeless. . . .

“That’s when I wake up.”

Mignon leaned back, her eyes flickering with sympathy. “You don’t think this could just be the product of your own tortured mind?” she asked.

“I did at first,” Edith said. “I’m not a superstitious person, Ms. Germaine. Amory really isn’t, either. But when they keep coming, always so similar and always with the same horrible outcome. . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Have you told your husband about this?”

“No. I wanted to talk to someone else first, to see what they might think.” Edith sighed, her shoulders rising and falling. “That’s how I came to talk to Clay. He didn’t think I should dismiss them so easily. And he mentioned you.”

She gave Mignon a pleading look. “What do you think, Ms. Germaine? I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to keep Amory from doing what he feels he should, but if he’ll only get killed. . . . What if these dreams are warning me that I shouldn’t let him go?!”

Mignon contemplated her answer. It was a delicate situation. She had dreamed sometimes of Larry or Hamilton being killed in the fight against Florence. She had struggled with her own feelings of whether the dreams meant something more than her fears, and sometimes she still wondered. But they were never almost exactly the same in setting, as this woman’s dreams were.

“Unfortunately, I’m not entirely the expert Mr. Clay seems to have been painting me as,” she said at last. “I do know something about dreams, but I don’t like to give a definitive answer on whether a dream may or may not be significant. Those who profess such abilities have led many people astray. However,” she hastened to add as Edith’s countenance fell, “I also feel that the dreamer usually knows best. If they are feeling troubled and worry that it’s more than a simple dream, in general they should follow their intuition.”

“I . . . I see,” Edith nodded. “So your advice is that I should beg Amory not to go?”

“My advice is that you should tell your husband of your dreams and your concerns,” Mignon said. “Is he the type who would simply scoff?”

“No,” Edith said slowly. “No, I don’t think so, if I approached it in the right way.”

“Then tell him.”

Edith considered it and nodded again. “Alright, Ms. Germaine. I will.” She clutched her purse. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’re honestly concerned that your husband’s life is in danger,” Mignon said. “It’s the right thing. He should know about your dreams, whether or not he chooses to believe in them.”

“I suppose so. But if there isn’t anything to them and I’ve prevented Amory from joining the rebels . . .”

“What if there is something to them and you don’t do anything?” Mignon returned. “You would never forgive yourself.”

Edith flinched. “You’re right. I can’t hold back. Not when Amory’s life might be at stake. . . .” She fumbled and reached into her purse. “I want to thank you for your time, Ms. Germaine. It was good of you to see me.”

“There’s no need to pay me, Mrs. Fallon,” Mignon said as she rose. “I don’t run a business.”

Edith looked up, her hand over her wallet. “Oh, but I’d like to give you something. . . .”

“Let me know how it works out with Mr. Fallon,” Mignon said. “That is payment enough.”

Surprised, Edith finally nodded and smiled. “Alright then,” she said. “If you’re sure.”

“I wish you the best success, Mrs. Fallon.”

Edith stood now as well, hanging her purse on her arm. “Thank you, Ms. Germaine.” She smiled. “Amory is a good man. I know he would be able to help the rebel movement, but I can’t bear to think of him being killed because of it. . . .” She was sober again now, her voice quavering. “This has become such a mixed-up world.”

“Yes, it has.” Mignon walked with her to the door.

As Edith turned the knob, a small object fell from her purse to the floor. She looked down with a start. “Oh dear,” she fretted. “I remember now—my pictures were loose and I set them to the side. Then I forgot to put them back in my purse.”

She bent to retrieve the small series of wallet-sized photographs. When she straightened, the one on top caught Mignon’s eye.

“Pardon me,” Mignon said. “Is that your husband?”

Edith glanced down. “Why, yes,” she said. “This is Amory.” She held the plastic-covered picture up so Mignon could get a better look. At the other woman’s amazed stare, Edith blinked. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Mignon quickly assured her. “Nothing is wrong.” She opened the door for her guest. “He’s a handsome man.”

“Yes, he is,” said Edith, the fondness obvious in her voice. “And very kind and gentle.” She replaced the pictures in her purse. “Well, goodbye, Ms. Germaine. Thank you again.”

“Of course.”

Mignon watched as Edith went down the stairs and to her car. The image of her husband stayed in Mignon’s mind even after Edith drove away. Slowly, contemplatively, Mignon shut the door. She had never once imagined what she had discovered.

Amory Fallon bore a striking resemblance to Lieutenant Anderson. Was there any significance in that fact?

Not that Mignon believed Edith’s dreams would actually pertain to her husband’s double instead of him.

But it was a strange coincidence.