The City on the Rocks

Monique wanted to counter that, as Gervais already sprung up and stomped towards the alley.
“What a fool!”, ranted Monique to herself and followed against her better judgement her spouse.
Her husband approached the alley, from which they themselves just came from, with haste. Monique would have loved to shout and scream at him, but her fear to draw even more attention won the battle. She wished she could be mad at Gervais at the moment, but an odd feeling came over her.
At one hand, it was his altruism that caused her to fall in love with him in the first place, and even still loves him. The miracle-healer, who lives in a humble hut and helps the homeless and poor with their lives. The romantic, who was a fool at the same time. He lived blissfully under Pichard until it was too late.
On the other was fear that befell her, not anger. What, if this would be the end? If Pichard’s goons are already waiting behind the next corner? They almost reached the alley, but the romantic fool would not stop now.
Gervais peeked around the corner, into which the stranger fled. Now he clearly saw the blood traces on the ground, leading him to a downwards staircase at a wall. He quickly looked around him once more, especially towards the other alley. No attackers. No one.
“Are we done now?”, asked Monique mockingly, as she walked up to Gervais.
He ignored her and stepped up to the staircase. Monique sighed and looked around nervously. Following the blood, he found the figure, which fell down the stairs leading to a cellar. Carefully, he put one foot on the first step and grasped the railing with one hand.
“Are you alright? Can I help you?” The figure did not answer.
“He’s dead, let’s leave!” The mocking voice of his spouse sounded distressed and begging. “I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary… please.”
Gervais looked at Monique and gave her a warm smile. He pulled some bandages and a little bottle out of his bag.
“If he’s dead, I leave him. If not, let me at least bind his wounds.”
Monique sighed. “But do hurry up. I don’t like this.”
Gervais nodded and began his descent down the stairs.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” The Person, he now could identify as a man around forty years old, did not move. He bowed down and touched the man’s shoulder to turn him around.
Carefully, he turned him around, only to see now wounds or marks on his body. Slowly, the stranger opened his eyes. He stared at Gervais with two cold, and grey eyes. The man had a certain sadness about him, like he was eternally sorry about something
With a smooth and calm voice, he spoke: “Don’t worry about me. Just, forgive me.”
Gervais did not understand. “Forgive you? For what?”
And at the same moment, it hit him like a lightning bolt from the storm above them. It was a trap. He fell for an ambush.
He pulled away his hand from the man and stood up. He wanted to turn around, to tell Monique to run, but behind was no one. Neither Monique, nor any attackers.
“You don’t have to make sense of it.”, said the stranger to the perplexed Gervais. “You will both serve a greater good.”
The man slowly got up, but did not make signs of tension or aggression, as Gervais would have thought. A tired smile crossed the strangers, almost fatherly face.
“What? Where is Monique!”
The stranger stared deep into Gervais’ soul. His elegant moustache moved ever so slightly in the storm’s wind. Then, his gaze fell to the ground, almost ashamed of himself. A soft sigh escaped his mouth.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to understand me. Nobody knows how to forgive at this moment.” His eyes returned. But he did not look at Gervais, but at something behind him.
“Sometimes, I can’t even forgive myself, you know.”, he whispered. Gervais was captivated by his grey eyes, like a moth to the flame. He wanted to turn around, to see what the man was looking at, but his body fought against his own commands. Like a stone, his muscles gave up their work, making him paralyzed. More and more, he lost himself in the eyes of the stranger.
His mouth became dry. Sweat broke loose and an almost primitive feeling of fear overtook Gervais’ body, even though he did not even know why. But his body knew, seemingly from instincts and simple froze. Like an animal, that gave up even the fight or flight reflex.
Now he felt it too. A presence, a figure behind him. So close that he could feel its warmth. He heard the sound of breaking wood behind him. Cracking, like someone was felling trees. Gervais felt a breath on his wet neck. Cloud danced in a regular burst around his face. The distant smell of honey and flowers caught itself in his nose. Tears ran down his cheek, one still reddened from Moniques slap. He wanted to scream and shout for help, but the air in his lungs disappeared. His last thoughts were of Monique and how sorry he was. It was all his fault.