@beatingheart-bride

Randall's breath hitched at the touch of her Cupid's-bow lips against his bony hands, to say nothing of his heart fluttering at the notion that his presence made his bride's life, topsy-turvy though it was now, a little easier. It was all he could hope for; that after everything she'd been through (then and now), he could be a light for her, just as she'd been one for him.

Wanting to lighten the mood, to move away from this topic (even though she'd reassured him that she wasn't upset, he still didn't want to press it), he instead chose to ask her, "Tell me, darling, tell me about some of your happier memories from...the future. You've told me about all the parties Dorian threw, but what did we do together?"

Although the idea of living in an attic, the very place their lives came to an end, sounded a bit morbid to him (though, perhaps, ghosts had a different perspective on that sort of thing?), he loved what Emily had told him so far, how cozy they made their little home together, turning it from a mere storeroom to a place all their own, adding their own personal touches to it. It was an unusual place to call home, sure, but it was theirs, and all she'd told him about it, it sounded really quite lovely-it sounded like they made some wonderful memories there.

@beatingheart-bride

"Sounds like Dorian alright," Randall chuckled; even as a boy, his best friend seemed to take any and all opportunities he found to try and throw a party, and although these attempts didn't always pan out, he still tried. Even as a child, Randall knew it wasn't because Dorian enjoyed being the center of these parties (unlike what some suspected), it was simply because he wanted everyone to have a good time drinking, dancing, playing party games, and just overall having fun, and that especially went for Randall, who got to enjoy some of these lavish get-togethers through Dorian, who always insisted his best friend and his mother get to join in.

(And who knew-maybe that'd still be the case once they made it to California; Dorian throwing parties. They'd probably be scaled down from the wildly over-the-tip ones held at Gracey Manor, of course, but he could see his dear friend still putting quite a few on for even the most minute of celebrations.)

"I wish I could see these dresses too," he smiled, brightening at the idea of making him and Emily matching outfits, and especially giving his all when it came to his bride's dresses; he'd never do anything by half when it came to her. It was a shame she couldn't have brought them back with her from the future, he really would've liked to see them (and see if he'd any gotten better post-mortem-Lord knew he had all the time in the world to practice and improve!)

"Did you, uh, have a favorite that I made, for a particular party, I mean?"

@beatingheart-bride

The family legacy is always at stake! Dorian thought to himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he took another stiff drink, not at all missing the look Beau sent his and Emily's way; a look that said he clearly wished he could whisk the two away from this less-than-pleasant conversation.

It was a familiar phrase in his parents' vernacular (and he figured it was no different with Emily's parents); always hammering into him the importance of the Gracey legacy, a legacy he was supposed to uphold-he was expected to marry well, have an heir (preferably a son), keep up the family business, protect the fortune, and so on and so forth...it was tiring to hear; he'd heard it all his life, and whenever it was brought up, he couldn't help but feel irritated; frustrated by the desire to snap back and tell them that he didn't care, that he would marry who he pleased and would do what he wished and there'd be nothing they could do to stop him, yet unable to voice his true feelings.

"...what about William? George? Oh, there's so many names of past Gracey's that would be perfect for your little one!" Mrs. Gracey was going on and on, as Dorian's eyes began to glaze over, and he struggled not to let his irritation show, as his mother continued, "And just think! So many beautiful French names to choose from too! I'm sure there's many names in the de Clair family that would be just darling!"

What if I had a daughter? Dorian thought to himself miserably, as his mother seemed to focus exclusively on male names-honestly, it didn't matter at all to him the gender of his and Elizabeth's child (or children, he hoped), but if he were to give in to his parents' plans, what if he had a daughter? Would they be disappointed? He could only imagine they would; they always made it clear they wanted a son to carry on the family name...

@beatingheart-bride

"I can't blame you!" Randall had gaped as he listened to all of this, very grateful to have this moment of peace, spent venting with his bride-to-be and his best friend: He couldn't say he'd had nearly as long and embarrassing a day as they had thus far (at least, not when it came to discussions about having children), but it had been a very busy morning, with a lot of running back and forth, feeling like he was juggling at least twenty tasks at once.

"And here I thought I'd been having a rough morning," he laughed in exasperation, sweeping a hand through his black curls before saying, "But you two have me beat, oh, I'm so sorry you had to sit through all of that! I'm glad you were at least able to escape and come down here!"

"So are we," Dorian laughed tiredly, able to have a sense of humor about the embarrassing discussion earlier. At the very least, he was able to laugh it off, far more than he'd be able to laugh off the gossip, the only part of the brunch discussion he didn't bring up to Randall-he considered it, admittedly, but he didn't want his best friend to know what his parents were saying about his beloved mother...

@beatingheart-bride

"I second the notion!" Mrs. Gracey smiled as she drained her glass (while her son, who was much more of a drinker than Emily was, was helping himself to another glass, hoping some liquid libations would help in his perhaps-vain effort to drown out his mother's ramblings), adding, "We would've loved to have given Dorian a younger sibling, especially a brother; not only would he have had someone to play with, but it would've been very nice to have another heir, someone Dorian could take over the business with after his father retires from it!"

"He did always want a brother," Mr. Gracey commented absentmindedly, something his wife agreed with as she took another swig from her glass, nodding as she continued, "That he did, that he did! He had a habit of befriending children from the wrong side of the tracks, unfortunately, but he seems to have grown out of it..."

At this, Dorian squeezed his own glass, doing his best to hide his scowl as he began to help himself to a little bit of food, trying to focus on his food in an effort not to snap at his mother, knowing damn well who she meant by "children from the wrong side of the tracks"...

@beatingheart-bride

Emily's kick seemed to really do the trick, as Nicholas let go of Randall's neck and rolled off of him in a daze, while Randall himself coughed and gasped for air, rubbing his sore throat while Nicholas groaned, seeming dazed as he struggled to his feet, legs wobbly as he did. He made a feeble attempt at rushing one of them (given how unfocused his gaze was, it was near-impossible to know who), but in doing so, he earned a punch across the jaw from Elizabeth, causing him to stumble back, swaying on his feet as Randall, having recovered, got to his feet, eyes dark with anger.

In that moment, he remembered. He remembered it all-searing pain across his throat, Emily's terrified screams as his disembodied head gushing blood soared through the air, landing in a lonely hatbox. It filled his stomach with acid, set his blood ablaze, filled him with a righteous anger that made his vision turn red, and his hands ball into fists.

Honestly, he could've killed Nicholas where he stood-he very easily could've made him feel everything he made him and Emily feel, that lifetime ago. But to stoop to his level...that sickened him, and so, as the coup de grace, Randall socked Nicholas clean in the nose, finally knocking the lout out flat on the ground. He lived, only knocked out cold by this finishing punch.

"What should we do with him?" Mrs. Henshaw asked, tempting to give him a kick in the side for good measure, but Beau, as he checked on everyone, replied with a shrug, "I say we leave him here, to be quite honest. By the time he comes around, we'll be long gone, and if he tries to tattle on our little plan, well...who's going to believe him? To the ears of everyone in New Orleans, it'll sound like Mr. Pennyworth was bitter that Dorian upstaged him, upset that he didn't get to have Emily's hand, and is trying to drag him through the mud out of spite, and with an outlandish-sounding story to boot. He'll be ostracized, and I believe, to him, that'll be a fate worse than death."

There was a murmur of agreements at this, as Dorian wrapped a loving arm around Elizabeth's waist, pulling her close to him, while Randall embraced Emily, burying his face in her shoulder, so grateful that she was alright. His eyes were damp with tears as memories filled his mind, good and bad, and he swallowed hard as he closed his eyes.

Thank you, he thought to himself, to no one in particular-perhaps a guardian angel, if they happened to be smiling upon him (which he certainly felt they were). Thank you for this second chance-thank you for our life!

@beatingheart-bride

"I have no doubt of it," he replied earnestly and honestly, as he leaned up against her in return, smiling from ear to ear at the notion as he added, "I think they'd love you, Emily."

Had they been through a lot as a couple-more than he knew, admittedly, given the life (or something like it) they'd lived in the future? Yes. Would his parents hold that against her? No, he didn't think so. He just couldn't see his parents...blaming her for his death; no, he had a feeling, if Nicholas Pennyworth ever (somehow) wormed his way into heaven, his parents would give him a right good thrashing, knowing he was to blame for the death of not only their son, but their daughter-in-law as well.

"I mean, you...you love me!" Randall went on to say, as he gazed up thoughtfully at the night skies just outside the window. "You were willing to give up everything you'd ever known just to run away and marry me-I know my ma didn't have to give up as much as you do, but she did sacrifice a lot of her relationships with people she'd known forever to be with my pa, people she thought were her friends...knowing everything you were willing to leave behind in order to start a new life with me...I think they'd be very...moved, by that, seeing that you were happier with me; that we made each other so happy...

...and...I think they'd be furious not at you, but at our murderer," he asserted (would-be murderer now, I hope, he thought to himself). "It wasn't your fault, Emily, and I think they'd see that. They'd see that we love each other, all we've done and would do for each other, and...well, I just think they wouldn't see it all as trouble. I know I don't see it as you getting me into trouble."

Why would he? Was it really trouble if it was all for love? No, he didn't feel that way. It wasn't trouble, not to him.

@beatingheart-bride

"Not a wink," Randall confessed with an appropriately-tired smile: True to his predictions, he couldn't hardly get himself to sleep, and so instead did he quietly roam his house, taking in the empty rooms, committing them to his memory as best he could, before eventually leaving the house altogether to go down to his parents' graves, and leave them fresh wildflowers and a tearful goodbye, hoping he would one day return to bring them more flowers.

"I got a little bit of sleep," Elizabeth admitted with a small shrug-not much, but more than Randall, it seemed, though she too did leave home a little earlier with her mother, so as to pay a visit to her father's grave, they too leaving flowers and making a promise to one day come back. This was a very important promise, as Elizabeth often spent time at her father's grave, whether it was reading, resting her mind, or recounting her day for him, finding she felt close to him in doing so.

"I feel like I got the most sleep out of all of us," Dorian replied with a little smile-unlike his bride and friends (including Beau, who only got enough sleep to drive the carriage, he felt), he actually slept fairly soundly until it was time to get ready to go. As part of his prep, he left a note on his nightstand for his parents, simply stating that he and Emily had decided to cut out the middleman and elope, and not to worry about them. Maybe he would send them a postcard sometime. Maybe. Probably not.

"You probably did," Randall smiled, as he took Emily's hand, asking, "What about you? Did you get any sleep, my heart?"

@beatingheart-bride

If Randall had any regrets about leaving New Orleans, it was that he wouldn't be able to see the expressions on the faces of not only Minnie, but all of his coworkers, when they arrived the following morning and realized that their star employee/favorite punchline wouldn't be coming in to work that day (or any day after) and had instead left for them what Dorian had playfully termed a "nasty-gram". It gave no hints as to where he was going, of course (tempting as it was to lord his new marriage was over them all, he wasn't going to put them all in danger just to be petty), but it did call them all out for their unpleasantness, how miserable he was working for Minnie, and how happy he was that he would never see any of them ever again.

"I hope I will be," he replied with a small smile. "I don't ever want to be like her, or any of my coworkers. I can only hope that I'll be able to make a better workplace than any of them made, working with them...I hope to make the sort of workplace I would've liked to have worked at."

A place where his employees didn't tense up whenever he came in. A place where he and them all gathered around to gossip cruelly about someone else. A place where everyone felt comfortable, without being pressured to stay up all hours of the night to get their work done, their energy the next day be damned. A place where no customer would be allowed to treat his employees like dirt and get away with it. Yes, that sounded nice to him, it sounded very, very nice...

@beatingheart-bride

A slew of toasts followed Mr. Gracey's, some from other members of families in the upper echelons of New Orleans high society who knew the Gracey and de Clair families, others from old schoolmates of Dorian who, despite having not talked to him in years, had still turned up to the party to celebrate his impending wedding, less to celebrate an old friend's happiness (they were less friends and more acquaintances at the end of the day) and more to enjoy the copious amounts of food and drink and rub elbows with other like-minded folks, those with as big of bank accounts as them.

It was then, after a string of these, that Randall built up the nerve (and all without any "liquid courage") to get to his feet, lifting his glass of apple cider as a hush fell over the room, all eyes on him as he began, in a quivering voice:

"I-I just want to say," he said, squeezing his glass a little as he swallowed back the dryness, determined to get through this speech. "How...very, very happy I am, for my oldest and dearest friend. Tomorrow is...a huge day in any man's life, it's...the start of a new life for him. It's...exciting, it's...terrifying. But...it's most of all, it's...wonderful. And I...I couldn't be happier for him, and his bride."

Shyly, he lifted his glass with a little grin (knowing in his heart that this speech was just as much for him as it was for Dorian) as he declared, "To new beginnings!"

There was a little murmur of "to new beginnings!" as well as everyone took their drink, and Randall slumped back down in his seat, heart pounding as Dorian clapped him on the shoulder, saying warmly, "That, my friend, was the best speech of the whole night."

@beatingheart-bride

"Welcome back to our humble abode, Randall," Dorian grinned playfully as he shook his best friend's hand, making a good show of acting like this was the first time they'd seen one another in ages, something Randall was happily falling in line with, looking around the ballroom with wonderous eyes, asking, "It really hasn't changed in all these years, has it?"

"Not hardly," Dorian admitted with a smile; the ballroom was still as massive and luxurious as it had been when they were boys, looking even more magnificent with its resplendent party decor, all silvers and golds, accented by other similarly glittering colors, as reflected by the guests' own outfits-clearly, everyone invited was eager to dress to the nines tonight, just as they would tomorrow.

If only they knew! Dorian thought to himself with a smile, as he moved to shake Elizabeth's hand (resisting the urge to kiss her knuckle) as he said, "Thank you for coming to the party, Elizabeth, I hope you'll have lots of fun."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Elizabeth grinned back at him, the two sharing a conspiratorial wink with one another as Randall politely shook Emily's hand, cheeks pink at the thought of so many others around them watching him do so, as he said politely, "Congratulations, Miss de Clair, I...I'm very happy for you."

Happy for the both of us! he thought to himself, almost giddily-normally, the idea of lying was one that seldom sat well with him, but tonight, he couldn't help but find a little amusement in pulling the wool over the eyes of the elite, who had no idea they were watching two sets of newlyweds "greet" their soon-to-be spouses.

@beatingheart-bride

"Agreed," Dorian nodded with a little smile-while he was certain all of Louisiana and a good number of the neighboring states would be in all sorts of an uproar upon realizing they weren't getting the wedding of the century, he doubted the good people of the Golden State would worry too much about what was happening in the South, not enough to scrutinize the two pairs of newlyweds moving in around the same time.

(He would feel a little bad for all the wedding guests, who went to all the trouble of getting ready for such a huge day for nothing, but given how many of them were self-absorbed twits who had more money than sense and were more excited about earning bragging rights in regards to such an extravagant wedding than being really, truly happy for the "happy couple", he didn't feel so guilty-that, and he was sure they'd be well taken care of, able to enjoy the lavish catering and beautiful garden, where the wedding was to take place.)

At that moment, there was a subtle knock on the door-it was Beau, smiling warmly to the pair as he announced, "Master Randall has arrived, he's in the drawing room. Miss Henshaw has also said to tell you that she's almost ready, and will meet you there before the festivities get underway."

"Thank you, Beau," Dorian grinned brightly, his heart skipping an excited beat at the prospect of the evening ahead: Spending it with his bride-to-be, his best friend, and his bride-to be sounded like the perfect last hurrah for all of them, before they left Gracey Manor-and New Orleans-behind for good.

@beatingheart-bride

"I don't think it's silly at all."

It was completely understandable to him, for her to be a touch nervous-even with how confident he felt in their ability to get away with it, there was no denying that it was an incredibly brazen plan. How many people would be so bold as to spend the evening in the company of their secret lovers, right under the nose of so many people, people who would absolutely lose their minds if they knew the truth...

"They do say that sometimes, the best place to hide is in plain sight," Dorian continued, rubbing his chin as he gave it some thought. "And I think that turn of phrase will prove to be very true tonight: As I said, I believe that everyone will mostly be so busy schmoozing and making nice that their eyes will hardly be on us. I'm sure we'll have to come over and shake hands with Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so who will be at the wedding tomorrow, accept the congrats of Mr. and Mrs. What's-the-name, kiss up to the Something-or-others, but I think we can manage that."

As he listened off these imaginary guests, Dorian flashed her a little smile, in the hopes that his playful names would make her laugh, help her relax a little-humor was oftentimes his way of alleviating stress, taking the edge off, and he hoped it would be the same for Emily as he finished confidently, "We'll go around, roll out the proverbial welcome wagon, perhaps answer a few questions here and there, but overall, I'm sure we'll be able to slip away and spend the evening with those we'd most enjoy it with."

@beatingheart-bride

Randall knew right away that Emily was worried about this sudden flash of memory: Although this abrupt remembrance of a man whose work he so loved in what seemed like another life was very minor, it could potentially mean he might remember more in the future, and that itself could be both a blessing and a curse. Sure, he could remember some of the happier moments in their afterlives-the little house they haunted together in New Orleans, watching the birth of the film industry, all their days spent at Gracey Manor...

...as well as some of their saddest memories. Not just grappling with the concept of being dead and yet still tethered to the Earth, but perhaps their inability to have a family, his departure from Gracey Manor and Emily's subsequent mourning in his absence and, well...

...what Nicholas Pennyworth did to them, once upon a lifetime.

Randall tried not to think about it-he'd cross that bridge when (and if) he got to it, and so he, like Emily, tried to stay in the moment, this wonderful talk of baby names and a bright, happy future, and so he smiled too as he leaned over and kissed her knuckle, saying, "I'm glad I did too." Even he didn't know how it happened to come to him in that moment, how he came to remember the man behind the Phantom, he was glad it came to him. It was perfect.

Leonidas or Erika...yes, he liked the sound of that. He liked it very much.

@beatingheart-bride

"Don't worry," Dorian assured her with a smile. "I've, uh...I've already taken the liberty of...filling him in on the plan."

Honestly, even if he hadn't, Beau-clever, observant Beau-would have figured it out in no time, he was sure. The head butler of the Gracey family, in many ways, knew Dorian better than he knew himself (and considering how long he'd known Dorian, how much time they'd spent together as the young master grew up, he should), and so when Dorian's attitude went from somber and quiet to bright and excited, he immediately knew something was afoot.

"Granted, he doesn't know all the details," he admitted with a small shrug. "He doesn't know about your time travel, or our afterlives as ghosts, haunting the manor, for instance...but he does know about our plan to escape with Lizzie and Randall, and he was very keen to help in any way he can, as well as come along when I asked. Lizzie's going to talk to her mother this afternoon, and hopefully, she'll be joining us."

It thrilled him to know that Beau would be coming with them-honestly, he couldn't imagine starting a new life in California without the man he considered more of a father figure than his own father, nor could he imagine the lives of his and Elizabeth's future children being without Beau, who wouldn't be a butler in their new home, but instead a part of the family, as he always was in Dorian's eyes (even if his parents thought otherwise).

@beatingheart-bride

At Emily's suggestion of a middle name, Randall couldn't help but grin just a little impishly: Although her middle name being "Augustine" meant she was slightly named after her father, August Burke, which she quite liked, his mother had always been embarrassed by having essentially two months for a name, something she was teased about a bit by her classmates in her youth. That being said, he could just see her absolutely loving the idea of her middle name being passed on to her future granddaughter, being very touched by such a gesture.

"I think that would be wonderful," he confirmed with a little nod, his heart warming at the thought-it really was a wonderful idea, a wonderful tribute to his beloved mother, and he couldn't help but feel tears anew begin to prick the corners of his eyes the more he thought about it. A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl.

"Did...did we ever discuss any other names, in the future?" Randall then ventured to ask-he knew from what he told her that ghosts weren't able to have children, but still did he wonder if they held out hope anyways for a miracle, discussing names, perhaps even what traits the tykes would inherit from the both of them.