Théodore Chaussard

She lingered beside the bed for a long moment debating whether or not she should sit on the bed. The chair across the room seemed just as fitting but Maya fought her worries and lowered herself down. As he started to apologize Maya shook her head silently urging him to stop.

“You owe me no apology, I promise. I’m just glad you’re awake.” A small smile pulling on her lips as he introduced himself. “I can defintely confirm for you that what they are saying is true. I’m Maya.”

She probably should have spoke to Laurent before coming here to ask him how they wanted to play this. Did he want her to slowly introduce Theo to the life he once knew or did he want them to let him start over?

To have the life that none of them had been afforded.

Maya Alliot looked towards the window. Outside rain was falling and she focused on that for a few minutes before turning her attention back towards him.

“If you don’t mind me asking what do you remember? Do you recall anything at all?”

Maya.

The name rang in his ears, and he felt as if something were pushing against that drawn veil in his head that was keeping him from knowing who the woman was that sat across from him, from knowing why he was here, and from knowing himself. And yet, as quickly as it had come, the pressure faded, leaving him nothing but frustration and resentment to whoever had put him in this predicament. He’d been told when he awoke that he’d been the victim of a vicious mugging, and so far the nurses said the police didn’t have any leads- and with his lack memory, he wasn’t much help. His focus turned back to the woman before him, how she seemed almost guarded, as if she were afraid to say the wrong thing, or not sure of who he was. Was he a different person, without his memories? Did the memories truly make the man? Or would his subconscious remember whatever experiences he had, and therefore he was still shaped by his past life? He sighed, remembering the nurses telling him not to worry about it too much, as it would only aggravate him. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and with a somewhat forced smile, the Frenchman shook his head. “I remember nothing.” That wasn’t entirely true. He knew by looking at the Cafeteria’s stuffed mushrooms that he wouldn’t like them. He knew he preferred the rain to the sun, preferred sunsets to sunrises. But as for useful information he was, essentially, useless. “I’ve not got a clue who I am, nor why I’m here, or where I come from. The doctor says it should come back to me eventually, but he can’t say how long it’ll be before I’m completely whole again.”

It felt strange, sharing his frustrations with someone he didn’t know. She felt like a stranger to him, yet as if they’d met a long, long time ago. Like a primary school mate’s name that he couldn’t recall, her identity was elusive to him, on the tip of his tongue. But it might as well have been a million miles away. “So how do we know each other, Maya?” he asked with a small smile, scooting further up in his bed to give her more room to get comfortable. “Are we friends? Co-workers? Family?” He hoped not the latter. “You’re the first person to visit me, which must mean you’re someone important.”

Are you a Grinch, or do you enjoy the holidays?: Théo quite enjoys the holidays, thought it’s been a bit rougher the past two years as his mom has passed on.

On which day do you celebrate Christmas?: The morning of, though he’d be open to Christmas Eve if that’s what Maya prefers.

Is it a religious celebration or non-denominational?: Religious, absolutely. 

Who do you usually spend the holidays with?: He normally flew home to spend the week with his mother. Will most likely be spending it with Maya this year.

What does your typical Christmas dinner include?: Ham, with a delicious side of mashed potatoes, and whatever other dishes everyone likes.

Do you open your presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?: Christmas day.

Do you still have a stocking?: No.

Do you still get an Advent Calendar?: No.

Do you leave all of your Christmas shopping until last minute, or are you organized?: He’s normally done by mid-November. Internet makes everything so easy!

Do you take charge of the day, or are you the one in the corner sipping Baileys?: He’ll direct the order of events if no one else does, but is content to let someone else do it if they so wish.

Any traditions passed down through the family?: His parents used to give him a particularly special present every Christmas Eve. He hopes to pass that on if he has children.

Any weird things your family does that others don’t?: Not particularly.

Do you go all-out with decorations, or keep it basic?: If he has time, he goes all out. With his current predicament probably not a whole lot of decorating. 

Post a picture of what your Christmas tree looks like: (From Last Year)

Do you ever spend the holidays away from home?: This will be the first year “home” is wherever he is.

Do you like to get a bit tipsy, or is it an alcohol-free zone?: He’ll break open a nice bottle of whiskey or scotch, but not get tipsy. It is Christ’s birthday, after all. 

FAVOURITES/FUN BITS:

Favourite Christmas song: Blue Christmas/Silver Be;;s

Least favourite Christmas song: He likes them all! The oldies make him nostalgic, which can sometimes be painful. 

Favourite Christmas food: Ham

Least favourite Christmas food: Not a huge fan os sweet potatoes.

Favourite Christmas movie: Home Alone/ the Animated Classics

Least favourite Christmas movie: A Christmas Story

Favourite Christmas tradition: Singing Carols around the tree Christmas Morning

Ever re-gifted?: Shhhhh. But Yes.

If you had an unlimited budget, what would you buy for the three most important people in your life?: Maya- a perfect home in France, away from it all. His Father- a get out of jail free Card. The Parra’s- peace and happiness. Or the head of every russian. Either or. 

If you could have any gift in the world, unlimited budget, what would it be?: NGL, he’d love a DB5 for the nostalgia of it.  But he doesn’t talked about it much. 

Weirdest Secret Santa gift ever received: Womens shoes.

If you could kiss any fictional character under the mistletoe, who would it be?: He declines to answer.

If you were forced to wear an ugly sweater to an ugly sweater party, what would it look like?:

What’s your go-to outfit for festive fancy dress?: Tuxedo for a fancy party, nice suit for normal Christmas Day.

Christmas Day or New Year’s Eve?: Christmas, duh.

White Christmas or snow-free?: Snow, if it’s not a normal year-round thing.

MEMORIES: (feel free to write any of these as separate drabbles, and link them in later)

Earliest Christmas memory: Receiving his first bicycle on Christmas eve, age 5.

Best Christmas memory: His last Christmas with his mother and father.

Worst Christmas memory: The first Christmas without his father.

Best Christmas present ever received, and who was it from: His father bought his his first firearm, telling him he’d become a man and would need it for his future successes. The gun was the Walther PPK/S he still carries today.

Best Christmas present ever sent, and who was it for: He’d paid off the warden of his father’s prison to allow a contact-visit between his mother and his father in 2015. It was the first time he had 

Someone you wish you could bring back for one last Christmas: His mother. He only stayed two days last Christmas because he’d been moving to London, and he regrets cutting their last visit so short.

“The doctors say it could help jog his memory, seeing old faces. I must warn you though, it can be a little alarming, having the patient not recognize you. Retrograde amnesia is always difficult for everyone involved, and the Doctor said he has a particularly severe case.”

Maya Alliot was listening to the doctor as he spoke and nodding when the moment called for it. She had been here every day while he was in coma. It had been so often that she was on a first-name basis with all the nurses on his floor no matter what shift was on. They had her cell phone number and had phoned her as soon as Théo awakened. So many times she had told herself she had to be there when he opened his eyes and now she was glad she had been called away.

Maya Alliot pause outside the hospital door, a hand coming up and softly touching the whiteboard that was outside his door. As if she needed to read the words to make them true.

“Here we are!” He said cheerfully, knocking lightly and then pushing the door open. “Go ahead, he’s with his nurse at the moment.”

“One second,” Maya said taking a step back and stepping to the left so she was outside the field of view of anyone in the room. Slender fingers found the engagement ring that was on her left hand. She paused a moment before wiggling it off and placing it in her purse. If he didn’t know who she was, she hadn’t wanted to upset him worse by informing him that she was also his fiance.

Maya pushed herself forward, only stopping when the nurse in the room got excited. The French commandant watched as the woman’s lips parted, and words started to fall from her lips. She quickly shook her head.

Fuck.

She had stared down barrels of guns, but they held no weight like walking into a room to someone you cared about having them look at you like you’re a complete stranger.

“Théo,” She said softly, offering him the warmest smile she could conjure. “Do you mind if I sit with you a while?”

Théo closed his eyes when he heard the knock on the door, and the nurse announcing that he had a visitor. Who was it? His mother? His father? A sibling he didn’t remember?  He heard soft footsteps enter the room, and he opened his eyes to see a woman around his age approaching. She was beautiful. She seemed cautious, as most everyone did, and her eyes seemed to probe his own. Or was he imagining it? He gazed back at her, willing himself to recall her name. “Please,” he said, sliding his legs beneath the sheets, away from her, to make room on the edge of his bed. His own eyes searched hers, and he sat quietly, wishing himself to remember. How could he not remember her? After a moment, he sighed, his eyes cast down at the floor. He felt like he was failing, no matter how many times his nurse told him it was normal and that his memories should return with time. 

GENERAL:

Name: Théodore Chaussard

Nickname: Théo

Birthday: May 25th

Age: 33

Gender: Male

Place of Birth: Paris, France

Current Residence: Just outside London, United Kingdom

Nationality: French

FAMILY:

Grandparents: Arthur and Victoire Chaussard, Hugo and Ella Legrand

Aunts/Uncles: Louis Legrand (Uncle)

Parents: Jean Chaussard (father) and Emma Chaussard (mother) 

Siblings: None

Relationship With Family: His uncle refuses to talk to him on account of his work, so his sole other living relative is his father, who’s serving a life sentence for murder.

Happiest Memory: His father brought over his old friend, Nicholas St. Clair, to the estate one day. Théo, then twelve years old, met the man for the first time, not knowing he would one day become not only a boss, but a loved and respected mentor. Théo’s happiest memory is Nicholas St. Clair promoting Théo to Commandant, shaking his hand and whispering in his ear, “You’ve made your father proud, Théodore.” 

Childhood Trauma: Watching the police slam his father down on the tile kitchen floor, wrenching his arms behind his back to cuff him, and dragging him from the estate, his mother sobbing as it all happened. 

Adult Trauma: Too many to list? Launceton, in general. The attack on the hotel, and pretty much all of his time spent in London.

“It’s alright, Théodore,” The older lady said, his nurse, sitting at the foot of the bed. She gave him a grandmotherly smile, patting his leg that was beneath the covers. “Take your time. It’s all about getting to know yourself again. It’s not a quick process.” He wrinkled his nose briefly at the name she called him, Théodore. It was supposedly his name, yet it felt so... foreign.  He had no sense of familiarity with it, no  sense that it belonged to him. Frustration began to set in again as he tried to force himself to remember, to break past the fog that was his past.  “Take a deep breath,” She said again in her typical calming fashion, which was beginning to grate on the nerves of the frenchman.

-----------------------------

If someone tugged on his dick one more time, Théo grumbled groggily, he was going to come unglued.

The uncomfortable sensation came again, and Théo grunted angrily as he stirred again. He was so, so tired, and all he wanted to do was tell whoever was touching him to go away and go back into the darkness that was calling to him.

A sharp pain jabbed through his groin and he muttered something in French, finally wrenching his eyes open.

He stopped, his heart skipping a beat.

Where the fuck was he?

As the room, slowly, came into focus, a beeping sound to his right finally registered in his ears. A man was hovering over him, his ivory skin in stark contrast to his white clothing. Théo instinctively jerked away, trying to pull his knees up to deliver a blow,  to ward off the man from attacking him.

The man raised his hands, and to Théo’s surprise, smiled at him. “Easy, easy Monsieur Chaussard,” he said, his French accent heavily present in his words, “My name is Phillip, I’m your nurse. I was adjusting the Catheter, I know it must be uncomfortable.”

Théo looked around, taking in what appeared to be a hospital. He attempted to put his thoughts in order,  it felt as if he were in a few fog.

He put together the one, most urgent question he had.

She was too hell-bent on taking a gigantic first sip of her cocktail to insist that paying for her drinks weren’t necessary. It was a kind gesture and at the moment, Veronika was hardly in a position to be turning down kindness. Being in a room surrounded on all sides by people who hate you could do that to a person.

“I’d like to believe your right, but I think we both know it’s never that easy,” she tried to keep the bitter undertones at bay, but given their current predicament, it was difficult. “Somehow, someway these cockroaches always seem to come back no matter how hard anyone tries to snuff them out.”

Veronika hated them. She hated them for everything and every person that had ever been taken away from her at their hands. The way they walked around, heads held high with their cocky fucking smiles only served to fuel the small fire that burned in her belly. The Italian knew the risk that she was taking coming to London, but it was a risk, for the moment anyway, she had been willing to take.

“No friends, just me,” she replied, reminded of the heated discussion she’d gotten into with her grandfather and aunt. No one had wanted her to come, least of all without a solid group of loyalists by her side. “We need the numbers in Launceston.”

Her goal in London wasn’t to start a new war, it was to finish another chapter of an old one.

Théo understood her sentiment regarding the Russian filth. If the French had had their way, they would have been wiped from the earth long ago, much like the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. The news that the Italians weren’t coming was a bit of a disappointment, as he’d secretly been hoping they’d follow the scourge that had entered the city. Together they could eradicate the blight that was the Russians. “How is Launceton, by the way?” Théo asked, making small talk, “I hear your friends are handling themselves well. I’ve considered stopping in for a visit as of late- a lot of history there. Sometimes I feel like there’s never enough time to fully deal with it all.” “Regardless, it’s good to see you. You should give Aur a call sometime- I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

“If you keep slut-shaming me, I just might,” Damon shrugged playfully, a cheeky smile growing on his lips. If one day he’s going to break his promise to his mother, and resort to violence, it sure as hell won’t be because of Théo and their banter. The last time Damon used his fists was at a bar fight, drunken out of his mind. Definitely not his proudest moment. 

“Yes, it’s become quite a destination as “one of the most Instagrammable places in London,” ever since one of those Hadid sisters posted a picture,” Damon vaguely remembered sharing drinks which one of them, but couldn’t quite place which. 

“No, actually, it’s all Lara. She discovered this young architect after thorough research and I must say, he did a great job,” Damon looked around as if he was looking at the interior for the first time. “Can I ask you a question, Théodore? Why are you fighting tonight? I imagined you as a man with far more sophisticated hobbies.”

Théo nodded in agreement with Damon as he spoke about the architect. This was certainly a feat of talent, and the man behind it would probably go one to accomplish even bigger successes. Had he his own business venture, he may have even thought to ask for the man’s name. Damon’s question caught him off guard, forgetting for a moment that he did not exist solely within the Rutherford criminal enterprise. A mob man would understand purely by nature; the mob existed solely on the premise of strength and honor. A chance to fight for your family was both a chance to show the family’s strength, and to bring them honor. “One would think,” He mused quietly, nodding his head. He didn’t want to insult the man, so he chose his words carefully. “For those of us who do what we do,” He prefaced his response, “We exist solely on the amount of respect we command. Winning brings us respect. Being badly beaten brings damage to more than a man’s ego. If you don’t win, you best at least lose honorably.” The glass found the tall man’s lips again, tipping a small amount of the amber liquid into his mouth. Théo took his time swallowing. “Without respect, and honor, we are nothing.”

“Yes, you’re right” Honor said with surprise, but then again she’d been in the papers so much in the past she shouldn’t be that surprised when people knew her name. “Oh yes! I remember.” she explained “Sorry, I’ve never been good at remembering face but I do recall the suit.” she apologised, slightly embarrassed that she was not able to fully remember their previous encounter. “It turned out to be a good suit in the end.”

“Being a Hathaway has something to do with it, but I’ve mainly come for business. Turns out my store is doing far better than I expected and was taking up more time than I planned for, so making the move made sense. Plus gives me that extra time to look at opening another here, it seems London is a good city to expand in.”

Honor raised her eyebrows, “Raging psychopath, got it. Thanks for the warning. I haven’t exactly met our ‘lovely’ host. Now I’m going to debate if I should introduce myself or try avoid her for the evening.”

As Theodore mentioned the decor and the overall aesthetics of the place she couldn’t help agree, she had to admit the place did look amazing Lara really had put a lot of time and effort into tonight. 

Silas breathed out of his nose in frustration as he brought his drink to his lips. An annoyed but short laugh fogged the tumbler; the MP’s jaw set as he shook his head at no one but himself. Théo’s statements weren’t a hindrance but they definitely solidified the absurdity of the situation. There were a number of Honorary friends in attendance and that alone kept him grounded in the security of his professionalism.

He and Lara needed a chat.

Until then, however, Silas would drink away the ghost of pain at his old stab wounds.

“I’ll consider it,” he grumbled as he rested an elbow on the table to place a few fingers against his lips. “Until then, now that things seem to be a little more advertised, let’s talk about that ring again.” He pointed at the signet on the Frenchman’s hand.

“How’d you earn it?”

@theodorechaussard || closed 

What was she doing? 

Standing there watching him as if at any second he was going to disappear. Maya Alliot couldn’t believe herself - the way she was acting was so uncharacteristic but she finally had him back. The fear of losing him again was both unnerving and uncomfortable. It made her feel weak - something she didn’t enjoy feeling. That weakness meant that it could be exploited. Maya swallowed and shook her head attempting to push the thoughts from her head and attempt to enjoy the evening. Her hand found Theo’s and pulled him back towards her. 

“I wish I could get my hands dirty.” It was true - there was a part of Maya that so desperately wished she was able to step in that ring. Wish she was able to send blow after blow into the skull of one of the many Russians that stood amongst them but Lara Rutherford had made herself abundantly clear.

This was a cockfight and she was the hen. 

“Russian or Rutherford but sound increasingly desirable right about now.” 

As he was pulled to her, his palm found her cheek and pulled her lips up towards his. The two met with the gentle thunder that often accompanied their kisses, and for one, overwhelming moment Théo couldn’t imagine ever pulling his lips from hers. When she commented on wishing she could join in the competition, he nodded. He knew she was capable of handling herself, in fact she’d been teaching him much of the same. Though, inwardly, he was relieved. Théo would prefer she return home with him in one piece.  “We could always grab one?” He teased, taking a sip of his drink. “Drag them out back? Push them around a little bit? I’m sure Laurent wouldn’t mind at all, and Lara probably wouldn’t care too much if the body of one of her men ended up in the canal.” His teasing, while normal, was gentler since his release. The time apart from Maya had been hard to endure, and now that he found himself with her again, he had a hard time parting from her. He pulled her close to him, pressing his body to hers. “I’ve missed you terribly,” He murmured, kissing her forehead lightly, “The worst part of being in the god-forsaken place was being apart from you. What say we take a little vacation, you and I? I’m sure they could manage without us for a couple days, and we could both use an Italian Villa on the waterfront.”

Tonight’s event wasn’t something Honor was overly bothered about attending, one reason she hadn’t been in London long and all she really wanted to do was catch up on some much needed sleep, the other reason was the hostess themselves. True Honor didn’t know Lara, but she had heard of her surname and that people didn’t think they where much different than the Russican scums that she hated. 

Honor chuckled at the mans comment, if that was to happen, it wasn’t something that would surprise her, at least from what she had heard about the family anyway. “Who knows. Perhaps we should stay close to the exit just in case, you know make sure we’re about to make a quick escape” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there isn’t many people here that seem all that excited about the party.”

“I’m Honor, by the way.”