Title: Forward
Fandom: Chocolat
Rating: T
Length: 643
Content notes: Canonical domestic violence, ptsd
Author notes: SBIGTTS: no adjectives. I think I caught them all, with help from my lovely beta...
Summary: Josephine is done with apologies.


The day before Josephine hits her husband with the frying pan, she learns about rose creams.

Vianne has things neatly arranged by the time Josephine comes down into the kitchen - sugar, butter, and, of course, chocolate. It's the scent of rosewater, though, that brings Josephine out of the safety of the upstairs: the memory of Vianne fearlessly daring Serge's den armed with a box of chocolate. Josephine tries a smile. They come more easily and with less pain now, when someone's there to return them.


She had always known how to cook, of course - had always cooked for the men - but this is something else. In Vianne's hands, sugar turns to glass like water to wine. It's like the magic that tells her everyone's favorites, Josephine decides, and for a moment, when Vianne pours the river of sugar out onto a pan and shows her how to cream it, she wonders if this is an alchemy that will even work for her.

But the sugar crystallizes under the strokes of her spoon, thickening and whitening until she can't push it any more and Vianne takes their creation back, splits it, coats her fingers with powdered sugar, and shows her how to knead. It's just like bread, and Josephine feels the tingle of relief that comes when she knows just what it is she should be doing.

After a while, they cut rosewater and coloring into the loaves. Vianne hands hers over; Josephine puts it alongside her own and works the halves gradually into a whole while Vianne chops chocolate and butter and sets them to melt over water on the stove. "Ganache to coat them," she says, and Josephine nods. This, too, she knows.

Vianne sets on a pot and lets Josephine move their fondant into it, then casts about for a moment before frowning and excusing herself to look for the mold - "I just had it out..."

Left alone in the kitchen, Josephine cleans quickly, wiping the counters, moving knives and spoons to the sink. When she finishes, she returns to the stove to stir the pots in turn. The fondant is melting more slowly than the chocolate and Josephine tilts the pot towards herself to scrape the bottom, worried about scorches.

She's so absorbed in making sure everything works that she misses Vianne's return - doesn't notice anything at all until Vianne brushes past, behind her, and Josephine half-shrieks and jerks away. The fondant topples from the stove, spraying the kitchen with sugar, and Vianne gasps "Josephine!"

Her name echoes in Serge's voice, sending Josephine scrambling until she hits the counter behind her, the kitchen fading dangerously as her heart races. "No," she whispers, and "please."

Vianne's presence slowly pulls her back. "Josephine," she's saying, again and again until it finally overwhelms Josephine's memories. "Josephine, forgive me."

The smell of roses from the mess on the floor covers everything, but Josephine can only taste ash. She swallows it back. "No," she says again, her voice wavering. "No, don't say that. I never... I never want to hear that again. I don't want to..." She shakes her head, realizes she's trembling. What will Vianne think of her now? What could anyone think of her?

Vianne reaches for her and Josephine flinches but doesn't run, lets Vianne take her hands, lets her stroke her arms gently. "We can keep going," Vianne says.

For a moment, she can't tell if Vianne's talking about the chocolates Josephine just ruined or about the life that had been ruined years before the chocolaterie came to Lansquenet-sous-Tannes. Vianne's eyes promise everything; Vianne doesn't lie to her. She gathers all her courage - again - and steps forward into Vianne's embrace, closing her eyes against the sobs that try to rise up.

When Vianne's lips touch hers, they taste not like chocolate, but like freedom.