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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

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Breathe ~ the Doctor (part 8)

A/n: So I tried to go lighter with this one and failed a bit not gonna lie? Just... bare with me I forgot that Mr. Connolly was like THAT and I absolutely had to address it. This one goes on a bit because of that, sorry.

Word Count: 12,000+

Warnings: Implied physical/mental abuse, past homophobia, backlash of PTSD (light), possibly upsetting memories, discussion of abuse

MASTERLIST

"How does this look?" Y/n had changed out of what originally been planned for him this time. He didn't like layers like the Doctor did unless it was quite cold, and it wasn't, so he'd lessened the whole thing by ditching the blazer, looking overly casual like he usually did. The suit pants were blue, close to but just a bit nicer than the jeans he'd mostly been wearing up until now. He'd absolutely refused to do his hair like the Doctor had, so it was loose and messy instead - different than the way he did it every other day, but all he could manage after the gel had hardened the strands. Rose had tried to get Y/n to comply and it had failed for both of them. He felt too casual to be wearing dress pants, and his hair looked weird to him in the mirror. He was thinking about taking a quick shower and going for an entirely different look.

When he looked at Rose and the Doctor for input though, the two looked back at him with eyes widened, lips parted. Upon realizing they were staring, the Doctor looked away. Rose just smirked. Y/n went quite red. "You look fantastic," Rose complimented. "I didn't realize you could pull off messy so well."

"You pull off everything well," the Doctor followed up softly. It was unsure if he'd meant to keep it in his head and slipped, or had wanted to say it louder but didn't have the confidence. Y/n thanked him, but the Doctor just nodded dismissively, a blush of his own coloring his skin before he nodded to the TARDIS door. "You both ready?"

As always, Rose was first. She pulled the door open, popping outside to may her skirts swish. It was becoming quickly apparent she was in love with how her dress moved. "I thought we'd be going for the Vegas era. You know, the white flares and the-" she did a sort of growl, and Y/n raised an eyebrow but realized she'd been mocking rather than being genuine. He was going to say - if she was into that, she was out of luck with her current partners.

Like an echo of Y/n's thoughts, the Doctor leaned around the TARDIS door, his shoulder pressing against Y/n's chest. "You're kidding aren't you? If you want to see Elvis you go to the late '50's! The time before burgers!" He dipped back in and Y/n leaned against the doorway, keeping both of the other two in view. "When they called him "the Pelvis" and he still had a waist!" The Doctor continued from inside. "What's more, you see him in style!" Y/n saw it first from his vantage point in the doorway, and thankfully so because as the Doctor rolled out of the TARDIS in a fully functioning moped, Y/n would have been run over if he hadn't gotten out of the way quickly. He circled before stopping, looking at Rose with an amused smirk. "You going my way Doll?" He said in a low voice. It was a bad attempt at Elvis and made Y/n laugh.

Rose pulled out a pair of glasses that matched her dress. "Is there anyway to go, daddy o?" She shot back, her voice higher and more nasally. She approached the Doctor with an added, "Straight from the fridge, man!"

The Doctor grinned. "Hey, you speak the lingo!" He held out a helmet for her. Y/n was amused to see that it was pink, like her glasses, so it also matched her skirt. Y/n dipped inside as they continued their back and forth, looking around before he saw what he was looking for. A bike! It wouldn't be as fast as the moped mechanically but he was down to coast. Also he had a secret: he was a devil when it came to bicycling. Rose had refused to stop biking with him for a few years now; she could never keep up well enough and tired easily if she tried.

When Y/n rolled out on the bike, the Doctor rose an eyebrow. Y/n closed the TARDIS door behind him, grinning. "Don't give me that look," he dismissed. "Just lead the way. If you can keep up." Rose and Y/n laughed as he took off on the bike, surprising the Doctor with how fast he actually went. After a bit of joking, the Doctor did slow down a bit to keep pace with Y/n, the three chatting - or, the usual, which was that Rose and the Doctor chatted mostly and Y/n inputted every so often - on the way.

"Where we off to?" Rose asked at one point.

"Ed Sullivan TV studios," the Doctor yelled back in response, having to be loud over the sound of the motor. "Elvis did Hound Dog on one of the shows. There were loads of complaints. Bit of luck, we'll just catch it."

"And that would be the TV studios in, what, New York?" Rose inquired further.

Y/n immediately saw where she was going with that. The Doctor did not. "That's the one!"

The trio paused at a four-way stop as a bus passed. Rose laughed. Y/n smiled, soft and fond. "I don't think we're in New York, Doctor." And indeed it was anything but. All around them was small town views. The sky was clear and the buildings were all very similar: one story, brick, two windows, one door, colored red. There wasn't even much traffic.

"Well," the Doctor mumbled. "This could still be New York. I mean, this looks very New York to me."

Y/n rolled his eyes. "And you've memorized New York have you?" The Doctor shrugged, but before he could speak Y/n got to it first. "You forget how well I know you, Doctor. I know you have general ideas of how certain places on each planet work and that's why you usually end up in the general same place every time you come to Earth. You probably would think we were on a different planet if you went to... Australia, or France. Have you ever really been to America before?"

The Doctor glowered, but without any offense or anger. Just the cutest irritation a being called out. After all, you couldn't get mad at someone just because they were right. "I've got a lot going on in this head of mine."

A smirk rose to Y/n's face. "Is that why we always get lost?"

Rose cut in. "What are all the flags for?" And indeed, she had a point.

The first thing he noticed other than the very not-New York state of the very London town, were the flags hung above the streets. Y/n could appreciate pride for one's country, but there were flags EVERYWHERE he looked. It seemed a little odd that a town so small you could see it even in the way people talked to each other, would hang a bunch of flags around every inch of every place. What, was the Queen coming to visit?

They parked the bike and moped, going around to get a closer look and understand exactly what was going on. In their wanderings, they came across a man at the back of a truck, and boys next to him who seemed to be picking up and moving a TV. The older man said something. "There you go sir." Y/n noticed another man who was older than the boys but younger than the older gent. Maybe the father. "All wired up for the great occasion."

The Doctor approached. "Great occasion? What do you mean?"

"Where you've been living eh?" the older man asked as the boys and their father left with the TV. "Out in the colonies? The coronation of course."

Unfortunately, that didn't clear up much for the group. "And what coronation's that then?" the Doctor asked in favor of all of their cluelessness.

The older man stopped, looking at them like they were insane. Nervous, even. Skiddish. Y/n watched him, that familiar feeling twisting in his chest. Something was about to happen, and it wasn't good. "What do you mean?" the older man asked. "The Coronation."

"It's the Queen's," Rose realized. "Queen Elizabeth." Y/n felt silly then. Of course! He was getting as bad at the space man over there, so much other knowledge in his head making him forget how his own planet worked.

"Oh!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Is this 1953?"

"Last time I looked," the older man affirmed. "Time for a lovely bit of pomp and circumstance. What we do best."

Rose was looking around, her voice next distracting from the older man with his van. "Look at all the TV aerials. Looks like everyone's got one. Which is so weird, because my mum said tellies were so rare, they all had to pile into one house."

"Not round here, Love," the older man cheerily corrected. "Magpie's Marvelous Tellies." He pointed to the side of his truck, feigning proud. Pride that should have been real but so obviously wasn't. Pride that was, for some reason, very obviously strained when Y/n looked at him. Magpie - Y/n assumed that was the man's name, as the branding suggested - caught Y/n giving him an analyzing look and turned away. Hiding. "Only five quid a pop."

Before Y/n could push, the Doctor chirped, "Oh but this is a brilliant year! Classic! Technicolor! Everest climbed! Everything off the ration! A nation throwing off the shackles of war and looking forward to a happier, brighter future!" Rose laughed, and Y/n almost dismissed his weird feeling and grinned along.

Then there was screaming.

"Someone help me! Please!" The trio spun to the sound of the woman's voice. "Ted! Leave him alone, he's my husband!" The Doctor shot off, triggering Rose to follow close behind. Y/n stayed back, something eating at him. "PLEASE!" the woman begged as the other two got onto the scene where two men in black suits were pushing what seemed to be a man. It couldn't be sure because he had a blanket over his head, and he was rushed into a long black car, but the woman had called him Ted so...

"What's going on?" the Doctor demanded.

"Oi! What are you doing?" A young boy continued when the Doctor was ignored.

"Police business," was what they all got. "Get out of the way, sir." That was directed at the Doctor, who was scrambling to find some way to either intervene or understand. Y/n looked away though, his eyes drawn by some reason to Mr. Magpie, just in time to see the man's face wrought with regret and self hatred. He seemed intensely distressed, and nearly tripped over himself to leave the scene when he met Y/n's gaze. As Magpie peeled from the scene in one direction, Rose and the Doctor chasing the black car on the moped in the opposite direction, Y/n had two thoughts.

One, this happened a lot.

Two, this town was either very tight knit, which didn't seem to be the case as no one but the boy from before had tried to come to Tom's rescue. Even the boy had been pulled inside by his parents, who seemed eager to ignore the situation entirely. So if that wasn't the case, how upset he'd been only made sense if... he was somehow involved in what was going wrong with these people. Or knew something about it.

There was a scream coming from the house where the boy from earlier had disappeared into that caught Y/n's attention first. His instincts perked up, his defenses quickly activating. It had been muffled, like maybe a window was cracked and that alone was why he could hear the conversation inside, but it was enough to set him on edge. Before he could orient himself enough to go after Magpie, Rose and the Doctor pulled up and caught him up on losing the back car to a dead end, as well as their plan to ask around to the neighbors about what was happening.

When the Doctor noticed Y/n's gaze returning time and time again to the house the yelling had come from, he put a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "You okay?"

"There was yelling," Y/n explained softly. He switched gears upon hearing the frail note in his voice. "It was where the boy from earlier disappeared. I think we should look into them."

Unsure if the other two had caught onto the real reason Y/n was suddenly a little out of it, he followed along as the other two lead the way toward the house and inside. Something about how they were there in the name of the Queen, which seemed to work well enough. They were inside at least.

"Very nice," the Doctor complimented as the three filtered into the house. "Very well kept. I have to congratulate you, Mrs...?" Y/n was astonished at the Doctor's ability to slip in so easily and effortlessly, like he really was here for what he said he was here for.

The woman smiled warmly, flattered by the Doctor's praise. "Mrs. Connolly," she answered in response to his prompting question.

"Now then Rita," the man who'd answered the door dismissed. Y/n recognized his voice - he had been the one to yell. "I can handle this. These gentlemen are proper representatives." Y/n was instantly put off by the way he dismissed both of the women in the room - Rose and his wife. How he referred to the gentlemen, which would be Y/n and the Doctor, and not the woman who was with them. How he shut up his wife who was only responding to being directly spoken to. Y/n hated him immediately. "Don't mind the wife. She rattles on a bit." This he said to the Doctor, ignoring Y/n as he leaned into the back of the room and stayed quiet. That was even more annoying as it seemed he'd been trying to weed out the alpha male in the group since they walked in and address that person only. Rose was a woman and Y/n was quiet, so he addressed only the Doctor, as if he was the only stranger in the house right now.

"Well maybe she should rattle on a bit more," the Doctor responded quite easily. "I'm not convinced you're doing your patriotic duty. Those flags." His eyes fell to a box of flags on the ground. "Why are they not flying?"

Mr. Connolly, who'd looked horrified at the Doctor suggesting he wasn't being patriotic, now rushed to prove how good of a citizen he was and Y/n had to swallow a laugh to hide it. "There we are, Rita, I told you." Mrs. Connolly seemed to be suddenly upset, and Y/n felt a burning urge to step in between the two of them. He held his place only because the Doctor shot him a warning look. "Get them up. Queen and country."

"I'm sorry," Rita apologized to the Doctor.

Before she could continue, Mr. Connolly ordered, "Get it done. Do it now."

Y/n's hands tightened into fists but the Doctor was already stepping forward. "Hold on a minute." Mr. Connolly kept talking and the Doctor spoke again over him, repeating, "Hold on a minute. You've got hands, Mr. Connolly. Two big hands! Then why is that your wife's job?"

Mr. Connolly seemed derailed again, and Y/n and Rose exchanged thrilled expressions. "Well it's housework, isn't it?" It seemed like it was supposed to be expected. A simple question with an obvious answer. And, I suppose in a world where men were aggressive and angry and hard and women did what they were told and everyone else was ripped apart, it was a simple answer.

"And that's women's work?" The Doctor continued casually.

"Of course it is!" Mr. Connolly spat, astounded.

That seemed to be exactly what the Doctor wanted him to say. "Mr. Connolly, what gender is the Queen?"

Immediately Mr. Connolly was uncomfortable. "She's female."

"And are you suggesting the Queen does the housework?" A thick silence fell like cement into the room, and Y/n accidentally made eye contact with the boy from earlier. They shared two repressed smiles, and Y/n winked at him.

Finally, the Doctor's question was given an answer. "No!" Mr. Connolly gasped, incredulous. "Not at all!"

The Doctor reached down and scooped up one of the flag lines, handing it to Mr. Connolly. "Then get busy."

"Right, yes sir," the stupid man mumbled as he took the line, moving to the wall to hang it up. "You'll be proud of us sir. We'll have union jacks left, right and center."

Rose, who'd taken a seat at some point, now stood up again. "Excuse me Mr. Connoly. Hang on a minute. Union Jacks?"

Mr. Connolly froze, looking back at her with a stunned expression, taken far aback by her hot headedness and strong voice coming from a woman. "Yes, that's right, isn't it?"

"That's the Union flag," she continued. Her voice got angry and Y/n's eyes widened, his attraction to her sky rocketing. "It's the Union Jack only when it's flown at sea."

"Oh," Mr. Connolly nearly whimpered. "I'm sorry. I do apologize."

Y/n smirked, turning away from Mr. Connolly so he wouldn't see. Rose wasn't about to go easy on the man though, and Y/n appreciated that. "Well, don't get it wrong again. There's a good man. Now get to it!" She snapped the last bit, spinning around again when she'd finished with a satisfied smile on her face and moving back to the couch to sit down. Y/n stepped forward so he was leaning on the back of the couch, behind the pair.

"Right then," the Doctor continued with eyes wide and impressed. "Nice and comfy. At her majesty's leisure." When they were settled the Doctor turned to Rose with a very quiet whispered, "Union Flag?"

Rose was eager to explain. "Mum went out with a sailor."

The Doctor chuckled gleefully and Y/n shook his head, amused. "I bet she did." In a normal voice he turned to Mrs. Connolly. "Anyway, I'm the Doctor, then there's Rose and Y/n." He introduced them all to Mrs. Connolly, Rose and Y/n giving a nod or a wave respectively when they were mentioned. "And you are?" That he said to the kid.

"Tommy," the kid responded, looking at the trio like they were something amazing.

The Doctor and Rose pushed apart to make room for someone to sit between them. "Well, sit yourself down, Tommy." The Doctor pat the spot between them for Tommy, and then the chair next to the couch to encourage Mrs. Connolly to sit down as well. Y/n moved around to lean against the wall next to the fireplace, slipping his hands in his pockets and trying to seem as least threatening as possible. "Have a look at this," the Doctor continued when everyone was settled, turning attention to the TV. "I love telly, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think it's brilliant," Tommy agreed with a smile.

"Good man," the Doctor complimented. After a beat he leaned back to add, "Keep working, Mr. C!" and then leaned forward to watch the black and white program. Or, that's what Y/n thought he was doing before the Doctor suddenly turned to Mrs. Connolly with a low, soft, quiet voice that Mr. Connolly wouldn't be able to hear. "Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong?" His voice wasn't forceful but comforting, and he looked at her with a soft concern. He was open and tender - ready to help and slow to disbelieve, dismiss, or judge.

Mrs. Connolly responded to it immediately. "Did you say you were a Doctor?"

Y/n felt his heart seize, knowing what it meant when the Doctor confirmed, "Yes I am."

"Can you help her?" Y/n noticed the desperation on the woman's face. The way her hair fell out of her hairdo, and her hands clasped together, stress and every line of her face. "Oh please. Can you hep her, Doctor?"

Like an unwanted Lego you step on while walking through your house, Mr. Connolly spoke up again. "Now Rita, I don't think the gentleman needs to know.

"Yes he does." It was the first thing Y/n had said the entire time, and when Mr. Connolly looked at him to argue, the look on Y/n's face shut him down immediately. "There's something going wrong, but the Doctor can help. He can fix whatever problem you have, because he's absolutely amazing like that." He turned to Mrs. Connolly with a softer expression. "Please, continue."

Mrs. Connolly suddenly broke, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she began to cry. Rose stood up to move to her side and comfort her. "It's all right," she eased. "It's all right, come here." She hugged Mrs. Connolly, keeping the older woman against her side. "Oh, it's okay. It's alright."

"Hold on a minute," Mr. Connolly seemed to realize, fiddling with the flags still in his hand. "Queen and country's one thing, but this is my house." His voice was rising and Y/n locked up immediately. "What the..." He looked at the flags in his hand before tossing them aside. "What the hell am I doing?" He locked eyes with the Doctor, who was almost smirking. The smug look was tainted with a threatening darkness in his eyes that seemed to be brewing. A storm about to hit hard. "Now you listen here Doctor," Mr. Connolly continued. This was a man who was never questioned or put in his place, and it made Y/n begin to come undone. "You may have fancy qualifications, but what goes on under my roof is my business."

"No it's not."

Mr. Connolly turned to face Y/n with a rage in his features, but Y/n wasn't having any of it. He'd lost something suddenly. The thing that kept him quiet when he was afraid. That made him step back and close his eyes and hide. The thing that had driven him to run every time he'd been chased by things he was afraid of when he was small. Because you know what, he wasn't small anymore and Mr. Connolly was not even semi close to the scariest thing he'd seen.

"You," Mr. Connolly seethed.

"Me," Y/n confirmed, stepping forward. He glared, his eyes burning with wild, hot fire. "Am I the type of man you like to be around? The type that's easy to push around and get what you want from? Is that why you've ignored me for so long, and turned to me so quickly, because the Doctor is scarier and bigger and you know that despite the fact you shouldn't be afraid of him, you are?" Y/n pushed off the wall, standing to his full height. "You act like because you live in this house it's your special little place where you're in control and nothing can stop you? Well let me tell you," Y/n sneered, stepping forward again, his eyes narrowing. "This might be your house, but it is not up to you to control everything in it, because your wife and your son are their own people and not objects for you to put into the places that you want them and you will learn that or your son will grow up hating you and your wife will wait for the day you die, and every day of your life will be spent playing pretend king and trying to ignore how absolutely miserable you are."

Mr. Connolly seemed to be stunned, seeing nothing but truth that terrified him when he looked into Y/n's eyes. "Who are you?"

Y/n finally calmed, becoming even more terrifying by doing so. "Your worst nightmare." All of the blood drained from Mr. Connolly's face as a shadow passed over Y/n's expression that sent a chill down Mr. Connolly's spine.

"Now-" the Doctor began, but he was interrupted by Mr. Connolly turning around weakly and demanding-

"Get out."

"Excuse me?" The Doctor hissed.

"Get out!" He sounded less angry and more terrified, but scared animals were always more volatile than angry ones.

"I'm trying to-"

Mr. Connolly snapped. "I am talking!"

The Doctor shot to his feet, getting into Mr. Connolly's face. "And I'm not listening!" Mr. Connolly finally shut up, eyes wide and hands shaking. "Now you Mr. Connolly, you've dismissed my friend over there but I'm about to tell you, you will absolutely not dismiss me. You are staring into a deep, dark pit of trouble if you don't let me help. Now I'm ordering you, sir-" he spit the word, mocking rather than respectful. "-Tell me what is going on!"

Before anyone could say anything or bounce back from the Doctor absolutely losing it on this idiotic man, there was suddenly a thumping sound over head. Like someone was banging a stick on the floor above them. The family in the room finally broke, even Mr. Connolly finally looking at the Doctor with fear in his eyes and saying, "She won't stop." The paused and the rhythmic thudding came again. Four slow thuds. "She never stops," Mr. Connolly added, shifting uncomfortably.

Tommy sat forward. "We started hearing stories all round the place," he began. The Doctor turned to face him, Rose only having to look over to move her attention to the boy. Y/n's eyes had shot to the stairs when the banging had started and had not moved away. "People who have changed. Families keeping it secret because they were scared. Then the police started finding out. We don't know how, no one does. They just turn up. They come to the door and take them. Any time of the day or night."

At some point Y/n had moved from his spot before o the bottom of the steps, and when he got there, he paused only a second before he took a step up, and then another, and then another. The Doctor told Tommy one thing: "Show me." But by the time the group moved to get the key and went up the stairs so the Doctor could see what was going on, Y/n was already standing in front of the door with a distant, glassy look on his face. "Y/n?" The Doctor's voice was soft, concerned.

Y/n didn't respond. He raised a hand and it hovered over the door. He almost touched it... there was something, almost calling to him. Drawing him in. Y/n forced himself to focus. Ripped himself away from the thing that was pulling his body around without his permission. The last time this had happened, he had felt the death of hundreds and hundreds of people all being so horrified and agonized that it killed them. He couldn't feel something like that again. So he stepped back, using his other hand to force the one reaching for the door to his chest. away from the wood. He leaned against the banister behind him, a grim expression on his face. Rose and the Doctor shared worried expressions before moving to the door to unlock it and see what was going on. It was always the first step to solving the problem.

The door opened with Tommy entering the room first. They'd all agreed it would be best if she saw someone she knew first, so he was the one who greeted her. "Gran? It's Tommy. It's alright Gran. I've brought help." The door opened wider, revealing a dark room light only by the moon outside coming in through the window. There was someone inside, but only her silhouette could be seen. She began to walk toward the group coming into the room, and Y/n felt his heart seize in his chest. He wanted to reach out and pull the Doctor and Rose back, but he couldn't move.

Tommy turned the light on.

The woman in the room was revealed, in pristine, perfect condition... except that her face was gone. She had no mouth or eyes or even a nose. There light dents where all those things should be, but weren't. She just stood there, as if looking at them. But she couldn't.

Rose and the Doctor moved to her after a second. The Doctor got very close, eyebrows creasing. "Her face is completely gone." He rose his screwdriver to scan her. "Scarcely an electrical impulse left," he told them. "Almost complete neural shutdown. It's just ticking over. It's like her brain's been..." He seemed to struggle for a second. "Wiped clean."

"What are we gonna do Doctor?" Tommy asked, desperation in his voice. That was what got Y/n to move. He stepped toward the boy, his hand reaching out to comfort Tommy. Before he got there, his shoulder brushed Mr. Connolly's and a realization hit him like a freight train. He spun to face the man as Tommy added, "We can't even feed her."

Y/n made eye contact with Mr. Connolly. The men were the only ones out of the room, and therefore no one heard him when he whispered, "This is your fault."

"What?" Mr. Connolly spit.

Just then, the door downstairs banged open, and heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs. "We've got company," Rose nearly groaned, too upset by the faceless woman to be as sassy as she usually was.

"They've come for her!" Rita lamented, clinging to her son and looking at the Doctor with desperation.

The Doctor jumped into action. "What was she doing before this happened to her?" He demanded. When Rita and Tommy looked at him with stunned confusion, he snapped, "Tell me, quickly! Think!"

"I can't think!" Tommy snapped back. "She doesn't leave the house! She was just..." He reached out to his mother as she covered her face, his words fading as men in suits suddenly surged into the room.

Stepping between the men and the grandma, the Doctor held up his hands to stop this from happening. "Hold on! There are three important, brilliant and complicated reasons why you should listen to me. One-"

He was cut off before he could finish, by the man closest to him snagging him with a solid right hook. The Doctor went flying to the floor and Rose scrambled after him, screaming, "Doctor!" The men threw a blanket over the old woman's head and began to lead her out of the room.

Rita tried to stop them; bless the woman. "Leave her alone!" She demanded, pulling weakly on one of the men's arms. "You'll hurt her! Mum!" She was shoved off by one of the men and Tommy rushed to help her land safely and get back up again. Which left Y/n as the one standing. But he didn't do anything. He stood as Mr. Connolly guided the men out of the house, and he followed behind slowly. Rita and Tommy were after them much faster. "Don't hurt her!" Rita begged. She followed them all the way outside, Tommy right behind her. Once outside the commotion kept up, but Y/n at the top of the stairs didn't hear it. He did however jump into action upon hearing Rita begin to cry.

Whatever spell he was under shattered and he shoved past Mr. Connolly with force, running to the moped the Doctor had left behind to go into the house, kicking it into gear and revving the engine, watching the car with the old woman inside begin to pull away. He paused only to lock eyes with Mr. Connolly yet again, accusation set in his eyes with a cold tone that made the man step back into the house to hide from it. Unfortunately for him, Tommy saw the look as well.

The moment allowed the Doctor to catch up, slipping on the bike behind Y/n and pulling his feet up just in time for TY/n to surge forward, leaving them only a beat behind the car ahead. They chased the vehicle until it turned a corner... a corner that lead to what seemed to be a dead end. There was a closed gate and a cart in front of it. Even a boy swept the street in front of the cart, seeming as if the whole operation had been there for ages.

"Oh, very good," the Doctor congratulated the two men, smirking. The man sweeping smirked back. It clicked in Y/n's head immediately. "It was like this last time too," the Doctor explained anyway. "I chased it and ended up right here, on this street, in front of that gate, with those two people set up in front of it."

"Set up indeed," Y/n sighed, shaking his head.

They settled on a simple solution. They parked the moped and went around the back, walking around the enclosure to find any other entrances or weakened points on the gate. Of course, they found it. It was a door into the building. Something small, too small to be used by people as an entrance. Big enough to be used if one had to though, and no lock was scary enough to go against the sonic screwdriver. They were inside with no problem at all.

It seemed to be some sort of factory. There was the clattering of chains in the distance that they followed into a big room with a a gated enclosure in the middle. Inside the enclosure was dozens of people, all missing their faces. The clattering was coming from the men who had come to the house, who were now locking the grandma inside as well before locking the gate again. They waited for the men to leave before jogging up to the enclosure. The Doctor took out his screwdriver, busted the lock, and they were inside. It seemed a little more complex than it had from a distance though because after opening the first gate, there was a second one that lead to where everyone was actually held. Y/n wondered briefly why there were two gates as the Doctor opened the second and the pair moved into that room, pushing their way into the crowd gently to get a closer look at the faceless people.

They were dormant at first, but as the Doctor took out a torch and began to shine the light on them, their bodies began to twitch and move. Hands began to curl into claws, heads tilting threateningly. And they all turned to Y/n and the Doctor, closing in and pressing the two men against one of the gated walls. They crowded and pushed but didn't harm, and that surprised Y/n at first. Unfortunately, they did cause a commotion, which only occurred to the men when a huge light came on behind both of them, from outside the gate. They tried to see who had turned it on and saw only two silhouettes. A man's voice rung out, "Stay where you are."

They were pulled out of the enclosure and taken to two different rooms, sat in chairs, and faced with who seemed to be detectives. The man interrogating Y/n was rather calm and pleasant. "So who are you then?"

Y/n found himself sighing. "My name is Y/n."

The officer smiled, seeming pleased with Y/n's cooperative approach. "What are you doing here?"

"We're trying to figure out what's happening, so we can help and stop it," Y/n answered without hesitating. He said it with conviction, his body so relaxed but his eyes so full of honesty that there was simply no room to doubt him. He was telling the whole truth, and nothing else.

It was the best move to make, and it went over well. "What do you know?"

"Probably as much as you guys do. Bunch of people. Faces missing. What you might not know is that their brains are basically shut off. Like someone's taken their entire consciousness. A body with no person inside it, thinking and feeling and walking. It's a wisp of a ghost of humanity. No one's manning the controls." His shoulders dropped. "They're dormant."

Fairly enough, it was upsetting to the detective as well. "That's all you know?"

Y/n scoffed. "Maybe if you did less interrogating and tying me to chairs, I could be out there figuring out what's going on. My partner, where is he? We need to start working on this. Sitting around asking someone who knows barely more than you do is getting neither of us anywhere."

Sitting back, the officer gave a sort of amused smirk. "Down to business then. Alright, let the man go."

"But sir," one of the other men questioned. "Shouldn't we wait for the DI?"

The officer shook his head. "We need to find them and reunite these men who are here to help us. Come along, we've got work to do." And with that, Y/n was untied and they all headed to where the Doctor was being kept. A man who Y/n suspected was the DI was sat with the Doctor, looking non too far off from where the man who's been with Y/n had ended up - perplexed but trusting.

When they came into the room, the Doctor grinned upon seeing Y/n. "I can always count on you to get them to trust us, Y/n. Why do people listen to you so much better?"

"I'm approachable?" Y/n offered.

The Doctor nodded. "No that sounds about right."

Once the Doctor was untied as well, they all moved into the office where the DI began to catch up the other two men. "We started finding them about a month ago. Persons left 'sans visage'. Heads just... blank."

"Any sort of pattern?" The Doctor asked, eager to get down to business.

"It's spreading out from North London, all over the city. Men, women, kids, grannies. Only real lead is, there's been quite a large number in-"

The Doctor cut him off as he began to riffle through papers, finding the information himself. "-Florizel Street," he finished. His brow was creased in the way that it did when he was thinking and trying to understand. Looking at information and dissecting it. Taking it all in and organizing it to make sense of any kind of madness. It was a look Y/n had come to look on fondly.

There was a knock at the door to the office and Y/n went from admiring to in pain rather quickly.

"Found another one sir."

All eyes turned as the DI gave a half hearted, "Oh, good man, Crabtree. Here we are, Doctor. See what you can deduce." Y/n noticed that it was a woman immediately. There was a blanket over her head, but she was wearing a skirt. A pink skirt. A pink skirt that Y/n had seen recently, and could recognize almost immediately.

No.

No!

The one who had walked the woman into the room took the blanket off of her head, revealing-

"Rose," the Doctor lamented weakly.

Y/n's body went weak. He trailed after the Doctor, moving closer to her in order to reach out and touch her cheek. If she were normal, she would have leaned into it, a smile on her face. Maybe even winked at Y/n. But now... her face was blank, all features gone, leaving only shallow dents where they all should be.

"Do you two know her?" The DI asked.

"Know her? She..." The Doctor trailed off, a tension to his face as he struggled to voice what Y/n so often did. That she was his girlfriend, or companion, or maybe something else that explained what they all were better, in stronger words that painted the picture more clearly and drove home the feelings they shared. That he so much more than just knew her.

When he said nothing else, Y/n offered something. "She's out partner. We travel together." He wished he hadn't said anything. That he'd stopped as the Doctor had, because those words weren't sufficient, but he also knew he had no right to speak for the Doctor's feelings when he couldn't even admit them to himself. And... I mean, would these old fashioned people understand it anyway, when they couldn't even be okay with the Doctor and Y/n being together, let alone Rose as well?

To fill the sudden painful silence in the room, the man who'd brought Rose in began to fill in missing information. "They found her in the street apparently, down by Damascus Road. Just abandoned. That's unusual. That's the first one out in the open." He went to talk more, but Y/n was finished right there.

"I'm sorry say that again?"

"Sorry?" the DI offered, not sure as to what part Y/n had meant.

The Doctor spoke again. "Where did you say they left her?" He kept his eyes on Rose, his features being replaced with anger where the concentration and focus and puzzle piecing had been before. Gears turned now so much faster, the fire that drove him burning brighter. He was the sort of man that moved slower when angry, because every single move counted. It was when he was soft and slow that the Doctor was most dangerous.

The other men in the room seemed to sense that. "Just... in the street."

"In the street," the Doctor repeated, his face relaxing as he rose his eyebrows. "They left her in the street. They took her face and just chucked her out and left her in the street." His voice was dropping, the anger curling around his words as his body relaxed. All his hesitations that usually kept him so in line melted away and he was calmer than he ever was. "And as a result, that makes things..." He paused, eyes still trained on where Rose's face should be. "- Simple. Very, very simple. Do you know why?" He took his glasses off, finally looking away from Rose in favor of turning to face the others in the room.

"No," the DI answered, his nervousness plain.

"Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop" the Doctor seethed. "There is no power on this Earth that can stop me." He looked at Y/n. "You ready?"

Anger had a vastly different effect on Y/n. Unlike with the Doctor where anger calmed him, anger fueled Y/n. It drove him, energized him. I suppose it was because the Doctor was a man capable of great evil, and therefore a man who had many rules that usually held him back. These rules locked that potential up tight so he could channel it into good things. When he was angry, those rules flew out the window and let him loose so that he had no inhibitions or hesitations. His potential, either good or evil, was at full capacity and would be stopped by no one. Y/n was the exact opposite. He was always calm, always level headed. His mind was a machine, and it flowed smoothly. He never felt the need to lead, only to support and pop in when it was necessary. But when he was angry? Oh, when he was angry, it blinded him and clogged those gears so the machine was stopped. All the energy that usually went into keeping him calm and level headed went into charging his mind to think better and harder, and his body into working faster and going further.

Usually, the Doctor was a man of great power and goodness and when he slipped or needed help, Y/n was there to keep the peace and fill in holes the Doctor had missed and pick up the slack. The Doctor pulled the chariot and Y/n picked up the things that fell out.

Now, Y/n was unhinged and the Doctor was unleashed and neither were about to stop the other. There were only two men on the path of vengeance for someone who had hurt the woman they both loved, and nothing - NOTHING - was going to get in the way of them getting her back.

Y/n smiled. "Always."

So they were off.

They headed out, blazing a trail of fire behind them, headed right back where they'd come from. The sun was up, and Tommy Connolly opened the door to find Y/n and the Doctor. "Tommy," the Doctor said in a voice that left no room for negotiation. "Talk to me." Tommy threw a glance to the inside of the house before coming out, closing the door behind him. "I need to know exactly what happened inside your house."

It was then Mr. Connolly decided to intervene. "What the blazes do you think you're doing?" the pathetic man spat at his son.

"I wanna help, Dad!" Tommy begged weakly.

"Mr. Connolly-" the Doctor began.

And then Mr. Connolly made a huge error. He turned to the Doctor and sneered, "Shut your face, you."

Y/n reacted immediately. He surged forward, ramming Mr. Connolly against the wall of the house. Their noses almost touched, and Y/n practically growled, "I've had enough of you. You think you're bigger than you are and I've had enough of it. You're going to stop intervening and you're going to stop disrespecting your family and the Doctor and myself, and you're going to let your son be helpful like the decent human being he is and you're going to be grateful that Tommy didn't turn out anything like you did, do you understand me?"

There was something in Y/n's eyes. Something that made Mr. Connolly genuinely cower. The Doctor put a hand on Y/n's shoulder and the man backed down immediately, letting Mr. Connolly go. "You don't understand," Mr. Connolly groaned. "You two are ruining everything! I have a position to maintain. People around here respect me. You don't care what people think of you and that's fine, but those successful know that it matters what people think!"

"Is that why you did it, Dad?" All eyes turned to Tommy.

"Did what?" Mr. Connolly asked his voice tinged with panic. "You ratted on Gran," Tommy accused. "How else would the police know where to look? Unless a coward told them."

"How dare you," Mr. Connolly hissed quietly, still beaten down by Y/n's previous actions, but fueled again by Tommy's insult. "You think I fought a war just so a mouthy scum like you could call me a coward?"

Tommy was having none of that though. "You don't get it do you? You fought against fascism, remember? People telling you how to live. Who you could be friends with. Who you could fall in love with. Who could live and who had to die. Don't you get it? You were fighting so that little twerps like me could do what we want. Say what we want. Now you've become just like them. You've been informing on everyone, haven't you? Even Gran. All to protect your precious reputation!"

"You'll learn, Mr. Connolly," Y/n said in a low voice. "It doesn't matter what OTHER people say or think about you. It matters what your friends and family think. It matters that you go to bed at night with a clear conscious and look at yourself in the mirror and see someone you like. Be honest. Have you been able to look yourself in the eye since you started tell the police where everyone was? Since you betrayed your own family, all so you could look good to what you think people wanted you to be? Cause I can tell you now, no one's going to like you for this. For taking away their family and ratting on them. For making everyone scared in their homes. On their own streets."

"Everyone who matters will appreciate what I did," Mr. Connolly spat defensively.

"So it's true then." The door opened, revealing Mrs. Connolly. Mr. Connolly reached out for her but she pulled away.

"I did it for us, Rita," Mr. Connolly explained, panicking at the betrayed look on the poor woman's face. "She was filthy! A filthy, disgusting thing!"

Y/n took a step back, and then another. He tripped on the second step as he hit the end of the concrete, but was thankfully far enough out of view that no one saw. But he saw. And what he saw... He wished he hadn’t.

"I wish people like that wouldn't go about. It's disgusting."

"Oh look away dear, it means nothing to you."

"It's just gross! Can't they do it somewhere else?"

"They're only holding hands."

"She kissed her cheek!"

"And?"

"And it's not right. I'm trying to spend time with my family. Why can't they be normal? Look, even Y/n looks upset by it."

"Are you upset, Y/n? We can go."

Y/n looked at his parents, feeling small. He was small, but he had never felt small. He'd always quite big, actually. Too big to hide in the spaces he wished he'd fit better in. Too big to run as fast and as far as he wanted to. Too big to fade away and be gone from this moment. Too big, in the middle of a quart yard, feeling like every set of eyes that could see him did. That was how he usually felt. But now... now he felt so small that he was terrified of being stepped on. He looked into his father's eyes, soft but distant. Too far away to reach. Too dislodged to understand. Y/n looked at his mother next. The way she looked at the two women who had eventually felt her stare and looked back, leaving to escape the horrible feeling her nasty glare left under their skin. Y/n wished he could go with them. How could one person hate two people being happy so much that it made one's skin crawl? That it made people run, just with the power of the look in her eyes alone. Why did she feel the need to say anything at all? Why couldn't she be pleasant and far away like dad?

A hand rested on Y/n's shoulder and he was pulled into the present. He looked over at the Doctor, who had a very knowing expression on his face at that moment. They exchanged a look and Y/n nodded, both to recognize that they would talk about it later and that he would be okay until then. For now, they had much more important things to worry about.

With that clear, they both turned their attention back to Tommy and his parents. It seemed Y/n had missed something, as the door was now closed. With the way Mr. Connolly was yelling anguished cries for his wife to open the door, Y/n got the feeling that Mr. Connolly's world had just come crashing down.

"Tommy," the Doctor said, reaching out for the boy. Tommy moved closer to him, and those two, Y/n, and DI Bishop all left Mr. Connolly at the door. They had important business to get to, and Tommy had a lot to catch them up on. As they walked, the Doctor got to business. "Tell me about that night. The night she changed."

As they walked, Tommy watched his feet, trying to remember. "She was just watching the telly," he offered weakly, obviously feeling guilty as not giving what was being looked for. How wrong he was though.

"Rose said it," the Doctor realized. He spun around, eyes shooting to all the different antenna. Too many dishes for this year, this time. "She said it from the start. All these aeriels in one little street. How come?" He settled on looking at Tommy for an answer.

The boy delivered. "The bloke Mr. Magpie. He's selling them up the street?" The Doctor and Y/n looked at each other before taking off, Tommy and the DI pausing only a second before kicking into gear after the Doctor yelled at them. The four made it to Magpie's place, the Doctor breaking the window on the door to reach through and unlock it, pushing inside. The DI actually tried to stop him - which was fair since he was a cop and all -but the Doctor wasn't listening.

The second they were inside, the Doctor was at the desk in a flash, ringing the little desk bell heatedly. "If you're here, come out and talk to me!" the Doctor screamed. "MAGPIE!"

Y/n skipped the desk and went directly behind, searching the whole place for any signs of the man, vengeance in his eyes. Luckily for Magpie, he didn't appear to be in. "No one," Y/n announced as he went back to the front, in answer o the Doctor's heated, questioning gaze.

The Doctor went behind the desk as well, beginning to dig through the drawers for any hints of clues. He was successful as always. "Oh hello," he grumbled, pulling out a sort of portable television, from what it seemed to be. It was rectangular shaped, but almost like an etch-a-sketch, with dials below a blank, dark screen.

Moving to the Doctor's shoulders, Y/n squinted his eyes as he got a better look at the thing. "That's not supposed to be here." Y/n tilted his head. "Not on Earth. Not anywhere near humans. That's too advanced for hundreds of years from now, let alone 1970's or wherever."

In response, the Doctor licked the device. "Tastes like iron." He looked at Y/n. "Bakelite." He put the thing on the counter in front of him, pulling out his sonic screwdriver to scan it. "Put together by human hands, I'll give that. But you're right, the design itself..." The sonic sounded, following by the Doctor making a noise of appreciative surprise. "Oh, beautiful work. That is so simple."

"That's incredible," DI Bishop mused. "It's like a television, but portable. A portable television." Y/n almost smiled at the amazement in his voice. He briefly wondered how the man would react to Netflix.

The thought was derailed as the Doctor lifted the screwdriver to eye level, and tellies began to switch on around them in the room. Each screen was just filled with white static, but the fact that they'd reacted so strongly to the signal in the first place wasn't the greatest of signs. "That's not the only signal in this room," the Doctor told the others. Suddenly the static died and the screens cleared, the static falling away to reveal a bunch of faces. Just faces on dark screens, all sad or scared. Some screaming, some crying, some silently shaking as they looked into a void and tried to find a way out. It was only a few seconds, each clip, and it repeated, so that people were stuck in two or three seconds of utter fear.

Y/n launched forward, eyes scanning each screen frantically until he squatted down, pausing as his hands rested on either side of a screen with the face of a girl screaming one word over and over again. It was Rose, and she was calling for the Doctor. When Y/n felt a presence beside him he scooted over to let the Doctor squat beside him, both men looking at Rose call for help over and over and over again. She looked so afraid, and in the blackness of the screen around her was reflected two expressions. One, the Doctor, whose eyes were full of pain and whose face was lined with love and worry. It was a sad expression, easy and delicate and affectionate. The other face was Y/n's, which was curled in anger. Not like it had been before, where it was hot and unforgiving and hard and terrifying. No, this anger was painful to look at. Like he was about to cry. He reached out a hand and gently touched the screen, wishing he could touch Rose's face and tell her everything was going to be okay.

Next to him, the Doctor reached out a hand too, to touch the other side of the screen that Y/n did. "We're coming," the Doctor promised.

The sound of beads being moved sounded. The same sound that had happened when Y/n had rushed into the back, searching for Magpie. Because there was a curtain of beads in the doorframe-

"What do you think you're doing?" Y/n and the Doctor looked at Magpie at the same time, pain being replaced with that anger from before. Merciless anger that could only be described as wrath.

The Doctor stood, marching toward Magpie with determination, every move fast and full of threat. "I want my friends restored and I think that's beyond a little back street electrician, so tell me, who's really in charge here?" Y/n backed him up, both of them leaning into Magpie who looked downright terrified.

Suddenly there was a voice. "Yoohoo!" It was such a shock because it was a woman's voice. A voice which shouldn't be possible as all men were in the room. Everyone turned to see a new woman on one of the screens. Except she wasn't just a face, she was hair and a body and a dress and arms as well. She sat on the telly as if she was a program, except her smile was too smug and her eyes were too cold. It probably was even more of a give away when she added, "That would probably be me," in what was definitely a response to the Doctor's question. A question she shouldn't be able to hear as she should have been a recording of something that had happened weeks ago. "Ooh," the woman hummed. "This one's smart as paint. And look at his little guard dog, ready to bite." She almost chuckled, the laugh sitting on her face even as the noise didn't come out.

"Is she talking to us?" DI Bishop asked.

"I'm sorry gentleman, I'm afraid you brought this on yourselves," Magpie apologized rather pathetically. "May I introduce you to my new-" he cut off, probably choking as he finished, "Friend." He swallowed and Y/n almost rolled his eyes.

"Truly nice to meet you," the woman on the screen greeted.

"Oh my god it's here," DI Bishop exclaimed. "That woman on the telly."

The Doctor's expression was dark. "No. It's just using her image."

"What?" Tommy asked, dumbfounded and confused. "What are you?" he asked the woman when neither the Doctor nor Y/n responded to his first question.

"I'm The Wire," the not-woman responded. "And I will gobble you up, pretty boy." On instinct Y/n pushed Tommy behind him; Tommy didn't resist. When Tommy was gone, the Wire's eyes moved up to look at Y/n instead. "Every last morsel. And when I have feasted, I shall regain the corporeal body, which my fellow kind denied me." As she spoke, the black and white screen suddenly filled with color, and Y/n realized she was showing off. Threatening and she flexed to show how much power she already had, just from the few people she'd fed off of. From Rose.

"Good lord." DI Bishop's eyes were wide. "Colour television!" Once again, Y/n had to try to not roll his eyes. To these people, that was a miracle.

The Doctor cut in on the moment. "So your own people tried to stop you."

"They executed me," the Wire spat. "But I escaped, in this form and fled across the stars."

"And now you're trapped in the television," the Doctor taunted. At his words, the color on the screen faded and it returned to black and white.

"Not for much longer." Despite her words, it gave Y/n hope to see her color fade. Her show of power had been quite temporary, which meant she was far, far weaker than she was trying to seem. That meant she would be much easy to defeat than she wanted to let on.

"This is what got my Gran?" Tommy asked, hands reaching out to tug on Y/n's sleeve.

Because Tommy was touching him, Y/n responded first. "Indeed. You don't know this yet I don't think, but people's minds work off of electricity. Little shocks all throughout the mind that send messages and information all around so it can power the rest of the body. She traps the minds and feeds off of them, and she does it by sapping away their faces. Ever heard, 'the eyes are the windows to the souls'? Well it's wrong, they're actually the doors, and once you open it it's very hard to close."

Feelings eyes on him, Y/n looked over to see the Doctor was surprised. It didn't last long though as the Doctor looked to Tommy, his anger coming back again as he added, "Problem is, it gorges itself like some great, over-fed pig." His eyes moved back to the Wire, spitting as he continued to get even angrier. "Taking people's faces, their essences, as it stuffs itself." The Wire looked very amused by that and Y/n was almost tempted to step forward and add some nasty words of his own, if Tommy hadn't still been holding onto him, keeping him back.

Probably for the best.

"And you let her do it, Magpie," the DI sneered at the electrician still cowering where the Doctor had left him before.

"I had to! She let me keep my face," Magpie whined. It was like a shark biting you then getting mad when you lashed out. It only made Y/n more angry. "She's promised to release me at the time of manifestation."

"What does that mean?" Tommy demanded.

"The appointed time," the Wire responded evenly. "My crowning glory."

That sentence set off the DI and Y/n at the same time. the DI shouted, "Doctor, the Coronation!" at the same time that Y/n lamented, "Oh my god the Coronation" as he rose a hand to cover his mouth, horrified as he began to realize the Wire's plan.

"For the first time in history, millions gathered round a television set," the Doctor confirmed. He turned smug as he took a step toward the screen. "But you're not strong enough yet, are you?" The Wire seemed to want to say something, but had nothing to throw back. The Doctor was right. "You can't do it all from here. That's why you need this!" He held up the screen from earlier, which Y/n only now realized he'd been carrying around the entire time. "You need something more powerful. This will turn a big transmitter into a big receiver."

"What a clever thing you are," the Wire sarcastically congratulated. "But why fret about it? Why not just relax? Kick off your shoes and enjoy the coronation. Believe me, you'll be glued to the screen."

"Well obviously we wouldn't-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence, because before Y/n could quip out a snarky response, suddenly there was a bright light and his whole body was beginning to ache. Slowly, starting at his fingers and toes, a sort of sharp numbness began to spread through his body. Began to eat at him, but by bit, until he was consumed. It never did get all of him, but even when the numbness faded and the world should have come back into view, that bright white light didn't go away. Y/n closed his eyes and felt a sort of fuzzy distance, but that white light didn't go anywhere. It was just muffled a little behind his eyelids.

For a while, Y/n didn't want to look. There was a fear in his heart that kept his eyes very closed. The white light wasn't too bright to look at or painful or consuming, it was just... terrifying. There was something that told him if he opened his eyes, he would see something terrible.

Unfortunately, Y/n was a companion of the Doctor. He maybe even had a little bit of what made the Doctor so wonderful and fantastic and brave inside of him, put there by experiences and memories that weren't his. Things that made people on such a deep level; mistakes and terrors. Things more terrible than some stupid white light could scare him with. So he opened his eyes, and he saw. And it was just as terrible as he thought it would be.

Suddenly he sucked in a breath and shot up into a sitting position, scrambling away from the wall of TV screens. He was breathing heavily, head spinning and heart racing. He looked around and saw DI Bishop, who was much more still but who seemed a little jarred himself. Though I suppose, no one was as upset by the experience just had as Y/n was. The Wire placated her victims, holding them in a cocoon of disconnection. Uncomfortable, but not upsetting. Not anything like what Y/n had just seen.

The door to Magpie's shop opened and the Doctor was there, eyes finding Y/n with an expression that was a mix of victory and worry. The worry grew as the Doctor realized Y/n seemed to be in a far more stable state than the Detective had been, which he didn't seem surprised about. Kneeling down, the Doctor placed a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "What happened?"

Y/n swallowed. "She took my face."

Even before the Doctor spoke, Y/n knew that was wrong though. "No, she didn't. You were fine. She was focused on the detective, and hadn't gotten to you, me, or Tommy yet. But when I got Tommy to wake up you just... lay there." He swallowed. "I thought you might have died."

At that, Y/n gave the only reassurance he could. "Well you and I both know that's not the case."

The Doctor nodded. "Right so. Stay here, I'll be back." He went and got Tommy, and then the four men - reunited again - all moved out of the shop. Shakily, as Y/n seemed to be having a hard time staying on his feet. Finally though, with a little help from Tommy, they managed to get Y/n out of the shop and down the street to head back to where all of the people who'd been taken were. If this was one of those happy endings, everyone would be back to normal. And considering Rose was one of them... well, they all had fingers crossed.

It didn't take long. They got far enough that Y/n only needed a little help from Tommy, and they moved a lot faster. They turned a corner, and saw a crowd of people surging out of the place where all the Wire's victims had been held. Y/n recognized a few body shapes and hair colors and outfits. Everyone was fine, just as they'd hoped. With the Wire gone, all consciousness had been returned to their bodies and people were in great condition. Well, good condition. Y/n was sure there might be some emotional damage. Disassociation was detrimental enough, without your very being being fed on.

But anyway, that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was that everyone was more or less completely fine. Which meant-

"Gran!" Tommy explained.

Tommy went to run, but paused as Y/n was still leaning on him. The man leaned away from the boy, waving him on. "I'll be fine. You go." With that, Tommy was gone. Y/n stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, afraid if he leaned off he might collapse. But then he saw Rose. He saw the Doctor surging toward her grinning face, and he felt his own body moving as well. Despite his worries about his current state of being, Y/n pushed off the wall and headed over as well. He was proud of himself for only limping a little bit.

Rose and the Doctor had the cutest reunion hug, and Y/n approached them as they parted. There was a grin on his face as he said, "All good now?"

"More than," Rose agreed. She hugged Y/n next, jumping in surprise as he groaned in pain. She leaned back much quickly, worry on her face as it had been on the Doctor's earlier, and was again. "Are you okay? You seem... hurt. What did you let happen to him?" She shot this at the Doctor, who was about to defend himself when Y/n did it for him.

"I just didn't handle the TV sucking my mind out of my body as well as you did," he tried to dismiss. "Really I'm fine. We fell after we got all zapped. I might have just landed wrong, really. Lots of different reasons, none of them anything you need to worry about." He reached up both hands, holding Rose's face. She was taken aback by the look in his eyes when he looked at her now. Like they hadn't seen each other in years, or he had believed he'd never see her again. To be fair, after the events of today, it was a fair look for one to have. "I love you. Have I said that recently?"

Rose cocked an eyebrow. "No partic-" Y/n kissed her, cutting her off. The kiss was hard and desperate and full of emotion that rocked her to her core. Rose felt her head rush and her heart race and her body shivered a bit before she registered the way he was holding her face. He was gripping it. Clinging to her like if she let go, she'd be gone forever. When they parted, she realized he was crying. "Y/n, are you sure you're okay?" She whispered, reaching a hand up to wipe the tear.

"Yeah." His voice cracked though, so it was quite unconvincing. "I'm just... I'm so glad you're okay, Rose. I really, really am." He stroked her cheek. "I'm never letting anything like that happen to you ever again."

She almost told him that he couldn't control what happened to her in this life of theirs, but Rose got the feeling that if she did, he might break down. So she just nodded and smiled and reassured, "Of course you will. You and the Doctor would never let anything really terrible happen to me. We're gonna be together forever, the three of us."

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. "Right," Y/n weakly agreed. He turned away, collecting himself. "Forever." His eyes moved across the crowd. "I think we deserved a bit of celebration. Come on!" And suddenly he was perfectly fine. Every few steps he winced just a little, but his smile was wide and his eyes were cleared. Like he had never been upset or hurt at all. The Doctor had been silent and nervous, constantly looking at Y/n again and again, but eventually the celebration got to even him and they were all forgetting their troubles and having a great time. Together again and inseparable.

For now.

Amidst all the fun, they ran into Tommy again and the Doctor gave his scooter as a present. It was a nice moment, but quickly messed up by Tommy seeing his dad again. Mr. Connolly seemed to be packed and suited up. Going somewhere. Leaving. "Good riddance," Tommy mumbled, face torn with hate.

"Is that it then, Tommy?" The Doctor asked, turning to watch Mr. Connolly go as well. "New monarch, new age, new world. No room for a man like Eddie Connolly."

"That's right," Tommy confirmed solidly. "He deserves it."

Rose leaned closer to the young boy. "Tommy, go after him."

Y/n cut in right there. "Never ever feel pressure to forgive someone who has abused you." He looked right at Tommy, and the Doctor and Rose went silent. "You are never required to let that person back into your life and don't you let anyone say otherwise." Y/n cleared his throat, his voice softening. "You should forgive him. If you don't, that anger you feel right now? It'll stay there inside you forever, and it'll turn you into him one day. You can't let it. You're too good to let someone else's mistakes ruin your future like that. You deserve better. And... you can give him another chance if you want. You can. But understand something: losing a parent is terrible. It sucks and it hurts, and it leaves a hole in your life forever. But that hole will always stay the size it is when that person leaves your life. Letting someone like your dad back in cold just widen that hole. Make it worse. Hurt it more. I'm not saying he will make it worse or he hasn't learned better. You can go after him, and that's your choice, and you're allowed to do that." Y/n reached out, placing his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "But you can't save him Tommy. Not from himself. You can't save anyone from themselves. You have to prioritize yourself and keep yourself safe first. So if you go after him, go because you want to. Not because he'll be sad or lonely or you think he needs you. Okay?"

Tommy had a very soft look on his face. One full of relief. Y/n's words had lifted a large burden off of his shoulders, and he nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Y/n. I... God, thank you."

Y/n smiled. "You're very welcome." With that, Tommy left the group. He walked back to his house, hesitated, and then did go after his dad. Y/n smiled to himself. "What a good lad."

"Very good," Rose agreed. But when Y/n looked over, she was looking at him, not Tommy.

Looking at his hands, Y/n cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cut you off I just-"

"No," Rose rushed to reassure. "You were right. I forget, sometimes... that not having a dad. It's not the worse thing that can happen to you. Sometimes it's better." She swallowed. "I was lucky to have a good dad. And an even better mum." At that, she pulled Y/n's chin so their eyes met. "I never properly apologized to you. For what happened in the parallel world. I pushed you to forgive her, and you knew from the beginning you shouldn't. She really hurt you and I pushed you to get there so she could."

Y/n shook his head and then wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his side. Her arms went around his middle to hug him, her cheek resting against his chest. "It's not your fault, Rose. It's hers. Don't you dare blame yourself for that." The Doctor moved closer, using the table behind them and his body to block the view as he took Y/n's hand.

"All that matters if we're safe and together," the Doctor finalized.

And for now, that was true enough.

Story Tag List: @e-reads-fics @shoochi

Male reader taglist: @sheepfather

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especially-in-heaven · 4 years ago

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HOW TO TAME AN OUTLAW - Allan A-dale/OC Fanfic

FANFICTION LINK | CHAPTER 1 |

Prologue: A Girl with a flower crown

8th September, In the year of our lord, 1183.

Wrap. Tuck. Pin. And hope for the best. Be careful not to prick your finger.

Or at least that was the advice Elaine had learnt to making a flower crown. Actually, choosing the flowers was the hard part as the colours needed to work together. Yellow daffodils for the base, Elaine Walker smiled with satisfaction, and for decoration, a bunch of lilac's threaded through. Once she tucked the last pin in place, she held it out to herself, turning and twisting to admire her work. The girls were already playing in the field. If she waited any longer, she'd miss the travelling festival through the village, going onto Knighton and with her mother's strict rules, she wasn't to leave the boundaries of Clun.

Three solid raps on the door followed. Sarah was outside. She always made the best crowns. pink roses intwined with ivy. Elaine was meant to ask where did she find such beautiful flowers inside the village?

"'Lainey, are you coming?"

"Just two seconds." She called back, firmly placing the crown on her head and twirling. Before she left, she caught her reflection in the edge of a kitchen knife. Lovely.

She was just about to leave when her sister hobbled up behind her. With sticky fingers, she grabbed the ends of Elaine's white cloak and begged in a whimper, "Can't I come?"

"That's up to mother." She dismissed.

"Mumma says I can come if you'll look after me."

"Ugh, Meghan. I just want to go to the festival. I don't have time to make another crown."

She could see Sarah waiting outside. They planned to go together; she didn't want to keep her waiting so shoved Meghan aside and fled. The festival music chiming from the hills where the cherry trees grew. In the soft wind, the air infested with a confetti of pink petals. For once, Clun Village was charmed with banners and music.

Arms wrapped between one another, her and Sarah giggled together until their legs beat their heads and they started racing to the top. Elaine won, only because Sarah's dress held her down. They joined the fray of other girls dancing merrily to the tunes. The long grass not fazing them, nor the mud already worn down on her white silk dress. Sarah was quickly dragged by the elbow, a nice man with a nice beard twirled her around. Elaine continued to clap to the beat, forgetting completely -as the band continued through the village, up past the cherry trees and into the trees - her promise to her mother.

"This is brilliant!" Sarah found her again, beaming merrily. Her face red from dancing with the stranger, and new addition of rose flowers prickled in her hair. "Why don't we have festivals every day like this."

"Because not every day is Prince Richard's birthday."

Flutes played - Oh god, how she loved flutes. Dancing to its mellow tune until she'd spun so much the world did also. Nothing felt better than the forest pines under her feet, watching as the leaves twisted in circles as she moved her body.

The trees parted and Knighton hall appeared on her left, Elaine jolted to a stop. She'd only just realised how far she'd gone.

Never had she travelled this far without her mother or father. They'd sometimes come to trade her father's crops for wool here. She recognised the market stand. The Apple tree looked familiar. And Maid Marian of course, everyone knew her. Rosy cheeked and gorgeous, merely thirteen years of age. She didn't join in with the dancing, simply observing with a smile until a young boy took her hand. Sir Edward, her father, rolled his eyes and she giggled, already swept away by the boy into the crowd.

Elaine turned her attention back to her current predicament. She hadn't meant to leave the village, but the music and dancing spun her thoughts away until it was too late.

Needling through the crowd of white, she found Sarah. Two men in either hand and spinning so fast it hurt Elaine's eyes.

"Can I steal her for a second?" She asked, fighting back the panic swirling through her head.

Sarah escaped and Elaine pulled her aside. She urged quickly, "How are we going to get back?"

"Back?" Sarah gaped, "I'm not going back, I'm staying with a friend in Nottingham once this festival ends."

"You never told me that!"

"I didn't realise you needed to know."

Elaine slammed her leg down, in a tantrum of frustration. "Well what am I going to do now? I told mother I wouldn't leave the village and I completely forgot! I don't know how to get back to Clun."

"It's easy. Just follow the path back." But the festival was already moved so far past Knighton hall that the forest edge had disappeared around the corner. "Or come to Nottingham with me and we'll travel back tomorrow with my friend's family."

"Mother won't like that."

"She'd rather you be safe," Sarah reasoned sensibly. Rather rushed, Sarah looked back at the festival. It's music and colour radiating the air, and Elaine knew she wanted to get back to it.

"I should start walking," Elaine decided. Already, she'd held Sarah back and her many suitors would be waiting to twirl her around again. The girls were moving fast into the age of trying to find husbands, and for Sarah it was paramount with her recently deceased father to secure financial safety.

"If you want to do that. Just please be careful."

Be careful. Yes – outlaws and beasts lived deep in the heart of Sherwood forest. Elaine wasn't sure what was worse. The tales of yellow eyes monsters, with fangs, leaching on the innocent. So many bedtime stories, that she didn't know if they were tales supposed to be about outlaws or animals.

Sarah was quick to dance back to the party, and Elaine turned with Clun in mind. The forest loomed closer with each step and so did the spike of her heart. Beating. Pumping. The image of outlaws with fangs and patchy skin came to mind. She was sure she saw one or two peeking around the edge of trees – no, that was just her imagination.

They hadn't turned any corners during the dance, had they? She truly couldn't remember and decided to carry on straight with each turn in the road. The forest grew in an arch above her and she couldn't even make out where the sun was to work out her direction. God. Was she lost? Breathe, breathe, breathe… the skies darkened, trees became silhouettes. The constant thought that her mother must be so worried about her, kept her moving. Every whistle of wind, rustle of leaves and owl hoot sent Elaine reeling. She surely hadn't been dancing this long, so why was she walking so far?

"Tom!" Someone hissed. A human voice. An angry human voice.

Elaine jumped. She hadn't heard anything but animal noises for the past hour. She spun, trying to work out where it had come from. She could only see trees. Green blurred around her as he eyes pricked to hear anything even slightly differently-

Something moved. Startled, Elaine stepped back. Without a plan, her body on instinct dashed to the side of path. Maybe if she got to the trees she could hide. Whatever it was, heavy footsteps followed after her. Pinching her eyes shut, preferring not to see whatever it was. Suddenly, a great weight slammed against her. She tumbled forward, head moving faster than her body. Rush of blood swam to her head. Barely managing to catch herself with her hands before she hit the mud.

Roughly, she was pulled around and something hard pushed against her throat. She wanted to scream, but a strange stillness took over her muscles, paralysing her in place.

"Give me all your money!"

"I don't – I don't have any money. Please."

The boy pushed the object harder into her neck.

"I said give over the money!"

He was only a boy, no older than Elaine. His hair ruffled and dirt smudged into his face. If he was an outlaw, he certainly didn't look like the pictures Elaine had painted in her head.

Behind him, another figure approached. I'm outnumbered, she thought in a stir of panic. Thump, thump, thump – was that the sound of another person approaching. No – Just the sound of her heart. She needed to think clearly. Scrunching her nose up to stop the pulsing, she focused on the scene in front of her.

The approaching figure looked similar to the boy, but older. Muscles more defined and beard growing through. Most noticeably, his eyes were a piercing blue. A brother, perhaps?

From the scruff of his neck, he tugged the younger boy on top of Elaine up, like a dog would their pup.

"Tom," the older one growled, "What are you playin' at?"

"What was I playing at?" The boy – Tom – echoed, "I was thinking about getting a decent bed tonight. Or do you wanna sleep on this floor again?"

"Oi, you were the one who ran away from home. I just followed."

Tom jabbed a finger at Elaine. It was then she noticed a knife hadn't been in his hand, but a very blunt stick. She'd been afraid for nothing. "Allan, we wanna live this way, we gotta steal from the people."

"I didn't want to live like this." the older one snapped, clearly irritation by his younger brothers' behaviour. "But she clearly don't have anything. Do you see a purse?"

Whilst they fought, Elaine considered crawling away. However, as the conversation turned to her on the floor, so did their eyes and soon both of them were staring back at her.

"We don't need money, maybe her cloak'll sell for something?"

"Tom, are you thick?"

"What?"

The older one groaned, his eyes popping from his skull. "She's a girl. How's it going to look if we go into Nottingham with a girl's muddy cloak and try and sell it."

Elaine clung the cloak around herself. Her mother had hand stitched this herself and was the most lavish thing she owned… but if it came to it, she'd gladly take it off and give it to them if it meant saving her life. Grabbing at the ties, she undid it and shook it from her shoulders. With trembling hands, she offered it to them.

Neither of them noticed for a minute, still bickering amongst themselves the way siblings do. Then, slowly Tom frowned and took note of the cloak offered to him. Viciously, he snatched it from her grip.

"Ah, see, the girls got some sense. She knows we'll kill 'er otherwise."

The older one snatched it back. "With what? A stick… here, take it." He offered it back kindly, his voice smoothing out as he spoke to her. "We don't want your cloak."

"Allan. That's good money there!"

Elaine shivered, "You're – You're not going to kill me?"

"No," Allan puffed a laugh as if the very idea was ridiculous and was now crouched in front of her. "My brother's the biggest wuss I know, I doubt he'd be able to hurt you."

Tom heaved a huff, "Shut up will you."

"Maybe don't go around, tackling teenage girls then, you idiot."

I just want to go home. Her father's warm embrace was waiting for her, as was her mother's carrot soup. She promised she'd keep it steaming for her. Edging up, she felt confident enough that they wouldn't harm her again, at least while the older brother was there. She made sure to keep him in between them as she rose from her knees.

But as she went to stand, her heel caught the back of her dress and she tripped again. Expecting the hard thud of the forest floor, Allan's arms instead caught her wrists and she remained standing.

"Uh – thank you."

"Look, I'm sorry about my brother. He's a right pain in the arse." Tom rolled his eyes and sulked off into the darkness of the trees. Elaine hoped to never see him again. "Just – uh, please don't tell anyone about this."

If she got out of here without getting killed, she'd be thanking them. Instead of saying this pathetic line, she simply nodded.

Allan mumbled a quite thanks and turned off the forest path to find his brother.

Almost alone again, Elaine spun in confusion. The fading light had gone now and all that was left was a shimmer of moonlight and stars seeping through the trees to guide her way. She didn't even know what way she'd come from.

"Do you…" Finding her voice, she tried again, "Do you know which way Clun is?"

Allan shrugged but looked around as if he'd find a sign that would give him the answer. "I'm sorry, I've got no clue. I'm not from around here. But there was a village just a bit down there that had these pink trees in it."

Delight sprung through her and every ounce of fear she'd just felt immediately evaporated. "Thank you so much!"

"Uh- don't mention it," Allan shrugged, his face darkening in shadow the further he backed away, "Good luck."

"You too," She sung happily. Not bothering to wait around to be attacked again, Elaine sped off, the wind ripping a thousand miles per hour across her ears. She had no intention of being attacked again.

As Clun Village sunk into her vision again, she looked to the sky and said a little prayer for Allan, the blue-eyed wanderer. His brother would surely get him in trouble if he wasn't careful.

#robin hood bbc #bbc robin hood #robin hood #allan a-dale #httao #fanfiction #myfanfic #myedits #how to tame an outlaw #elaine walker #alliene #aka my otp

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 5 years ago

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Edinburgh To Boston - Chapter 11 - Redux

Good evening all, Here is the next chapter of Edinburgh To Boston. I hope you all enjoy it. We met some old friends and a person oft-spoken of but never seen.

Chapter 12 is nearly done. It is in the revision stage then off to my lovely beta @curlsgetdemgurls whom without her, this would not exist. Many, many thanks Emma for everything.

As always, I look forward to your thoughts, comments, and respectful criticism.

Without further delay, I give you...

Edinburgh To Boston

Chapter 11

Redux

“Rabbie, ye wee gomeral! Dinna stick yer brother’s head in the snow, aye. He canna breathe in there.”

Rabbie MacLennan was busy shoving his brother Davey’s head deeper into a snowbank. At his grandmother’s reprimand, he let go and ran off cackling to himself.

There must be something wrong with that boy, she thought. She hoped she wouldn’t see him on one of those Most Wanted Shows when he grew up.

Davey freed himself from his frozen entombment and found himself covered head to toe in snow looking rather like a scrawny snowman. Shaking himself like a dog, he removed much of the fine flakes sticking to his hat, hair, face, and clothes.

“Wait for me,” the lad called racing after his brother to see what other devilry they could stir up.

Maizie gave a long-suffering look toward her husband that said: Do something.

Harry, in the language of the long-married, returned the look, asking: Like what?

She glared back at him, I dinna ken. They’re your grandsons, do something.

Jamie and Claire observed the mayhem headed their way. They turned and looked at each other smiling.

“Lass, it’s Harry and Maizie. I dinna think we would ever see them again.”

Jamie raised his arm waving it furiously loudly calling out, “mo charaid.”

“Come along a nighean,” he said laughing and pulled her along. He moved toward the elderly couple with a decided determination.

Harry looked up recognizing their acquaintances from the plane, took off his cap and began waving it in his own brand of frenetic gesticulations calling out, “Hallo.”

“Ye see who it ‘tis, my love? ‘Tis the lad from the plane with his lass,” he said with a broad smile plastered across his face.

Smiling she began to wave as well. “So ‘tis. They look happy, do they no’?”

“Aye, they do.”

The men reached each other and began the time-honored male ritual greeting composed of handshakes, hugging, and back pounding.

Observing this male disposition, it occurred to Claire that this habit of pummeling each other in a form of welcome might be the reason that men were impervious to superficial pain.

The ladies, however, greeted each other more genteelly, clasping each other’s hands, kissing a cheek, and exchanging pleasantries.

Of course, it was just like men to wander off in pursuit of their own conversations while leaving the women to mind the store. This entailed clearing the snow off a bench for them to sit and keep a watchful eye on the two rapscallions. Bloody men.

“How goes it, lad? Ye look happy and I might add so does the lass.” Harry cast a glance back toward Claire.

If it were possible, Jamie’s cold-reddened cheeks would have turned scarlet.

“We, ah, talked, and found the truth between us. She, um, weel, she loves me as I do her. So, we are together,” he smiled so brightly it would have rivaled the sun. “I still dinna ken how ye were so certain about such things.”

“Laddie, it is as plain as the nose on yer face. A blind man could see that ye love each other and belong together. ‘Twas not hard at all. All ye two needed was a push in the right direction.”

Harry turned his eyes to gaze intently upon Jamie. His expression hardening like a stern schoolmaster about to chastise an errant student.

“Remember lad, she is a braw lassie, strong, capable, independent. Dinna underestimate her. But, she can be very fragile, delicate, and her heart, once given, can be easily broken. Take care of her, love her rightly and if ye do sae she will be yers forever.”

“Aye, sir I will. Ye can trust me.”

A snowball whizzed by Harry’s hat, missing it by a fraction of an inch. He looked up and saw his grandson Rabbie hanging upside down, monkey-like from a tree. His younger brother stood below with a stockpile of frozen missiles.

“Oi, ye wee scoundrels, what are ye about then?” Harry stormed toward the tree where the lads were. Jamie keeping pace brought up the rear as reinforcement.

Davey hopped up and down trying to get his brother’s attention wanting him to pull him up into the tree and away from his Grandda’s grasp.

“Jump Davey, jump.”

Rabbie extended his hand as far as he could and with one final long stretch, he just managed to grasp his brother’s hand. With a mighty pull, he brought Davey up and out of reach of his grandsire. The lads sat swinging their legs back and forth from their high perch enjoying the view of their frustrated and angry grandfather below.

“Do ye want them down?”

Harry snorted, “I do.”

“Now listen here, lads. Either ye come down or I come up. And ye willna like it if I do.”

“Yer auld. Ye canna climb up trees,” said Rabbie with a smirk on his face.

“Aye, I can. I climb trees, mountains, and rock walls.”

“Are ye Spideyman then?” asked wee Davey with a hopeful look on his face.

“Nay, but I ken him.”

“Ye do???!!!” The little boy’s eyes widened becoming positively goggle-eyed.

“Aye, he came to the hospital where I work to visit with the sick bairns. He told me all his secrets for climbing. If ye come down, I’ll tell ye.”

Davey looked awestruck. Rabbie looked at Jamie with skepticism.

“I dinna believe ye,” he said eyes narrowed to slits and glared.

“I have pictures of Spider-Man and me. He taught me some of his spidey moves. I have a video too if ye want to see it.”

Davey was beside himself with excitement. Rabbie, however, more of a doubting Thomas required proof. The two laddies were busy trying to scramble down the tree. Rabbie older and bigger pushed his way forward wanting to be first.

Davey had another idea. He hung down from the branch by his fingertips, “Catch me, Grandda,” and let go dropping five feet straight down.

Harry ran forward hoping he would be in time to catch the rascal and not drop him. Jamie got there before Harry, opened his arms and caught the boy in the nick of time, saving him from serious injury.

“Lad, do ye no’ ken that ye weigh as much as a good draft horse when ye fall from that height? Ye nearly broke my back.”

The wean laughed, “Can I see the pictures now, please?”

He set the child down, pulled out his phone and scrolled through the pictures. The lads were enamored by them and began acting out the poses they saw.

Jamie Fraser had convinced a friend to dress up as Spider-Man and come to entertain the children. He posed, signed autographs, took pictures, and gave out little gifts. At the end of the wee party, a spectacular Spider-Man cake was rolled out and happily and messily consumed by all.

Each year Dr. Fraser planned a different event for the children. Wherever he worked or trained he would manage to beg or borrow, cajole or arm-twist enough money to plan a wee party for the weans. All done in memory of his brother Willie. The children broke his heart. For some, the hospital was their home, for others they would never leave it. Some of the lucky ones would get well enough to live their lives but not without experiencing more than any child should have to.

Claire and Maizie sat on the bench talking of this and that while keeping a watchful eye on their men.

“Are ye happy then, lass?”

Claire looked up first to Jamie then to Maizie.

“Yes, very happy. Happier than I have been in a long time. Probably happier than I have ever been in my whole life.”

“Aye, I thought so. I can see it in the way ye look at him. And in the way he looks at ye,” she chuckled softly.

“Yer man, he is a Highlander, is he no’?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Weel, they are proud men, strong of body and spirit, honorable to be sure, disciplined, loyal, courageous, patient and honest. Can ye handle a man like that lass? He can and will be a handful at times.” She looked at Claire searching her face for the truth. “Oh, and did I mention stubborn? Once they have made up their minds, there is no turning them back.”

“How do you know all this?”

“My man is a Highlander too. It has been a bonnie life with him, never dull,” she chuckled. “I wouldna change him or the life I had with him for anything. He has been a challenge at times, but I set him straight,” Maizie said with a wink.

“Oh, and one more thing lass, if ye dinna kent it yet. They have hearty appetites in bed!”

Claire opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and shut it. She felt the heat of her embarrassment rising up her face.

“I see ye ken what I say is true,” she laughed heartily.

“Well I...ah, well, mmm, damn.” Claire flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Enjoy his love for ye lass. ‘Tis a blessing. I still do,” she said with a lascivious smile.

She looked up at the sky, seeing that the sun had begun to lower, checked the time on her watch.

“‘Tis late. I need to get my lads home, dry and fed.”

“Harry! Harry! Get the lads, ‘tis time we were going home.”

The boys and the men’s heads snapped up at the words going home.

“A leannan,” he said in his most silky voice, “the lads are having such a good time. Might we be able to stay a little longer?” All four members of the male contingent shook their heads in unanimous agreement to this request.

“Ye can have ten more minutes, then we must leave. ‘Twill be getting dark soon,” Maizie said with a shiver.

Claire had been watching Jaime play with the boys, roughhousing, laughing, throwing snowballs at each other, helping to build a snowman, and generally acting like one of the boys. Her hands went reflexively to her belly. He was meant to be a father, she thought. She worried if she couldn’t give that gift to him would he hate her? Worse yet, would he leave her?

“Dinna fash, lass. Yer time will come too,” she observed Claire’s hands protectively on her abdomen.

“I wasn’t able to before with, with my ex-husband.”

“If he’s yer ex, then perhaps it was for the best. Looking at yer lad there, I think things will be different this time.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said with a hopeful look on her face.

Looking toward the men hard at work making the most of the last few minutes of playtime, Maizie called out, “Come along lads, ‘tis time for our suppers.”

The male heads rose up at the mention of food.

They bid farewell to each other, repeating the ceremonial handshakes, hugs, and backslaps. The boys were counseled to listen to their Mam, Da, Grannie, and Grandda, eat their vegetables as Jamie would be seeing Spider-man again when he got back to Scotland. Rabbie and Davey nodded their heads solemnly and promised to be on their best behavior and (Blah!) to eat their veggies too.

The women embraced, Claire, thanking Maizie for all her advice. She kissed her cheek softly and bid her goodbye.

“Come along Spider-Man, let’s get you back to the hotel and out of those wet clothes, shall we hmm?”

“Will ye help me out of my wet clothes then, mo ghràdh? I’m so cold and wet that I think my cock will snap off.”

“That my dear would be a catastrophe,” Claire said with a smirk.

Jamie began to speak, instead, he wrinkled his nose, squeezed his eyes together, and let out a volley of sneezes. He began to sniffle.

“Hmm, things seem more serious than I thought. Let’s get you back to the hotel and warm you up.”

“Aye, sounds like a good idea. Will ye warm me then, Claire?” There was a twinkle in his eyes as Jamie waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Men!” she snickered.

**********

They lay nestled together in the twilight of sleep, neither fully awake nor fully asleep. Warm. Complete. Filled with love. His arms enclosed her. One hand cupping her breast while the other drew around her waist bringing her closer. A finger idly traced the slope of her breast coming to rest on a nipple. Stroking it lightly, it came alive under his touch hardening, rounding, wanting. Her arse settled fully in his groin wanting to eliminate any space between them.

“Does it ever stop, the wanting you? Even when I've just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.”

She wiggled closer feeling the effects of her movements against him.

“I want you too, always,” she mumbled sleepily.

His lips pressed soft tender kisses to her neck and felt her quiver.

He turned her onto her back raining a succession of heated kisses along her chin, chest, down the hollow between her breasts.

“Mo nighean donn, I hunger for ye.”

He blazed passionate kisses down her body paying homage to her.

Reaching her navel, a distant grumbling sounded from within the depths of her abdomen.

Jamie startled, “Sassenach, yer making wee noises, but no’ the ones I was hoping for.”

“Hmmm, seems I’m famished.”

“For food?”

“Mmhm. It’s been a long time since breakfast and we did have a busy afternoon.”

“Aye, we did.” He rested his head on her belly. “Would ye like me to order room service or would ye like to go to the restaurant?” He hoped she’d pick room service.

“Well, I bought a new dress to wear for the last dinner at the conference. It would be a shame to not get to wear it.”

“Alright then, lass, the restaurant it is, but first I must have my dessert.”

********

Jamie sat on the end of the bed showered, shaved, and dressed in his charcoal grey suit, white shirt, and blue tie. He hummed a rhythmless tune while his foot tapped in a futile attempt to keep time. Taking out his phone, he idly scrolled through the news, and his social media accounts watching the videos of dogs and cats engaged in ridiculous antics.

His eyes drifted back toward the closed bathroom door wondering what was taking Claire so long. To save time they had showered together. He had soaped her up, sliding his hands over her slippery body becoming captivated with each curve, and rounded area of her body. Ah Dhia, that sweet fat arse of hers. He would never tire of fondling it. And what she did to him. Lathering him, she stroked him with her soft wee hand turning his legs to jello. Christ, the lass knew just how to… His pants were becoming uncomfortable. He stood up adjusted himself and walked to the bathroom door.

“Claire, are ye alright, lass?”

“I just need another few minutes, Jamie.”

She’s been in there for at least a half-hour. What takes women so long to get dressed?

He walked to the large window and watched the lights of Boston twinkle like fireflies on a warm summer’s night.

He heard the sound of the bathroom door open and Claire stepped out.

She was a vision in red. The dress was floor-length, long-sleeved with a high neckline. It hugged every curve of her body in a sensual way. Her hair was up with tiny tendrils draping around her face and neck. Her makeup lightly done except for the red lipstick accentuating the bow of her lips.

“Do you like it?”

He mouth opened and he gaped at her. His eyes sweeping over the sweet long lines of her body.

Her walk was sultry. Her hips swayed. She exuded sexuality. Jamie placed his hands on the swell of her hips. He swallowed, “Yer beautiful, mo nighean donn.” She was mesmerizing. He could not wait to have her on his arm walking through the hotel and into the restaurant, the envy of every man there.

She lightly pressed her mouth on him leaving a trace of her scarlet kiss on his lips. Seductively she traced her thumb across his mouth erasing the crimson mark.

“Claire, I... ”

She gave him a knowing smile, “Let’s go then.”

She turned to reach for her clutch and then he saw it. The dress was backless. The gown laid her bare from the nape of her neck to just above her gluteal cleft exposing the dimples of Venus on her back. It hugged her buttocks emphasizing the roundness, the fullness of her.

“Sassenach! Yer no’ going downstairs like that are ye? Christ woman, I can see clear down yer arse.”

“No, you can’t. I had the sales girl take a video of me moving in all different directions in it and you can’t see anything. I checked. Want to see?” She said smugly.

He didn’t want to see and he didn’t want any other man to see either. The woman would be the death of him.

Deciding to use another tactic, he inquired, “Won’t ye be cold then? Would ye want my jacket, lass?”

“Oh, you’re right, I forgot my wrap.” Walking over to the garment bag she took out a matching stole and wrapped it around herself.

“Better?” she asked batting her eyelashes at him.

“No! It only covers half of ye. Claire, ye canna go out like this,” he sputtered.

“Hmm, I see it’s doubled.” She gave it a little shake to open it completely. She swirled the silken fabric around her back like a matador twirling his red cape in front of a snorting raging bull.

“Is it better now?”

The edge grazed the top of her natal cleft. Any movement she would make exposed her.

“Aye, ‘tis better,” he conceded, “but no’ by much.”

Seeing that Claire would not give up on going to the restaurant wearing that, that dress Jamie conceded defeat.

“My Lady, may I have the honor of escorting ye to dinner?” He extended his arm offering it to her to take.

“I would be honored, my Laird.” She reached out placing her dainty hand in the crook of his elbow feeling him draw her close to him.

He hoped they would make it through dinner without incident.

**************

Brian Fraser looked at his youngest son, drooping and moping about over some lass who would not give the lad the time of day. To make matters worse, Jamie had seen the girl kissing another boy in a remote part of the school library. “Laddie, if the lass is no’ interested in ye, then mayhap she is not the one for ye. Pining away for her will no’ help. Remember, be careful about what ye wish for, because ye may just get it. When ye find the right woman to love, ye will just ken it.”

Jamie Fraser got just what he had hoped for. Male heads turned as they walked into the restaurant. He was the envy of every man there and he didn’t like it. In truth, what he didn’t like was the way men looked at Claire. Some looked at her with a straightforward appreciation of her beauty while others leered at her with outright lust on their faces. It roused his jealousy and need to protect her. His eyes, a search beacon, swept across the sea of men on guard for any potential threat to her or her virtue. Being in love with Claire Beauchamp would not be easy.

Jamie so deep in his need to be on guard that he missed the way Claire looked at him. She was fully aware of how the women looked at him. He was beautiful. That fiery mane with soft curls at the nape, ocean blue eyes that you could drown in, broad back, lean muscular body, and his hands. Ahh, his hands. Hands that held her and played her body like a fine instrument. Stroking it, coaxing it making it crescendo. He is perfect in every way. And yet, he doesn’t know it.

The maî·tre d'hô·tel seated them in a secluded area of the restaurant thanks to the generous bribe, er um, tip Jamie gave the man.

Finally, he felt he could relax. They were seated in at a cozy table for two away from the general traffic of the hotel.

The restaurant L’Orchidée was beautifully appointed. White and violet linens dressed the table while a napkin folded into the shape of a flower sat upon a gold charger awaiting their dinner choice. Candlelight created an intimate mood. Crystal goblets and wine glasses sparkled as they waited to be filled.

The Sommelier appeared suggesting wines to pair with their dinner. Jamie fluently speaking French ordered for them.

“Are ye happy, mo ghràdh? I mean that we are together? Do I make ye happy?” He reached over picked up her hand and began to rub his thumb across her knuckles.

“Happier than I have ever been in my whole life. Do I make you happy?” she asked shyly.

He interlaced their fingers together, “Sae happy.” He hesitated for the briefest of moments then continued, “My heart has been yours since first we met. In truth, you hold my soul in your hands. I am yours, my Sassenach, body, and soul forever.”

The waiter came to serving their dinner. A lovely glazed salmon with a tomato romesco seasoned with garlic, almonds and spices, heirloom carrots and wild rice for Jamie. Claire chose roast chicken rich with a sauce of garlic, herbs, and butter, potato mille-feuille, summer squash with wild mushrooms. The Sommelier appeared pouring their wine selections and bid them bon appétit.

They ate and drank, savoring their meal as much as each other’s company. They talked, laughed, touched, cast shy glances at each other, acting like lovers do.

Jamie’s other vice, besides whisky and Claire, was chocolate. A dessert of a triple chocolate mousse cake accompanied by a froth of whipped cream flavored with Frangelico and a scattering of crushed hazelnuts completed their meal. He insisted on feeding her. He cut off a piece of cake swirled it in the flavored cream offering it to her. She opened her mouth accepting the sweet morsel. Her mouth became coated with the intense taste of dark chocolate and fatty hazelnut whipped cream. An unctuous drop lingered on her lips. His finger swept across her mouth removing the offending particle. Her pink tongue peeked out and licked the tidbit from his finger.

He brought her hand to his mouth pressed a tender kiss to the palm of her hand. His breath warm and moist on her skin making her quiver and her heart flutter.

“Mo chridhe,” he whispered huskily. “I need ye, Claire. I need ye sae bad.” He licked his lips looking at her with darkened wanting eyes.

Jamie was intent on his love and did not see the man approach.

“Hello, Claire,” said a male voice with a cultured English accent.

Claire felt ice run up and down her spine. She knew that voice all too well.

She set her lips in a taut grim line. “Hello, Frank.”

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 11 #redux #old friends #someone we talked about but never met yet #My writing #outlander fanfiction #@curlsgetdemgurls #Here Goes Nothing

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inu-jiru · 4 years ago

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Tomoe, The Eastern Tigress - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve - The Courage of Two Fathers

Jet and Missile, while their deaths had been brutal, had been fortunate enough to die decently quickly. They’d felt pain, there was no doubt about that, but the pain lasted for a few minutes, at most. As night fell over the base, both brothers succumbed to their wounds. They were now nothing more than life-sized chew toys for the soldiers to sharpen their fangs on. Hougen watched on, a cruel grin etched onto his face as he watched the the two corpses be flung about and ripped at until they were unrecognizable as dogs. This was the distraction John had used to sneak into the hut.

Hiro and the other loyalists waited nearby, hiding themselves in the woods. Watching the hut, they saw the Shepherd emerge with Reika, both of them slipping away into the undergrowth, Hougen and his lackeys being none the wiser. Gin and Julius, meanwhile, snuck out of the shed, the Akita leaning onto the younger male for support. They began their descent down the mountain trail, hoping to get as much distance between themselves and Hougen’s base as possible. The plan was to rendezvous in Shiga, which wasn’t far from the Alps.

Meeting with each other in the woods, John, Reika, Hiro, and Hook’s three comrades began making a run for it. Hiro took a glance at the young female, getting a good look at her face. The skin around her eye was swollen, and dried blood came from her nose. He could hear her wince with each step she took, making it obvious that she had other injuries that he couldn’t see. A blazing fury coursed through the Pyrenees’ body.

I’ll make you pay for hurting her, bastard… Hiro thought fiercely.

“General,” Reika called to John. “I don’t see Gin anywhere. We didn’t leave him behind, did we?”

“Of course not,” replied the Shepherd. “He’s meeting us in Shiga. There’s someone there who’ll be able to hide us and heal us up.”

“I see…” The Akita mix furrowed her brow, clearly still worried. There was nothing she could really do about it, though. She’d much rather trust in the words of her comrades than spend another second with that tyrant.

“He’ll be alright,” said Hiro softly, as if reading the bitch’s mind. “That guy’s a legend. Legends don’t die easily.” Reika looked up at him, flashing him a thankful grin. Hiro felt his heart flutter.

Back at Hougen’s base, the mutilation of Jet and Missile’s bodies had come to an end. Hougen yawned, showing his boredom. Standing, he turned towards his hut, calling back over his shoulder:

“Enough, you morons. Get back to your posts, and one of you, get me something to eat.”

“SIR!” came his army’s mighty reply. As the soldiers scattered, returning to their duties, Hougen slid open the door to his hut, stepping inside. He expected to see Reika pressing herself into her corner, shivering at the sight of him. However, upon seeing the corner, and by extension, the rest of the single-roomed hut empty, Hougen stopped cold. His eyes swept across the room; perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him.

No. Reika was definitely gone.

“How the fuck…?” he pondered, his muzzle wrinkling in anger. It was then that he noticed a familiar scent. Someone else had entered the hut while he wasn’t looking, and that someone was John. Immediately, Hougen’s eyes grew bloodshot, rage boiling within his evil body.

“The prisoners have escaped!” the yell of a soldier filled Hougen’s ears. “Gin, John, the fatass...they’re gone!”

“HRAH!” Hougen boomed, returning outside. His paws slammed against the wooden steps, nearly shattering them in his fit of rage. “Where are they!? I’ll tear their fucking throats out!”

“That way…!” Hook responded, pointing his muzzle in the direction Gin and Julius had gone. “I think I smelled Gin’s scent that way!”

“After them!” Hougen’s roaring voice echoed through the woods. “Hunt them down and slaughter them all! Don’t leave a single one of them alive!”

Hook held his head down, blending in with the crowd of charge who charged in the direction he’d pointed out. He followed from behind, having no intention of harming his allies, but not wanting to out himself as an Ohu loyalist.

Boss! Julius! Please get away quickly!

Hougen followed behind his soldiers, his tongue running along his jowls. Tonight, his fangs would be covered in Gin’s blood. The Ohu legend would end, and he’d make sure of it.

The blizzard picked back up when Weed’s group reached the mountain’s peak. A shelter, abandoned to the elements, made for an available shelter to spend the night. Everyone gathered inside, huddling together in order to get warm.

“Rocket,” Weed began as he pressed himself into GB’s long coat. “You said you knew where we could find allies, right? What kind of dogs did you have in mind?”

“I’ve heard about a male who lives not far from these Alps,” Rocket replied. “A one year old named Kyoushiro Shirogane. He’s young, but he’s got at least fifty dogs under his command.”

“A one year old?” echoed Ken, cocking his brow. “Isn’t that a little young to be a leader?”

“Ahem,” Tomoe cleared her throat. Ken looked at her, his eyes widening as he realised what he was saying. His own General was the same age as this Kyoushiro fellow.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that, little sis,” the Dane began with an awkward grin.

“Sure,” Tomoe replied, smirking. Beside her, Kagetora snickered.

“It’s not just Kyoushiro who’s young,” Rocket continued. “All of his dogs are barely as old as he is, but they’re all fierce fighters. That Kyoushiro’s an especially brutal guy. He’s definitely someone you want to have on your side and not on the enemy’s.”

“Kyoushiro Shirogane…” Weed murmured the name, testing it on his tongue. “He sounds like someone worth meeting. Where is he, Rocket?”

“He owns territory in Shiga,” Rocket informed. Ken, Kagetora and Tomoe immediately perked.

“Shiga?” said Tomoe. “That shouldn’t be too far from Tesshin’s territory!”

“Right,” agreed Kagetora, nodding. “Weed, we shouldn’t forget to stop by and ask him for help, too.”

“Of course,” the young brindle murmured. “Alright, everyone. Get some rest; we set off for Shiga in the morning.”

Julius raced along the edge of the mountain stream, Gin resting on his back. In order to preserve his energy, Julius had offered to carry the Boss dog, to which Gin had agreed. Even with the weight of another adult male on his back, traveling was much faster than before. Far behind them, Hougen’s army continued following the scents and tracks. They’d noticed that Gin’s scent and pawprints had faded, but his unknown companion’s still remained.

“I don’t get it,” a dog barked to his nearby ally. “Is Gin even still this way?”

“Use your head, dumbass,” the other male snorted. “He’s being carried by some other guy. If anything, we should be wondering where those other bastards are. We haven’t smelled them at all.”

The small conversation was overheard by Hougen. For a while, he’d been running on the fury he’d felt from being made into a fool by what should’ve been his prisoners. Now that he’d calmed down, he’d began to realize that he, too, hadn’t picked up any other scents. Skidding to a stop, a new anger filled the Great Dane’s body. Gin might’ve been heading in this direction, but John, Reika and Hiro certainly weren’t. He stopped.

“Oi! Half of you idiots come here! The rest of you, keep looking for that bastard!”

As Hougen demanded, the army split in two, the soldiers near the rear returning to their leader. Hook remained among them.

“Something’s not right,” growled Hougen as his minions stood before him. “That bastard Gin sent John and the others another way. Go and find them!”

“But sir…!” a male whimpered, a husky soldier known as Matsu. “How would we know which way they’ve gone?”

“Use your brain, you fool,” the Dane snapped impatiently. “Gin and whoever’s helping him chose this path because the snow covers whatever tracks are on it. John’s group would be doing the same thing. Take the eastern path; I have no doubt in my mind that’s where they are.”

Shit! Hook’s heart began to race. This wasn’t supposed to happen...I have to warn John and the others!

“Come on!” Matsu called out, leading the charge into the woods. “We’ll cut through here! Let’s find and kill those bastards!”

Hook joined Matsu’s group, remaining far in the back so that no one would notice what he was about to do. He slipped into the undergrowth, putting on an extra burst of speed so that he could, hopefully, beat Hougen’s soldiers there. Fortunately, the trees of the woods made running a lot easier. Before too long, Hook could hear the trickling of the stream. He’d made it! Emerging from the woods, Hook traveled alongside the small body of water, keeping an eye out for his comrades. He soon saw them walking together across the stream.

“General!” Hook howled to them. They all looked up, seeing the Labrador mix calling to them.

“Hook!” John yelled back. “What’s going on!?”

“Hougen figured out that you and Gin split up,” Hook explained quickly. “He sent a group of dogs this way! You have to find somewhere to hide, quick!”

“Damn it…” one of Hook’s allies said, looking back the way they came from. “With the General’s injuries, it wouldn’t be wise to run…”

“What do we do?” asked Reika nervously. “Can’t we go in some other direction to throw them off?”

“It won’t be that simple,” said John with a low voice. He suddenly stopped, his paws planted firmly in the snow. “Tch...I was afraid it’d come to this…”

“John?” Hiro began, turning to the Shepherd.

“If all of us go another direction, they’ll just follow our tracks,” John explained himself. “We’ll need to split up again. I’ll keep following the stream; the rest of you go to the west. Aside from Gin, Hougen on really wants me dead.”

“You can’t possibly think of going alone,” Hiro argued, his fur standing on end just at the thought of leaving the aging male like that. “I’ll stay too!”

“No, Hiro.” John looked at the Great Pyrenees, staring straight into his eyes. “You said you wanted to help Reika, didn’t you?”

“Uh…? John…”

“Well, this is your chance. Take her west and loop back around towards Shiga. Not even Hougen is that desperate enough for blood that he’d send troops that way.”

“Hougen’s dogs will kill you, General…” Reika whispered softly. Her eyes began to glisten with tears. “Please, you have to come with us…”

“I was one of the dogs who helped bring down Akakabuto long ago,” John said fiercely. “I wouldn’t be Ohu’s General if I was just gonna roll over and die to Hougen’s gang of clowns. I won’t die.”

“Promise me,” Hiro barked. “Promise that you won’t die, and I’ll do what you tell me. If you don’t, then I’m not moving an inch.”

“Tsk…” John scoffed. He padded forward, lowering himself into a fighting stance. “If that’s the way you wanna be, youngster...Fine. I won’t die, and that’s a promise. I swear on the name of Riki.”

Both males stared at each other in silence. Across the way, Hook watched the conversation, fidgeting worriedly. Why weren’t they moving already!? Matsu’s group would’ve probably made it to that side of the stream already! With a long and heavy sigh, Hiro nodded.

“Alright,” the Pyrenees said. “I promise to bring Reika to Shiga.”

“I’ll be praying for you, sir,” Reika added, bowing her head to the Shepherd. She then looked up at Hiro. “I’m ready…”

With that, Hiro and Reika began running west, leaving John behind with the three loyalists. John turned to them, cocking a brow.

“What are you three still doing here?” he demanded. “Hurry up and go with them.”

“No sir,” barked the black mongrel from before. “We wish to stay with you.”

“I don’t plan on running,” John warned. “If you three stay here, this could be the end for you.”

“We don’t mind that,” the second loyalist, a Kishu, responded plainly.

“Mmph.” John looked at the three males standing before him, a sense of respect building within him. He nodded his approval. “Tell me your names. I wanna know who’s gonna be helping me drag these bastards to Hell.”

“I’m Lefty,” said the black mongrel.

“I’m Tommy,” barked the Kishu.

“The name’s Rossi,” the last male, a spotted mongrel, replied. “At your service.”

“Heh, glad to make your acquaintance, boys.”

“Over here!” a voice yelled from further up the path. Matsu and his group had found them. Looking up, John could see what had to be twenty dogs, maybe more, darting towards them. “They realized that they couldn’t get away! Ha! Let’s tear them apart!”

Lefty, Tommy and Rossi joined John’s side, facing their enemy as one. If they were to die, then they would die with no regrets. Hook’s eyes were glued to the scene, his body quaking with terror. Was this it!? Were his friends really about to die before his eyes!?

“Guh!” Julius grunted, stumbling as his paw hit a rock buried in the snow. Gin gasped as he felt himself lurch forward. He was flung from the youngster’s back, landing in the snow with a groan. Recovering quickly, Julius rushed to the Akita’s aid. “Gin! Shit, I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Gin promised, pushing himself onto his paws. “I can’t let you keep carrying me like this; we have to come up with something else.”

“There’s not enough time,” said Julius, looking over his shoulder. He could see Hougen’s dogs yet, but he could hear them; they were close. “C’mon, Boss; hurry and climb on!”

“I won’t be fast enough…” Gin turned in the direction of Hougen’s army. “But I can take advantage of this.”

“Boss…?”

“I’ll use my Battouga as soon as they round that bend,” Gin told his comrade. “I can take out a number of Hougen’s dogs in one fell swoop. I’ll need you to help me get away after that. We can use the river to get us down the mountain faster. Can you do that for me?”

Julius hesitated. There were a number of ways this plan could go wrong. But what other choice did they have…? The young Shepherd took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and nodded. Gin nodded as well, and both males stood together, watching as Hougen’s army appeared around the corner. The Great Dane was at the rear, his eyes glinting with a sick satisfaction upon seeing Gin.

“There’s the fool!” Hougen growled. “Hurry up and rip him apart!”

“Gin…” Julius whispered, his heart pounding. “It’s now or never…!”

“Just a second…” Gin replied quietly. “I want to line this up perfectly. If I can take out Hougen as well, all of this could be over.”

Gin took in a sharp breath, his body tensing in preparation. The drumming of paws against the snow gradually faded away as Gin’s mind slipped from reality. As the chilly air bit at the wounds in his body, he remembered that long night five years ago. He remembered the words of his father, Riki:

Do it, Gin! Now!

“HIYA!” Gin shouted, launching himself into the air. His body began rotating forward into a disk-like shape. The moon glistened off his silver fur, making him seem almost like a blazing star shooting directly at Hougen’s soldiers. The approaching dogs stopped, seeing the spinning form drawing near. Even Hougen himself froze in place.

“What…?” The Dane murmured, his eyes widening. “What the hell…!?”

GUOOOO!

GYAHHH!

HYAHHHH!

Screams filled the air as the Zetsu Tenrou Battouga made contact, slicing through bodies like a circular saw. Blood spattered all over the snow, the bloody, squirming halves of dogs falling over. In a platoon of what had to be at least fifty dogs, more than half were cut down in this single attack. Hougen watched, still frozen in shock, as Gin sped towards him. The Dane had to do something’ if he stayed where he was, he’d be killed…! His eyes darted madly, sweat dripped from his fur, and for the first time in his life, Hougen felt genuine terror. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Hougen dove to the side.

SLICE!

“GRAAAAAH!” Hougen screamed, feeling a searing pain in his right hind leg. Landing in the snow, he quickly turned around to see how badly he’d been hit. His heart stopped when he saw his dismembered leg lying a few inches away. Gin had sliced it off.

In the following chaos, Hougen’s remaining dogs backed away from their slaim comrades, lowering themselves onto their bellies in fear of being killed next. Julius took this chance to carry out Gin’s orders. Cutting through the dead bodies, the Shepherd reached Gin, who’d managed to land on his feet not far from the carnage. He wasn’t completely fine, however; Julius could see his legs quivering, threatening to buckle out from underneath him. Quickly, Julius lowered himself, allowing Gin to climb onto his back. The youngster ran, making a break for the river.

“I-Idiots…!” Hougen, shaking himself from his shock, shouted at his minions. He tried getting up, forcing himself to try and adjust to his injury. He staggered a bit, unsteady on his feet. “Hurry up and follow them! They’re getting away!”

“Lord Hougen…!” a concerned soldier barked, approaching the Great Dane. “Are you alright!?” Hougen responded with a rage-filled growl, his head diving down and catching the unfortunate goon in his jaws. Hougen threw him in the direction Julius had run.

“I said go, you brain-dead buffoons! Hurry, before they--!”

SPLASH!

Julius had thrown himself and Gin into the river, as ordered. The current caught them quickly, sweeping them away from the scene. The water was so cold; it chilled Julius deep to his bones. Yet, he hung tight to his leader, refusing to let him go. Pushing with his hind legs, the young male hoisted himself up, allowing his and Gin’s head above the water’s surface. Gin gasped for breath.

“Y-You alright, Boss!?” asked Julius, shivering.

“F-Fine…” the Akita replied. Julius could hear the chattering of the older male’s teeth as he spoke. “Just keep your eyes open and endure the cold. We’ll be at the bottom of the mountain soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Back on the trail, Hougen stood where he was, staring after the escaped males. The dogs around him were silent, watching him carefully. The tyrant had failed. Failure was something that a dog as arrogant as Hougen could not tolerate. Lifting his head, Hougen howled his fury to the heavens.

“This isn’t over, Gin!” he boomed. “One of these days, I’ll tear you apart with my own fangs, and nothing will stop me from taking Gajou! You hear me!? NOTHING!”

The battle between John’s small posse and Matsu’s platoon had begun. John leapt forward, tearing off the Husky’s ear in a single movement. Even with his injured body, his fangs were still powerful weapons in combat. Again and again, John pounced at his enemies, slashing throats and snapping necks. Tommy, Lefty and Rossi were no pushovers either. The four males took down dogs one by one.

“Hrah!” John shouted, his weariness and anger being heard by all. A forepaw slammed into the snow as the male tried stepping forward. John’s lungs were on fire, and his pelt was slick with sweat.

“Don’t give up, General!” called Rossi, pinning down an enemy.

The bastard’s close to death!” said Matsu, feeling triumphant despite his own injury. “Get him!”

The battle continued as the platoon swarmed the four fighters. Lefty found himself caught by the fangs of several dogs. He was pushed down onto his back and held in place.

“Lefty!” cried Tommy in alarm. Matsu snickered, smirking as he approached the black mongrel.

“Lefty…! Left--!” John had also tried to call to his ally, but a sharp pain in his flank stopped him. Eyes widening, the Shepherd choked back the wail of pain that threatened to escape his maw. Things were going downhill, and fast. Matsu, meanwhile, set his fangs on Lefty’s throat.

“You filthy traitor…” the Husky spat in disgust. “Ohu’s old news. Why would you wanna switch to their side?”

“I never switched,” Lefty shot back defiantly. “I was always loyal to Ohu, to Gin! Nothing you say or do will ever change that!”

“Well said, Lefty…!” said Rossi, struggling as males began piling on top of him, dragging him down the same way they did the black male.

“Rossi!” John cried. Hearing Tommy’s shouts, John looked to see that Tommy was also being overpowered. “Shit! Tommy! These goddamn cowards…! Can’t fight on their own so they have to pull this crap!”

“You fools…” hissed Matsu. “This is what happens when you side against Hougen! Die!” The Husky bit into Lefty’s neck, giving him barely anything to scream before he tore out his throat. Lefty gurgled and gagged, before falling still.

“You son of a bitch!” John howled with rage, tears flowing freely at the loss of his new friend. However, the surrounding dogs attacked him quickly, tearing into his wounds and spilling fresh blood. John struggled, biting and kicking whenever he could, but the numbers against him were far too great. Had he been at a hundred percept, these dogs would be pushovers. As mangled as his body was, however, John began fearing the worst. Rossi and Tommy’s screams echoed in his ears as they were swiftly torn into.

“Damn you…!” John sobbed, still desperately trying to escape the jaws of his captors. His head raised, his voice being carried by the wind.

“DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!”

#ginga densetsu weed #ginga densetsu weed fanfiction

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neonbluewaves · 5 years ago

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Innocent eyes

A little something I wrote while I draw and write everything about the Prieto family, just kinda teasing, u kno? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So have a bit of Neon’s grandma, Rocio

Rocio is tired. Well, that’s an understatement. She’s completely exhausted, how can a little child have so much energy? Watching over her nephew was very easy. Jacob liked to read, he liked to follow his grandpa around, and Gonzalo didn’t mind because it meant the little boy wouldn’t set the kitchen on fire, or would touch all the magic artefacts they had around their house. He was easy to manage, but Neon? She was a riot, a ball of energy, running around, up and down the mansion, picking everything in her reach and asking with wonder in her eyes “What’s this? What’s it do? Can I have it?” already turning it in her hands, looking at it from every angle. That had to come from her dad, Luisa was never like this, nor Carmen or Narcisso. And she was getting old to add to it.

She hears a loud THUD from upstairs and sighs “oh no”. She walks upstairs resigned with the fact that one child will probably destroy her house when many powerful wizards couldn’t even find it.

-Yaya, yaya, what’s here? Open, open!- says the small kid on her toes grabbing the door knob. Rocio stands there, looking at the door, she hasn’t gone in it in years, since the incident happened...

She looks down to Neon, maybe to tell her she can’t go in, maybe to look for some confidence and finally face the room, she doesn’t really know, but it seems it’s the last, because she opens it and the smell of old parchment and a faint scent of her father’s cologne hits her. Hard.

Neon rushes in, of course she does, looking around. It’s quite a big studio, Rocio had almost forgotten everything in it. The big banner, the giant shelves full of books in different languages, the glass cabinets with miniature ships, maps, trinkets and other objects she never really knew what where used for. There’s a big window letting light in, the fireplace is dark, cold, unused. The desk sitting on one side with matching leather chairs has dust in it. Rocio has used a different room as her own studio, leaving this one untouched for so long. There’s still blood on the floor. Nobody bothered cleaning it. It was barely noticable on the dark carpet, but she knew exactly where it was, a darker tone than the rest of it. The whole room was made of dark browns and reds. The family color.

-Yaya look! Is this you?

Neon’s holding a framed picture. And she’s pointing at her, guess she hasn’t changed much through all these years.

-Yes, that’s me

-And who are all these people?- she turns the frame back towards her, looking at them all, again that innocent wonder in her eyes that reminds her of him.

-Those are my siblings, all younger than me- Neon looks up surprised, her mouth forming a perfect O, the child always so expressive

-You had a lot of brothers and sisters!

-I did

-Where are they? Why haven’t I met them?

40 years before

-Ay, where is she? Leoba, come out for Morgana’s sake! It’s a family picture, just choose any mantilla, they’re all nice! And where is Santi? Geez, he needs a haircut, there’s no way he’s getting in that picture with that hair!

-Relax Isa, you’re gonna have a stroke or something

-Rocio, we won’t get another picture in years, father wants it in his studio, where he meets with other pure blood families! And they’ll see five nice looking young wizards and a... a...

-Okay, breathe, I’ll go find him and chop his hair so he looks “presentable”

And with that, Rocio takes a hat from the wall hanger and heads out, the last thing she hears is her sister yelling at her “A hat? Really? You’ll mess your hair!”

The sun is bright and the almond trees of their land look a lovely pale pink, all on full bloom. Santi couldn’t have gone too far, he wouldn’t want to upset father by being late to the picture. Such a daddy’s boy. When he was little he could do no wrong, the fault was always for any of the older siblings, no matter what. But she couldn’t blame him, she also doted on him too much, she couldn’t help it, that innocence, that thirst to know and understand everything around him, the way his grey eyes shone whenever he saw something new, she was smitten, anything he asked of her he’d get. Her new horse? All his. The sword she just purchased but he had wanted too? It was in his room, on the wall kept like a treasure. She had just picked some figs but he was hungry? He could eat them all. She loved him so much she was sure she’d find a way to bring down the moon for him if he asked.

After fifteen minutes of walking between trees she found him along with their brother Marcelo both snoring under a fig tree

-Oi! Don’t fall asleep under the fig tree, you’ll both catch a cold! Didn’t you learn that when we were little?

They both grumbled as they sat up, their clothes a mess with sand

-It’s fine, we’ll drink pepperup potion- said Marcelo, running his hands trough his hair as if to comb it

-Well, what will you drink when Isabel rips your arms off for being late for the picture? I’m pretty sure the guy must have just arrived, and she wanted Santi to get a haircut

-Why? I’m letting it grow so you can all enjoy my wonderful light brown hair!

-She’ll chop it off- said Marcelo stretching

-C’mon, before a vein in her head explodes- she takes out her wand and with a flick of it all the dirt is gone from their clothes.- we don’t want to deal with that.

-Finally!- exclaims Isabel as she hurries to them, Leoba and Teodoro behind her.- oh, Rocio, you didn’t cut his hair! He looks like those muggle boys that work picking fruit.

-Excuse you, I look way more handsome than any of them

-You know what?- she says, voice resigned - whatever, there’s no time, this good man has to go take more pictures, so just brush it a little out of your face, yes, like this, okay, Sir! Sir, we’re ready!

- Alright, so, tall ones behind, the shorter ones in front.- instructs the camera man- in front of the family banner, correct?

-Yes, okay let’s... oh Rocio, really? The hat around the neck? Fine... And you Leoba, really? You can’t get your hair out of your face even for a picture

-Sis.- Teodoro puts a hand on her shoulder, comforting- relax, it’ll look good, this all just adds to show our personalities

-Oh please, we’re a noble and ancient pure blood house! We don’t need personality

-Said the one with the worst temperament...

-I heard you!- she turns to Leoba, eye twitching

-Please, take the picture - hurries Rocio, before another fight starts

-Okay, everyone look to the camera, alright, it’ll only take a few seconds... yes.... okay....- a bright flash blinds them all- aaaand done!

-Yeah, done with seeing, it was nice knowing what pretty girls look like before the world went white...- Says Santi, rubbing his eyes as hard as he can

-Thank you sir, we’ll await for the picture!

The man gathers everything he brought and leaves hurriedly to his next apointment, and right as the door closes Isabel turns to Leoba

-SO I HAVE A BAD TEMPERAMENT HUH?

-OH MY GOD, HOW CAN YOU ASK WHEN YOU’RE YELLING? YOU’RE PROVING A POINT

-I’LL PROVE YOU A POINT WHEN I TURN YOUR ARMS TO TREE BRANCHES

-OH YEAH, WELL I’LL LET THE DOGS IN TO PEE ON YOUR BED

And as another fight breaks Teodoro decides to apparate anywhere but near the house, Marcelo tries his best to get them to calm down and not take out their wands, and Rocio, with a weary sigh, tells Santi to leave before Isabel decides to actually chop his hair. With a smile he runs away as she goes help Marcelo deal with them. It’s her job as the oldest sister, she thinks, to take care of them all. She wonders who will take care of her once their father isn’t there.

She looks at the body in front of her. Laying on the ground face down, the bright flash of green having shocked and momentarily blinded her. She quickly falls to her knees, turning him face up.

Santi’s eyes are wide open, the innocence and wonder gone from them, now just two dull grey circles. His nose broken and bleeding from the fall he’s taken, and suddenly drops of water fall on his face, gently and slowly mixing with the blood. Rocio’s tears.

-santi, santi! SANTIAGO! PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE NO, DON’T, DON’T LEAVE LIKE THIS!

Watching everything is Isabel, as stunned as Rocio, she hadn’t known she was holding her breath until Rocio’s screeches had broken the silence, and she let’s out a shaky breath. Her wand gripped tightly in her trembling hand.

Rocio looks up and Isabel swears she’s never seen such rage in anyone’s eyes, ever, let alone her sister’s, and directed towards her. The red irises shine with tears of grief and anger, her face slowly turning that same color,she expects yelling, but all she hears is a quiet raspy voice

-What. Have. You. Done?

They both know what she’s done. She’s killed their little brother. She’s killed father’s favourite child, Rocio’s favourite sibling. She’s killed her own favourite sibling. She feels a sting in her eyes, realization sinking in. She didn’t mean to kill him. She wanted to kill Rocio. But he had jumped in the middle. He took the curse for the sister, who was willing to give him everything, because every time Rocio would hand him something of hers, Santi felt such pure love, he couldn’t bear to lose that. So he jumped and took the curse. And now, unknowingly, both him and Isabel had taken away the most precious thing in Rocio’s life. The innocent grey eyes of her little brother.

-I...I didn’t mean to- Isabel starts, but Rocio’s wand is up

-you didn’t mean to.... but you did. Run. Run away so I never have to see you again. RUN OR TWO PRIETOS WILL DIE TODAY!

There’s no time for Isabel to go, because the fireplace lights up in a green light, a different one, and their father is there.

He sees the scene. His oldest daughter cradling a body. His son’s body. She’s holding him tightly against her chest, his face hidden, but he knows it’s him because he’d recognize that shade of brown anywhere. He follows the direction of Rocio’s wand, pointed at Isabel. And he knows. He clenches his jaw.

-F-father...- whimpers Isabel, and she sees something in his eyes that finally makes her move. And she runs, she runs out of the house. Their father takes out his wand from his robes and a book. He leaves it on the ground, next to Rocio.

And just like that he marches after his daughter. Rocio doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, at the moment all she can do is hold Santiago in his arms and cradle him tightly, whispering against his hair that she loves him and apologizing a thousand times, tears still falling. Left alone in their father’s studio, with the smell of parchment paper and a trace of his cologne.

-Yaya? Yaya why are you crying?

Rocio comes out of her trance, she’s sitting in one of the chairs in front of the big desk, tears falling. In front of her Neon, who looks like she’s about to cry too

-I’m sorry- she says, the poor kid doesn’t know why her grandma is crying, so she thinks it must be her fault.

-Oh no, Macarena, it’s nothing you did, this room is very dusty and it’s making my eyes watery.

Of course she doesn’t know what grief is, she’s a little girl walking around a world full of wonders, all she knows is innocence and curiosity, like Santi did once. And as Rocio picks her up to hold her close like she did with her little brother, she prays that she never has to know what it’s like to mourn those we love most.

#not going on the main tags because idk #I'm shy #neon welkin #rocio prieto #Also I'm a little shit that likes to be sneaky so have a picture where everyone but Rocio is 'conveniently' hidden

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raph-fangirl · 4 years ago

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A Tale of the Shapeshifters

previously - chapter i | next - chapter iii

~~~

Athena Everleigh is a young girl living in Dublin, Ireland in 1905. She tricks her parents into letting her work for a mysterious man–Sir Claudius–in a castle not far away from the local village. But, unbeknownst to both, Athena and Sir Claudius are shapeshifters. Will this strange relationship between a half-human/half-cat and half-human/half-dragon… work itself out?

~~~

Also available on:

Fictionpress.com

Wattpad.com

Quotev.com

~~~

Chapter II - A Father’s Favorite

“Ma! Ma!”

Athena trotted through the tall grass, chasing after her mother.

Once her daughter reached her, Mrs. Everleigh turned around, put a finger to the girl’s lips, and gave her a stern look.

“Ma!” Athena attempted to say, prying her mother’s finger away from her mouth.

Mrs. Everleigh turned around again, facing the forest.

Athena let out a “Humph!” then stated, like a baby reading for the first time: “*Maidin mhaith a Máthair.”

Mrs. Everleigh pirouetted and caught her daughter’s eyes, then said so sweetly it ought to have been a song: “Dere, dat’s all dat had to be spoken, me lass.”

Athena smiled, her cheeks turning to rosy red apples.

“Now, what’s da story dis time?” Athena placed herself upon a nearby tree stump, then unruffled the wrinkles in her skirts.

“Oh, Ma! Look what I found!” the girl handed her mother the slip of paper.

Mrs. Everleigh’s eyes traced over it for a few moments. “And what exactly do ya plan ta do wit dis?” she queried.

“I plan to work, Ma! T’ink of it--all da gold in da world could be ours!” Athena squealed, kicking her feet through the grass in delight.

“Child, dere’s so much I still must teach you…”

“Ay, I know, Ma! But I t’ink I’m old enough now and know enough about how to talk da people! I can do some simple housework. Why, I’ve been doin’ it me whole life!” she giggled. “And den an apprenticeship! I’ll be studyin’ under Sir Claudius!”

“Sir Claudius?” Mrs. Everleigh gasped.

“Ay, read da fine print.” The girl trailed her finger down the page until reaching the very bottom. In tiny script--much tinier than the bold lettering up top--it was signed:

Sir Claudius, of Beochaoineadh Castle

“No, me lass, I won’t allow it,” Mrs. Everleigh concluded.

“What!?” The girl almost began to sob.

“I won’t allow it. You haven’t enough years ta understand.”

“I do so!” Athena retorted, reaching for the letter. Her mother crumpled it up and put it in the hem of her dress. “Ma! I’m almost sixteen now! I should be allowed ta work for me livin’.”

“You already live a fine life, me lass. Your Páthair makes sure of it.” She cupped the girl’s face. “I am content wit da life I lead, and you will learn to be content wit’ your own��. But I understand dat you are only tryin’ to help your family. You’ve benevolent intentions. Dat’s all any Máthair could ask for.” Mrs. Everleigh wiped away the girl’s tears. “I must be off ta feed da little ones now.”

“Ay, I’m sorry, Ma.”

“You’re forgiven, me lass.” And so she went.

~~~

The family sat around the fireside that night, as they did each evening after supper. Athena’s younger brothers and sisters sat nearer to their mother, while Athena perched at her father’s chair, letting him rub her head. He brushed his palm down her golden-brown waves for several minutes before she asked, “Father, won’t you read a story tonight?”

“Of course, my darling! But I’ve read all of them on the bookshelf already. Aren’t you bored with them?”

“No, Father, I could never bore of the stories.”

“Alright, darling.” He rose and traveled to the bookshelf near the fireside. Athena followed suit. She gazed over the bottom row and he the top.

Mrs. Everleigh said nothing, only watching out of the corner of her eye.

“Now then, what about this one?” He lifted a blue book.

“No! We read dat one last week!”

“That one, my dear, that one,” he corrected.

“That one,” she muttered, tracing her finger over the spines.

“What about this one?” he asked, his lips tilting upward into a tired smile. He held a reddish-brown book with the pages falling out. “One of your favorites when you were little.”

“No, I’m older now so I needn’t bother with it.”

He chuckled. “If you say so, my darling.”

“You shouldn’t let da lass say such t’ings,” Mrs. Everleigh chimed in.

“Oh, but she’s almost sixteen now!” He picked her up and swung her around, as though she were a wee child. “She’s almost sixteen and pretty as a rose! It is time she had new books anyway! No more childish fables. I knew that’s what you really wanted, Athena Darling.” He pinched her cheek.

“You always know what I want, Father,” she giggled.

“Givin’ da lass what it is she wants will only spoil ‘er,” Mrs. Everleigh spoke, louder this time.

Mr. Everleigh refused to listen. He only laughed alongside his favorite daughter--favorite child. They stayed up all night--him describing the plots and characters of some of the greatest literature ever written, and her picking out the ones she wanted. By the end of it, they had a list of novels he vowed to buy for her when he visited Dublin again. One by one, the other children went to bed, and eventually, Mrs. Everleigh did, too. It was then that Athena asked:

“Father?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“What would you think of it if…”

“If…?” “If I began to work?” “Work?” He laughed a deep belly laugh, throwing his head back. “Why would you work? It would only mar your pretty hands.”

She listened closely for her mother’s deep breaths hailing from the master bedroom. Once she heard them, she commenced: “I thought it might help the family.”

“Darling, there is no work around here worth enough money to ruin your girlhood forever. Once you start working in this town, you never stop.” He crossed his arms, lifted his head, and shut his eyes.

“But Father!” she urged, “he pays in gold.”

Mr. Everleigh remained still for several moments, then unraveled himself. “Gold, you say?”

“Yes, Father.”

His face lightened. The bags under his eyes almost seemed to disappear before he sunk back into the chair once more. “No, no, it is still not worth it, Athena Dear. You are too young and too precious to me. Marry a wealthy man instead, so you never work a day in your life.”

“But weren’t you once a wealthy man?”

He might have smiled. “Once.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say that wealth has a way of disappearing in this town.”

“Woy is dat?”

“Athena, we must work on your pronunciation: that. And not ‘woy’ but ‘why’.”

“That. Why.”

“Better. Oh, it just does. Especially when you’re married to her.” She gazed into his dead brown eyes. “So, my final answer is ‘no’. I won’t allow it.”

She pouted, “That’s just what Mother said.”

“What Mother said?” He bit his finger, eyes chasing around the room. He, too, began to listen for her deep breaths. “You already spoke to her about it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And she said ‘no’?”

“Yes, Father.”

Mr. Everleigh huffed. “Well, then, I’m not quite sure of what to do.” He looked at the poor girl, who began to cry. “Oh, darling, Father’s here.” Athena nuzzled into his chest and blew her nose in his handkerchief. “Now, what is it that you want to do? Hopefully, you do not want to be a flower girl or a costermonger. Although, those would likely be the cleanest jobs….” He sat in deep thought while stroking her hair.

“Oi--Oi had the paper…”

“I, not oi.”

“I had the paper that advertised it, but Mother took it from me. Although, I remember it just as it said: ‘Wanted--Apprentice and Housekeeper … Paid in gold … Sir Claudius, of Beochaoineadh Castle’.”

“Beochaoineadh Castle… I thought it abandoned, but perhaps not. Hmph.”

“It’s not abandoned. I’ve heard people in town talking about it.”

“I’ve no doubt about that, my little adventurer.”

“And I want to work there as a housekeeper and apprentice.”

“Apprentice? Of what?”

“Whatever Sir Claudius teaches.”

“I must see to it that I meet this man--since my daughter will be working there.”

Athena perked. “Oh, Father, really?!”

“Of course, my darling.” She hugged him so tightly it almost strangled him.

“Thank you, Father. Promise you’ll keep it a secret,” she whispered, her silvery blue eyes as large as the full moon.

“I promise, darling.”

Mr. Everleigh stroked his daughter’s hair for a few more minutes until her breathing slowed to be in rhythm with the cascading waves of the nearby coastline. He then carried the girl off to bed.

~~~

* Maidin mhaith a Máthair - Irish Gaelic for “Good morning, Mother”

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rhetoricalrogue · 6 years ago

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Family Ties 3/4

Part 1 | Part 2

This one was difficult to write, mostly because Rolfe refused to cooperate and deal with issues that have been years in the making.

tagging @thesecondsealwrites.

The second Philip entered the Herald’s Rest, he felt at home. There had always been something about taverns and public houses that had appealed to him, which was why he usually insisted on meeting with his constituents in such places. A warm plate of food and a pint of ale did wonders to bring people together to work on common goals. He tried to ignore the stares he could feel from all sides, figuring that people were looking because they recognized him as their Inquisitor’s father.

That bit of news had taken some getting used to. After not hearing word from their son in the aftermath of the Conclave disaster, he and Marta had feared the worst, especially when the Chantry didn’t have the answers they so desperately sought. They’d grieved for their boy, yet were overjoyed to discover that not only had he lived, but Vincent had risen out of the chaos as the Herald of Andraste. After receiving his initial letter explaining events, Philip had put all the political weight he carried into helping the fledgling Inquisition as well as calling upon other prominent individuals in the area to do the same.

Even if some of the stares he felt were from people recognizing him as Vincent’s father, Philip couldn’t help but feel as if certain patrons knew he had another reason for being in their tavern that didn’t have much to do with Vincent. The feeling was cemented by a quick series of events that happened as he moved through the busy early evening crowd. As if practiced, the man who had been sitting alone in a chair close to the door stood up on the seat and the yell of Oi, Boss! carried over the noise of the busy tavern room. From the very back of the main room, a huge, intimidating looking Qunari playing a game of cards with several men and women slapped his cards down and shouted back, his deep voice bellowing all the way up the staircase Philip was climbing.

“Hey Krem, are you in for this game or are you out? Southerland, get your ass down here and join the next round!”

Philip reached the top of the stairs and bumped into a trio of people. “Terribly sorry, sir! Beggin’ your pardon, sir!” one of them babbled as they tried to jostle out of Philip’s way.

“Quite all right,” he said, pressing his back against the railing and stopping long enough for them to go down the stairs. Around that time, a shrill whistle sounded behind him. When he turned to look, he caught a glimpse of a blonde elf in plaidweave making frantic hand motions to the floor above them. As soon as she realized he was looking, she glared at him and hopped off the crate she had been sitting on before moving to go into a small alcove, slamming the door behind her so loud that Philip was certain that everyone in the tavern could hear.

He let out a sigh when two more people blocked his way up to the third floor staircase. “Look,” he started, addressing the woman. She was around his age or possibly a few years older and dressed simply, but had an understated elegance about her that told Philip she was as comfortable here as she would be in any palace. “I know that he’s up there. I promise, I mean him no harm. I only wish to talk.”

The man who accompanied her was tall, built like a massive wall of muscle, and aside from an impressive looking beard and bushy eyebrows, had no hair on his head. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and sized Philip up. “We know,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft and quiet, an odd counterpoint to his physical stature. “We’re not going to stop you.”

Philip gestured to the staircase he had just climbed. “And this whole elaborate warning system? What was it about?”

“It’s more for his benefit than anything,” the woman explained. “He says that he’s ready to meet you, but whether he admits it or not, we can tell that he still needs a moment to gather his nerve.”

“He’s done as much for all of us over the years,” the man added. “The least we can do is return the favor. I’m Bruno.”

“Penelope.”

Philip nodded. “Philip, though I’m guessing you already knew that. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He took a breath and put his hand on the railing leading up to the third floor. “But if you would excuse me, I have someone else I would like to meet.”

Bruno stepped to the side, but put his hand up. “Be patient with him. He makes light of how he feels, but Rolfe hasn’t had the best upbringing. It ain’t our place to explain, but…”

“He rarely speaks of his family aside from the two cousins who are also here in Skyhold,” Penelope continued. “And if he does, he claims that he doesn’t have a need for a family not of his choosing, especially when he’s made one for himself out of friends he’s gathered over the years.”

“I’ve known him for close to fifteen years, Ser,” Bruno added, shifting his weight and glancing up at the floor above them. “Mention his folks back in Ostwick and he closes up faster than anything, but seeing him with his brother...it’s been good for him. Your boy’s managed to leech some of the bitterness out of the Boss like none of us ever could, and we’re grateful to him.”

Philip swallowed around a lump that had grown in his throat. What had this man gone through over the years that so many would be this protective of him? “I can’t make promises for whatever the outcome of our meeting will be, but I hope you know that I’m willing to try.”

“We know, and thank you for that.” Penelope lifted her chin. “I’ve loved Rolfe since the moment I first met him. He’s a good man with a good heart, but he trusts very few people and you’ve caught him on a bad day. I’m wishing the both of you the best, but he’s like the son I never had. If you cause him unnecessary grief, I will personally see to it that you’re sorry you ever met me.”

Philip looked at her, and she suddenly didn’t seem like the sweet, harmless silver-haired woman he had originally thought her to be. “He must be a good man indeed,” he said, measuring his words. “For him to have such loyal friends.” With that, he began to ascend the staircase.

He made it as far as the landing before his heart started to beat faster. He’d been a father five years longer than he’d thought and he’d never even known it. What did Rolfe think of him? What sort of things had he imagined? Maker, he must imagine the worst, he thought, hesitating one last time.

“I know you’re coming up, Philip,” a tired sounding voice said in the darkness. “I won’t bite, at least not without ample warning first.”

The third floor of the tavern was simply furnished and somewhat dimly lit, seeing as most of the candles set in wall sconces were snuffed save for a few closer to the back of the room that was also lit by a large candelabra set into the rafters overhead. Rolfe sat at the table directly underneath, a bottle of something at his elbow and an unlit smoking pipe in his hands, one of which that was recently bandaged.

Philip felt the knot tighten in his throat again. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him the first time he had met him outside in the courtyard that morning, but there was no denying that this man was his own blood. To Philip, it seemed as if he were staring at a reflection of himself at a younger age.

“Apologies for the lighting,” Rolfe said, gesturing to the unlit sconces. “You’ve caught me at the tail end of an attempt to sober up and things were a bit too bright otherwise.”

He knew. Marta had filled him in on the state of his son when she had visited with him. “May I?” He finally managed to ask, gesturing to the chair opposite Rolfe.

Rolfe nodded, his thumbs running over the wood bowl of the pipe. The shadows under the table hid his legs somewhat, but Philip could see the barest hint of his leg bouncing up and down, almost as if he were just as nervous to meet him as he was.

“I’ll have you know,” Rolfe started slowly. “That you’ve accomplished something that not very many people can claim to have done.”

“What would that be?”

He stared at him, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I’ve waited for over thirty years to meet you, and when I finally do, I can’t think of a damned thing to say.”

Philip pressed his palms against the table’s surface. “Ask me anything. I’ll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“Did you know that my mother was married before you slept with her?” He tilted his head. “Sorry, but I figured I’d get the biggest question out in the open first.”

Philip shook his head. “No, I had no idea. I met Flora at a family gathering where she introduced herself as a friend to the family. I never questioned it and I never saw her with her husband the entire weekend.”

Rolfe’s eyes narrowed. “So, what was she to you then? Merely a dalliance?”

“No. I was infatuated by her. I wanted to court her, I even told her so myself, but she said that a relationship would be impossible as she was sailing home to Antiva after the party.”

Rolfe scoffed. “At least that part of the story I’ve been told over the years checks out. Mother was supposed to flee from her marriage after finding out about yet another one of her husband’s affairs, but she discovered that she was pregnant with me and her aging parents refused to take her back in. My birth has always been a point of resentment for keeping her in a place she’s been so miserable in.”

Philip stared at Rolfe, noticing the tense way he held his jaw. “You didn’t have the best childhood, did you?”

Rolfe shrugged. “I had as good of one as any token bastard and family embarrassment could expect to have, I imagine.” He pulled out a small drawstring bag from a pocket and absently began to pack tobacco into the pipe. “I can’t go back in time to change it, so I’ve made my peace with it, of a sort. They didn’t beat me, if that’s what you’re asking.” He frowned, still not looking up from his task. “Well, my older half-brother William did, but he’s another kettle of fish. He took great pleasure in using me as his punching bag until I grew old enough to fight back, but my mother and Edward never struck me.”

He reached for a small tin of matches, but then changed his mind, setting the pipe aside, his gaze stuck on the tabletop as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. “Sometimes I wished that they had. Anything would have been better than being outright ignored.” His voice was quiet, his brows pinched together. Then he shook his head and sneered. “Or being so starved for affection that I jumped through whatever hoops Mother put in front of me for even the smallest scraps of attention. There was always some condition, some catch, to earn the smallest of gestures in private, yet there was such a grand show in public that we were a loving family so no one would suspect otherwise.”

Philip’s heart ached for Rolfe. “Had I known…”

“You’d what?” Rolfe turned his gaze to him and Philip could see years of pent up emotion simmering just under the surface. “Scoop me up and claim me as your own, politics and optics be damned?”

The chair Rolfe had been sitting in scraped along the floorboards as he stood. Without giving Philip a chance to answer, Rolfe continued. “I spent so many years hating you,” he confessed, his voice rough. “I was five when I learned what the term bastard meant. I had it drilled into my head repeatedly that I was something no one wanted, a burden and unworthy of the family name. Edward always said that he knew who my father was and he took great pleasure in telling me that you knew I existed but didn’t want me either.”

Philip’s blood boiled even as his heart broke for the boy Rolfe had been. “That was a lie,” he spat.

“I know that now.” Rolfe leaned against the wall and let his head rest on the stone. “It took only a few moments alone with Vincent to know that the man I had spent so long loathing could have never raised a son like him. He was taken from you and you still fought for him, from the moment the Templars first arrived all the way up until the Conclave, and you continue to support him even now. He’s never had any cause to doubt your love for him.”

Philip clasped his hands together, wanting nothing more than to stand and go to Rolfe, but he saw the man’s body language was closed off and defensive and figured the gesture would be unwelcome. He was, after all, a stranger.

“I met my wife two years after the party where I had met Flora. We were married a year later, and we tried to have children as soon as possible. The both of us came from small families: I was the last Trevelyan on my branch of the family tree and Marta’s an only child herself. We both dreamed of having a home filled with sons and daughters, but it wasn’t meant to be. After some complications conceiving, we were beyond blessed to have even had Vincent; it didn’t matter to us when his magic manifested. He was still the same little boy we had loved the day before he accidentally set a rug on fire and he’s still the same man we love today.” Philip stood and walked over to Rolfe. “I know that you have no reason to believe me, but yes, had I known about your birth and how you had been treated in your own home by the very people who were supposed to care for you the most, I would have demanded to take you from them and I would have proudly raised you alongside your brother.”

Rolfe took a shuddering breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest, silently putting some distance between them. “I was so jealous of Vincent at first. He spoke of you and Marta often, probably as his way of explaining to me who you were since I never got the nerve to ask him myself. Even with his circumstances and living in the Circle, he had everything I had ever wanted.”

“You said that you were jealous at first. What made you stop?”

Rolfe dropped his arms from their defensive posture and put his hands in his pockets. “He’s always introduced me as his brother. He's had opportunities to give just my first name, to distance himself from me, but he’s never taken them. He could tell people that I’m his half-brother, but it’s always been this is my brother Rolfe with him. How could I be jealous of someone who accepts me as I am and doesn’t demand anything in return?” He gave a weak smile. “I’ve only known him for not even a year, but in that short frame of time, he’s shown me more acceptance than either of my older half-siblings have shown me my entire life. I love him; I’d do anything for him.”

Philip reached out then, breathing in relief when Rolfe didn’t flinch away from the hand on his arm. “I’m glad the two of you have the other. He’s written to me and he speaks highly of you.”

Rolfe looked down. “I know. I’ve intercepted and read each of your letters before re-sealing and sending them on their way.” He looked back up and Philip couldn’t read his expression. “I’m a spy, first and foremost, and a damn good one at that.”

“And if you’ve read our letters, then you should know that I already knew your profession.”

“Vincent told you that I was a bodyguard for the Chantry upper echelon. He never said a word about the secrets the higher-ups had me ferret out for them for the past twenty years, or the things they ordered me to do in the Chantry’s name.”

Philip shook his head. “And you don’t think that I can’t read between the lines? Over the years of working with both the Chantry and the Circle, I’ve come to realize that neither entity is as innocent as they would like to present themselves. They need people to get hands dirty where they cannot.”

“And you would still claim me? Philip, I’ve killed people I never knew, all because their ideologies ran afoul of my superiors’. I’ve protected people and saved them from deaths that could have possibly helped ease burdens on hundreds had they been taken out of this world. How can you stand here and say that you’d still like to know me when I have so much blood on my hands?”

“Because you are my son.”

“What does that even mean?” Rolfe demanded, shoving himself off the wall to pace the floor. “The work I did for the Chantry has ensured that I do not exist: outside of their employ I have no income, no connections, not even a roof over my head that I could say I worked to own. I can only be a liability to you and to Vincent, especially now that he insisted that I was presented as family in the Orlesian court, which I’m sure is causing Edward and Mother a bit of scandal to have their old laundry finally aired out. I’m certain that once the news reaches Wycome that it will spell trouble for your political career as well.” He clenched his hands into fists at his side. “I am nothing, and I can offer you nothing in return.”

“I think most of the people downstairs would argue with you being nothing, as would I. Bruno and Penelope wouldn’t insist that you’re a good man or be as loyal to you as they are if they didn’t believe it for themselves. Marta wouldn’t have thought the same after only spending five minutes with you, and my wife is the keenest judge of character than anyone I know.”

“She’s...different than what I was expecting.” Rolfe looked sheepish. “And I owe her an apology. I wasn’t at my best when we met. She probably thinks I’m a bumbling drunkard.”

Philip grinned. “Trust me, spend more time with her and you’ll realize that Marta is a fierce, loyal woman. I wouldn’t worry about what she thinks of you; she didn’t go into detail on what exactly the two of you spoke of, but she came up to our room afterwards ready to fight your mother with her bare hands.”

Rolfe snorted. “I like her already.” He sighed and pinched his brows together in worry. “Are you certain you want to take me on? I mean, look where I live. I drink and I smoke and at times my carousing and ill behavior causes Mother Giselle to beseech Andraste to spare my soul during services.”

Philip laughed. “Remind me to tell you the story about how I earned a few of my scars. Believe it or not, I was wild in my youth as well, and I still have my moments here and there.” Sobering, Philip put his hands on Rolfe’s shoulders again. “If you would allow me, I would very much like to get to know you, Rolfe. You don’t have to decide anything now, but my home and my heart will always be open for you, should you choose to let me in.”

Rolfe reached up to his shoulder and put his hand on top of his. For a brief moment, Philip thought that he would push him away, but all Rolfe did was squeeze his hand. He watched as his son’s lip quivered slightly and his jaw clenched before he let out another shaky breath and nodded.

“Well, Father,” Rolfe started, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly. “There’s thirty-seven years of catching up to do.” He gestured to the table he had been at and the bottle still sitting there. “Would you care for a drink while we talk?”

Philip had to clear his own throat and blink back a few tears of his own before answering. “I would love one, Son.”

#my writing #rolfe trevelyan #philip trevelyan

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