#i AM banging this point over the head with a hammer again but the vows are not supposed to be JUST an expression of feeling!!!!

[thebirdandhersong]

once again....... I hate to tell you, writers, but those....... aren't vows

[it-is-bugs]

TDBM Fic: The Pleasure of Your Company ~ 6

The boys turn first...

6. Buck Night:

Later, Matthew would blame what transpired on the alcohol.  Or rather, the lack of alcohol being consumed by Lucien Blake for once.  

"I won't drink tonight," Lucien had announced just as Cec had began to pour out.  All the men had looked at each other with shock, and Cec slowly put the stopper back in the decantenter.  

"Very good, sir," he said formally.  

"Cec, sit down.  You're a guest too," Lucien told him.  To the small group that made up an impromptu buck night, he explained, "I want to have a clear head tomorrow.  Can't let Jean down."

"Don't want to mess up the vows?" Danny suggested.

Lucien gave a half-smile.  "That too."

Cec cleared his throat.  "Right."  He sat, rather stiff, in one of the chairs, but his gaze kept darting around the room.  There were only male club members in the smoking room, but these were some of the stuffiest citizens of Ballarat.  There were lots of rustling newspapers and clearing of throats, but no one spoke up.  

Danny wondered how to get the party going.  This wasn't like any buck night that he'd attended before, but that was just like the doctor.  No late night in the back room of a pub, full of fag smoke and the clink of beer glasses with girlie magazines being passed around. Instead, they sat at this posh club, where they'd have to sleep tonight so the girls could have the Blake house. Cec was perched on a chair, Lawson was drinking steadily but saying nothing, Bill was looking at the animal prints on the walls with bored half-interest, and Lucien turned his water glass, still a small smile on his lips, lost in thought.  Danny decided that he should try small talk...  

"You'll be leaving on your wedding trip Monday?" he asked.

Lucien started.  "Yes," he replied, "The wedding tomorrow, then a good lie in on Sunday..."  That smile became a smirk--

"Not going to church?" Matthew asked and instantly saw it was the wrong thing to say.  He blinked blearily, noting Cec's outraged expression, Bill's eye roll and Danny's shock.  Lucien looked like a puppy whose paw had been trod upon.

"I'll be staying the two nights in the station's backroom," he said grimly, "it'll be an adventure."

"You can come home," insisted Lucien.

"I think not."  Matthew drained his glass and Cec popped up to refill it.  He gave a pained smile. "Let you two enjoy some privacy."

Lucien was back to that dreamy expression.  

Bill drained his beer.  "Well, I'll be pushing off--"  He'd had too much of this dull scene.  After some half-hearted goodbyes and see you tomorrow, everyone sat back down and the conversation slowed even more.  

Cec retrieved the cigar box from being the bar and asked, "Smoke, gentlemen?"  

With nothing else to do, they all accepted cigars and lit up.

After inhaling a few puffs, Matthew felt a bit ill, and washed the nausea down by draining his glass.  That's when he said it.  

Gasping out smoke, he said, "Funny how things turn out.  If Jean had said yes, we wouldn't be 'ere tonight."   He blinked slowly.

Lucien became alert, as he always did at Jean's name. "What?"

"When I asked her out."

Cec and Danny froze.

Tipping his head, Lucien fixed Matthew with that intense look that Matthew dimly recalled from interrogations of the toughest suspects.  

Put the glass down, mate, Matthew chided himself. He raised his hands.  "It was nothing.  She was--is a fine figure of a woman.  Christopher had been dead a few years, it seemed enough time had passed..."

"I'm sure," Lucien said shortly, his eyes flaring like hot blue flames.

Matthew knew this was going tits up but he was too drunk to find his way out of it.  Perhaps if he explained further-- "She turned me down flat; no worries. I figured the whole thing with arresting her son--" He grumbled, "Even if it was Doug Ashby who banged the hammer down.  I would have let the boy off with a warning and a few weeks on a work farm.  But Doug said his dad had been nothing but trouble and it looked like Jack was headed down the same path..."  He ran out of steam.  

"So it was all her choice?"

"To say thanks but no thanks?"  Matthew shrugged with effort; his arms felt very heavy.  "Yep."

The room seemed dim, and Lucien's voice far away, and  yet somehow thundered: "It's a wonder that you would want to live with us, seeing how painful it must be."

Matthew shook his head to clear it.  "Eh?"  

"Or did you think it would be easier to pick up the pieces when I inevitably cock it up?" the thumping voice accused him.   

Matthew tried to focus, but it was impossible with Lucien looming over him, blocking out the light.  When he looked around, Danny and Cec had disappeared.  He was quite alone, his spine pressed against the back of his chair.  He rallied.  

"Listen, mate," he said with sudden clarity, "you've got to get past this idea that Jean's going to toss you over first chance she gets, or she will.  No woman wants a man with no confidence about himself."  

Lucien stood up straight, and tugged down his waistcoat.  Then without a word, he turned on his heel and left.  

When Matthew felt that he could stand without his head spinning too much, he made his way to the bar and requested a cup of strong black coffee.  Ignoring the burning, he downed it in a few gulps.  Then he sought out Lucien.

He found him out on the balcony, ignoring the cool, damp breeze.  Lucien sat in a wrought iron chair, his feet propped on a table, smoking a cigarette and stroking his beard slowly with his thumb as he looked out across the city lights.  

Now that he'd found his friend, Matthew didn't know what to say, so he wavered on his feet and waited to be acknowledged.  

"I should have asked Alice to be my best ma--woman," Lucien said, but there was no animosity in his tone, so Matthew just chuckled.

"Jean's had to put up enough with your public spectacles.  That might just have pushed her over the edge."

Lucien laughed too and waved to another chair.  Grateful, Matthew lowered himself into it, sticking his bum leg out straight.  

"Should have invited her tonight, though.  She wouldn't have let us squabble in this squalid manner," Lucien pointed out.  

"True.  She'd have no patience for us."  Matthew brooded. "Probably why she's not married.  She's got little tolerance for the male ego."

"You've noticed," Lucien said, quirking a smile.  

"Yes, that's why..."  Matthew let that thought die on his lips.

But Lucien was still stone-cold sober.  "Why?"

"Nothin'," Matthew grumbled.

Lucien inhaled his cigarette then exhaled a long stream of smoke.  "Alice is a fine person.  I wouldn't like to see her hurt."

Matthew's temper flared and his head throbbed.  "Bloody hell, Lucien!  You've got some nerve to suggest I'd hurt a woman. I think things through, not like someone I know," he muttered bitterly.

"Oh, that's what you're doing, is it?  Thinking things through?"  Lucien held out his cigarette case to Matthew.

He needed to change the topic.  "I thought Jean doesn't like you to smoke?" He waved off the cigarettes.

"It's my buck night. Need to be a naughty lad--"  Peeking out from under his lashes, Lucien had that expression just like when he did something that would land them in the headmaster's office.  

"Bullshit. She's got you under her thumb, good and proper," Matthew sneered.  

Lucien didn't seem put out by that indictment.  He shrugged, giving another of those soft smiles.   "Just be careful you don't think your way right out of a chance."

Matthew lolled his head back, feeling ill again.  When was the last time he'd drank this much?  "After three years of doing everything possibly wrong, you're suddenly the expert on courting women?  Alright then.  Still the smartest man in the room."  This time, he didn't care if he offended Lucien.

"I thought we'd straightened all that out."

"I don’t mind you being smarter than me," Matthew said with a limp-wristed wave. "Or solving the crimes. Just bloody tired of you patronising me."

"I don’t patronise you!" protested Lucien.

"You’re doing it right now!  Trying to tell me how to get a bird!"

"Alice isn't some bird from down at your local!"

"Exactly.  And she'd be crazy to even--"  Matthew couldn't finish the sentence.  

Lucien clasped his shoulder and Matthew had to fight back.  "So you can solve more crimes drunk than a station full of sober coppers.  Has it occured to you that you need to be drunk to solve them?  What are you going to do about that now?"  He met Lucien's fear-filled gaze.  "Now that Jean will be your wife, not someone you can dismiss with two weeks' pay?"

"She was never--"

"She was.  She knew it, and somewhere in there--"  He tapped Lucien's skull.  "You knew."

Lucien sat back down. "I never would have," he whispered.

Matthew was suddenly very tired.  "But you could have."

"I never would have," Lucien repeated, now strong.

"Oh really.  Why not?"

"Because I always loved her.  Even when I didn't know it, I did."

"Then I guess it's good that you're marrying her."

Lucien suddenly grinned.  "I am, aren't I?"  He looked at his watch.  "In...oh goodness me.  We should get to bed."  

Matthew struggled to his feet.  "Damn right.  Gotta get our beauty sleep."  He was still drunk.  

Lucien took his arm, supporting him.  "Can't have Jean turning right around and walking back down the aisle when she gets a look at me."

"You're doing it again, mate."

"Yes, yes..."

After the men passed through the doorway, Cec stepped out of the shadows.  He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray that Lucien had used, then picked it up, and pushed the chairs back under the table.  After one more look around the balcony, he followed them in.  Young Mr Parker had removed himself to the closest pub with rooms for the night, the lads were sharing a room upstairs, and Cec would go home to his flat.  The party was over.  

~ end

[scottieswan]

Red as the Rose

Chapter Two also available on AO3 and FF.net

Only moments ago, David had been riding in formation with his men, on a perfectly normal patrol of the forest. Lancelot was telling another joke, when every man fell silent, the ground turning white into snow. It hadn’t snowed in his kingdom since summer began.

The men drew their swords in anticipation of thugs and ruffians of the forest, not evening stopping to think a pack of hungry wolves would descend upon them.

David hadn’t had a chance to think, his horse throwing him to the ground, his knights scattered and their grunts of pain and exertion heard through the clearing.

He pulled himself up to standing, his sword laying in front of him as a wolf sized him up, teeth glinting in the low light.

“Nice dog?” he tried, arms spread wide hoping the animal could see he didn’t want a fight.

A growl bit out from the beast as David lunged for his sword, the snow breaking his fall. He scrambled around to pull himself to his feet, and took off at a run, he looked over his shoulder but could no longer see his knights. The lack in concentration caused his foot to catch on a root, meeting the floor once again.

Rolling over from his position on the floor, he swung his arm round and the hilt of his sword collided with the head of the wolf, that had chased him through the woods, which in turn snarled and bit into his right leg.

Blood immediately started welling up and oozing from the rip in his trouser leg, David screamed in pain, swinging his sword again, aiming to kill this time. He managed to catch it with the blade but not before it’s claws slashed down his left side leaving deep gouges.

A flash of lightening lit up the clearing, seconds later a deep rumble of thunder echoed through the trees, the wolves whimpering in fear and retreating to the cover of the trees. David struggled to look around in confusion, trying to figure out the source of the noise. Mere moments ago, the sun had been shining brightly in the sky, how could it suddenly be storming?

He shuffled backwards until his back was against a tree, breathing as deeply as he could, while he assessed the injuries.

“Snow is going to be furious.” He chuckled to himself despite the pain lacing through his body, “Lancelot? Where are you my friend?” David asked to an empty forest.

He waited a moment, using the tree to pull himself to his full height, attempting to walk back to the clearing but finding nothing. His eyebrows pulled together, where had everyone gone?

“Lancelot?” David shouted, louder this time, only hearing the wail of wolves in the distance.

He decided not to stay out in the open anymore, perhaps they had sought refuge in the trees? The sun was beginning to lower in the sky and David swallowed hard, if he couldn’t find his way home by the time the dark came, he would be stuck here for the night. The sound of howling wolves sent shivers down his spine.

“There has to be somewhere nearby to find safety for the night.” He concluded, surely if he carried on walking he would eventually find a place to rest for the night, his injuries gave a twinge of pain and he realised he might not have all night.

As he limped from tree to tree, allowing them to take his weight, David realised this was not the greatest plan he’d ever had. Arguing with himself whether he should carry on walking or stay put and wait for someone to find him, he felt as though he walked through a web, a strange rippling feeling flowed over his skin.

And as if by magic wrought iron gates, rusted and dirty appeared before him. He shook his head, closing his eyes as if the castle would suddenly disappear. The gates opened of their own accord, and a man came running down the path, David blinked hard, clearly his imagination was running wild.

“Are you alright my friend?” The figure asked, blurring the closer he got, David felt weak, shaking violently before his legs gave way.

He heard the figure shout to him to stay with him as the darkness surrounded him, and he lost all consciousness.

~BATB~

David groaned, his body feeling tight and stretched. He quickly assessed himself, he was feeling pain still, although much duller, he was lying down on something soft and there was someone leaning over him.

He sat up quickly, as far as he could, and the woman leaned backwards to avoid bumping heads with him,

“Where am I?” he questioned quickly, looking around as if he could answer that himself by determining the objects in the room.

“You’re still injured, lie back down dear.” David looked up into the face of a kindly old woman, “My name’s Granny, you rest we’ll look after you.” She smiled affectionately towards him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. He’ll cause us nothing but trouble, what if the master finds out?” A woman in dark clothing, stood tall and proud, she swirled round, her dress twisting around her legs, sharp eyes turning to Granny.

“Well, we can’t leave the man injured, now can we?” The man in the corner argued, he turned to David, reaching out a hand towards him, “I’m Robin by the way, that’s Regina over there, the one with the stick up her a-”

“Ask not.” Granny snapped, rolling her eyes, “They fight those two, just leave them be, they can fight over anything and everything.”

David’s eyes flicked between Robin and Regina, each giving a distasteful stare to the other.

“The master?” he asked, trying to push himself into a seated position, “Where is he?” he directed his question towards Granny,

“Oh, never you mind about that- would you like a spot of tea? Nothing seems so bleak after a cup of tea-” She started, leaning towards the tea trolley,

“There isn’t time for tea!” Regina snapped, waving her arms wildly around her, “He could get us all killed! I refuse to be part of this.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I really must be going…” David made to stand, wincing and falling back to the sofa he was slumped upon, Granny laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

As Regina stormed for the door, every candle in the room was extinguished plunging them into darkness, David sat up straight once again, alarmed and barely feeling the pain through the adrenaline pumping through him.

“I told you” Regina hissed into the blackness, “Now we’re all in for it.”

The wide doors on the far side of the room were thrown open, and banged upon the walls behind them. The air became thick and clammy as David fought for every breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Who dares to enter my castle?”

David could feel Granny shuffle, clearing her throat before replying,

“He’s injured my lord, we thought best to tend to him before he’s… no longer with us.” Although the slight tremble gave her away, David thought she spoke with confidence almost daring the voice to defy her.

“That wasn’t your choice to make, was it now, my dear Granny” The voice sneered at the old woman, a tall figure shrouded in black, a fraction darker than the room itself, David could just make out a face twisted into repulsion from the light of the moon.

“I had no part in this master. I told them to leave him be to die.”

“Regina!” Robin elbowed her in her side, “My lord, we only meant to fix him up until he can make his way home, he’s the-”

“I know who he is. I know who everyone is.” The voice silenced him, “Very well then, if our guest wishes to stay, how about we offer a more comfortable room for him?”

His stomach dropped as the moonlight glinted off teeth, curled up into a sickening smirk. He felt a hand pull at the neck of his shirt, pulling him backwards his skin dragging harshly across the cold, rough stone.

“Master!”

“Stop it, no you can’t!” The chorus of protests were drowned out by an almighty growl,

“This is my castle, and you are all mine! You will do as I say or you’ll all find yourselves within the dungeons too.”

David hissed in agony as he was hauled up the stairs and thrown into a cell within the dungeon, the door slammed closed as it echoed through the empty walls. It was dark down here, there was water all over the floor, a leak dripping from the ceiling into one of the puddles, a shiver ran down his spine as it looked up at his captor.

“What? Never seen a Dark One before?” it growled out, “Name’s Hook” he held up a long glistening hook attached to his left forearm.

“Please enjoy your stay” he cackled before he retreated down the stairs, the door thumped shut with a final bang and he sighed deeply, how would he ever escape?

 ~BATB~

Emma had been riding hard all afternoon and finally arrived in the eastern fields, she leapt off her horse, still holding the lit torch she had carried with her. She crouched down towards the ground, she hadn’t remembered it snowing recently and yet the ground was covered in a thin layer of the stuff.

Her mother had taught her how to track since she was little, she picked it up with ease as she had most things, sword fighting, archery, even dancing and small talk.

She saw scuffles on the ground, deep gouges in the mud and snow where a fight had obviously taken place. She followed each set of footprints but they all stayed within the clearing, she observed the edges of the clearing until she came upon broken twigs hanging from the trees, she smiled to herself proudly as she began to trace her father’s footsteps.

“I will find you father, I will always find you.” She vowed to the sky, still following the path he had left for her.

On the snow, there was a pool of blood followed by several streaks and her stomach twisted uncomfortably, he was hurt and she needed to find him quickly, that was an awful lot of blood on the ground.

Racing through the trees she could see the steps becoming longer and dragging more, clearly her father was losing his strength by this point and the knot in her stomach tightened even more.

Suddenly the blood and tracks stopped, she whirled around trying hard to find the next steps but found nothing. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she felt a strange prickle coursing through her blood.

She edged forward until she touched something solid, something there wasn’t there; pushing forward, she felt as though she was walking through the thick goo the castle serves for pudding sometimes, until she was through the other side.

She was shocked to see a castle standing before her, tall towers, intricate designs surrounding the gates and doorways. She could see another thick layer of blood upon the snow and she was no longer afraid; her father was all that mattered now.

She squared her shoulders and walked towards the huge doors, finding them open she pushed herself inside ready to face someone, anyone who might be in her way.

But she found nothing, nobody. She huffed, relieved for a moment to gather her thoughts, still carrying the torch; she held it high to light the room as best she could.

There were chairs along the walls, a great chandelier hanging overhead, curtains pulled shut over the windows.

“Father?” She called out shyly, taking hesitant steps at first.

“Look Regina, a girl!” Robin whispered, nudging her with his elbow,

“I know it’s a girl. She shouldn’t be here.” She turned to walk away, barely noticing Robin leaping from his hiding place and racing up the stairs, “Robin!” She hissed,

“Who’s there?” Emma called, swinging her torch around to see better only to find an empty hallway in front of her.

The sound of footsteps could be heard and she turned to find a light filtering down from the stairs, expecting to find answers there, she followed the light. No longer taking small hesitant steps, she had no idea what condition her father was in, she didn’t have time to waste.

She flew up the stairs two at a time, the light seeming to get further and further away from her, twisting around the spiral staircase going higher and higher.

“I’m looking for my father, please! Slow down!” She implored, “Please, he’s hurt”

She continued racing up the stairs until suddenly they stopped, the hallway twisted round and then evened out to show a heavy wooden door.

Emma placed the lit torch in a holder just above her and turned to pull the heavy door with both hands, grunting with the effort. Once opened she slipped inside, plucking the torch out the holder and headed forwards.

“Father? Are you here?” she called,

“Emma!”

“Father!” Emma dropped to her knees outside his cell, hand reaching inside for her father.

He gathered her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, smiling at her gratefully. His back was to the cell wall, dried blood had crusted on his thin shirt and he was looking very pale.

“How did you find me?” He asked weakly,

“Mother taught me to track well, we need to get you out of here, you’re hurt.” She tugged hard on the bars but they wouldn’t budge an inch, she looked around for something to use, “It’s okay papa, I’m going to get you out, just stay with me.” She pleaded.

“Emma, you have to leave, he’s here.” He swallowed hard, eyes begging,

“I’m not leaving you.” She vowed,

“You have to! Now go, I’ll be okay.” He gave her knuckle one last kiss before letting go of her hand,

“Who would have done this? You’re a King, they cannot do this to you!” She argued, her chest puffed out, shoulder straight and head tall, looking every bit the princess she was.

He shook his head, “Please, just go, look after your mother and the baby, we will see each other again.” He reassured her, giving her a comforting smile.

“No. Not until you tell me just who did this to you.” She was stubborn like her parents and would refuse to move until she got her answer.

David opened his mouth to answer when a cold gust came through the tower, and the torch Emma held flickered low, threatening to go out.

“Well, I do believe that would be me, Princess”