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annaelizabethhenry1 · 2 months ago

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Echoes from the Past

Summary: River visits his grandfather post season four at the care home. The visits conjure memories of River’s childhood and teen years as he grapples with his grandfather’s declining mental health and how once he’s gone he’ll have no one left. Warning – spoilers for all four seasons!

There’s a certain slant of light On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes, Heavenly hurt it gives us, We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings are. None may teach it anything, ‘Tis the seal, despair, - An imperial affliction Sent us of the air When it comes, the landscape listens. Shadows hold their breath; When it goes, ‘tis like the distance On the look of death.

Emily Dickinson

Chapter One

The car’s tires crunched to a halt on the gravel drive. River shut the car off and stared into the distance. The steel grey sky cast a gloom over the care home’s edifice in a way River hadn’t noticed on his previous visits.

River’s thoughts swirled back to a different time before he ended up at Sough House – he remembered a conversation in his grandfather’s study. One where his grandfather jokingly called care homes ‘God’s waiting room’ and how he insisted if he ever needed one he’d rather be dead. At the time there was no need for one and River reassured his grandfather he’d never allow it. But now…needs must…River sighed and forced himself from the car.

He braced the cold February afternoon and turned up the collar on his green corduroy coat up as he jogged the length of the path to the front door, pushing it open, he was greeted by warmth and chatter – and the slamming of a tray along with the clatter of dishes and cutlery. River recognized his grandfather’s raised voice and almost turned back around.

No, no I can do this…he and Nan raised me…I owe him no matter how hard.

Entering the wood panelled dining hall where other elderly residents were gathered for lunch, River spotted his grandfather off to the side at a small table near the fireplace causing a scene.

An orderly busied himself with cleaning the mess on the floor while two women – Sylvie, who River already knew was trying to soothe David Cartwright and while another petite woman attempted to tidy him up after some of the food had landed on his sweater.

“Stop! I’m not a baby!” David shouted, swatting at the smaller woman.

“Granddad, don’t get handsy with the ladies,” River said with a forced half smile and a raised brow, trying to lighten the situation.

“River take me home! These harpies are treating me like I’m an invalid!” he shouted, then stood up, grabbed his cane and pushed past them, hobbling away.

“Granddad you know I can’t…” River went to grab him.

“No leave him be,” the petite woman said.

“But…”

“It’s best to let him settle down. I’m Orla by the way, you’re the grandson?” she asked offering her hand with a kind smile.

Orla had warm, but sharp green eyes that reminded him of his grandmother, Rose. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of her nose and cheeks and red curls bounced, just reaching her shoulders. River had never seen her before today.

“Yes, River Cartwright. Nice to meet you,” River shook her hand and smiled back.

“I’ve just been brought on board with recreation at the home. Seems we have some very sharp retirees here who need more challenging tasks to occupy them.”

River knew that all the employees were specially vetted and aware that the bulk of the residents were former service or higher ups in government with a few military veterans sprinkled in for good measure.

“Yes, this lot aren’t your run of the mill pensioners,” River said wryly.

“I look forward to the challenge. I’m glad you’re here though as we have been having trouble with your grandfather. I was curious to know a bit more about him to see if I could find a way to reach out to him.”

River flushed, wondering how many other times his grandfather, the OB or the Old Bastard to many, threw a tantrum making more work for the staff here. “I’m so sorry he’s been…difficult. I know he’d rather be home, but it’s just not safe for him and I live in London and can’t commute here all the time…” River rambled.

Orla put a hand on River’s arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. He does have dementia and that is bound to make him act out. The staff understand. Why don’t you come to my office? We can have some tea and chat.”

Orla led River through the large and very windowed recreation room where some staff were setting up for what appeared to be arts and crafts. There was a small side door that went down a narrow passage and onto hallway with a number of highly polished doors. Orla pushed one open and led River into a cheerful room filled with small potted plants, a well-organized desk and a low bookcase filled with books and what appeared to be files.

“Tea or coffee? I have a fresh lemon drizzle loaf from home – happy to share.”

“Whichever is easier for you. Uh, yeah, sure, thanks.”

Orla chuckled. “You’re making it too easy for me.” She switched on the kettle on top of the bookcase. “Have a seat. Let me go find a knife for the cake and some milk. Make yourself comfortable.”

She handed River a pamphlet about coping with the transition to a care home for family members as she breezed out. River was tempted to chuck it into the bin, but thought the better of it as she was just being nice. Everyone always was so damn nice, which made it harder somehow. He wanted to shout at someone as if that would make him feel better about the situation. Demand to see someone in charge and lodge complaints as that would be easier than someone smiling and handing him a slice of his favourite cake.

River sat back in chair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought back to the time when he was almost seven and he had that first slice of lemon drizzle loaf in his grandparents’ kitchen.

It was a rare sunny afternoon in late winter when River’s mother, Isobel knocked on the front door of a large stone house in the countryside. River was in awe by the size of it. He had mainly lived in small flats and tiny houses with his mother and whomever her current boyfriends were at the time. This was like a palace to him.

“Mum, is this like a castle?”

His mother laughed. “God no. It’s just a house. I hope they’re home. I can’t keep Pedro waiting we have tickets to Spain.”

As if on cue he honked his horn from the car in the drive. Isobel rang the doorbell again and knocked on the door.

River stood silently, freezing in a jacket that wasn’t suited to the current weather. He clutched his rucksack on his shoulder and clung to his bunny, Mr. Hoppinheimer. “Mum, where are we going?”

“You’re going to stay here with your grandparents. They’ll look after you.”

Finally, the door opened and a stunned David Cartwright appeared. “Isobel?”

“Yes, father. I’m rather in a hurry. This is River. Here are his things. I’ve got to go.”

“What? You can’t leave him here. Isobel, come inside. What’s going on – are you in trouble?” David asked, his features etched with disbelief and his eyes wildly going between his daughter and the blonde little boy with big, sad blue eyes looking up at him. They reminded David of a favourite spaniel he had as a boy growing up that he loved.

“Father I don’t have time! Pedro is waiting,” Isobel pointed to the car in the drive.

“Sod Pedro, he can wait. You can’t just leave him here like this Isobel. We never met him.”

“Who? Pedro?” Isobel asked.

“No, you bloody idiot – River.”

River shrunk back to the side of the doorstep. He learned from living with his mum how important it was to fade into the background when necessary. It was key to not being yelled at or getting in the way.

“What’s going on?” Rose asked stepping out into the cold, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself to shield her from the brisk wind despite the bright sun. “Isobel, I’m surprised you’re here. Where’s River?” Rose searched and finally found him almost hiding behind a potted evergreen perched to the side of the front door. She bent down and smiled at him as he just stared back. “Oh, love you must be freezing,” she touched his shoulder and nudged him into the warmth of the large stone house as he clung to his bunny and rucksack.

“Mum, I don’t have time for you to coo and coddle over him because it’s a bit chilly out here. I’ve got to go,” Isobel said coming into the foyer.

David came in as well. “You can’t expect us to take him just like that Isobel. Where are you going? What’s going on?”

“Yes, I can and I’m off to Spain. Once I get settled I’ll send you my address.”

“Spain? What if he gets sick or something,” David asked.

“You raised me and managed to keep me alive. I suspect you’ll do just fine – thanks – ta!”

“Love, wait! Don’t you want to say goodbye properly to River?” Rose asked. She already had River in a sideways hug, ruffling his hair.

Isobel hesitated and went back to the doorstep to retrieve a luggage that she deposited in the foyer. “These are the rest of his things. He’s no bother, he’s usually quiet except when he’s got a million questions about something. Be good and don’t cause any trouble for your grandparents,” Isobel said and blew River a kiss.

Rose looked over at River who didn’t bat an eye or show any emotion at her leaving him. “David do something!” she hissed.

“What? She always was so out of control. I told you that artistic streak would lead to nothing good. We should never have indulged it.” He shut the door.

Rose sighed. “River dear, I’m grandma Rose, but you can call me Nan if you like. I’ve sent you cards and gifts – I do hope they made their way to you.”

River nodded and held up his bunny.

“Oh, excellent love, you still have it from a few Easter’s ago,” she said smiling but her eyes welled with tears. “David take his luggage and rucksack up to the guest room. You look hungry sweetheart – let me take you to the kitchen. Would you like some cake?”

“It’s not my birthday,” River finally uttered something.

“No love, I know that.”

“Is it your birthday?”

“No, you don’t just have cake on birthdays.”

“Oh.”

Rose looked to David.

“Come along dear, bring your bunny. Does he have a name?”

“Yes, Mr. Hoppinheimer.”

“Really, love,” Rose said ushering him into a warmer room still. There were lovely smells and lots of sunlight.

Rose had him sit down at the small table while she busied herself about the kitchen. She put the kettle on, went into a cupboard pulling out dishes and things. River just sat there with his bunny on his lap watching. Rose finally put dishes down on the table and a small mug that had a woodland scene on it.

“This was your mum’s when she was little. It’s a scene from Beatrix Potter.”

River looked at it curiously seeing a rabbit dressed in a coat. “Why is he wearing a jacket?”

“It’s Peter Rabbit. He’s a character from her books. Do not know them?”

“No.”

“Oh, I see, well don’t worry we have the books here.”

“Rose, a moment, please,” David stood on the cusp of the kitchen.

She nodded and joined him. “What?”

“The boy hardly has anything in his luggage. It’s appalling Rose,” he whispered.

“He seems scared. I’m worried how she’s been living…what if the men in her life…”

“Rose, don’t…”

“He’s ours now, David. She’s never taking him back. I won’t allow it. Look how sweet and quiet he is…”

David rubbed her shoulder. “Yes of course. He stays. He’s better off.”

The kettle whistled and River jumped. “What’s that? Is something wrong?”

“No, love – it’s just the kettle is boiling, which means it’s time for tea or in your case hot chocolate!”

“What’s hot chocolate? Is it like when a candy bar melts?”

“No, its special warm powdered chocolate. I trust you’ll like it.”

“So young man, do you have any interests? Dinosaurs, airplanes, horses, trains or even cars?” David asked.

River shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Rose put a slice of lemon drizzle cake on River’s plate and filled his little mug with hot chocolate and then dispensed tea and cake for herself and David.

“Go ahead, have some cake, love,” Rose urged.

River picked up the slice and sniffed it. It smelt like lemons and sugar. When he bit into the slice it was like heaven. He never tasted anything so wonderful and he smiled over at his Nan and she smiled back at him.

The reverie was broken when Orla fluttered back in cheerfully with a knife and little carton of milk. “Sorry that took longer than I hoped, it’s tough to get the elevator down to the kitchens at meal times, I had forgotten that since I’m new.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You looked like you were a million miles away,” she said as she opened a box of tea.

“Yeah, well…it’s not easy seeing granddad here. I promised him once I’d never do this.”

“The hard reality of caring for someone in his condition and balancing your own life tends to make these situations impossible,” Orla said as she prepared tea.

River sighed. Orla was right. It was unsafe for him to be alone, especially given how confused he became, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot going on in his life at the moment that he maybe couldn’t have made this work. Slough House wasn’t buzzing with anything important to do. As to his personal life that was non-existent. Sure, he’d love to have what other normal people had, but he found it so difficult to connect. River had spent too many years alone in the safe little bubble his grandparents had created for him after he’d been dropped off. River’s unique situation in life always set him apart from his peers and made him feel unwelcome as he didn’t exactly fit. No one else at school was raised by their grandparents, but even before that when he was with his mum, they moved around so much he never had a chance to make friends then either.

“Thanks,” River said almost shyly, “What is it I could help with to make things better for him?”

“Well, Sylvie tells me you do visit often, which is great, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s angry at me for putting him here.”

“Milk first?”

“Umm, sure.”

“You really are the least particular person I’ve met,” Orla said with a smile.

River chuckled. “I learned early in life what actually matters, and how your milk goes in isn’t one of them.”

“I’ve seen that point hotly debated in the dining room here, so I disagree.”

Orla sliced some cake and handed River a small paper plate and a mug of tea.

“Thanks. I do want to help my grandfather, he’s just very stubborn.”

“Can I ask – what did he do before he retired? I know he’s former service – someone mentioned you are also in the service.”

“Yes, I am service, too. When granddad retired he was first desk,” River said feeling that he just misrepresented himself. Slough House wasn’t service in anyone else’s mind at the Park.

Orla’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, he was very important…okay…no wonder he feels helpless here.”

“It’s also why he has to be here. He knows too much.”

Orla nodded. “Of course. Let me have a think on this and see if we can come up with something that makes him feel more useful and engaged.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” River said.

About fifteen minutes later after tea and cake, River made his way to his grandfather’s room in the east wing of the care home. He found him sitting in the leather chair near the window, just staring blankly out into the front garden. He knocked and said, “Granddad, how are you?” River walked over and crouched next to the chair.

His grandfather looked over at him blankly. “I told you, I don’t want any lunch – it’s bland!”

River furrowed his brow and frowned. “Granddad, it’s River. I don’t work here, I’m your grandson,” he touched his arm and tried to rub it and forced a smile.

“Go away! I don’t have a grandson,” David Cartwright shouted, pulling away from River’s touch.

River bit his lower lip and tried to contain himself. He knew it wasn’t his grandfather’s fault he couldn’t remember, but sometimes River did wonder if he did remember and just acted like he didn’t because he wanted to punish River for leaving him in a care home. There were times when David was very lucid and they would share a memory or a story from his work days. Maybe it wasn’t an act and he wasn’t torturing River on purpose. He just felt so helpless when his granddad looked through him. The doctor told him there would come a point where David would not remember River anymore. It’s not like he didn’t already know that, but to hear it from someone in an official medical way made it all the more final.

Read Chapter Two here

#river cartwright #slow horses #slow horses fanfiction #season 4 spoilers #jack lowden #fan fic writing #anna elizabeth writes

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daydreamgoddess14 · 4 months ago

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Guilty as Sin

Yes, I know I'm supposed to be doing the last (? maybe? Not sure...) chapter of First Impressions but first I couldn't get this out of my brain because I swear I literally think about this man every minute of the day. Did you know he can sing? Sweet jesus, no one show me proof, I guarantee it will finish me off. Anyway, here's a little quickie (hehe 😏) cos gawd knows this fandom needs a lot a lot a lot more River and I will happily carry that burden 😂

River Cartwright/OFC (you/reader insert, no use of Y/N, L/N). Lots of smutty smut and jealousy, River feeling feelings, language warning. Mature rating.

You're undercover and it turns out River is incredibly jealous.

Without further adooooo...

********

You take another long drink, watching him as he watches you. His eyes haven't left you for what feels like hours. It has been hours, this back and forth, push and pull. It's a game you both so enjoy. The noise of the bar is growing as the night goes on, colleagues leaving and being replaced by the early doors club, then those replaced by students and the few in it for the night. You're not sure where you fall just yet, though it's clear enough that he’s struggling to keep his hands off you, so the night will not go on forever. Your knees bump together under the table, and he takes the opportunity to put a hand at the hem of your dress, lightly stroking your thigh. It's not your usual get-up. You've made an effort, and it's paying off beautifully. His eyes track down your throat and to the very deep neckline of the dress, held precariously in place with the best tit tape Boots had to offer. They look pretty fantastic if you said so yourself. A good handful for someone with good hands, which he had. With your empty glass on the table, you put a firm hand on his thigh.

“Shall we move somewhere… quieter?” You suggest, your voice low and leading. He lights up like a Christmas tree, trying (and failing) to hide his eagerness.

“Yeah, yeah, we should. My place?” He asks. You laugh - not unkindly or at him.

“No, not just yet. We're having so much fun, aren't we?”

“Hmm, hard to argue that point. I'm sure I can wait a little longer. Some privacy wouldn't go amiss, though.” You slip from the stool, giving him a perfect glimpse down the front of your dress, and reach for his hand. If you remember correctly, this lovely bar has a small snug. A handful of more intimate tables with high booth walls and table service. Drinks are on him, after all, it'd be rude not to. His hand is possessive on the small of your back while he talks with the waitress. She tells him it's just a short wait, and that's fine. The wine has made you a little flushed and giddy, so you lean into him and let his warm body wrap around you. His hands shamelessly roam your body, groping and squeezing your bum and hips. He leans down to place a hot, wet kiss on your neck. His body crowds you against the hostess table, and you're not sure he actually will wait any longer.

“I'm just going to the bathroom while they get us a table,” you tell him quietly, your hand deliberately brushing across the front of his chinos. Away from the drinks and his heady aftershave, you can take a breath in the corridor to the bathrooms.

In the dark, a body pulls you against their chest, a tight grip on your hip.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“I've got him right where we want him, River, what the hell are you doing?!” You wrestle from his grasp and pull him to the very end of the corridor and away from potential passers-by.

“He's all over you like a rash!”

“Which is exactly my plan,” you tell him. He's got you backed against the wall, and you've gone from being in complete control of the mark you've been flirting with all night to being utterly at River's mercy instead. He's never like this. Petulant? Always. Occasionally irrational and more often than not, sarcastic, but whatever this is, it's new.

“Is it turning you on?” He demands to know.

“Him? Or this?” You snap. You're half wondering if he can tell the difference between you faking it in the bar and whatever you're feeling now. Can he feel your heart pounding? Does he know your thighs are clenching desperately at nothing, aching for his touch? This attraction has been brewing between you for a while, glances that linger just long enough to suggest there could be more between you, but he's never made a move, and so neither have you.

“Do you think you're turning him on?” He asks quietly, his eyes on your lips, you couldn’t resist the deep luxurious red lipstick you spotted in Boots while hunting for the tit tape.

“I know I am. I could have him on his knees for me before the night's out.” At that, he bites back a groan, bruising your hip with his tight hold. He’s holding you so closely it’s like he’s breathing life into you. And then just as it dawns on you, you also realise that you've been gone too long and you’re actually supposed to be working. “Are you jealous, Cartwright?”

“No.” Came the strained reply in the crook of your neck. You place a gentle hand on his chest and push him back a little, his lips graze the corner of your mouth as he moves.

“I need to get back out there and finish this.” His hand catches yours as you leave, fingertips holding on until the last moment. It's knocked you for six, the intensity of his gaze and the meaning behind his sudden temper. He may have denied it, but surely you can't have imagined it all?

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

“Thought you'd gotten lost,” the mark said as you approached the table.

“Just needed a few moments alone.” You tease. His eyes light up, and sure, if it's going to make your life easier, then he can go ahead and believe that you've just been touching yourself in the bathroom.

“That so?” You're momentarily distracted by River passing your table to sit at the one behind. “You couldn't resist a little early playtime, huh?” You smile coyly, letting him do most of the talking - and draw his own assumptions - rather than confirming anything. “Gonna be lucky if we make it to mine,” he was saying, “I bet you love the thought of getting caught.” From this distance you could see the muscle in River’s jaw clench. The mark leaned forward but did nothing to lower his voice, “I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name.” Holding his gaze, you leaned in as well,

“Dare you.” At the table behind, you're sure you heard knuckles cracking. “Let's get out of here,” you tell the mark suddenly. It's cold outside as you lead the mark to the alley beside the bar. He presses you against the wall and it feels completely alien compared to when River did the same thing barely an hour before. He kisses you and you play along. While he's distracted and trying to grope your breasts over the top of the dress, you're in his pocket doing your job. A key card and the slip of paper you watched an aide pass him hours ago. Bingo. You push him off you quickly and turn away, faking a sudden bout of drunken sickness. You retch and moan, a hand out behind you to stop him getting closer. As if he would.

“Oh gross, forget it love, you're not that fit.” He leaves, disgusted and you count to twenty before standing straight and putting the loot in your bag. You hadn't seen River follow you out of the bar, it makes you wonder if your backup has deserted you. Just as you reach the street, a body blocks your path. “I knew you were too fuckin’ good to be true.” The mark sneered, forcing you to take a couple of steps back and away from the people leaving the bar.

“You came back!” You coo, reaching for his lapel. “I’m feeling loads better.”

“Games up, bitch. Give it back, or I beat the shit out of you.”

“But we were getting along so nicely,” you pout, pushing the boat out in one last opportunity to win him back over. He's not keen to play along this time and his hand painfully grabs the top of your arm. His other hand reaches for the split in your dress and his rough fingers find the top of your thigh. You try to scream out but your voice catches in your throat in fear.

“I knew you were all fuckin’ talk, filthy slut.” He slaps you across the cheek and the stinging pain is immediate, it makes you feral with anger. You wriggle and wrestle and try to stamp on his feet, just to get a bit of movement away from him, and finally you're able to get out of his grip far enough to knee him in the balls. He crumples forward in pain. His arm stretches out to pull you back but behind you, another arm pulls you away from him and shoves you into the front seat of a car. River's car. It seems to take an age to get the car into gear and moving but luckily the mark is still bent over in agony. A few bystanders checking on him. Once you’re a safe enough distance away, you feel River watching you. The skirt of your dress has twisted and ridden up in the hurry to get into the car, exposing more of your legs and from the gritted teeth and deep swallow, you can tell he’s noticed. You straighten out in the seat and pop down the sun visor, your cheek is still a little pink but it’s hard to tell from the streetlights. The lipstick is still perfectly in place though.

“Where'd you go? I thought you’d left.”

“I wouldn’t have left. I saw him wink at one of his drongo mates as you left so I got out just ahead of you to get the car. Figured you’d need to act fast.”

“If you hadn’t turned up when you did-” Your previous bravado has all but abandoned you, leaving you underdressed and vulnerable.

“I know.” He replies quickly, his mouth set in a hard, angry line. “Did he hit you?”

“Slapped me.” You find a bottle of water between your two seats and wonder how long it’s been there before deciding you really don’t care and taking it anyway. He stops for a red light and takes a hand from the wheel to turn your face so he can see. His thumb caresses your cheek for a brief second until the car behind alerts him to the green light. He pulls up at your apartment and you sit in silence watching next door’s cat. You can feel the anger radiating from him, his shoulders tense and his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel at ten and two. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You tell him softly, “thanks for being there tonight.”

“Just doing my job.”

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me

We've already done it in my head

Once you’re alone, you kick your shoes off with such ferocity that the heel dents the cupboard door. You stand in the dark in your small kitchen and pour a nightcap. The window overlooks the small car park and you can see that River’s car hasn’t moved yet. As you move through the flat and pass the front door, you can hear shuffling just outside so you pull the door open.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” You ask, an exact replica of his earlier question. He doesn’t speak, he takes the glass from your hand and finishes the contents. He does attempt to put the glass on the table by the door but it’s too close to the edge and falls, glass shattering. Neither of you takes a scrap of notice, he’s on you before you can say another word, lips claiming yours in a messy kiss. Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders while his arms wrap around your waist and lift you enough off the floor that your bare feet are nowhere near the broken glass. He walks you forwards until he can press you into the doorframe. His kiss moves down your neck and he pulls the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“You were right.” He mutters kissing along your collarbone.

“Was I?” You’re not sure how you can be expected to hold a conversation while he’s cupping your breast over your dress and running his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“I am fucking jealous.” Your back arches, pressing your chest to his, silently begging for more. “No one else touches you like that again.”

“Says who?” You challenge him. He kisses you again, a clash of teeth and tongue, a silent reply - a silent promise. His hands run down your body, but unlike the mark who groped aimlessly, River clearly has intention. He pulls at the lightly tied belt holding your dress closed until it’s barely clinging on. He pulls back to see your face, your firm nod of approval and kisses you more softly than he had previously. You can feel the anger and tension evaporating from him. With a final tug, the belt is undone and the dress begins to fall open. When his warm hands are at long last on your bare skin it’s like a green light. You scramble to pull his jacket off, throwing it to the floor closely followed by his shirt. He takes his time peeling the dress from your skin where it’s been held down by the tape and kisses the skin as it’s exposed to him bit by bit. When the dress is pooled at your feet your hands tangle in his hair. He nips at the curve of your breast, your ‘good handful’ dwarfed by his large hands.

“You were wrong about one thing.” He says suddenly from the valley of your breasts.

“Enlighten me?” You lean back against the doorframe, grateful for the pause but still very distracted by his hands.

“He wasn’t going to get on his knees for you.” Your eyes widen a little as he disappears from view. You can feel his hot breath against the cotton of your knickers. “Say now, and I’ll stop, and we can forget this ever happened?"

"I don't want you to stop," you whisper.

"Good." He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your soaked underwear and pulls them down your legs, then he nudges your legs apart and lifts one to drape it over his shoulder. "So wet," he teases, peppering her inner thighs with kisses. “Is this from him?” He licks a broad stroke through your folds, his nose nestling up against your clit.

“You, only you-” you manage to reply. You can feel your knees shaking so he puts a firm hand on the hip of your raised leg to hold you steady. His other hand moves to join his determined mouth, he replaces his tongue and fucks you with his fingers, turning his attention to suck your clit.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

"Oh f-fucking fuck, Riv," You tangle a hand in his hair, partly to stop him from moving, and partly to keep yourself upright. His fingers, knuckle deep inside you, pump lazily in and out while he savours your taste, wanting to drag out your pleasure for as long as possible. Your dripping cunt aches for release but he doesn’t let up.

"You wanna come for me, love?" He murmurs as you whimper at the loss of his tongue.

"Yes, god yes -" your hips cant towards him, changing the angle so his fingers brush against your g-spot.

“You’re mine?” He asks so quietly you can hardly hear him over the pounding of your heart, he flicks his tongue over your clit, demanding an answer before he continues.

“Yours, River, please-, fucking arrogant-” Your sentences go half finished once he’s happy with your answer, finally bringing you right to the edge and eagerly letting your cunt contract around his fingers. You’re not sure you can breathe any longer, let alone stand. He rests his head against your thigh as you lean limply into the doorframe.

“I’m what now?” He asks smugly. He reappears in front of you, an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“Arrogant. Jealous. Annoying as fuck.”

“Surely I’m not that bad?” He teases, kissing you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you melt against him. He lifts you with ease, “bedroom?”

“Down the hall.” You’re about to chastise him for chucking you on the bed so unceremoniously but he’s already making himself very comfortable between your thighs again.

“River?”

“Not done yet.” You're in pieces again even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him.

"Fuckkk," you whine, hands desperately gripping the bed sheets. He gives your thigh a bite.

"Hold still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking and you’re grateful to at least be lying down this time. You practically wail his name as you come, he's watching you come down, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences.

"Clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs.

“Hang on.” He rolls off you and grabs something from your bedside. You feel a weird sensation on your inner thigh, and sit up to see exactly what he’s up to now. He looks up with a satisfied smile having literally written mine on your skin. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Green eyed monster really got hold of you, didn’t it? Y’know if you wanted to ask me out, you could have?” You ask.

“I don’t think I realised how strongly I felt til I saw him all over you. Then when we were outside the bathroom, it felt like something changed?”

“C’mere,” You pull him on top of you and after hastily kicking off his jeans, he pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. After his earlier anger and jealousy, it’s surprisingly intimate and gentle. Your desperate pleas and praise ignites him and he holds you tightly, pressing you into the mattress as he fucks into you deliriously slowly, lewd noises filling the air. Your legs wrap around him, holding him against you. Your walls flutter around him as he makes you come again, sighing his name.

What if the way you hold me

Is actually what's holy?

“Had I known your jealousy was going to lead to this, I probably would have offered to go undercover a long time ago.” You mutter in the dark. You’re fairly sure he’s asleep, his nose is nestled into the crook of your neck, his long body curled around yours. It’s not until his snigger jostles you both that you realise he’s still awake.

“Maybe I’ll go undercover next time.”

“I’m not sure you’d make a good honeytrap.”

“Rude, I can be pretty.”

“I know. I will rip the eyes out of any woman who so much as looks at you.” You tell him sleepily.

“Oh now I’m definitely signing up next time. Can’t wait to see you get all jealous.” He kisses your neck again as you drift off.

********

#river cartwright fanfic #river cartwright/ofc #river cartwright #river cartwright/reader #river cartwright/you #slowhorsesfanfiction #slow horses #jack lowden #fanfiction #fanfic #am writing

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princessmisery666 · 11 months ago

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I should be writing. I need to get fics finished… instead I’m binging Slow Horses

#slow horses #should be writing #brain doesn’t wanna #Apple TV #river cartwright #Jackson lamb #Gary Oldman #jack lowden

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miracl3-align3r · 3 months ago

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I’m only on the first book of the Slough House series but I guessed what would happen with River learning about his past and family a few episodes ago and I don’t think I’m gonna be mentally alright the rest of this season😞 This shit is heavy this season oh my fucking god

#River needs a break bro #The writing and the plot in general are so good it kills me #slow horses #river cartwright #slough house #jack lowden

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primadonalover · 4 months ago

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♡ Bonjour, my beautiful darlings! ♡

This account - I'm still figuring out what exactly I want to do on this account but I WILL be accepting requests, I'm really excited to hear ideas and get writing!

Rules for requests -

Angst 🖤 Yes but nothing to dark

Smut ❤️ Not really

Fluff 🩷 Uh obviously yes

Character Requests

Bucky Barns

Slow Horses/River Cartwright

Tyler Owens/Glenn Powell

Eddie Munson

Al Pacino

Dunkirk characters

Larry Durrel

Friends/Joey and possibly Chandler

(I will think of more)

About Me - Just a vintage pink girly that loves fashion...and men

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sleevebuscemii · 11 months ago

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started slow horses for my darling angel queen olivia cooke and now they’ve shot her in the head two episodes in. fuck off.

#like. what am i to do here then?? watch gary oldman try to be begrudgingly lovable??? fuck off #at least jack lowden is pretty #(the shows good actually like the writing is kinda silly kinda 2012ish but it’s good. i want olivia tho :( she was the best part by far)#m

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conundrumoftime · 2 months ago

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I love that AO3 lets us tag ships and characters, and I love that it lets us use additional-tags for background ships and characters, but sometimes it gives me headaches. Example, one of my own fics:

There are three people in that story. THREE.

So this is my usual thought process on tagging ships in my fic at the moment, although it's more a position I've drifted into and might yet change again rather than any settled firm stance:

Characters with multiple names: If it's some way relevant to the story and AO3 treats the character names differently (as a sub-tag, as a separate tag), I tag both just to be clear. This is a Silmarillion fic in 2nd-age Eregion where Sauron is presenting himself as Annatar and also thinking of himself as 'Annatar' in his own narrative, so: both.

Ships with more than two characters: I have seen people feel very strongly in both directions about whether to tag the component ships of an ot3. What I do is that if the story's just about a, b and c together, I'll only tag a/b/c; but if one of the a/b, b/c, or a/c relationships are important in some way, if there's interactions between them other than smut mechanics, I tag that too. So this story has all the component pairs tagged because there's interactions between all of them; my more recent short Rings of Power Celeborn/Galadriel/Sauron one only has the 3-person ship tagged.

Ship tags vs. adding a ship in the additional tags: my usual approach here is that if the ship is in the fic and is important to it in some way, it's in the main ship tags; if it's there but not really a significant part of the story I put it in 'additional tags', so it won't turn up if someone's searching for that ship but it's there just in case someone really wants to know it's there. (Also mentioning this here because not everyone knows this trick: if you want to filter AO3 for fics with only your preferred ship in them, filter for that ship and then add 'otp:true' in the 'Search within results' box.)

Ship order: I know that some people do this as a 'ranking in order of importance to the story' thing when there's multiple ships in the same fic, but I usually don't because this gets too subjective.

None of this is formal AO3 Rules obviously or me telling anyone else what to do; just my approach on all this because it came up a couple of times talking with writer friends about tagging and ships recently

#writing #love triangles have three sides #i usually tag both sauron and halbrand for TROP Haladriel too if he's Halbrand in them #but in one I'm working on now he's currently appearing as Jack Lowden prequel Sauron rather than Halbrand so i'm not sure with that one

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itsderelict · 3 months ago

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I'm so deeply in love with River Cartwright and Jack Lowden. It's a problem.

#slow horses #river cartwright #jack lowden #this is like week 2 of hyperfixating but I need to get it out there in the world #because i feel the intense urge to write fic and make gifs and analyze every film he's ever been in...

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sansaorgana · 1 month ago

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Now when Deception is nearly finished (I'm gonna post two alternative endings on Friday), I can focus more on writing shorter stories. ❤️

I have one story already started with Sauron and Maia!Reader but unlike Maia!Reader from In Perpetuity, she is a good spirit in this one. This story will be written for sure (+ I'm thinking of one plotless smut but that's uncertain yet) but I also have other ideas and I would like to know if you're interested in them...

Those are just ideas and concepts and I am not promising I'm going to write them all because some are more developed than others but please let me know if they interest you so I know what to focus on while daydreaming lol 😆

1. Sauron x Morgoth's Ex!Reader 👹

2. Sauron/Halbrand x Elf!Reader where she is becoming human for him (like Arwen for Aragorn) because she doesn't know he is actually immortal... 🙈

3. Sauron/Annatar x Celebrimbor's WIFE!Reader 🤡

4. Adar x Elf!Reader where she is a good Elf (kinda like Galadriel) 🔮

5. First Age ginger loser Jack Lowden! Sauron x Reader – just an idea to write more for him specifically if you'd be interested 🦊

6. Dad!Sauron x Reader – would you be interested in more fics where Reader and Sauron have kids (like in Blessed)? 🍼

#sansaorgana's shitpost #sauron x reader #adar x reader

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thyras · 13 days ago

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I have been chipping away at this final part of Luminary, and gosh, I do not want it to end. But you bet it is going to be a long one, so saddle up. I am just loving writing sweet Jack Lowden!Sauron rn Here is a little taste, a memory before everything changed:

“We are married,” you murmured, your voice soft as you both caught your breath. The exhaustion of your entwined forms lent itself to lazy smiles and slower, more tender kisses. Your fingers traced the curve of his ear, your touch light as a feather until you playfully pinched the tip. Mairon chuckled, his lips curving into a playful smile as his own fingers danced up your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“Well, in the elven way at least,” you mused, your lips hovering over his as a brief smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The kiss you shared was fleeting but heavy with yearning, a depth of hunger that threatened to consume you. It was not enough—this touch of lips. You wanted more, needed more, to devour him completely and sate the aching, carnal desire burning within you.

“Marriage is a strong proclamation,” he said at last, one brow arching in mock scorn. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. In your chambers' dim, flickering candlelight, his eyes sought yours, catching a glimpse of the faint, lingering warmth in your aura—the warmth that had captivated him long ago. “I wholly doubt our master would approve.”

A devilish smile played on your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers trailing over his jaw with deliberate intent. “I believe,” you said, your voice laced with mischief, “that the union of his two most loyal servants might offer certain... advantages.”

Mairon laughed softly, his hands sliding to your waist as he drew you closer. “He covets you, my dear Nelyanna,” he murmured, his tone low, a touch possessive. “You are like one of his bloody Silmarils.”

“Do I hear a hint of jealousy in my dear Mairon’s voice?” you teased, your tone light and playful as you propped yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at him. His disapproving look only fueled your mischief, and a soft hum escaped your lips as you lowered your lashes and brushed more of his fiery hair from his face, revealing the green eyes you adored so deeply.

He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on your face, tracing every feature as though committing it to memory. There was a heaviness in his silence, an unspoken truth that weighed upon him. He knew he was selfish, his desire to keep you entirely to himself warring with the reality of your shared service. Morgoth had plans for you—great and terrible plans that Mairon could not bring himself to share with you. Fear kept the words locked in his throat. Fear, and the knowledge that you would not resist, so long as he remained at your side.

You loved him too much, and he knew it. You loved him blindly, complacently, willing to carry out your master’s bidding without question as long as Mairon’s presence anchored you.

Morgoth saw this—used it against him. The Dark Lord’s malice was cunning, precise. He showed Mairon visions, horrors that twisted his soul. He revealed futures drenched in blood and despair, futures where Mairon’s failure to keep you here would bring unspeakable ruin. And if your work faltered for even a moment, the punishment was swift and excruciating.

It was torture for Mairon—agony that burned through his flesh and seared his resolve. But you? You remained untouched, unscathed by the Vala’s cruel hand. Morgoth would not harm his prize, and Mairon both hated and envied the sanctity you were afforded. It only deepened his determination to keep you here, at his side, no matter the cost to himself. For as much as he loved you, his fear of losing you—to Morgoth, to his own failures, to the world beyond Angband—consumed him entirely.

#trop fic #sauron x reader #mairon x reader #sauron #rings of power fic #mairon

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annaelizabethhenry1 · 2 months ago

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Echoes from the Past - Chapter 2

Summary: River visits his grandfather post season 4 at the care home. The visits conjure memories of River’s childhood and teen years as he grapples with his grandfather’s declining mental health and how once he’s gone he’ll have no one left. Warning – spoilers for all four seasons.

A big thank you to my coven and our endless discussions about this fic and scenarios for Little River and the tough discussions around dementia. Writing may seem like a solitary endeavor, but its always a group effort - hugs and kisses to Alex @cillmequick and Dot @coffeeflavored <3

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

As it was a long bank holiday weekend, River decided he’d stay at his grandfather’s house to make visiting him daily for the next few days simpler. The light was going down rapidly along the garden’s treeline and River hurried inside, clutching his bag of curry take-away. He flipped on the lights in the study and the kitchen. He also switched on the heating as it was freezing in the house. He missed the days when he would visit and the house was lit, warm with the fireplace crackling. Now the house was just an empty shell of its former self. It sat cold and dark, no life stirring from within it.

As the radiators banged and hissed to life, River took out the curry, pulled a fork from a drawer and was about to sit down at the empty kitchen table and sighed. “God, how pathetic,” he muttered. Was this going to be his existence going forward, sad take away meals alone in a drafty house? He never realized how much he enjoyed his grandfather’s company until it had been taken from him. He took for granted the camaraderie they shared over the years.

River walked back to the study with his curry and sat down in his usual chair as he couldn’t bring himself to sit in grandad’s as it would always be his even after he was gone. Mind you the chair River sat in used to belong to his Nan, but after she passed grandad told him it was his spot from now on which made it different.

It was so quiet in the country compared to his noisy flat in London where there were always sirens, cars rushing by and people shouting. Just like when he first arrived here when he was almost seven, the silence made him feel lonely and isolated, like you’d survived some dystopian horror and only you were left. The silence hadn’t scared him for ages, but now it suddenly did because before even with the silence there was the chatter of his grandfather to fill the void and that was now missing.

River thought back to one of his first nights in the house. When everything seemed new and rather frightening. He’d never lived outside of London before nor had he ever stayed somewhere so fancy. It reminded him of how people on the telly lived.

On the third night with his grandparents, River lay awake in his bed in what his grandparents called the guest room, but there was talk of making it more comfortable for him. He wondered if that meant it would his room. He’d never had his own room before – usually he slept on a pull-out sofa or in a sleeping bag. He couldn’t fathom having a whole room that was just for him. Grabbing his bunny, he shuffled from under the cosy comforter and went to the window to look out.

River could not understand his grandparents yet. He always made a point to figure out how his mum’s latest boyfriend worked. What would upset them, what would make them happy or at least indifferent to him. With Nan especially, nothing seemed to trouble her.

River whispered to Mr. Hoppinheimer, “I don’t get how they haven’t yelled at me yet. It’s been three whole days…I thought for sure when I spilled the milk today Nan would yell, but she didn’t.”

His grandparents were obviously older, but did this mean they yelled less or was it something else? An owl hooted in the tree near his window and River jumped. “What was that? A monster?”

The wind tossed the branches outside and one was close enough to scrap the house, scaring River further. He clutched his bunny while another sound echoed in the night sky and River shuddered as tears ran down his cheek.

River’s door creaked opened and light from the hallway poured in as his grandfather appeared, smiling. River quickly wiped the tears away, his mum hated it when he cried.

“River are you all right, lad?”

He shook his head no because he was scared and confused. River worried what his grandfather would do next. Best case he’d ignore him, worst he’d yell.

“Well we can’t have that,” David said coming into the room and turning a little lamp on that cast a soft glow about the room.

His grandfather sat down at the edge of the bed closest to River, “Come sit next to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

River looked at this grandfather who smiled and patted the spot next to him. River hesitated, but went over and sat down. Grandad wrapped an arm around him, “Are you scared?”

“Yes, but I promised mum I wouldn’t be any trouble…”

“Oh, River my boy being scared isn’t causing trouble. You don’t have to worry anymore because I’m here to protect you, so is your Nan. We want you to be happy and we can’t do that if you don’t tell us how you feel, all right?”

Grandad pulled River closer and kissed the top of his head.

River didn’t know what to do. He felt so different. Like for the first time someone didn’t mind him being there. It was almost like they were happy he was here with them, especially his Nan.

“It’s so quiet here…but when I hear things…they scare me,” As if on cue the owl hooted. “Like that!” River snuggled into his grandfather’s sweater hoping he wouldn’t mind.

“Oh, that’s an owl. Tomorrow we’ll go out and investigate the garden and I’ll show you where the owls live and maybe if we’re lucky enough we’ll see an owl in the daylight as they usually hunt at night.”

“What’s investigate mean?”

“Explore. There’s so much to see around here. I can take you down the road to where the neighbours keep their horses. You’d like to see that, right?”

River brightened up. Someone wanted to do something especially for him. He didn’t understand it but he was glad his mum left him here. Mind you, he didn’t trust it yet, but this felt so different than what he was used to.

“I like it here even if it’s scary at night.”

“It won’t be scary for long. You’ll get used to the different sounds. But you can always come to us if you’re scared. You don’t have to stay here afraid.”

“Won’t you be cross if I wake you?” River asked afraid he pushed too far.

“Cross? No, never.”

Grandad soothed River, tucked him back in, bunny and all and shut the light, but left the door open so he wouldn’t feel alone.

River thought wistfully on that moment, it was the first time he felt truly safe and loved. He knew recapturing that now was impossible given his grandfather’s condition. It also made him wonder if his grandfather was afraid when he was lucid, that he knew he was slipping away and couldn’t do anything about it. What could River do to soothe him? He had to find a way to comfort him after everything he had done for him. River knew his grandfather was flawed – more than ever now after finding out who his father was and what lay behind it. But still he owed him and deep down he knew his grandad had done his best for River all those years ago.

River started as his mobile rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Catherine’s name appearing on the screen. He thought it odd she’d call this late. He hoped everything was all right. “Hi Catherine. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, hi River, yes. Just wanted to check in with you. I knew you said you were visiting David this weekend. I wondered if you had gone down.”

“Yeah, I did. He wasn’t so good today…he wanted to go home and then later he didn’t know who I was…”

“Oh, River…I’m so sorry. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. Why don’t you try bringing some photos over with you? Remember the article I sent you mentioned that often helps them as their minds often live in the past, so seeing photos of you when you’re younger might bring him around,” Catherine urged from the other end of the line.

“Right. I forgot about that. I’ll go find some when I finish my curry.”

“Take away again, honestly,” Catherine huffed.

River chuckled. “It’s not like I’m in the mood to cook.”

“My offer still stands.”

“I know. I’ll see how tomorrow goes,” River said.

Catherine Standish had offered to come by for the day and visit David as he was familiar with her from their “adventure” together after River left David with her when they perused by both the Park and an assassin.

After River finished his curry and tidied the kitchen, he went upstairs to his grandparents’ room. The door creaked as it opened, turning the light on the room came to life. He looked around, everything was tidy. The bed made, the curtains closed, the furniture recently polished. He wished he could take credit for it, but right after he left his grandfather at the care home, Catherine came by to help organize things with River, which included a weekend of tidying-up the house as it was long overdue for some sprucing up.

River opened the closet door, staring at the sparse contents as half of it was in the care home with his grandfather and the other space belonged to his Nan who’s clothes had been donated long ago. A box caught his eye on an upper shelf. It looked like a hat box that would’ve belong to his grandmother. Reaching up he removed it and was surprised by its weight. Placing it down on the bed, River opened the lid, “Oh, wow…” It contained cards, drawings and other ephemera River had made growing up. He had no idea his grandparents had saved these. They were bundled neatly unlike his own memory box.

As he shifted the piles and removed them to the bed, he saw the weathered rocks he decorated for the garden when he seven or eight. Then there was the ‘Best Grandad’ pin River bought for him one Father’s Day. He held it for a moment remembering trying to pin it on his grandad’s sweater with his little fingers and being pricked by it. River smiled. Digging further he found a child sized watch with the face scratched.

“He kept this?” River muttered feeling his face flush as he looked up at the ceiling blinking back tears. The battered watch held a special memory for River, it was the catalyst in his bonding early on with his grandad.

River had been with his grandparents almost a month when they presented him with a very cool digital watch that had a special little button that made it light up in the dark. He’d only taken it off to have baths since he received it, but one Sunday evening he realized it was missing from his wrist. He was seized by panic - his grandparents would be so disappointed in him if he already lost the watch.

While he was still trying to understand his grandparents, River knew this was definitely the type of thing that would lead to yelling – it had to. He lost far less precious things when he was with his mum and she got so cross, calling him careless. It was no wonder that she left him here. Now where would he go if his grandparents got tired of him losing things or being clumsy? But with no father, who would take him in next? River remembered watching Oliver on the telly a while ago and thought how horrible it would be to live on the streets being a thief. Would Fagan be nice to him? River doubted it as no one seemed to like him. He’d not be able to keep Mr. Hoppinheimer or his new bear Benjamin who had a very smart bowtie.

“Wait! Maybe it’s in the bathroom!” River darted across the hallway into the loo.

River looked on the floor, under the rugs, by the sink, and under the towels that were neatly stacked. It wasn’t anywhere. He was so crestfallen and slumped to sit on the cold, tile floor, scared to tell them he lost the watch. Near tears, River tried to take a breath, but could feel his chest tighten as he was near hyperventilating. He breathed in and out harder. He had to think, where had he gone today? The kitchen, dining room and study – oh the garden!

Earlier before dinner he and his grandad went into the garden to check on the pots to see if anything sprouted up yet. Grandad even gave him gloves to put on that were too big for him. Maybe the watch fell off then.

Darting back across the hallway, River went into his room to put his shoes on and then realized how would he get out of the house without explaining to his grandparents why he was going outside? The house was very creaky, but he already knew which steps made the most noise as he liked playing a game where he avoided them hopping around.

Tip-toeing in the hall and down the stairs avoiding the creaky spots, River edged around the wall and poked his head into the study and spied his grandparents involved in their books while the fire crackled. Seeing they were occupied, he made a dash to the kitchen. River peered out the kitchen door noticing the light was fading fast. He went into what his Nan called the jumble drawer where random things like screwdrivers, tape measures and a small torch were kept. He slid it from the drawer noiselessly as possible. The doorhandle was an odd lever River hadn’t completely remembered how to use and it squeaked a little when he turned it the wrong way. His heart pounded as he froze. All he heard was ticking from the clock in the entry hall and a tiny throat clearing from his grandad. River sighed. He pulled the door open just enough for him to get out. He immediately dove out of sigh against the chilly stone wall.

“Whew, okay that was close,” River mumbled as he turned the torch on and began his search around the clay pots.

Just as he looked between the last batch of flower pots with the torch he heard the kitchen door squeak shut. “NO!” River whispered turning quickly and arcing the torch beam into one of the windows. He hastily turned it off less to draw attention to the garden. River went on his hands and knees in the damp grass to hide when he noticed his missing watch in a tuft of high grass around one of the larger planters.

River wrapped the watch around his wrist and proceeded to crawl back to the house to stay out of sight till he reached the back door. Slowly, he got up and peered through the metal and glass panes. The kitchen was dark, so no one was there. River turned the lever but met resistance. “It’s locked,” River whispered in a panic. Now what? He pushed on the door to see if it was stuck, but it didn’t budge. “Wait…the key under the yellow pot.” Nan told him about it in case he ever got locked out in the garden. He retrieved the key and ever so slowly turned it, hearing the click he breathed a sigh of relief and quickly returned the key under the pot and slinked back into the dark kitchen.

Just as he was about to make a dash to the stairs light flooded the room as his grandfather appeared from the pantry area, “River whatever have you been doing out in the garden in the dark?”

Grandad walked towards him and took the torch from a stunned River’s hand. “Well?”

This was it, he was done for, off to an orphanage for him or worse. “I…I…umm…”

“David is everything all right, who are you talking to?” Nan shouted from the study.

“River, he came down for a glass of water,” Grandad coolly replied.

River was surprised his grandfather lied given he caught him sneaking around.

“River love, do you want a snack?”

“No, Nan, I’m not hungry, thanks!” River shouted back.

“So, what were you up to?”

River felt like he could trust being honest since his grandad just lied for him. “I lost my watch, Grandad. I went into the garden thinking it was there and it was,” River held up his wrist.

“Why didn’t you just ask? We would’ve looked with you, River.”

“Mum always said I was careless and I didn’t want you to be cross,” River said looking up at his grandad with those sad blue eyes.

“My boy, we all lose stuff, wait till you’re my age, I misplace things all the time!”

Impulsively, River hugged his grandad around the waist, tight, which took David by surprise and he wrapped his arms around his grandson. “I have to say I’m impressed as I didn’t realize you left the house. I came to put my mug in the sink and noticed the door was open a little and closed it. Only when I saw the light did I realize you were outside. Always remember if you hear noise when sneaking about with a torch to turn it off immediately and then hide.”

River pulled away and looked up curiously at his grandfather, “What? You didn’t mind I did that then?”

“Well, best not tell your grandmother, she wouldn’t approve, but I see you’ve got potential,” he replied with a warm smile.

“What’s potential?”

“Ah, in this case it means,” Grandad leaned in and whispered, “I think you could be a good spy one day.”

“Wow,” River managed.

“That’s between us, remember,” his grandad winked.

River tried to wink back but only achieved an awkward form a blinking which made his grandad chuckle.

The memory in retrospect was even more bittersweet than River liked to admit. The irony of him ending up in Slough House, being the biggest disappointment anyone could ever be to a grandfather who had been first desk. Maybe it was a good thing Grandad couldn’t remember things anymore, it saved him the embarrassment.

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

David Cartwright shambled through the hallway that led back to his room. All the chatter from the dining room became too much for him. He was used to his home and the quiet, not constant yammering. Turning the knob to his room he heard his name called and twisted to find the small lady who always seemed happy coming at him.

“Did you not want to play bingo?”

“Bingo’s for old people,” he responded turning back to his room and pushing the door open.

Orla chuckled. “Yes, of course and you’re clearly too young for that kind of thing. Would you like to play chess or checkers with me?”

David plunked down in the leather chair. “I hate all the noise, so no thank you.”

A lightbulb went off, he hated the dining room and rec room because it was too much for him. “We could play in here where it’s quiet. And maybe you’d like cup of tea, too?”

“Maybe…I used to play with River. I taught him to play chess. He never got very good at it, always was an impulsive player. Where is my boy?”

“He was here earlier at lunch, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I don’t remember. He hates me anyway. He only comes because of Rose.”

Orla was beginning to see the picture more clearly now. Not only was it just the dementia at play, but a family rift or misunderstanding. There wasn’t much time to repair this either given how quickly the dementia seemed to be progressing. “No, I spoke to him earlier, we had tea and cake together. He cares about you very much, I can tell. I think it’s hard for him to deal with his feelings. Let me get that chess set and come back, okay?”

“Yes, whatever,” David mumbled.

Orla returned a short while later with a boxed chess set and Sylvie bearing a small tea tray. The two women set everything up near where David sat.

Finally sitting down across from David, Orla began to put the chess pieces on the board. “I’ve had a long day, it’s nice to sit down quietly here to be honest, I can see why you wanted to as well.” She knew that many dementia and Alzheimer’s patients became frazzled from too much stimulation depending on what stage their condition was in, but she did wonder about David as he seemed so sharp sometimes. She’d have to chat with River further about his thoughts as he was the best judge.

“Yes, well I’d rather be in my own quiet home.”

“Where would you be right now if you were home?”

“My study with my books and some whiskey.”

“Avid reader?”

“Yes.”

“I love Dickens. My favourite is the Pickwick Papers.”

“That’s a terrible choice. Why not Bleak House or at least David Copperfield?

Orla smiled and continued to place the chess pieces down. “I like to be different. It’s his only truly humorous work and I do so love to laugh.”

David cracked a shadow of a smile. “I see you know how to set the board up. Let’s see how well you play.”

“I’ wager you’ll route me in no time,” Orla said with a cheeky wink.

Orla knew she was far from a chess champion, but David Cartwright despite his age and mental health was still quite the chess player as within the hour she had been corned into checkmate.

“Checkmate!” David said triumphantly.

“Ooo! Damn!” Orla said. “Sorry…”

“No, you’re within your right to swear. You weren’t paying attention to your bishop earlier hence you’re in this mess now. I always told River not underestimate the power of your bishops. Not that he ever listened either.”

“You love River very much, don’t you?”

“Of course, he’s my boy.”

Orla sat quiet for moment. She wanted to say that his grandson was his son in every way that truly mattered and I’m sure River felt he same way. She decided to push a little. “Yes, I can tell. You’re very proud of him I’m sure. Though I do wonder why you think he doesn’t care for you.”

David’s face changed, Orla saw it immediately. She lost him. Damn!

“Yes, well he left me here to die,” David said gruffly, pushing the little card table with the chess set towards Orla.

“He did that to keep you safe. I know it’s not easy to admit, but sometimes we need help.”

“Help? This is what you call this hotel hospital environment? We’ve all been left here to die because someone who loved us just can’t be bothered.” He crossed his arms and turned his face away.

Orla did hate to admit that she had seen many people left at care homes who had no visitors and it always broke her heart. But this wasn’t the case for David Cartwright. His grandson cared a great deal. “May I call you David?” he shrugged in response. “David, your grandson is a busy man with a career and no doubt a personal life and he just can’t quit his job and stay with you as you do really need constant support to ensure you don’t get hurt.”

“I’d rather die than be here.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Maybe when River comes by tomorrow it’ll make you feel better about all of this. I’ll get Sylvie to help you to bed if you’re ready. Maybe you can watch some telly or I can get you a book from the library.”

“Just leave me alone!” He said much louder than he intended.

“Okay, have a goodnight and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Orla said with a sad smile and tiny wave.

Two steps forward and one step back she thought. Tomorrow was indeed another day and she’d make the most of it.

#jack lowden #river cartwright #slow horses #river cartwright x oc #slow horses fanfiction #david cartwright #slow horses season 4 #anna elizabeth writes

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