#missy dropped that the doctor gave it to me when my daughter line

[doctahchang]

would like to know the lore of my own oc that i have had for like ten years

edit: found an old sketch of her... i basically drew her for the first time eons ago and haven't changed her design ever since (sad that i won't be able to find those drawing again)

[forever-rogue]

Omg Congrats my beautiful baby!!! So happy for you and its well deserved!!!!

I am going to request with Frankie: prompt list 1, #11 “be my wife” and prompt list 2, #163 “fuck me”

ILY! 💋❤️💋💋

I think its time Frankie got some love 🥺💕🥰

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader ; warnings: mentions of pregnancy

Frankie Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Frankie walked into the small house you had made into a home, he was hit by the smell of delicious cooking. A smile tugged on his lips as he pulled off his work boots and set them in the small rack you'd placed by the door when you'd moved in. He'd never thought about such a thing before, but once you'd brought it in, he realized how much he liked it. It was just one of the many touches you introduced that made him feel truly at all home. 

As he hung his jacket on the coat rack, he heard you singing softly to Isabella, as much played in the background and you shuffled around the kitchen. He slowly walked in, making sure to make as little noise as possible so he wouldn't interrupt your sweet moment.

His heart instantly melted at the sight, and he could feel a flush of warmth was over him. You had her in the high chair, turned towards you as you worked on dinner and sang to her. She was giggling and cooing at you, waving her little fists around. As you cut a piece of carrot up, you handed one to her before taking another piece and eating it. She followed suit as you praised her, "see, you're so good with your vegetables! You're going to grow up so big and strong, my little love!" 

Frankie's heart melted at the sight of you with his daughter. She might not have been biologically yours, but she was yours in every other sense. You'd met Frankie when she was only a few months old and he had just finalized his divorce. His ex wife wanted nothing to do with him or her and had been more than happy to hand over sole physical and legal custody, even choosing to dispel her visitation rights. Not that Frankie minded; sure, being a single father was hard, but it was better than having her around a parent that couldn't care less.

You'd quickly come into his life, and had fallen in love with him and her like it was nothing. And now she was almost two, and you weren't planning on going anywhere. Frankie and Isabella were your forever. As far as you were both concerned you were her mother - one day he even hoped to make it legal. There was just one little thing he needed to do first, that'd he been dying to do for some time. He just...never could, often getting too lost in the moment.

"Yes, of course," you promised her, almost as if you decipher her question through her mouthful, "we'll tell Daddy tonight! How does that sound?"

Frankie's brows knitted together in question as he wondered what you were possibly talking about. Before he could get too lost in his line of thought, Isabella looked around and spotted him. Her face lit up with excitement as she leaned towards him. Frankie couldn't help himself as he came in and picked her, snuggling her tightly to his chest, "hi Izzy! I've missed you, baby girl!"

"Hello, my love," you grinned at Frankie, pleasantly surprised by his sudden arrival. Everything already felt so much better and livelier now that he was home for the weekend, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I didn't want to interrupt," he put his free arm around your waist as he pulled you close. You grinned before leaning in and kissing him softly. He made a small, contented sound as he beamed at the two of you, "I missed you, Honey Bee. And Baby Bee."

"We missed you too," you promised as Izzy laughed before wrapping her chubby little arms around his neck as best as she could, "little missy has been excited for you to come home all day. Well...so have I. We made your favorites for dinner and dessert!"

"Tell me what I ever did to deserve this," he touched Izzy's cheek gently before giving you another kiss. This was… everything and more than he could have ever dreamed of or believed he deserved. But you constantly reminded him how much you loved him, how good of a man he really was. And for the first time in his life, since you'd been by his side, loving him, supporting him, he believed it.

"Hmm," you mused thoughtfully, "a lot of things. But I have a big favor to ask of you now…"

"Anything."

"Take the Baby Bee here and get yourselves cleaned up for dinner," you gave both your loves a kiss as a flush of pink tinged his cheeks, "it'll be ready soon."

"I can handle that," he agreed as he tickled Izzy's side and she giggled with joy, "alright baby, time to get clean before Mama yells at us both!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

As Frankie cleaned himself and Izzy up, your stomach was in knots as you worked up the courage to tell him your news. You could hear the two of them laughing and giggling upstairs, and you instantly felt better. You were excited about this - and you knew he would be too, but still...it was going to be a huge change.

You plated up the food, making sure to cut Izzy's into smaller pieces before setting the dining room table. Every second that passed had you growing more nervous.

Shit - how were you going to tell him? There were a ton of different ways, and right now none of them seemed quite right. Maybe after dinner, after you'd put her to bed you could tell him.

"Here we are," Frankie exclaimed as he made his reappearance, clean and changed, right along with your daughter. You smiled at them, still finding it hard to believe just how much alike they were. She had his gentle eyes, with those wild, dark curls, and that singular dimple that appeared when she smiled. She was almost a carbon copy of him - especially right now as she supported matching little flannel pajamas to his, "we decided to get comfy already! Do you want to go and change, Honey Bee?"

"I'm okay," you promised as he sat her down in her high chair before pulling out your own chair, "what a gentleman."

"Anything for my girls," he said with a wink as he sat across from you. You nudged his leg gently with your own, offering him that smile that never ceased to make him melt, "how was your day, honey?"

"Nothing too exciting," you swallowed the lump in your throat as you pushed your bite down. You'd been to the doctor that morning, having made an appointment to confirm your suspicions and make sure everything was okay. Naturally, you'd brought Izzy with you as it was your day off and you always spent those days with her. Afterwards you'd taken her for ice cream and a trip to the park to feed the birds before tending to stuff around the house. The whole day was spent trying to figure out how to tell Frankie your news, the grainy black and white photos tucked in with the mail serving as a constant reminder, "just the usual stuff. We went to the park and Izzy fed the birds, huh baby?"

"So many duckies and their babies!" she agreed excitedly as Frankie listened to her try and recount her adventures. Your heart melted as she rambled on, but then… "the babies were so little and yellow. Like Mama's baby! Its like a...kumq...kum.."

Your eyes widened in surprise as she easily spilled the beans without even thinking about it. Of course she had no idea that this was a big secret or she shouldn't say anything...you just hadn't expected her to actually say anything. Frankie laughed lightly at her struggle to name the fruit, watching her little brows furrow in struggle, "kumquat? Is that the one?"

"Yeah," she grinned before scooping up another bite and shoving it into her mouth. Frankie affectionately ruffled her hair before chuckling. You were frozen in horror as he didn't seem to put two and two together, but soon enough it seemed that the gears in his head were grinding away.

"Wait...what do you mean Mama's baby?" he looked between the two of you as Izzy nodded and pointed to your still non-existent bump. A look of confusion crossed Frankie's features as he turned to you, his eyes soft and the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, "Honey Bee...what is she talking about...what's going on?"

"Surprise," you said nervously as you set your fork down, trying to keep your hand from trembling with nerves, "you're going to be a daddy again, Francisco."

"What?" his voice was soft as his chest rose and fell deeply, trying to comprehend the news you had just dropped on him. Your eyes stung with tears, both of joy and nerves, as you molded with a gentle smile, "Bee, are you serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered as a few tears rolled down your cheeks, "we're having a baby, Frankie!"

"Fuck me," his own eyes were glossy as you laughed in amusement before pointing at Izzy who was busy playing with her food, "we're having a baby!"

"Yeah," you stood up and quickly rushed to the mail stack, pulling out the sonograms you had gotten earlier and racing back over to him, eagerly holding them out to him, "I wasn't sure...I thought so and went to the doctor to confirm today. That's our baby, Frankie."

He delicately took the sheet from you and examined them, looking at the small bean that was your baby. His eyes grew misty as he traced over one before looking back at you, "holy shit...we're having a baby."

"I know...its all so surreal," you whispered as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck, "I love you, Frankie. I know it wasn't planned or anything...but I'm so happy."

"Me too," he agreed softly, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder, "you have made me the happiest man...you are everything. You, Baby Bee, and now Baby Baby Bee. I couldn't ask for more."

"Frankie, the two of you...well the three of you, are everything I could ever want," you promised as you pulled back and pressed a kiss to his lips, "nothing could be better than our family."

"I love you so much," he beamed at you, "I...I have-"

"Ask Mama! Daddy ask Mama!" Izzy was excitedly grinning at the two of you before making grabby arms. You raised a brow at him before going over to pick her up and bouncing her gently on your hip.

"What was Daddy going to ask?" you asked excitedly as his cheeks flushed a bright red. You reached over and touched his cheek, brushing your thumb over his skin.

"I...umm...I was going to…" he paused for a moment, swallowing nervously before blurting it out, "be my wife? I umm...Honey Bee, will you marry me? Finally...I mean, I know we're basically married already, but I want to make it official."

"You want to marry me?" you looked at him with wide eyes as he nodded fervently, as if saying of course, "yes, a million times yes. Of course I want to marry you. Nothing would make me happier."

"I-I-I have a ring," he stammered as he looked around, quickly dashing to the living room. Izzy giggled as you made a silly face at her, before he returned with a small velvet box. He opened it and displayed the gorgeous ring to you, "will you marry me, Bee?"

"Say yes, Mama!"

"Yes," you grinned at him, "nothing will make me happier than to officially be your wife."

He pulled the ring out and slipped it onto your finger, "perfection. Just like it was meant to be…"

"That's because it was, my love," you kissed him softly, "I love you - our whole little family so much. You are all my everything."

"Yes," he agreed with a gentle sigh, "my always and forever. My Honey Bee, and our Baby Bees. I love you all more than anything."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @queenbbarnes  @persephonesnebula   @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander  @rae-gar-targaryen    @hiscyarika  @readsalot73  @huliabitch  @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd  @beepbeepsephy   @scarlettwitcher  @nerdyknightwritersblog  @choicesarcade  @arrowswithwifi  @everythingaboutnothingstuff  @suckerfor-fanfics  @bestintheparsec @javihoney  @aeryntheofficial  @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial  @asgardianvamp21  @keithseabrook27  @karmezii  @dearspacepirates  @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou  @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian @phoenixhalliwell @lucifer @cosmoschick @kochamcie @linkpk88 @leaiorganas

[abbatoirablaze]

Teller Morrow Tragedy, The Prequel, Chapter 12

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of violence, gun violence, murder, stab wound scars.

Alicia's POV

"Mommy, I don't want to go," she cried looking at me, "I want to stay with you and Auntie Tara. Why can’t I stay?"

"baby," I said, bending down to her level, "you told daddy you would come see him, remember? Mommy is going to drop you off with him, but she's got to go to New York for work."

"I wanna come with you then," she pleaded as we drove to Jackson's house, "You'll get to spend time with Aunt Mandy and talk about going to first grade....and Aunt Missy turned 11. Grandma gave her a bunch of make up and you can play dress up with her. And daddy said that he got the room painted in your favorite color."

"Blue?"

I nodded, "pretty blue. And he got you a big girl bed. It's bigger than your one at home."

She stopped fidgeting in the back seat. I drove to Jax's place. His bike was in the driveway, along with Ope's. They were both working on something in the garage. I pulled in and the boys came out to greet us, "be nice to your daddy."

She rolled her eyes at me, "I will. But I’m doing it for the big girl bed."

“That’s my girl.”

He went straight to the back seat and began unbuckling her, "hey sweetheart."

She smiled and helped him undo everything, "hi daddy."

"I've got a lot of fun things planned this summer," he said. I got out of the car and hugged Ope, "mommy said I could keep you until your birthday. Mommy will come back down for that, and we are gonna have the biggest party at the club. It’s going to be crazy!"

"Really?" she asked. Her eyes got wide. Jax nodded. I smiled at Ope. It was nice that he was getting to finally bond with our daughter.

"You gonna stay?" Ope asked, "Kenny was born a few weeks ago..."

I shook my head, but smiled, "Donna sent me the pictures. You guys are adorable though. Give her my best."

He nodded and I turned my attention back to Jax and Mikayla, "you okay Mikey?"

Mikayla rolled her eyes at me, "why do you call me that?"

"Someone's sassy," Jax laughed, looking at me, “she have a nap today?”

"Mommy calls me that a lot…sassy.... What is that?"

"I thought you said she liked the nickname Mikey?"

"Not since H-A-P-P-Y and I broke up," I admitted. Jax sighed, “it was ‘their’ thing together.”

"Well what am I going to do with this?" Jax asked, going to the garage. He came back with a small garage shirt from TM that looked like it was her size. The name embroidered on it was 'Mikey', "your grandpa and I had this made for when you work at the shop with us."

Her eyes got wide as it was a blue shirt, "you got me this?"

"Yes ma'am. You going to come work with me at the garage?" he asked, “help us fix up some cars and work on some bikes?”

She excitedly nodded, "YEAH!"

"Good," he smiled. He turned towards his best friend, "can you help her put it on? We actually gotta go down to the garage in an hour…Clay said that Lowell hasn’t shown up again."

"Yeah," Ope said, leading her into the house. Jax turned towards me.

"Sure you don't want to stay a little bit?"

I shook my head, "gonna drive back to the airport. My flight leaves in a few hours and it'll take that time to get everything checked back in."

"How are you doing?" he asked. I looked at the ground, "have you been alright? Chibs said you won’t go to the therapist the doctor recommended."

"It's been rough," I admitted. "Everything healed all right, but I just feel so anxious all the time. I feel so afraid. I bought a guard dog. The neighbors are watching her. She's a giant German Shepard. I like it when I'm at work, because I'm busy. I don't know what I'm going to do in New York...without her."

He put his hands on either side of me, and began rubbing up and down my arms, "if you need anything, call me."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

He smiled softly, "Leesh, I know it's been rough for you. But you got Tara up there with you. You aren't alone. And you always have us down here."

I nodded, "I know Jax."

"I'll always be here for you," he whispered. I felt his arms snake around my waist, and I put my arms around his neck. We just stood there, staring at one another for a few minutes, "I miss you."

"I miss you too...every day Jax..." I admitted, "but you know we can’t be together...we’ll never be able to work out."

"I know."

I leaned forward and placed the smallest of kisses on his lips. I felt him lean into it as I pulled away. He kept his eyes closed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he whispered hoarsely. He opened his eyes and I saw something I hadn't seen in his eyes in a while. Lust. For me. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he leaned forward and returned the kiss. This time I felt my eyes close first.

He backed away quicker than I would have liked, and it was his turn to apologize.

"You’re right. We shouldn't do this," he sighed. I nodded, agreeing, before turning back to the car and grabbing Mikayla's bag, “It’ll just confuse us…and Mikey…”

"Thank you," I whispered as he took it, agreeing with his statement, “I-I should go.”

"Call us when you land?" I nodded and he kissed my cheek. Our daughter came out running from Jax's house, and I got caught up in my thoughts. This is how it should have been all along. Him and I, a house...a family.

I shook the thoughts from my head as I said goodbye to our daughter and got back into the car. I pulled away as Jax lifted her up to wave me off. I smiled. Maybe he can still be a good father, yet.

I made my way back to the airport and got everything checked in. I fell asleep thinking about Jax finally being a father to our daughter...and our kiss.

When I woke up, the flight attendant was helping me get ready to de-board the plane. I apologized for holding her up and made my way to the baggage claim. When I made it to the pickup area, I saw my boss Michael Emory. He had told me that we were on our way to pick up some 15-year-old hacker. He'd managed to hack into a major government website, and they'd tracked him down to a place in the Bronx. We were to meet with him and discuss a deal.

When we got to the station, we were met by the FBI, "what's the updates boys?" Mike asked.

"He's refusing our offers. Said he wants to speak to a lawyer. We got him some public defender, but he won't talk, so we are bringing you guys in to negotiate a deal. He's a major hacker. He erased files for the Leone family."

I felt sick to my stomach. My hand instantly went over my stomach as I could feel every single old stab wound. I thought of my unborn son. Mike looked at me but said nothing. Instead, he turned towards the agents, "And what do you want us to do?"

"We need him on our side. He'd be a great asset to the agency. Full protection. Updated status as an untouchable."

Mike nodded and the men walked away. He turned to me, "I didn't know it was the Leone family, Alicia you can rec-"

"I'm not recusing myself," I said immediately. I gripped my briefcase a little tighter, "let's go flip this kid."

He smiled and patted my shoulder, before we met back up with the agents and made our way to the room. The agents opened up the door and I saw a small Puerto rican teen looking at us, "Michael Emory, Alicia Morrow. I'd like you to meet Juan Carlos Ortiz."

I don't care what you guys are trying to get me to do," he said with a laugh, "I don't know shit. I don't know what you want me to do...but I ain't doing it."

"Mr. Ortiz," Mike said, "we know that you have erased files for a Frankie Leone. These were government files that were encrypted. That's highly illegal."

"I don't know shit," he repeated once more, “does anyone have the time?”

"Mr. Ortiz is refusing to answer any questions about the matter," the public defender said. I nodded at Mike and began to set out my files for Leone across the table.

"You want coffee?" Mike asked the public defender. He didn't respond, "come on. Let's get a cup. Take a break."

"I'm not leaving my client to be questioned without representation. He's a minor."

"She's not a lawyer. Anything he says without you will be inadmissible. The FBI has authorized any offer I deem worthy. This falls under that jurisdiction." Mike waved his hand and the camera's set up in the corners in the room stopped recording, "she's just going to set up files, so Mr. Ortiz realizes what he's looking at with and without our help."

The public defender nodded and told the kid that he'd be back in ten minutes. The kid shook his head and watched as the public defender left with my boss. He nodded over at me, "so what are you then? You aren't a lawyer."

"I'm his intern," I said, setting the last of the files from my brief case out, "I also know what it's like to deal with the Leone family. His family has reach in Chicago too. It's not as big as here in New York...but it exists."

"I'm not going to help you guys," he said slowly, “I don’t care what it is that you think you can offer me!”

"They threatened to hurt you?" I asked.

"I wouldn't care if they hurt me," he said, “I’m not what matters.”

"Your family?"

"I have a mom and sister," He admitted, "I do what they say, and they make sure we don't end up homeless. My mom busts her ass with two different jobs...and before I started helping them, we were so behind on bills."

"So money and protection," I said, "you know...they'll kill you and your family when they are done with you."

He looked at the photos, and then back at me. I could sense the worry in his eyes. I saw tears forming in his eyes, "what time is it?"

I shrugged, "Why does it matter?"

"They picked me up at 9 PM. It has to be morning by now," he replied, “I-“

"Why does the time matter?"

"I have a drop scheduled today. Proof that the job was done. I'm supposed to be there by six."

"You aren't going to make it."

"I have to."

"If you came in at 9 PM, you've been here a day and a half. It's 11:30."

His eyes got wide, "You're lying. It feels like it's been forever, but a day couldn't have passed."

"I got the call almost 2 days ago," I said, "Since then I've dropped my daughter off with her father in California and taken a plane here."

"I need a phone," he said quickly, "my phone. Can you get it?"

I nodded and stood up before knocking on the door. One of the FBI agents opened it, "get his phone from check in."

They nodded and closed the door once more, "I want you to help us. But you have to know that they are merciless."

"How would you know?"

I began to undo my blazer. I lifted up my shirt just enough to expose my stab wounds, "They did this to me about 7 months ago. I was pregnant. They murdered my son because I was working the first case that got thrown out."

I tucked my shirt back in and buttoned my blazer

"Shit."

"Mr. Orti-"

"It's Juan. Juan Carlos. Please don't call me Mr. Ortiz," he sighed, "I fucking hate that shit. I’m fifteen for christ sakes."

"Juan Carlos," I began. I started walking towards him when a knock came from the door. The agent was back with his phone. I took it and closed the door. I made my way back to him and sat the phone between us on the table, "I need you to know, I'm doing this because I want to make sure you live. They will kill you if you don't accept our help. Juan Carlos...you need to tell us everything.

He took his phone and turned It on, before pressing a series of numbers, "they messaged me."

"What happened?"

He laid his cell phone out and pressed play on a video message that they had sent him. A Puerto rican woman a little younger than him was crying. There was a piece of cloth tied around her hands and she was gagged. The phone moved to an image of an older woman in the same manner. They were both crying. They kept saying that they didn't know where Juan Carlos was. The men wore ski masks. They placed the women in front of a computer in what looked like a small bedroom. I saw the tears on his face fall onto the table as the men yelled at her to log on. When she kept saying she couldn't, they threw her on the bed and shot her.

The younger girl began to cry harder as they placed her in the chair next. She knew the password to log onto the computer and typed it in. The man told her to show them a file. She searched the computer and found it, crying harder, begging them to let her go.

The men laughed from behind her as they watched her shake with fear. She showed the men an empty file and they shot her, execution style. The bullet went straight through her skull and into the computer screen turning it black.

Mike and the public defender walked in as the final gunshot rang out.

"They think I ran." Juan Carlos said simply. The tears fell from his face and onto the table, "they killed them even though they saw I got rid of it."

"Mr. Ortiz I advise you to st-"

"SHUT UP," He all but screamed, "whoever the fuck you are, you're fired."

The public defender stood, with Mike for a moment, unsure of what to do. Mike ushered him out of the room before turning back to Juan, "we're going to have to take that in for evidence, kid."

"I'll sign whatever deal you give me," he cried, tears streaming down his face, "but I can't go home."

"You wont," I said slowly. I took his hands in mine, "you don't ever have to go back there."

"Where can I go though?" he asked, “My mom and my sister…I don’t have any other family…I-I don’t kn-

"You are a minor," Mike said, sitting down, "are you sure you don’t know about anyone else? An aunt? A grandparent? You really don’t have any other family?"

He shook his head, "all I had was my mom and sister."

"We can't put you into foster care," he said, "they obviously think you are on the run."

"He can stay with me."

"Alic-"

Mike had begun, but I cut him off, "I've dealt with the Leone's before...I can handle it. I'll take guardianship since he's a ward of the state."

"I want to go with her," Juan said, "I won't sign any deal unless that's in it. I'm staying with her."

Chapter 13

Tag List: @lohnes16, @evyiione

[ericsonclan]

Do Re Mi

Summary: Louis and Prisha prepare for some music time with the little kids.

Word Count: 2374

Read on AO3:

Prisha took a deep breath as she looked around the music room. Her eyes traveled over to Louis, his fingers  brushing over the top of the piano keys. Resting on the music desk were the sheets to a musical number they had worked to write down the notes for years ago.

“You ready, my music confidant?” Louis smiled over towards Prisha who returned his smile.

“Are you kidding? I’m beyond ready. To tell you the truth, I’m quite ecstatic to be singing from The Sound of Music again,” Prisha readjusted her braid, her excitement radiating off her body.

Louis gave a laugh then spun around on the piano bench. “I can tell! I can’t blame you, I’m really excited to be playing for all the kiddos again too!” Louis’ fingers danced on the keys for a minute to double check that the piano had been tuned properly.

“Already playing I see,” Clementine’s warm voice drew her husband’s attention to the door. He was immediately greeted by Maisy who barreled forward and jumped onto the piano bench to hug her dad.

“Yay! Music time!” Maisy yelled happily then looked back to see her little brother Lee Kenny walking forward to reach Louis and his sister. Clementine shook her head good naturedly as she strolled forward, Juliet resting peacefully in the sling across her chest.

Louis swept Maisy into a hug and held her in his arms before leaning down and scooping up Lee Kenny as well. He kissed the pair’s foreheads and nuzzled his face against theirs.

“Stop, that tickles!” Maisy pressed both of her hands across her father’s mouth.

“Sowwy,” Louis’ reply was muffled behind his daughter’s hands.

“Maisy, what did we say about using your hands to cover people’s mouths?” Clementine’s tone was calm yet serious.

Maisy let her hands fall as she frowned. “That's bad. Sorry,”

“That's okay, just be more careful next time,” Louis smiled over at his daughter who returned the gesture in an instant. Soon Louis’ attention turned to Clementine who moved forward and captured his lips in a tender kiss. Louis hummed happily, a goofy smile on his face as he pulled back before stealing another kiss. Lee Kenny covered his face at that which seemed to amuse his parents as they shared a laugh together.

“I can take that little ray of sunshine,” Louis gestured toward Juliet, placing down Maisy and Lee Kenny who seemed sad for a moment before they noticed Prisha. While Louis worked to get the sling on and pressed a kiss to his youngest child’s forehead, Maisy and Lee Kenny scampered over to their aunt and began to fight over which one Prisha would hold. Prisha nervously tried to explain that they would both get short turns of being held though her voice was mostly drowned out by the quarreling. Louis and Clementine watched their friend for a few seconds, enjoying how overwhelmed Prisha was getting.

“Now hold your horses, Savannah,” Ruby’s booming voice made the others look to see that the loveable redheaded doctor was struggling to get her rambunctious two year old to slow down a bit so she didn’t hurt herself.

“Savannah, slow down for Mama,” Zachariah scolded his younger sister as he walked into the room while holding his father’s hand. Aasim smiled down at his son then looked over to see that Ruby had picked up Savannah who had a big pout of her face.

“Don’t make that face with me. You gotta behave or you can’t have music time with Uncle Louis and Aunt Prisha.” Those words made Savannah calm down a bit as she held onto her mother tightly.

“Heya, ‘Sim!” Louis smiled over towards Aasim. Aasim smiled back and moseyed into the room. His hand that held Ruby’s swayed back and forth as they walked forward together.

“Hello,” Aasim glanced over to see that Prisha was trying to calm down Maisy who was upset that Lee Kenny got to be held first.

“I’ll help, Prish,” Clementine walked over to run interference.

“Come on, Zachariah, let's get seated along with your sister,” Ruby instructed and her son gave a short nod before running forward, his tiny notebook tucked under his arm. Ruby shared a quick kiss with Aasim then headed over to settle her kids down. Zachariah immediately sat down and held out his arms to hold his younger sister. Savannah smiled and wrapped her arms around her big brother’s neck.

Soon Clementine had gotten Maisy to calm down and she guided her two oldest children to sit beside the others on the music room floor. Clementine said her goodbyes, giving all her kids a soft kiss then stealing one more from Louis before exiting the room. Aasim and Ruby soon began to say their goodbyes as well.

“Now both of you behave and Zachariah, be sure to look after your sister,” Aasim calmly told his son who gave a firm nod, his eyes shining with determination. After that was done Ruby wrapped both of her kids in a hug and peppered their faces with kisses then left, hand in hand with her husband.

“Well, looks like everyone is here!” Louis put his hands on his hips and gave a big smile to the kids.

“Not everyone,” Violet’s tired voice appeared in the doorway.

“This is fucking stupid,” Allison grumbled as she walked forward, one of her hands resting on top of her pregnant belly.

“Allison, language.” Prisha looked towards Allison who frowned. Her feet whacked against the floor as she made her way to the rocking chair.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I have to be here though; I’m not a little kid. I’m married. It's insulting being lumped in with them,” Allison gestured to the little kids. Lee Kenny was currently trying to sit in Maisy’s lap who kept pushing him away while Savannah was trying to put her foot in her mouth.

“Savannah, no! Mama said that was unsani- unsanit- it's not clean!” Zachariah struggled to help his little sister stop her bad habit.

“Because you’re a kiddo just like them!’ Louis beamed. “You’re Prisha and Violet’s kid,”

“I know who I am,” Allison groaned as she readjusted her position on the rocking chair. “But if that's the case, why isn’t AJ here?” She let out a tired sigh. It would be more fun with her best friend here, especially since Willy was out hunting with Jesse.

Louis’ eyes grew large at that as he realized that Allison had made a good point.

“Because you’re pregnant and besides the books show that the child’s ears have formed. I thought it would be nice for them to hear some music,” Prisha looked over at her daughter who saw the hopeful excitement on Prisha’s face as well as the ever prevalent concern in both her and Violet’s eyes.

“Fine,” Allison leaned back, forcing the chair to start rocking.

“Plus, AJ isn’t pregnant,” Louis added with a grin.

Violet gave a sharp yawn causing the conversation to stop.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Prisha rested her hand on Violet’s face as her eyes searched her love’s.

“I’m fine. I’ll take a nap later, promise,” Violet leaned forward and captured Prisha’s lips in a warm kiss then sharply turned around on her heel to leave.

“Be careful!” Prisha called out to Violet who spun around and readjusted her glasses.

“Always,” With one final soft smile Violet left to go help out around the school.

“Shall we get started?” Louis stood up to push back his tailcoats and dramatically sat down on the piano bench again.

“Is it safe to have Juliet there?” Prisha’s question made Louis glance down at his daughter nestled in the sling against his chest then up at his friend.

“Yeah, totally. I’ve done it with Maisy and Lee Kenny when they were younger.” Louis had a casual smile on his lips as he responded.

“Music!” Maisy’s hands shot up and she bounced impatiently on her spot.

“Alright, alright, missy. Let’s calm down a bit, we’re gonna start soon. So, ready?” Louis glanced over at Prisha who gave a confident smile, her excitement quickly returning.

“Hit it, maestro,”

Louis beamed at those words and began to play the tune. It started with only a few notes and quickly Prisha’s voice joined in.

“Let’s start at the very beginning,

A very good place to start.

When you read you begin with,” Prisha gestured over to Zachariah who was surprised that the participating was already beginning but he quickly remembered this song.

“A-B-C,” Zachariah spoke slowly and clearly, his smile growing when he saw the proud look on Prisha’s face.

“When you sing you begin with Do-Re-Me,” Prisha’s warm voice danced around the room as she held out her hand to signal for the kids to repeat the final part she had sung.

“Do-Re-Mi!” the kids all sang together. Zachariah and Maisy tried their best to sing it while Savannah and Lee Kenny were shouting the three words with determination.

“Do-Re-Mi,” Prisha repeated the line. “The first three notes just happen to be... Do-Re-Mi,”

“Do-Re-Mi!” The kids joined in once more, some of them bouncing excitedly from the joy of getting to sing along. Prisha glanced over when she had heard Allison’s quiet voice join in, causing the musical enthusiast’s eyes to sparkle with happiness.

“Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti,” Prisha sang each note as Louis went up key by key while she sang it. “Oh let’s see if I can make this easier,” Prisha paced back and forth and gave a bright smile to the kids who seemed overjoyed.

“Do, a deer, a female deer.

Re, a drop of golden sun.

Mi, a name I call myself.

Fa, a long, long way to run.

So, a needle pulling thread.

La, a note to follow So.

Ti, a drink with jam and bread.

That brings us back to Do, oh, oh, oh.” Prisha’s finger bounced to the tune as Louis played it lively. Juliet squirmed around in the sling but she soon settled, seemingly calmed down by  her father’s presence and the sound of music.

“Do!” the kids all yelled. Lee Kenny and Savannah seemed really proud about getting the word on the right beat before Prisha and Louis finished the line “a deer, a female deer.” With each note the kids chimed in then let their aunt finish the rest of the line.

Re, a drop of golden sun.

Mi, a name I call myself.

Fa, a long, long way to run.

So, a needle pulling thread.

La, a note to follow So.

Ti, a drink with jam and bread.

That brings us back to Do.”

Louis immediately started the next part of the song and Prisha took a break as all the kids began to repeat the chorus. Zachariah and Maisy seemed to keep on the beat, their voices working in harmony while Lee Kenny and Savannah only shouted out the name of the musical note in each line. Prisha soon joined in once more and smiled happily when she saw that Allison was rocking back and forth in the rocking chair as she sang quietly.

“Now is the fun part,” Prisha walked towards the kids while Louis’ fingers dramatically played the key as he gave a playful smile. “We can now mix up the notes. Ready?” “Ready!” The kids spoke in somewhat unison.

“So, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do, Re,” Prisha’s voice rang throughout the room then she held out her hand for the kids to join.

“So, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do Re,” the kids followed along and bounced happily in their spots.

“So, Do, La, Ti, Do, Re, Do,” Prisha’s voice went up and down with the notes she sang.

“So, Do, La, Ti, Do, Re, Do,” Maisy sang the loudest at this part and smiled proudly at her dad.

“Okay, now let's put it all together,” Prisha instructed, then took a deep breath. “So, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do, Re. So, Do, La, Ti, Do, Re, Do,” The kids’ voice joined and melded with hers as Louis continued to play the piano.

“When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything,” Prisha’s alto voice danced through the room as she spun around once. She was starting to become lost in the joy of music. The sight made Allison smile softly. “Together!” Prisha instructed and the kids all immediately joined in.

“When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything,”

Soon the chorus started again and Prisha held out the music note as the kids finished the rest of the line before she moved on to the next one. Prisha pointed from child to child and they began to sing out the individual note as the music range grew higher and they approached Do. Then they went down the music notes one by one. After this the music notes jumped from one to another as Prisha pointed to each kid including Allison to let them know it was their time to participate.

“Do-Mi-Mi

Mi-So-So

Re-Fa-Fa

La-Ti-Ti

Do-Mi-Mi

Mi-So-So

Re-Fa-Fa

La-Ti-Ti!”

“When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything,” Prisha sang slowly and Louis joined in once more as the kids added in the music notes’ names here and there. Once that had finished up Prisha, Louis and the kids sung the chorus once more before finishing with a mixture of the music notes. Soon the song was reaching the final notes and everyone hit the final note together. Prisha belted it out, letting her voice ring throughout the music room as the last few piano keys were played. Just as Louis pressed the final key, Prisha finished the note and let herself catch her breath.

“Again! Again!” Maisy clapped her hands together and beamed at Prisha and Louis. The two friends shared a smile.

“What do you say, Prish? Once more from the top?” Louis held his hands over the piano, his fingers hovering mere inches from the black and white keys.

Prisha’s smile grew and she gave a short nod. “Let’s do it!”

The kids all exclaimed excitedly at that and the two music confidants shared a soft smile. There really was nothing like the joy of music.

[authordanaelsamms]

Chapter One

           Every woman longs for an uninterrupted stretch of peace. That’s what makes death so inviting. Most of her life, Persephone felt the call of eternal sleep. It lingered in a secret corner of her heart like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

           As she stood on the front steps, a silent call echoed to her over the pasture. Any other warm afternoon, she might find herself walking to the cemetery and sitting under the lone oak tree there. She might slip her hands from her mitts and pull her skirts up over her knees while she sat between familiar tombstones. On these visits, the itch gnawed harder.

           Envy flowed in her blood for each of them.

           Perseus, Helen, Missy, Mother.

           The names carved into flat stone waited that day for her flowers and visit. Someday eternal visit. Until then, her best relief came in the time she spent quietly beside them.

           Persephone relished her moments alone. Picturing the narrow path down the hill, over the pasture gate, between the trees, and across the meadow. Her mind carried her to the patchwork graveyard. The only other presence was the wind shaking the limbs of the trees and washing over her skin. For a brief moment that day, she’d found complete tranquility.

           Pleasure broke.

           A clatter reminded her that she still stood on the front steps. Behind the house, someone had dropped a pan on the stone floor of the kitchen. Frustrated shouts echoed with the rising heat and hurry. There was too much work left and too little time for error.

           There would be no walk that afternoon. Her grassy throne of tangled tree roots would have to wait. Guests were coming, and she needed to find Abigail.

           Like any other sunny afternoon, Abigail would be working in the herb garden. The midsummer warmth offered too many blooms, leaves, and roots that required plucking. No doubt most of Abigail’s night would go to laying out a collection of gathered herbs to dry before grinding what she’d gathered the day before.

           Near her garden, Father once built a private shed for Abigail’s work. In past years, it was filled to the brim with requests from family and neighbors for pain relievers or any sort of wild remedy. Any spare jar from the kitchen and pantry were toted into the little room to be filled with blackberry leaves or geranium oil. When Persephone was small, Abigail teased her about being a witch, but even then she knew it was a joke.

           “That’s how I got my eyes. I stole them from a lady who didn’t believe in my powers.”

           When she was four, Persephone’s head only just reached the windowsill. The shade of the one room shed offered a breeze and relief from hot afternoons, and the sweet scent from Abigail’s work was too inviting to ignore.

           “Then why do you travel so often with Dr. Abbott?” she’d ask from the doorway.

           “Who do you think taught him to be a doctor?”

           Even as the demand for her work had declined, sweet aromas still drifted from Abigail’s shed. A garden that once saw vines and flowers spilling over its white fence lay half empty in recent years. Tonics and teas that used filled shelves were confined to a single chest.

           Occasionally, a neighbor might send word for black cohosh or white snakeroot. Yet the current requests for remedies did not match what was requested ten years before. Not after the work of God was blamed on a house slave.

           With the bone poking through her worn stays and into her back, Persephone rounded the opposite side of the house. Out of sight of the herb garden, she made her way to the barn. She told herself a couple minutes could be spared inside it. After resting his leg away from the heat, Cerberus would be ready to join the others in the pasture. Persephone was duty bound to tend to him herself.

           In the late afternoon, all was quiet. A soft breeze flowed through the stable’s open doors. Extra trees encircled the building, blocking out some of the heat. Between the soft wind and the shade, it was one of the coolest places on Oakwood during the summer. In the winter, with trees breaking the wind and livestock filling every stall, it was one of the warmest.

           An old mare was the only horse inside besides Cerberus. His chestnut head ducked over the stall when Persephone entered. He let out a soft nicker when she approached. If one being was ever permitted to join her solitude, it was the gelding.

           Loneliness shared by the two of them was heaven. That afternoon, the heaven was being rocked by a loud and persistent pest. The shaded stable was usually clear of flies, but one large, black annoyance kept passing Persephone’s cheek and narrowly missing her hair.

           She shouted in frustration and swooped to miss the horsefly. The commotion drew the attention of one of Father’s recent hires. Persephone collected herself and pretended not to notice him.

           Run down frontiersmen and those looking to avoid the law often found work from Mr. Nicholas. Usually three or four of them appeared in a year on Oakwood. A few returned more than once if they needed the work. Not only did they guard the biggest loads sent to market, but on occasion they could be rather convincing to anyone who might pose a problem.

           All of them knew to stay out of the way of the plantation’s routine. And each was smart enough to stay clear of Persephone. The money from Mr. Nicholas was too good to make him angry by approaching his daughter. For any reason. The man near the barn was a regular of the odd hires, and Persephone always pretended not to notice him. Yet his language was not lost on her.

           The fly swooped again. She swatted the air, but it took no interest in leaving her for the horses. Finally, it made the mistake of landing. In a loud crack of wood against wood, Persephone’s riding crop smashed the horsefly in a blundering heap against the stall.

           “Deserving shit,” she whispered to the splattered body as she strode by.

           Abigail’s salve had done its work. The nick to Cerberus’ fur had been small, most likely a scruff with another horse in the pasture, but it still drew the attention of his lady. For two days she shooed away help from the stable hands and leaned over his long legs to wash and tend the wound.

           His leg was healed and coat in no need of grooming. Out of ideas for delays, and the bone still poking her back, Persephone gave in. The horses were put out, and she turned back to the house.

           Abigail was almost hidden in her garden. A week before, she’d brought a sprout from the woods and replanted it. Only her straw hat was visible over the short fence as she crouched to examine the patch's newest addition.

           Her dedication to wearing the hat sealed the youth on her face. Long walks to gather plants and hours with her mortar and pestle kept her body slim and strong. Persephone remembered running to Abigail’s side and seeing the same, youthful face since she could walk. Any time not spent with her plants and salves was devoted to caring for Persephone. As Persephone passed into adulthood, she still lingered at Abigail’s side and followed her direction.

           “It’s still set on poking me to death,” she said from the gate. Beneath her dress, her old stays were wearing thin. In the center of her back, a pointed piece of whalebone poked through the fabric and irritated her skin.

           “I told you it would,” Abigail kept her eyes on the lacy white flowers.

           Manure and dust kissed the edges of Persephone’s dress. Yet in the garden she took care not to run her hem in the dirt. At least not in front of Abigail.

           “You also said you’d fix it.”

           “I mentioned attempting to fix your stays were there time.”

           “Is there?”

           “Probably not.” At last she turned to Persephone, blue eyes shining from the shade of her hat. “Not since you’ve checked every corner of the house for dirt and been to the barn twice.”

           Persephone smiled back at her.

           “My other stays don’t fit properly under the blue dress,” Persephone lingered at the gate, aimlessly brushing dirt from her mitts, “and Father told me to wear that one.”

           “It brings out your eyes.”

           “I’d rather wear the purple. That one fits better and matches the other stays.”

           In her opinion, none of the colors matched her raven black hair, but that was her curse for bearing the last name Nicholas. Almost daily she found herself longing for soft blonde curls like her cousins. At twenty, the hopeless wish remained.

           Abigail’s fingerings brushed the soft yellow petals of a flower, “Tell me what this is.”

           “You call it a piss daisy,” Persephone replied.

           “I’m the only one who does.”

           Quizzing Persephone on plants and their uses was routine. For the life of her, none of the information stayed in her head very long. None of the information Abigail asked, that is. She examined the clipping and noted the purple coneflower, for colds, and the common chamomile, but that was not the bloom in question.

           “It’s poisonous,” she said after a moment.

           “Anything can be a poison if you use it right.”

           That basic answer was usually adequate. Another tediously long stretch of seconds passed as she focused hard on the yellow flower.

           “Father takes it for the pain in his hand.”

           “Arnica,” Abigail explained as she collected her basket. “For some pains, and yes, like almost any herb taken in excess, it can be lethal.”

           “I was half right.”

           “For anything,” she chuckled. “Salt might kill a man if he had enough.”

           Persephone blanched at the thought and turned toward the house.

           “Will you please help me now?”

           “The Tanners will be here soon,” Abigail led them through the back door. “I doubt that’s enough time to fix those stays and see you dressed. You’ll just have to wear the purple one.”

           John Nicholas had been too old to fight the French, and in his own opinion, too young to call himself old. Two years after the war ended, he still refused to be considered old. Yet anyone else would certainly use the word old to describe him.

           His hair had peppered quickly. Though wiry, it remained thick and tamed. Crow’s feet were rooted in the corners of his eyes and echoed across his face to the beginnings of other wrinkles. Permanent frown lines met them. Despite the weathered evidence of time, most could only see his eyes. They were bright blue, like Persephone’s, like all his children once had.

           Those shining eyes were never happy. Disgust and frustration were his chief emotions. Both fought for first when Persephone arrived downstairs in crisp, lace mitts and her purple gown.

           A plain looking carriage rolled to a stop by the open door, giving Father only enough time for a sigh of exasperation. Persephone turned to greet their guests with a warm smile.

           She began the night ahead in their unspoken game and planned to stay there. Starting the evening in a dress of her choice and not her father’s was a perfectly executed move. Enough smartly accomplished moves in a night would bring a victory enjoyed only in the quiet recesses of her mind.

           Samuel Tanner emerged from the carriage and offered a hand to his wife. While neither of them were as advanced as her father, both were old enough to pass as a parental figure. A simple glance to Margaret Tanner would prove they were only friends and not family. The dissimilar appearance to Mr. Tanner confirmed it.

           In his successful years of breeding and training horses, Samuel was not a poor man. His wardrobe didn’t show it. While he did not dress plainly, he still did not see that night as an excuse to dress well. Persephone didn’t recall a single occasion when Mr. Tanner dressed as finely as her father. Mr. Tanner’s clothes were clean, but a wealthy man would consider them only for barn use. Most often, they were.

           Mrs. Tanner more than made up for both of them with her extravagance. More than a fair share of allowance had been spent on ribbons and wigs and fine silks. It was rumored one gown came from Paris, but the gossips had no proof. Mrs. Tanner never rebuked them. Jealous whispers of her fine clothes were better than hushed judgements of her heritage.

           Only Father had been silent about their marriage. Eyes still turned at Sam Tanner’s choice of wife. Neighbors whispered, “wild savage” when the fuss of her ribbons died down. But Mrs. Tanner had grown up in petticoats and buckled shoes just like the rest of them.

           Whenever whispers turned from jealousy of her dresses or trimmings back to her skin and dark hair, a new piece of finery made an appearance. New rumors of her wealth quickly took front stage, and Margaret silently reveled in them.

           To the neighbors scattered across the Virginia frontier, Mrs. Tanner dressed and held herself like royalty. Most of them claimed an entire bedroom was devoted to her petticoats and stockings, though no one who said it had ever set foot in her house. Whether they saw her as a friend or kept a secret hatred for her, she saw herself above them. Even on the Oakwood plantation, her ascension from the carriage was that of a queen.

           “John,” Samuel nodded at the door. “Thank you for having us again.”

           “Always a pleasure,” Father gave a polite bow. “Mrs. Tanner. You’ve both met Persephone.”

           Persephone curtsied, letting her skirts shimmer for Mrs. Tanner to see. She gave a nod of approval.

           “It’s been a while, but it’s always wonderful to see you.”

           “You as well, Mrs. Tanner.”

           “Please, call me Margaret.” She gave Persephone a genuine smile and bounced her plucked eyebrows. With another man joining the party shortly, they both knew they were outnumbered. The thought of friendly conversation between ladies promised for a more enjoyable evening.

           Having no children, Margaret had kept her figure. Father noticed it, and Persephone noticed him. Once their guests had passed them into the house, she shot him a look of displeasure. He glared back.

           Persephone pulled further ahead.

           They moved inside to the only painted room in the house. Soft blue paint made the walls more presentable for guests, while reminding them they were in a Nicholas home. The large, square table was set. Porcelain and candlesticks were precisely aligned for the rare use of the room.

           Most evenings, Persephone and her father didn’t even eat together. If he was working, or pretending to work, a tray was brought to Mr. Nicholas in his study. With no one else around, Persephone ate with Abigail in the kitchen. Even on a warm day she preferred the hot kitchen to any meal with her father.

           Through the window, another carriage could be seen rolling in. Mr. Savidge had arrived.

           Persephone sighed in annoyance. The old man spoke so loud and so often, any other conversation was difficult to be had. To her relief, Margaret took a seat across the table from her. The evening would be much more agreeable with Mrs. Tanner close enough to speak to. Father took his place to Persephone’s right at the head of the table, making conversation harder.

           A loud thud announced Abe Savidge had entered the front door. The end of the cane pounded against the wooden floor until he and his companion entered the room.

           Like Father, Mr. Savidge had greying hair. Unlike Father, it could not be tamed. That evening it forced its way out from under his messy wig in several places. A simple look in a mirror would tell a gentleman to fix it. Unfortunately for Abe, his eyesight meant every mirror he passed was a blur. Unfortunately for everyone else, age left his standards for gentlemanly behavior quite lax.

           “Gentlemen. Ladies.” His voice was rough and matched his unbalanced pace. Every few words were muffled by the thud of his cane as he walked to an empty chair opposite Father. “This is my nephew, Warren. He’s been staying with me lately, learning about the business. I thought he might profit from supping with us tonight.”

           The chair beside Persephone was suddenly occupied by a young man just a few years older than her. While some ladies might have called him handsome, she did not. His association with his uncle was enough to give Persephone disinterest. His jackassish airs completely shut him out of any significance to her, formal or otherwise.

           “How do you do, Miss Nicholas,” his eyes took in her figure as he sat down. Her spine stiffened at the sight.

           “Well, thank you,” Persephone looked across the table for conversation, but Margaret was occupied by her husband. Persephone skimmed over her father; Margaret held his attention as well.

           Even with the table leaves extending it to a fuller size, Persephone thought everyone was uncomfortably close. Especially when the young Mr. Savidge glanced her way again. The quick look was anything but proper, and stealthily laid out before anyone else noticed. She imagined stabbing one of those murky eyes with her fork.

           To Persephone’s relief, Abigail appeared in the doorway with a bottle of wine in one hand and cider in the other. She cast her a look, begging to be saved. Abigail returned it with a silent nod of sympathy and understanding. Tomorrow Persephone would have the chance to relay the events of the evening, and Abigail’s comments would make them both laugh. She could make it to tomorrow.

           “You,” Father interrupted, glaring at Abigail, and pointing to his empty wine glass.

           Persephone sighed as Abigail made the rounds. Her evening was not looking much better. Especially not with Warren Savidge as a guest.

           “No,” Warren’s hand covered his glass before Abigail could fill it, “Do you have any port?”

           “Yes sir, one moment.” She filled the rest of the glasses around the table, saving the cider for Persephone, before slipping back out the door.

           “It has been too long since we’ve come by,” Mr. Tanner glanced Persephone’s way. “Miss Nicholas, you have grown into a fine young woman.”

           She smiled. The last time the Tanners and Mr. Savidge came to Oakwood, Persephone had been only fifteen. That was just as Father was beginning to walk the rest of the house instead of spending dawn to dusk locked inside of his study. Persephone tried to thank Mr. Tanner, but was cut off.

           “Obviously, we need to discuss the Floruitwood estate,” Father’s voice, though gentle at the moment, demanded attention.

           “I doubt Parker left you anything, John, it all belongs to his son now,” Mr. Savidge smiled from his end of the table.

           Father glared back at him. If his daughter was not making the retort, there was little he could do to stop it. Persephone kept her head down but relished the moment.

           “That is exactly the issue,” Father continued, undeterred. “The Parker boy has no understanding of running a trade. He’s hardly a year older than my daughter. If we plan this season well, I think we could drive him out within a year. Maybe two.”

           “I’m not sure John. My father left everything to me when I was seventeen.” Mr. Tanner took more interest to his fork than the others. “I hardly had an issue.”

           “Weren’t you twenty when Grandfather Nicholas died?”

           Persephone knew the answer to her question, but still asked it. Father’s look told her she would pay for the remark, but she encouraged herself it was worth it. Especially with his business partners at the table. He was not catching up in her private game. She felt like a mouse dancing on a rafter in the barn while the cat watched from the hay below.

           If they heard her question, none of them showed it.

           “The boy is lucky to be handed such a venture, but I doubt he is clueless,” Tanner sighed.

           Persephone was curious how losing your parents was considered lucky. Not everyone had a father like hers.

           “He might know his plantation,” Father reminded them, “but trade is another matter.”

           “Stop badgering, John. Tell us your thoughts.” Gravy landed on Mr. Savidge’s front as he spoke.

           “I think we should look to Kingston.”

           Suddenly Father was more interesting than Tanner’s fork or Savidge’s food.

           “The Parkers have had a monopoly in Kingston since they started planting,” Tanner said. “His grandfather made better trades there than we could match.”

           “Since when do you skip a gamble?”

           The words left Mr. Tanner silent. Father held his gaze, not regretting his honesty.

           “You plan to scare him out of it with your men?” Mr. Savidge smiled from his end of the table. “They cost you too much.”

           “Our wagons have always been safe.” Father’s glance told his friend not to mention it again.

           Having consumed half her plate, Persephone’s eyes floated about the room for something else to keep her interest. Unfortunately, they met Warren Savidge’s own gaze. Her attention returned promptly to her plate, but she felt his lingering look on her and struggled not to shiver.

           “How much of your stock can we count on for transport, Sam?” Mr. Savidge cut a large piece of potato and stuffed it into his mouth. Some of it remained on his chin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

           “That’s hard to say,” Mr. Tanner sat up straight. “I’ve kept the usual number aside, but I doubt I can take out more this year.”

           “Why is that?” Father said curtly.

           “You recommended me to your brother,” Tanner replied. “His crop did well last year and is looking even better this summer. Heavier wagons need a stronger team.”

           “He needs that many horses?”

           “He does.”

           “My brother took an easy route,” Father sawed hard at his meet. “He married into a ridiculous apple fortune. Now he has a mad wife and wild children.”

           “The only thing I can image that’s easier is inheriting a tobacco fortune,” Persephone took a sip of her cider.    She could hear Father give a sigh. The rest of the table had not seemed to notice. Except for young Mr. Savidge.

           He caught Persephone’s gaze with a smirk, pleased with her retort. She scowled back and returned her eyes to her plate.

           “His land is worth less than half of mine,” Father grunted. “Even if he’s doing as well as he tells you, Sam, he can’t be making much. There isn’t a point to it. I doubt there’s anything more ridiculous than an apple orchard, except an apple orchard on bad land that hardly brings in a profit. I doubt he paid you what those horses were worth.”

           “He paid well enough,” Mr. Tanner replied. “We’ll still have teams we need to transport what we bring in. We’re lucky our guests didn’t make off with them after all else they took.”

           “How long did they stay?” Father’s voice changed to a different irritation.

           “Only a night. We were lucky. A little farm down the road kept twelve men for the better part of the week. Ours left after breakfast the next day, and only took a few chickens off our hands.”

           Quartering soldiers was still new in the area. Thanks to Oakwood’s position on its little hill and distance from the main roads, they had been free of uninvited guests. Yet even at Mr. Tanner and her father’s obvious disdain for the act, her heart skipped at the excitement of strange men wandering into their home for a night.

           Any guest, including the Tanners and Savidges, was rare. Persephone longed for the company of a few men even if they were strangers and a bit rough and tumble. Having them arrive after Father’s hatred for them would be a delicious treat.

           “I’d hide most of your grain before winter,” Father advised. “That’s when they’ll come through to stay, and only a week of them would be heaven.”

           The turn of conversation appeared lost on the aged Mr. Savidge, who chose that moment to ask, “What mighty steeds have you in store for our bounty, Sam?

           “Only the best, Abe,” Mr. Tanner smiled in return. “It’s the distance you’re aspiring and the speed that we might not make. Can we get a load cured fast enough?”

           “We can,” Father gave a cheeky grin. The others remained on a string of curiosity, and he enjoyed it.

           “Do you share your father’s interest in agriculture, Miss Nicholas?” Warren asked undeterred.

           “No,” Persephone’s answer was sharp. She had shifted into a daydream of handsome soldiers clad in red and irritating her father while they all drank cider in the same room. The young Mr. Savidge proved quite the opposite, and his disruption in her fantasy only further poked the bear.

           “Well,” Tanner broke the short silence, “I doubt your harvest will be ready early enough.”

           “How early?” Bits of potato still clung onto Abe Savidge’s chin.

           “We won’t need to worry if we use our stores from last year,” Father said. “There’s enough there for at least one load to Kingston. Perhaps two. And that’s enough.”

           Persephone watched a trail of wax roll down the side of the candle. Once again, she noticed Margaret. The candle had held most of her attention as well. She smiled at Persephone, sharing in her boredom.

           “The quality might be gone after sitting around all these months.” Even with food staining his breast and chin, Mr. Savidge’s mind stayed on alert. “You know better than any of us the art to curing a crop, John.”

           “I know a lot more than Parker ever did. Anything his boy offers won’t be nearly as good as ours- whether it’s three years old or fifty.” Father withdrew two vials from the pocket of his waistcoat and passed them to Mr. Tanner. “I sent a boy to Kingston last year for an ounce of Parker tobacco. The other is some of my own crop from the harvest before last.”

           The men held the two samples against the light to examine them. They were impressed by the difference. Words were shared of color and scent, all of them passing unnoticed to Persephone as she pushed an unwanted bite of meat across her plate.

           A second line of wax made its way down the candlestick. Supper had lasted longer than Persephone liked, and the candle showed it.

           “Why don’t we just harvest early? I doubt the buying man would care for the difference between these crops.” Warren Savidge spoke up from his end of the table. Both of the vials had arrived in his hands, and he clearly knew less about them than Persephone.

           Dissatisfaction bubbled to Father’s surface. Persephone knew to keep quiet in that moment, and he was left looking for someone to unleash his frustration on. Abe seemed to hardly notice his nephew’s suggestion. Mr. Tanner seemed annoyed, but not nearly as much as his partner.

           “Yes, we could,” Mr. Nicholas scolded. “And while we’re at it lose half our profit from not letting the crop grow. Abe, I don’t think your nephew’s retained anything you’ve told him.”

           The remark left the young Savidge frowning. As much as Persephone loathed her father’s retorts, she loved hearing them poured onto someone else. Especially someone deserving.

           “I see,” Warren muttered. The napkin on his lap became his new focus.

           “Yes, thankfully you do. Until you take over your uncle’s affairs completely, you should stay quiet and learn a few things.”

           Persephone stifled her giggle with a yawn. Thanks to Abe’s age, he had not heard Father’s agricultural lesson. “Undercutting him at Kingston is an excellent plan.” The last of the potato finally fell from his chin. “We could always delay a trip north a few weeks.”

           “Indeed,” Mr. Tanner returned to the conversation. “By the time Parker learns of his loss in Kingston, your next round from harvest would be nearly cured and ready to ship. With our geographical advantage…”

           Persephone slipped a pinch of sugar off the table and into her pocket. The conversation kept the others distracted from her subtle movements. She enjoyed planning another walk to the pasture more than listening to plans of tobacco and sales.

           Candles were half gone and the food had vanished, most of it to Mr. Savidge’s chin and waistcoat. Usually at this point in the evening gentlemen would disperse to the study, but they remained. The conversation faded in Persephone’s ears as her attention remained on the three peas lingering on her plate. Every so often she heard something about a horse or fields. It reminded her of Cerberus’ leg. Perhaps Margaret would like to see it. Of course, Persephone was perfectly capable of caring for him herself; she hardly needed approval from the Tanners. Still, discussing a horse’s leg outside in the pasture was far pleasurable to tuning out plantation owners in the stuffy blue room.

           “Mr. Savidge, I hope you know you’ve been in my prayers these recent months,” Mrs. Tanner’s voice pulled Persephone back in.

           “Hmm?” Abe seemed as lost as Persephone had been.

           “I wanted to offer my condolences,” Mrs. Tanner’s words hardly phased him, “On your wife.”

           “Oh yes,” he mumbled. “It was a pity. Becky was very young.”

           Becky Smith; now Savidge. Persephone had met her once before. The Smiths often threw large parties at their home just outside of town. On one occasion, Father had let her attend without much fuss.

           Becky had only been a few years older than Persephone and looked healthy enough. She wondered if marriage to Mr. Savidge had taken its toll. Why had she married him?

           One glance his way was unsettling. Five minutes in his presence made anyone forget how well off he was. Based on how well Becky conversed on the evening they met, becoming an old maid might have been her only other option. Yet Persephone was certain she would prefer spinsterhood over accepting a proposal from the aged Mr. Savidge.

           She realized she had been staring at a stain on the front of Mr. Savidge’s coat for quite a while. The conversation had moved past Becky and her lack of children and back to tobacco. Persephone looked toward her father without hearing his words.

           Her mind lingered on Becky. As if passing so young was not enough of a sorry tale, less than a year after she was in the ground her husband hardly seemed to care anymore. Indeed, the spinster’s life was looking more and more favorable.

           The sun was growing smaller. At this point in the evening the warm, summer air had faded. Cerberus would be happy. The sugar waiting in Persephone’s pocket would make him even happier.

           After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Nicholas finally offered that they move the conversation to his study where the supply of whiskey waited. Together, Persephone and Mrs. Tanner slipped outside and around the side of the house.

           Most ladies would not leave a clean path in such finery as Mrs. Tanner wore. Yet without any prodding, she pulled up her skirts and took broad strides across the lawn.

           Dusk was settling in, leaving a flattering light on the house, grounds, and individuals. Evening strolls were always preferable to afternoon walks. The heat was diminished, and the pasture was the brightest shade of green.

           Final glimmers of sunlight highlighted Cerberus’ red coat making him shine. Behind the dark wood fence, between a few bay and black mares, he stood out as the most handsome. Persephone reminded herself she would always be biased, but in truth she knew her horse was the best of the Oakwood heard. Perhaps even of any horse she might come across in the colonies.

           At her arrival, red ears tilted forward, and a smooth trot brought him close. He stretched his neck over the top rail. Wide eyed, his flared nose pushed against Persephone’s side. One pinch at a time, she withdrew the mound of sugar from her pocket and let him lick it off her fingers. Immediately he nuzzled her hand for more.

           Persephone offered some of the mess to Mrs. Tanner. With a smile, she politely turned her down.

           “It’s impressive to see a young woman so interested in horses.”

           “There’s not much else to do all the way out here,” Persephone admitted. “Even if there were, Cerberus would still get most of my time.”

           As soon as the sugar was gone, his attention returned to the grass. Clean steps showed his leg was healthy. Maybe not tomorrow, but the following day he would be ready to be ridden again. Persephone felt herself counting the hours.

           “I expected a fine lady like you to busy yourself with parties and suitors.”

           Persephone smiled, careful not to roll her eyes.

           “Invitations aren’t too common all the way out here. When they do come, it’s not easy to convince Father to let me go.”

           “No suitors either? I was juggling two at your age.”

           Time had not been easy on Mrs. Tanner. Yet Persephone could tell she must have been lovely when she was young. Far prettier than Persephone. That would make finding and keeping the attention of any man a much simpler task.

           “In my experience, men don’t seem to take to me,” Persephone focused on Cerberus’ walk. “Honestly, I’d rather be an old maid than fall into a fate like the late Mrs. Savidge.”

           “We all would.”

           Both of them leaned against the fence with their eyes on the heard. Each horse took single steps as they grazed. While each moved in its own direction, as a whole they stayed together as the ventured further into the pasture.

           “Some men are tolerable,” Mrs. Tanner said. “Don’t judge every meal by the spoonful of sawdust you unfortunately swallowed.”

           Persephone’s mind returned to the room. The frequent looks from young Warren Savidge leached into her memory. His hard gaze had seemed to slip under her dress. As she relived the memory, she could see herself grasping one of the lead candlesticks and applying it firmly to his skull.

           “A few must be tolerable if you managed two.”

           “More than tolerable,” she smiled. “One was Mr. Tanner. The other was almost as satisfactory.”

           The herd was merging into the trees. Shadows grew darker as the sun slipped further away. Cerberus had disappeared.

           “Is it too much to hope for more than satisfactory?”

           “Of course not. Just make sure your choice matches your father’s opinion.”

           “I think he’d be fine with anyone who’d take me off his hands.”

           Fireflies began to emerge above the dark grass. They had become the pasture’s only visible inhabitants; their glow steadily getting brighter. Still, Persephone and Margaret lingered by the fence.

           Without any horses in sight, Persephone’s mind remained on the topic of men. In nearly twenty years she had little time around men that were not brothers or cousins. Occasionally she found herself meeting others and discovering the brief pleasure of infatuation. Nothing ever felt long lasting. She knew she liked young men, but love and marriage always seemed like a far-off possibility. Lack of candidates pushed it even further away from probable.

           The idea of being a wife was at least appealing. Bordering on desirable. Discussing it with an experienced lady was somehow fun and unpleasant at the same time. After that evening, a suitable man seemed rather unlikely. The more time Persephone spent alone, the more impossible it seemed. Besides, no man could love her as much as Cerberus.

           “Perhaps I do find someone,” she said at last, “Then I move to his home and spend the rest of my life having his children.”

           Persephone let out a heavy sigh. Mrs. Tanner laughed.

           “Maybe, or not. Such is a woman’s life, but motherhood is not always so terrible.”

           Darkness was very near. More fireflies were lighting up the evening as the grounds faded around them. Persephone stroked the pattern on the back of her mitt.

           “Life is heaven for men and hell for women,” she muttered to herself.

           At the house, goodbyes were exchanged from Mr. and Mrs. Tanner. Knowing Mr. Savidge would hang back perhaps another hour, Persephone excused herself for the night. She had no interest in hearing more of their clatter about harvesting tobacco or Father’s rebuttal for her tongue at the table.

            Slipping out early meant he might forget. So, she daintily made her way out of the room after a moment of pleasant farewells.

           Passing through the narrow space in the front door, she turned carefully to avoid bumping Mr. Warren Savidge. A gentleman might have stepped back so she could pass freely. A gentleman also would not have found her thigh and backside over her skirts as she passed.

           Hell indeed.

[singledarkshade]

Memory Wipe

Part Nine

Amy would never forget the moment she realised that she truly loved Rory Williams.

She always knew she cared for him. She couldn’t go a day without talking to him no matter how innocuous the conversation was. She agreed to marry him, even if she’d managed to hold off the actual day by flying away in a time machine, and was happy about it.

Rory had always been there, he would do anything for her and she knew it, in some ways she took advantage of him because of it.

But the moment she thought he was gone, when she thought he had been turned to dust by an alien creature and there was a possibility she would never see him ever again Amy knew she couldn’t live without him.

She remembered the kiss he gave her when he realised that she had basically killed herself and the Doctor so she could see him again.

The joy and love in it meant she knew he would always be by her side.

Except now he wasn’t.

He was in the hands of a madwoman who had already turned him into a child sending him to live another life away from her.

“Here,” Sara placed a mug in front of her, “I thought you might want some tea.”

Amy gave the other woman a sad smile, “Thank you.”

“We’ll get him back,” Sara told her, “Trust me we’re not going to let that woman get away with this.”

“What’s he like?” Amy asked thoughtfully.

Sara frowned a little confused, “Who?”

“Rip Hunter,” Amy clarified, “I know Rory but I only met him as Rip when he was under the influence of Thawne and I wasn’t me.”

A smile touched Sara’s lips, “Intense, intelligent, annoying, loyal. I trust him with my life and I am going to smack him upside the head when we get him back for going with the madwoman.”

Amy laughed softly, “You’ll have to get in line behind me.”

“I guess you have seniority,” Sara conceded before asking, “What’s Rory like?”

“Sweet, caring, patient, the best man I have ever known,” Amy smiled again before sighing, “Does he know I picked him?”

“What?” Sara asked confused.

“I need him to know that I chose him over the Doctor,” Amy rubbed her hand over her face, “He believed that he loved me more than I love him. I need him to know that isn’t true, that I chose him, that I’ll always choose him.”

Sara reached out and took Amy’s hand, “If he doesn’t know then he will once we get him back.”

Gripping the mug Amy drank her tea as Sara left her alone with her thoughts once more.

From the moment he’d seen Amelia Jessica Pond, Rory had been in love.

True he’d barely been seven years old and had no concept of what love was. All he knew was that when his mum had dragged him round to meet the new people in the village on behalf of the village council, because Mrs Hepworth was visiting her sister, he saw an angel.

Amelia wasn’t happy to be taken from her home to come to live in Leadworth and definitely didn’t want to make friends with the boy whose mother was talking with hers.

She soon realised though that she had a very willing partner in crime who followed her lead with little complaint.

As they grew up Rory remained completely loyal to his flame haired angel hoping one day she would look at him the way he looked at her.

Finally she did, even though it was one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life when she found out how he felt for her.

Their first kiss happened a few days later.

Rory had avoided Amy for three days still totally mortified by what had happened but his gran needed a lift to the church fete with her home-baking so he was forced out of hiding. He helped her empty the boot before he sat in his car brooding. Suddenly Amy climbed into the passenger seat and without a word kissed him as the Macarena played on the radio.

Rip held onto these memories while pain shot through his body as he hung from the ceiling by his wrists.

  “You know this can end,” Druce told him, “All you have to do is agree to help us.”

Rip slowly raised his head, “Go to hell.”

Druce punched him and Rip’s head snapped to the side blood welling up in his mouth, spitting out the blood he glared at the man he’d once called friend.

“So you’ve become someone else’s lackey now Savage is dead,” Rip snarled at him, “The great Time Master Druce nothing but a lapdog.”

The next punch broke one of his ribs, Rip focussed on taking shallow breaths ignoring the man taunting him about his failures, about Miranda, about Jonas.

“If you don’t do what we want,” Druce’s voice filtered through the pain, “Then we will have to find another way. I’m sure Amy will make you much more co-operative.”

Rip turned his full attention on the man standing there, his eyes dark with anger before he began to laugh.

“If you think the Doctor will let her out of his sight until this is over,” Rip smirked at him, “You’re even more of an idiot than I thought. The Doctor will come and he will lay waste to whatever plans you’ve made, probably making quite a few bad puns as he does. You have no idea what you’re up against.”

Druce stared at him, “You’re waiting to be rescued.”

“I’m not the one he comes for,” Rip snarled, the broken rib making it painful to talk, “But you took Amy from him, you took us from our daughter and he’s not called the ‘Oncoming Storm’ for nothing,” he let out a harsh laugh, “With him will come the Legends and you’ve pissed off almost every one of them. All I have to do is stand and hold their coats.”

Druce turned away for a moment and picked up a taser stick.

“If you’re still alive when they get here, Rip,” he replied with a sinister smile, “You’re only useful to us if you give us what we want.”

Pain pulsed through him and Rip let out a cry before he let unconsciousness take him once more.

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

  “No, no, no, no, no.”

River winced when the Doctor kicked the console in frustration, it had been several hours since they’d returned and they were no closer to picking up Rory’s tracker signal than they had been when they first arrived.

“Doctor,” she said softly, “Perhaps you should take a break.”

The Doctor dropped his head, “I can’t stop. I can’t lose Rory again, River. I can’t let Amy lose him again. I can’t let you lose him.”

“And you’re not,” she assured him, “But you’re not going to be any use to him if you collapse from exhaustion.”

He dropped into the seat and sighed, “Rory’s first death was because he pushed me out of the way. I had to drag Amy into the TARDIS to get us to safety while she screamed for him,” he scrubbed his hand through his hair, “Then I had to try to get her to hold onto his memory because he was pulled into one of the cracks.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered crouching beside him.

The Doctor rested his hand on her cheek, “Your father, bravest man I have ever known and one of the best friends I have ever had. I can’t let him down.”

Taking his hand River smiled, “I know you won’t.”

Taking a deep breath the Doctor stood once more, “Let’s try this once more.”

  Sara grabbed a bottle of water taking deep breaths to settle herself. She’d come down to work out for a while needing to do something to get rid of the excess energy that came from feeling so completely useless.

She knew she should have done something. Rip was her friend she shouldn’t have let him walk into what they all knew was a trap. Hearing a noise she turned and found Amy standing.

“Sorry,” the redhead said softly, “I was just walking...”

Sara smiled as she trailed off, “It’s not a problem. You’re welcome to wander. Gideon will stop you going anywhere restricted.”

“Thanks,” Amy gave a tight smile.

Sara nodded, she grabbed a towel turning back to find Amy holding her staff and tentatively going through a few positions with it.

“Can you use that?” Sara asked interested.

Amy shrugged, “I think so. My memories were altered. I don’t know what’s real right now.”

Picking up the spare staff Sara took up a defensive position, “Okay, show me what you remember.”

Hesitantly Amy attacked becoming a little more confident in her moves after a few minutes.

“Good,” Sara said, “Widen your stance a little.”

Following the instructions Amy attacked again.

  Amy accepted the bottle of water from Sara feeling more than a little stunned that she could actually fight like that. All the time she’d spent with the Doctor she had learned some skills but nothing like this.

Rory knew how to use a sword and, despite pretending that he didn’t, Amy was well aware of how often he would go through training drills to ensure he didn’t get rusty.

“It looks like whatever the training was,” Sara told her, “Either it was real or you had some amazing memories implanted but you have some skill and apparently muscle memory. Once we get Rip back if you like I can set up a proper training routine we can work with.”

Amy hesitated, she’d just assumed that they would go home once she got Rory back and they were safe. She hadn’t thought that the people here would want him to stay with them. Anguish filled her as she remembered that Rory now had a full life that had absolutely nothing to do with her. What if she didn’t fit into it?

Finally she gave Sara a small nod, “Thanks.”

“Captain Lance, Mrs Williams,” Gideon spoke up suddenly, “The Doctor has requested you come to the TARDIS.”

“We’re on our way, Gideon,” Sara replied as she and Amy headed into the corridor.

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

  He was cold and alone.

All he had in the world was a knife. It helped him steal which meant he at least got some food to stay alive.

Then she came.

Kind and gentle, she gave him food wrapping a blanket around him to keep him warm, gathering him up taking him to the Time Masters who gave him purpose.

For the first time he could remember he was clean, warm, well-fed and felt safe.

  “I thought you said we needed him to have all his memories?” Druce asked as he watched Missy manipulate the man’s dreams.

“We do,” she replied, “But it should work if he is in a dream-state.”

Druce nodded, “How long will this take?”

“We’ll need to go through this process a few more times,” Missy smiled slowly, “Once he wakens then you can repeat your little display of male bravado. Being injured makes it easier for me to work with his dreams.”

Druce nodded, “Trust me I’m more than happy to torture the arrogant little bastard. He destroyed everything I worked for.”

With an amused chuckle Missy turned back to watching the dreams sliding around the mind of her captive.

This would be fun.

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

  The Doctor looked up when Amy and Sara walked onto the TARDIS.

“Have you found him yet?” Amy demanded as she reached the console.

“No,” the Doctor told her, “But,” he added quickly before she could say anything, “I have an idea”

“Which is?” Sara asked before Amy could.

The Doctor smiled slightly, “You two.”

The two women shared a confused look before turning back to him questioningly.

“I need the two people who care about him most in each of his identities,” the Doctor explained, “Using the TARDIS we will try and create a psychic link which we can then use to track him.”

Sara looked at him confused, “Why me?”

“You care about Rip,” River noted appearing from nowhere.

Sara shrugged, “He’s my friend but technically Gideon is the closest to him as Rip.”

“Unfortunately Gideon is an AI so that won’t work,” the Doctor replied, “There is no way to create a psychic link.”

“You are our next option. You entered his mind to free him after Eobard Thawne altered his personality,” River told her, “You were the one to persuade him to fight back.”

Sara stared at them, “How do you know that?”

“Gideon told us,” the Doctor replied with a shrug.

River rested her hand on Sara’s arm, “Rory told her to provide us with any and all information we needed when we first arrived.”

Sara shook her head in annoyance, “Yes, I care about him. And we’ll be having words about him not telling me everything when we get him back,” she grimaced before adding, “After Amy’s finished with him.”

“Excellent,” the Doctor said, “Take a seat and River will plug you in.”

“Plug us in?” Amy demanded before Sara could.

River moved them to the two beanbags that were sitting in the middle of the floor, “To the TARDIS. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Really?” Sara winced as Amy took her seat.

River nodded, “The TARDIS is very fond of my father.”

Sara looked at the three of them and gave in, “Okay, plug me in.”

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

  Rip cried out as the knife sliced along his ribs despite trying to keep silent. He was exhausted and his entire body ached. His mind felt cloudy as though filled with cotton wool and all he wanted to do was let go but he knew he couldn’t.

Another punch cracked his rib. He was almost sure the same rib had been broken already at some point then healed but he couldn’t remember when that was or how it happened.

He knew he needed to escape but he couldn’t remember where he was or who held him captive.

Rip tried to focus, tried to get his brain to shake the fog surrounding him but he couldn’t.

Pain shot through his body and he gave in slipping into the blackness once more.

But before he surrendered completely to unconsciousness he heard a woman’s voice, “This time let’s focus on Rory.”

  Amy’s arms slid around his waist hugging him from behind as he stood at the TARDIS console. Rory smiled, turning to her and everything else disappeared as his wife kissed him softly.

“So,” she slid her hands into his back pockets, “The Doctor wants to know where we want to go now.”

“Wherever you want,” he smiled enjoying the small kisses she was pressing to his neck.

Amy pulled back and shook her head, “This time you get to choose. Come on,” she took his hand and pulled him over to the screen which showed a star map, “The Doctor says all he wants is for you to point to wherever you want to go.”

Rory hesitated, there was something odd about this but Amy distracted him by whispering in his ear, “Try and choose somewhere romantic.”

Shrugging he pointed to the top right corner of the screen, “Let’s try there.”

“Good boy,” Amy breathed pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The world tilted to one side and Rory fell into the darkness again.

Part Ten

[figsofmyimagination]

Coldflash PotC AU - Prologue

I really had an intense need to read a Coldflash Pirates of the Caribbean AU and I didn't find much on AO3 (and I didn't look elsewhere, so I apologize now if someone has done something similar). So I guess I'm writing it. Prepare yourself for historical inaccuracies, half-assed attempts to research boat, nautical, and clothing terms from the 1700s, and shameless dialogue stealing from PotC: Curse of the Black Pearl.

I finished writing the prologue before I realized there is a waiting list to sign up for an AO3 account, so I'm posting to Tumblr in the meantime. Enjoy and please share if you like it!

Prologue:

The fog lay thick on the ocean so that a teenaged Iris West couldn’t see beyond the bowsprit. Many deckhands referred to it as a pirate’s mist. It was the type of fog that pirate ships materialized from, looting ships, and disappearing just as quick. Like magic. The crew had been antsy all morning as a result.

Iris quite liked the atmosphere. She had always wanted to meet a pirate, go on an adventure, and never take another etiquette lesson again. But that was the life a governor’s daughter.

“Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me,” she sang softly, imagining herself as the pirate captain of her own ship and waiting quietly in the mist to attack an unsuspecting trade ship. “We extort, we pilfer, we sack. Drink up-”

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Iris gasped in surprise. “Quiet, missy!” said the man Iris recognized as the first mate. She found him odd with his bald head and mutton chops, constantly muttering about various superstitions under his breath. He always smelled of fire too. “Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don’t want to bring them down on us, now do ya?”

“Mr. Rory, that will do,” snapped Lieutenant Eddie Thawne. Iris sighed in relief when she caught sight of her father, Governor Joseph West, following right behind the young lieutenant.

“She was singing about pirates!” Mr. Rory said, pointing accusingly at Iris. “It’s bad luck to be singing about pirates while we are stuck in this unnatural fog. Mark my words!”

“Consider them marked,” Lieutenant Thawne drawled. “On your way.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Mr. Rory said with a short nod. As he walked away, he mumbled, “It’s bad luck to have a woman on board, even a miniature one.”

“I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate,” Iris whispered conspiratorially. She watched Mr. Rory took a deep swig from his flask of rum.

Lieutenant Thawne smiled indulgently at Iris. “Think again, Miss West. Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop.”

“What?” Iris asked. She looked over to Mr. Rory who pantomimed being hung by his neck handkerchief, tongue poking out. Iris gasped in disgust.

“Lieutenant Thawne,” said Governor West, stepping in to disrupt the conversation, “I appreciate your fervor, but I’m, uh, I’m concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my daughter.”

“My apologies, Governor West,” Lieutenant Thawne said. “I’ll go check on the crew.”

“Actually,” Iris said, “I find it all fascinating.”

“Yes, that what concerns me,” said Governor West. “No more singing about pirates, please. No need to antagonize Mr. Rory or the crew.” Iris pouted at her father’s back as he walked away. They would probably never see eye-to-eye on the whole pirate thing. Governor West very much believed in doing what was right 100% of the time. As a governor, he had to set an example for his people, he reminded her constantly.

Iris turned back toward the front of the boat, watching the ocean water slip beneath the keel. She smiled faintly as a lady’s parasol drifted past. How had it gotten all the way out here? She wondered. She imagined the lady wearing a white, multi-layered dress. Maybe it had been her wedding day. She had gotten married on the sea and lost her parasol in a strong gust of wind.

As the parasol bobbed away, she caught sight of something else in the water, square-ish in shape. “Look! A boy!” she shouted when the square sharpened into a wooden raft with an unmoving passenger. “There’s a boy in the water!”

Lieutenant Thawne and the deckhands rushed to the edge of the boat. “Man overboard!” Lieutenant Thawne shouted, rousing the others into action. “Man the ropes! Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard!”

Iris scooted toward the edge while the soldiers rushed about to fulfill the lieutenant’s orders. Ropes with hooks were thrown over the railing, then slowly dragged back up heavy with the weight of the boy and his impromptu raft. She watched as Mr. Rory laid the boy on the deck, his heading lolling in unconsciousness and his clothes dripping wet.

“He’s still breathing,” Lieutenant Thawne said when he leaned down to examine the boy.

“Mary, Mother of God!” Mr. Rory swore. As the rest of the crew put away the ropes and hook used to drag the boy in or leaned over to examine their new passenger, Mr. Rory had the misfortune of being the first to see the ominous sight appearing from the mist next: a ship broken in half and burning as it sunk into the ocean. It must have been where the boy came from!

“What happened here?” Governor West asked, brows furrowed in confusion and concern.

“It was most likely the powder magazine,” Lieutenant Thawne explained. “Merchant vessels run heavily armed.” The mast of the burning ship buckled and fell into the ocean.

“Lotta good it did them,” Mr. Rory said. Lieutenant Thawne gave him a disapproving glare. “Everybody’s thinkin’ it. I’m just sayin’ it: pirates!”

Governor West chuckled nervously. “There’s no proof of that!” But he was worried. He did not want his daughter aboard a ship during a pirate attack. “It was probably an accident,” he said aloud, largely to reassure himself.

As the crew, Lieutenant Thawne, and her father were distracted discussing the burning ship, Iris approached the boy. She didn’t get more than a glimpse before Lieutenant Thawne was barking orders again, “Rouse the captain immediately! Heave to and take in sail! Launch the boats!”

A crew member picked up the boy, moving him out of the way of the rushing deckhands. Her father leaned over her shoulder, saying, “Iris, I want you to accompany the boy. He’ll be in your charge. Take care of him!” Iris nodded and followed after the man.

The boy was placed on a flat area of the quarterdeck, a less crowded area toward the back of the ship. Iris settled beside him uncaring of the grimy wood staining her dress. She reached to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, when the boy awoke with a gasp, latching onto Iris’ wrist and immediately alert.

“It’s okay,” she said. “My name’s Iris West.”

“Bartholomew Allen,” the boy said, still panting in fright. “I go by Barry, though.”

She smiled softly at him. “I’m watching over you, Barry.” He blinked several times at her, clearly fighting exhaustion, before dropping his head and allowing himself to drift back to sleep. That’s when Iris noticed the gold chain around his neck. Leaning forward, she tugged the chain out from beneath his shirt line to find a golden medallion.

“You’re a pirate!” she exclaimed as she traced her fingers over the skull-and-crossbones design minted into the metal.

“Has he said anything?” Lieutenant Thawne asked. Iris ripped the medallion from around his neck, hiding it behind her back as she stood up and turned to face the lieutenant.

“His name’s Bartholomew Allen,” she said. “That’s all I found out.”

“Take him below,” Lieutenant Thawne ordered two soldiers standing at the ready. “Have the doctor look him over.”

Iris remained on the quarterdeck. She checked over her shoulder before holding up the medallion to get a closer look. The gold glinted in the weak morning light. Concentric circles radiated around the skull containing curved and angular symbols alike. The skull grinned menacingly back at her.

A black mass drifting across the ocean caught Iris’ attention while she examined the pendant. Frowning, she lowered the medallion and focused on the object. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was massive black ship sailing soundlessly away. It had wide black sails which were riddled with holes and from the top of the main mast flew a small black flag adorned with a skull and two crossed blades.

Iris rubbed her eyes unsure if the ghostly ship was real or a figment of her imagination. When she opened them again, the ship had dissolved back into the mist.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't  own any characters or plot-related things from The Flash or Pirates of the Caribbean. This has been written entirely for my own amusement.