#slow horses river cartwright

[marvelwitchergilmore]

A Rush Of Anxiety

Summary: River Cartwright x Fe!Reader -> You and River are there for each other in a time of desperate need.

Disclaimer: This does include descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks, blood, weapons and bullets. Based around the last episode or so of S4 Slow Horses, so spoilers. Swearing. Angst and Fluff. Not Proof Read.

It felt like fire crawling up your throat from your lungs. All the while a lead fist pushed through your chest, reached for your heart, dragged it to the centre of your chest not caring what veins it broke, before locking it against your spine. The harder your feet hit the ground, the harder your lungs begged for relief. 

Your arms were slicing through what atmosphere they could in the hopes to propel you faster. If your thighs didn’t hurt from before, kicking for your life, they would hurt soon. Each foot that hit the ground sent shockwaves through the rest of your body. 

But you had to keep going. 

You had to keep running. 

Your life depended on it. 

Meanwhile, just outside a train station, River was given the news you had been taken. Just before a grenade was thrown into his hood. 

“It really is a shame you said no to me, son. I even found that pretty little girlfriend of yours. It was in the hopes we could have a longer conversation, maybe you’d both like to join us. But know that her death will be on your hands.”

River gasped for breath. “Girlfriend?” He didn’t have a girlfrie-

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.” His dad told him. “Yet. Grenade!”

It was River’s turn to fight for his life, to have his lungs burn with something awful. His feet heavy, his lungs filling with something heavier than air, and a burning against his chest for more than just one reason. 

Then he remembered. 

When you're being chased, stay still.

Of course, the others eventually followed suit but there was still one thing left to discuss. 

“Where is she?”

“I thought she wasn’t your girlfriend.” The man across River smiled. “By now, she’ll be long gone. Best just to move on, I’d say.”

River reached for him by his jacket. “Where is she?!”

“River!” Louisa pulled him back. Well, tried. 

“I’ll see you soon, River.”

As Frank was pulled from River’s grasp, River turned and swore. “Fuck.”

“We’ll find her. She’ll be okay.”

River looked at Louisa. “He creates child soldiers. I don’t think he’ll be keeping her safe, do you?”

“That’s- I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m gonna find her. He wanted to finish her off before he left. She’s got to be close. Call- Call Ho. See if he can track anything. Did you notice she was gone?”

Louisa shook her head as she brought her phone to her ear. “We were a little busy trying to make sure you didn’t become a victim to your shoot-to-kill target. Ho, I need you to find-”

Louisa’s words drowned away from River as he looked around. You had to be close by. If River hadn’t stopped, Frank would have left. He would have gone somewhere people wouldn’t have seen. 

Or maybe somewhere they would. 

Larger crowds meant less safety for the victim, but more safety for Frank. Hiding in plain sight. 

So he started running. He didn’t know where, but he started running. 

“River! Where are you going?”

“Just keep talking with Ho. She has to be close!”

As River ran, his body seemed to slip back to a memory he wished he could forget. Stansted Airport. Granted it was a rigged training exercise but that fear that he’d fucked up, that fear that thousands of people could be killed, that he was the man soley responsible for the biggest fuck up in MI5 training history. It all came flooding back to him. Into his mind, into his lugs, around his chest and arms, tightening at his throat. But there was something extra. Something wrapping tightly around his heart. 

He’d had his blood pressure taken once or twice. It was almost like the cuff of one had slipped around his heart and was tightening and pinching at every part of the muscle. Where were you? You had to be close. Frank was going to kill you. He’d had you in his grasp for God only knows how long. From his track record, he might not have killed you. He might had taken you to serve his fucked up purpose. 

No. You couldn’t be dead. You had to be alive.

Frank would have made the conversation longer. Bringing you into it, Frank had a card River wouldn’t have been expecting. It would have meant a longer conversation. It would have meant an even larger ticking time-bomb placed around both of you. 

Did Lamb know you’d gone missing? Usually he was ten steps ahead. Why hadn’t he seen this? Or had he? Were you with him, watching through the monitors with Lamb? Was he about to turn a corner and hear your laughter over the tannoy to tell him to get his arse back to the others?

Something made River stop. This was useless. Running without any sense of direction. What if he was going the wrong way? What if he was going the right way and only wasting time?

River spun around on the spot looking around him. Any exists? Stairwells? Storage closets? 

He ran a hand through his hair and swore again. “Fuck. Christ. Where are you?” Chewing on his lower lip, River tried to focus. 

Then he heard a noise. 

Bullets. 

Who was firing? Why was someone firing? Frank was in custody. The hit on River’s head was gone, wasn’t it? But they weren’t aiming for him. They were aiming for someone else. 

Then he heard footsteps. They were that loud, they echoed around the entire space. And there wasn’t just one set. More bullets flew. 

Then. 

“River!”

Turning around, River saw you. Running. As fast as you could. From behind you someone was following. One of Frank’s men? Blood caked the side of your face, and some of your clothes. The momentary relief of seeing you was quickly replaced with a rush of anxiety once more as he ran towards you. 

“River!”

You called out his name as if it would be the last thing you’d ever say. Your lungs were screaming for relief which you were yet to grant. 

“Y/n!”

More bullets flew and you dropped your head in hopes to avoid them. You couldn’t afford to look back. You didn’t want to look back. Running towards you was River. 

Somewhere in the middle, you crashed with River, his arms wrapping around you tightly before he turned you. Somewhere behind you, or in front of you, someone shouted “get down.”

River turned once again and you felt something firm against your back, the lead hand that locked your heart against your spine suddenly pulling itself from your chest and out of sight. 

The tightness of pain in your arms and legs were released and what remained was a desperation to hold onto River as tight as he was holding onto you. 

“Get down! Drop your weapon!”

More bullets flew and you ducked your head. A firm hand behind you brought your head closer to River. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just stay down. Breathe. Y/n, you’ve got to breathe.” 

The amount of air rushing into your lungs told you that you were. But to River he could still feel your entire body tensing, your lungs refusing to cooperate and your heart, thundering fast that his own. 

River curled your head into his neck and chest, his body flushed against yours. He could still see the man who had been chasing you. His bullets were flying everywhere, hitting more inanimate objects than moving one’s. 

River looked around him without letting go of you, as best as he could. Most of the station was clear, save for the Dogs, armed police and a few others that worked for the Service. 

River turned back to look at you and if it was physically possible, he held you tighter. 

“Drop your weapon, now!”

The man stopped in his tracks and River looked up. They made eye contact. And he raised his weapon. 

If he pulled the trigger – and going off his recent aim – he’d most likely miss River. Maybe the bullet would bounce off or go through the pillar. But this time the man stood still. He was focusing on River. 

Then a bullet flew. 

River ducked his head and curled around you. If he didn’t look, maybe it would be quicker. But after ten seconds, River opened his eyes. Everything had gone silent. Was he dead? After everything Slough House had thrown at him, was he dead?

But he was still breathing. 

Looking back, he found the man’s body on the floor and Louisa slowly approaching him before kicking the gun from his grasp. River didn’t focus on them once Louisa brought one of the Dogs over to check. 

He just focused on you. 

“You okay?” That was a stupid question to ask but he asked it anyway. “Just breathe. Y/n, you’ve got to breathe. Breathe with me. Deep breath in. And out.” River waited for you to copy him. “Good, and again. In. And out.” His body was still flush against yours, his hand at the back of your head, your hands holding onto him for dear life. The top of his head resting against yours, he spoke to the shell of your ear. “In, And out. In. And out. That’s it. Just a few more.”

If his own chest couldn’t feel your heart beating, his hand that was wedged between your back and the pillar could. 

“Your heart’s beating really fast. I need you to breathe. He’s gone now. They’re all gone. You’re safe. You’re with me. Just breathe. With me, again. In, And out.” A few more deep breaths and the fire in your lungs was starting to finally be doused out, the burning in your throat would soon turn to ash, and your heart was finding its way back to its original place. 

Eventually River found the strength to lean back a little and look at you. His thumb brushed a sore point by your head, but you didn’t really flinch. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet, so neither had the natural pain-killer. 

It was still bleeding. Slowly. Clearly slower than when it had first started. But slowly nonetheless. He took a log of your other visible injuries. Blood stained hands, likely from your own. You were still wearing your jacket so he couldn’t see the likely bruises on your arms. 

A forgotten nosebleed and long dried up, and the smaller scars were still red. A few had a deeper shade than others. 

River took a quick, closer look at your hands. Redness and a little bruising around your knuckles. He pressed a light kiss to one before looking in your eyes. You had a concussion. He could tell that much. 

With a hand beside your ear, River pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your head before hugging you tightly. 

“You need to see a paramedic.”

“Don’t.” Your voice was still shaking. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Taking you under his arm, River just gave a small nod to Louisa. You’d be okay, but he could look after you. Without saying a word, River rode with you to the hospital where you were checked for more internal injuries, as well as harsher external ones. 

As you sat on the bed, River on a chair with his elbows on his knees, you told him and the other service agent that had arrived everything you could remember while it was still fresh. How and where you’d been taken, the violence you’d suffered through before Frank came in and told you his plan. About River, about his history with the service. Everything. They asked you why he’d tell you all of that and your own suspicions confirmed River’s. That you would have become another member. That, since you’d been taken before even River could figure it out, he’d save you the trouble and tell you himself. 

“I did try and tell him we’re not…” Your words stalled for a moment as River looked up at you. Frank had taken you for a reason. One that was bigger than just becoming another member in his fucked up circle. You meant something. But you also meant something more to River. “But he didn’t listen.”

River asked you more once your statement was finished and the officer left. 

“What did he say, exactly? When you told him about you and me?”

You took a shaky breath and River’s fingers held onto yours. “That he knew I was telling the truth. The truth that I’d convinced myself off, at least. He told me he’d been watching us. That he saw the look not only on my face but also on yours. He knew I meant something to you. More than the others meant. He told me I was important to his cause – not for the thing in France – his cause to you. I was his secret weapon to use against you. I guess when you called Lousia that kinda ruined his plan, but…after that he just locked the door and left.”

River just nodded silently as he listened to you, his fingers and hand never leaving yours whilst his other reached into his pocket to pull out your phone. Frank had taken it from you and blocked all trackers. You’d found it on one of the men you managed to stun with his own taser. But since your entire body was still shaking from the aftermath, you had given it to River.

Louisa kept River updated from the train station to Slough House and River kept her updated on you. 

By the time one of the doctors came back in, you’d begged him to let you go home. 

“You need to be supervised-”

“I can look after her.” River said. “She can come home with me. There’s a hospital less than ten minutes from my house.”

The doctor sighed but agreed. “If she has any of these symptoms, take her straight there.” The doctor tore a piece of paper from his clipboard, folded it and then handed it to River. He stood up, took it and nodded. 

“I will.”

“Thank you.” You thanked the doctor and nurse before they left, then you turned and thanked River. 

“Let’s go home.”

River helped you down before grabbing your jacket and leading you out of the hospital towards his car. You fell asleep in the car beside him as the hum of his engine pulled you from your consciousness, however you woke when you felt the familiar shake of River’s car pulling up outside of his grandfather’s home. 

River helped you out of the passenger seat and walked you to the door before he led you up the stairs and down the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. I’ll get you some fresh towels.”

“River?”

He turned back at the top of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Where’s your grandfather?”

River took a moment before answering. “He’s staying with Cathrine until tomorrow. It’s safer for him to be there right now.”

You nodded, already knowing it was tough for River. But he forced himself to bounce back. “I’ll get you some towels and leave some clothes on the bed for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

An hour or so later, you lifted yourself from the edge of the bed, dressed in what you gathered was one of River’s t-shirts and old pj bottoms of his, the drawstring pulled into a bow to keep them from sliding down. 

Folded on the back of the chair was the towel you’d used to wring out the excess water from your hair and in the mirror opposite you, you examined the fingerprint bruises in your arm. Just as you walked to the window to look outside, you heard River’s voice from the bathroom. 

“I’m making you some food. You need to eat.” River picked up your clothes from the floor. “I’m gonna load these into the washer. They might still be salvageable. See you downstairs?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, I’ll be down soon.”

Soon following the sound of River’s footsteps down the stairs, you made your way through his familiar home and into the kitchen. 

“Hey.”

“Hey. You looked into the pan. Chicken’s burning.” You took time to look around as River swore once more. 

“Shit, not again.” He whispered to himself before flipping it in the pan with a fork. “It’s not burnt. It’s searing. Just how I like it.” 

“Has your grandad really read all of these books?” You picked one from the shelf and flipped through it before replacing it. 

“Uh, yeah. Probably. It was my grandmother, really. She was a big reader. She always made sure I read at least one book a week.”

You raised your brows and linked your hands behind your back as you continued to look at the shelves. “Wow. One a week.”

River chuckled, hearing your sarcasm. “I didn’t exactly have an interest in reading then. But I still read one a week.”

“Let me guess, spy novels? James Bond?”

“They’re good books.”

You chuckled softly, pulling your gaze from him and back to the shelves. “I should have known. Ah, From Russia, with Love.” You pulled it from the shelf and showed him the worn spine. “Clear favourite.”

River smiled, carrying two plates with him to the dining table at the back. “Come on. Food’s ready.”

You smiled briefly as you watched him duck his head beneath the wooden beam to get to the table, all the while you placed the book back on the shelf. 

Sitting across from River, he poured you a juice drink. “The sugar will help with the shaking.”

You looked at your hand for a moment, seeing what he meant. It was subtle, but you were still shaking. You asked a few more questions about his childhood, about his reading habits, where and how he learned to cook. 

All of which were answered. 

As River washed up, you started drying to plates. “Hey, no. I can do them. You should sit down.”

“River, we’ve both been through a lot these last few hours. We can both do something normal.”

River gave you a saddened but knowing smile before going back to washing dishes, handing you a new one to dry until they were all done and your tea towel was damp. 

As River pulled the plug to the sink, you folded up the tea towel and rested against the kitchen side. River wrung out the cloth before washing the rest of the suds down the drain and turning the tap off. 

Then you handed him the towel to dry his hands before he threw it into the hamper and grabbed a fresh towel to leave on the side. 

“I know it’s a stupid question but how are you feeling?”

“Tired.” You admitted. “Exhausted. You?”

“I don’t think I’ve fully processed it yet.” River leaned against the sink with you. “I mean, I finally met my dad. But turns out he’s…evil. And…” River sighed. “I don’t know.”

“What about your grandad? What happens now?”

River swallowed, knowing the truth. “The service…they have connections to a home.”

“How far?”

“Twenty? Twenty-five minutes? All ex-service. Good care, nice staff. Safe.”

You looked back at River. “Want me to come with you?”

River shook his head. “No.” He cleared his throat and started to tidy things up that didn’t need tidying. “No. It’s something I’ve gotta do…”

You watched him for a moment. “River?”

Standing up straight, you laid a hand on his arm which stopped him and made him look at you, his gaze going from your hand, up your arm and eventually to your eyes. 

No words had to be exchanged. Enough was said in the look shared. 

Pulling him in, it was your turn to hug him and hold him tight. You didn’t say a word, just held him as the silent tears slipped from his eyes and you felt his lungs rattle in his chest as he tried his hardest to keep his fear and grief inside of him. 

You just held him tighter. 

At some point, you both walked to bed, a silent agreement being made to not leave each other. River got changed as you brushed your teeth and he swiftly joined you. He locked the place up before getting into bed beside you, the only light in the room flooding in under the curtains from the moon outside. 

River lay on his back, his arm stretched out to you. You lay with your head on his chest, his arms settling around you once you were both covered by the duvet. And in the darkness, his voice breaking slightly, he asked you a question. 

“I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”

You didn’t want to admit it yourself. But he needed you to. He needed to know the truth. And your voice broke with him.

“Yea. You’re doing the right thing.”

That night you held each other just a little tighter as you fell asleep. 

You didn’t know what time it was when you woke up, but you could definitely feel the leftover pain like a harsh hangover. River was no longer in bed with you. His side of the bed was cold, so he’d been awake for a while. And after a trip to the bathroom, you went in search of him. 

You found him in the kitchen, loading up another try of biscuit dough. 

“How long have you been awake?”

River looked at you as he closed the oven door with his foot and threw down the tea towel. “Hey. How’d you sleep?”

“Answer my question first.”

“About an hour. I didn’t want to wake you.”

You looked around for a clock. “What time is it anyway?”

“Little after nine.” River told you. “I wanted to make him something for when I take him…”

River couldn’t finish his sentence so you just nodded. You understood. “Want some tea?”

Clicking the kettle on, the water started to boil whilst you pulled two familiar mugs from the shelf and threw a tea bag into each before adding the sugar. 

The next hour passed quietly before you and River found yourselves sitting at the kitchen table once more. The tea was long gone, as was the toast you made for both you and River. 

“He’ll be okay, River.” You told him after he stared into space for five minutes, a finger running back and forth on his lip. He looked at you. “They’ll look after him and you’ll still be able to see him.”

“But he won’t be him.”

“No, he won’t.” You agreed. “That’s why you cherish the moments he is him.”

“He made me swear to him never to do this to him. If he ever lost who he was…” You reached across the table and held onto his hand. 

“He’ll be okay. He won’t be who you remember, or who he remembers. But he’ll be okay. He’ll be safe. He’s safer there than he is here, River. You can do a lot of things, River Cartwright but sometimes you have to let others help. They’ll know how to take care of him – in a better way than we have training for.”

With tears in his eyes, River nodded and squeezed your hand. 

“And I’ll be here when you need me.”

“Thank you.”

Still with his hand in yours, you stood and walked around the table to him before you found yourself sitting in his lap, his arms around you, his face buried into your neck. 

“You don’t have to be alone in this, River. I can’t make a lot of promises. Neither of us can. But I can promise you, you don’t have to be alone.”

River looked at you and you dried his tears. 

“You don’t have to be alone.”

In the silence that followed, River kissed you. It was soft, light and longing. It peppered out into smaller ones until your forehead was against his, your eyes closed along with him. The only noises that could be heard in the kitchen were the steady breathes from you and River. 

“I love you.” River whispered in the silence. 

“River, you don’t have to-”

He shook his head and then looked at you, your eyes meeting his. “I should have told you sooner, I know that much. Long before everything that’s happened this week. But I do love you. And…I just wanted you to know.”

You knew. You already knew. You’d always know, really. And so had he. It was just that neither of you had ever said it outloud before. 

Holding his face in your hands, you nodded with a small smile. “I love you, too.” You kissed him twice more when you saw the information had registered in his head. 

Life both in and outside of Slough House might not be easy, but loving each other had and always would be. And together, life in and out of Slough House felt a little less tough to deal with. 

[emziess]

Slow Horses + River Cartwright always having the worse day

[movingg-picture]

Sid Baker & River Cartwright SLOW HORSES – S01E01 : Failure’s Contagious

[winterswake]

SLOW HORSES S4E6

[thehorsesthatareslow]

Aftermath.

[waytoomanyhandgestures]

Happy (late) slow horses day to all who celebrate

[acecroft]

JACK LOWDEN as River Cartwright in Slow Horses 4.01

[too-many-rooks]

So many interesting expressions happening here

[johnnyspells]

RIVER CARTWRIGHT ● Slow Horses S02E05

[brotherconstant]

Slow Horses | 4.02 "A Stranger Comes to Town" ↳ A Comedy

[cloudyfacewithjam]

River Cartwright (Jack Lowden) in Slow Horses Season 3 Episode 3

[emziess]

Slow Horses + Lamb poking River with his chopsticks

[thebeigelunatics]

how i know lamb secretly views standish as his wife and river as their adopted orange cat son is that he makes it clear a thousand times that he fucking hates david cartwright and wouldn't mind if he died but david is important to river and lamb had to hear standish say, "river will never forgive me if something happens to him" so basically everything lamb does this series is because he can't let standish (his work wife) let river (his work son) down. LIKE.

[hr-twink]

Slough House + text posts

[storm3326]

a very serious spy show

[thehorsesthatareslow]

He's a highly trained MI5 spy. He's also a fucking idiot. He's bisexual. He has mother issues. He has father issues. He digs around in trash. He has no sense of self preservation. He ran around on a broken leg for half a season and then got blown up by a grenade. He speaks French. He's a journalist. He has fumbled bomb threats on two separate occassions. He has more head injuries then you can count. He's a freak for pain. He's been in a situationship with his rival for 10 years. He throws up when he sees blood. His mom was in a cult. His dad was the leader of said cult. He is permanently having the worst day of his life. He has the saddest, wettest eyes known to man.

I didn't say his name, but he popped into your head, didn't he?