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Fic: Dating the Cleverest Boy in the World. Chapter 11.
This is why I love holidays... I can write a 5000+ word chapter in a week, rather than a month. Which is good, because this was eating my head. Un-beta'd, so all mistakes mine.
Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up. And on AO3 here.
Summary: Allison had always thought that university would be an adventure. But she'd not imagined that she'd end up dating Harold Saxon's son.
Setting: 2026 (AU post-Sound of Drums)
Characters: OCs (Alex, Allison, others)
Rating: PG-13.
Wordcount: 5900 words approx.
Feedback: *begs*
Notes: Helena and her family are borrowed/stolen/based upon 'Det Store Nummer' by Anne Marie Løn. Which you should all read, except it's in Danish... (Also apologies for cliché abuse at one point. But clichés are very useful shortcuts...)
Chapter 11
A week into the summer holidays, and Allison was already bored with being at home. But Alex had done his previous trick of vanishing entirely, and besides, since they were 'on a break', she couldn't even luxuriate in feeling abandoned. More importantly, she needed a job. Studying didn't come cheap, and even with student loans she was struggling (Alex would of course help if she asked, but her principles made it impossible for her to take that way out).
Summer jobs, sadly, weren't easy to find, and looking for them was incredibly dull, so when she saw the alert for an incoming call from Alex as she was scouring job sites on the internet she didn't hesitate in answering.
He beamed at her, as if there had never been any arguments, and she tried to look at him sternly.
"Where have you been? Or rather - where are you?"
"Belgium," he promptly answered, and she blinked in surprised.
"Belgium? Why Belgium?"
"I ran away with the circus - look!"
He moved the video phone around, giving her a swift sweep of what was quite obviously a circus setting up camp - a big top was visible in the background and a large group of various camper vans and horse boxes and other oddments were scattered around, with people busy sorting and arranging...
She shook her head, almost laughing out loud.
"Of course you did. Can I ask why?"
"Came past with my uncle - who is being a bastard and won't let me travel completely on my own - and one of their trapeze artists has an injury so I'm training as his replacement - for the summer, see?"
He smiled, happier than she'd seen him in a long time.
"New places every day, new sights to see, difficult skills to master... Oh, and I've been semi-adopted by this family of trapeze artists and acrobats, they're marvellous. Wait - here's Helena..."
He turned to wave to someone, and a moment later a pretty girl, early twenties maybe, dressed in a track suit and her hair in a simple pony tail, looked over Alex's shoulder.
"Allison, this is Helena - she's the main star, and the one who's been training me. Helena - Allison."
Helena smiled a brightly vivid smile and did a little wave to say hello. She wasn't flawlessly gorgeous in the way of Josh or Jamie, nor carefully made up like Chelsea, no - hers was a beauty born of health and fitness and unconscious self-confidence, and she regarded Allison with great interest.
"Alexei - this is your... how do you say it... Cheri?"
"Yes," Allison replied instantly. "His girlfriend."
She could see Alex being somewhat taken aback, but Helana didn't notice.
"Thank you, my English has... gaps. Allison? Your boy-friend is... merveilleux. No wait - invraisemblable. You know this word?"
Although she wasn't quite sure on the meaning, she could certainly make an educated guess, and nodded.
"He certainly is that."
Then there was a call in the distance and Helana excused herself, leaving Alex to study Allison with wry amusement.
"I'm a boyfriend?"
"For the sake of you travelling round Europe with lots of pretty and hyper-fit people, yes, you're definitely spoken for."
A cheeky smile, that made her stomach do flip-flops in a way that very distracting indeed.
"Well that's a shocking victory for young love over principles - or are we talking something as simple as jealousy?"
"Shut up."
He smiled softly.
"I never would. Doesn't even enter my head. However, you could make it all void by joining me..."
She stared at him blankly, before frowning.
"Joining you?"
"Yes. Come spend the summer at the circus with me. I've got myself a camper van with plenty of room for two, so accommodation is sorted and free. You're looking for a summer job, and they could certainly use another hand for all kinds of extra jobs - selling tickets and concessions, feeding the animals... there's tons to do, and their wages are pretty decent. And I'm dealing with the day-to-day expenses anyway, so you'd get to keep all of your earnings."
It sounded entirely too perfect, and Allison was becoming suspicious of perfection by now - something she didn't hesitate in pointing out. Plus, they were still on a break...
He sighed and studied her with great weariness.
"Can we... take a break from the break?"
"Are you serious?"
"Very. I miss you, and I don't want to waste our time together on this. Next time someone does something that seriously pisses me off I'll try my best to just punch them, although that goes against every instinct I have. I just... I just think we could have an amazing summer, and as far as I can see youthful principles are getting in the way of that... Older-me will not thank younger-me for ruining something good."
Realising that this was probably the closest she'd ever get to an apology, Allison tried to gather her wits.
"What if it doesn't work out? What if we keep arguing?"
"I won't argue," he said promptly.
She raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled.
"You don't understand what it's like here. Please. Disappear for a while. Trust me, it's a wonderful feeling."
Which was how she ended up on the Eurostar, heading towards France and wondering how a boy could upend her life to such an extent. It was ridiculous - and yet... There was no one else like him. She was running away with the circus with him - how had that suddenly become not just an option, but a sensible one?
Leaning back in her seat, watching the French countryside move past, beautiful and sun-drenched (the status across her social network sites updated to 'Holiday' and her mobile set to go straight to answer phone), she thought to herself that if it didn't work, she could always go back home. However, it was stupid not to give it a try.
***
Later, the summer would consist of a series of standout memories - some bright and clear, others fuzzy from repeated overlays - a collection of unforgettable days, etched upon her mind forever...
- The campsite itself, the way the different vehicles were always arranged in the same pattern so you couldn't get lost; the familiarity and comfort of the big top; the change that felt like a palpable thing in the air as everyone made themselves ready for the evening's show; washing strung out between wagons on sunny days; children practicing balancing on planks of wood over two chairs, a makeshift pole in their hands or attempting to juggle with well-worn clubs or any other game which could be converted into future skills; Babushka peeling potatoes in the doorway to her little caravan; the smell and sounds of the horses - a million and one little snapshots, a combination of sight and hearing and smell, which together would forever make up 'Circus' in her mind.
- The sight of Alex, small and slim and perfectly poised, a white sliver against the darkness of the roof of the big top before throwning himself into the void - flying, spinning, twisting; catching and being caught, weightless and impossible and breathtaking.
- Shared meals with the family, four generations squeezed into the largest camper van, the conversation a mishmash of French, German and English with the odd bit of Russian thrown in, the food reflecting whichever region they were currently in, and the stories told ranging across the whole of Europe with snippets from the rest of the world.
- Seemingly endless hours spent in laundromats. The towns changed, yet the laundromats were oddly similar wherever they went. The essentials were washed on the go, but the main bulk of the washing was taken to a laundromats - and it often fell to Allison to accompany whoever was on washing duty, which usually resulted in long and detailed discussions as they tried to understand a way of life utterly different from their own.
- New towns explored with an always enthusiastic Alex, who was much better as a guide when everything was new and unfamiliar.
- Becoming used to wearing a pretty uniform and answering questions in several different languages. She had, a couple of years previously, worked in a fast food restaurant for a few weeks, and had solemnly vowed to never work in a customer service role again - but selling tickets and balloons and popcorn and candy floss to happy and excited people, being part of something of genuine quality, was a world away.
- Driving from town to town (mostly in the dark), listening to odd mid-European radio stations or the eclectic mix of music she and Alex had stored on their phones, and thankfully never getting lost thanks to a combination of the family's extensive local knowledge, google maps and Alex's encyclopaedic brain (he'd read some guide books and apparently memorised them).
- Training sessions in the big top, with Alex and Helena and the other two trapeze artists as happily excited little figures high up in the air, with sunlight - or the greyness of rain - peeping through the tent flaps as the four of them (as well as the injured one, who tried to keep an overview from the ground) tried to tweak the routine or teach Alex new tricks. Or alternatively the acrobatics (which Alex also joined in), something that involved mad things like deciding that they wanted to create a four-person tall pyramid, leading to the 5 year old sitting on the shoulders of the 17 year old, who then jumped onto the shoulders of those on the second tier...
- Making love in their little home-on-wheels, as the afternoon sun laid like a blanket over the site, and it seemed that the whole world existed within the walls of a 7 year old orange Belgian camper van.
- Learning the art of sewing on approximately a million sequins without her fingers falling off - the family had a seamstress somewhere, who furnished them with new costumes whenver they could afford them, but alterations and repairs had to be done as and when.
- A magical evening, when the family - whilst en route from one city to another - decided to meet up at a resting place they knew, where they all ate late dinner together, before quitely watching the darkness deepen and the stars come out, as Alex, voice soft with some emotion Allison couldn't place, started naming them one after another, the whole of the dome of the sky lit up with tiny bright lights; and Allison felt as much in awe as she ever had in the Planetarium.
- And more than anything, Alex. (Or, as everyone called him - Alexei.) She had never quite understood what he meant about university curbing him, but in the freedom and challenges of the circus he thrived and blossomed in ways she found hard to put into words. Mostly he was just happy, a deep satisfaction surrounding him in an unbreakable shell, something he'd now again try to explain ("It engages everything: Mind and body, and timekeeping is of the utmost importance. And it's always new and fresh and real, yet it's so tightly controlled that you can't deviate by a split second or the whole thing collapses. Everyone is relying on everyone else..."), and she would just smile and nod, because the sheer joy was so infectious. There were no mood swings, no self-pity, no arguments, and - more surprisingly - no particular showing off. It truly was perfection in a bubble, and she was beginning to dread the end of the holidays, no matter how much she looked forwards to actual learning again. Cambridge would also mean a return to the real world, and to all the issues they'd avoided - and to a 'caged' boyfriend. Much as she still thought he needed to be taught a lesson, she couldn't deny that she much preferred him when he was free...
(She mentioned it, somewhat wistfully, as they got ready for the party the family were throwing on their last evening, and he smiled a smile she'd not seen in several months and said "He can't stop me thinking" - before quickly shaking his head and apologising. But the damage was done... She could feel the weight of May Day settle once again, and wasn't sure what to do.)
The party was marvellous of course, with plenty of good food, stories and music, and exchanges of gifts - but as things wound down and people said goodnight Babushka surprised Allison by taking her hand as they were about to head back to their own van. Babushka was possibly of Russian lineage, and somewhere in her 80s, maybe 90s. She was a comforting and stabilising background figure, someone whose circus/performing blood ran back to the genuinely old days. Looking from Allison to Alex she smiled an oddly secretive smile.
"You have become like part of our family. As a present now you leave... I could read your future?"
Once more Allison felt as if she had stumbled into a real-life story, hardly able to believe her ears.
"Of course - we would be delighted!" she answered, before seeing the oddly stifled smile on Alex's face.
As Babushka walked off, she grasped his hand.
"Come on - it'll be fun."
But 'fun' seemed to be the last thing on his mind, as he looked at her with the strangest, most apprehensive look she had ever seen.
"I fear too early: for my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars," he whispered, and she had to stop herself from throwing her hands up in the air. When he started to quote literature - not to mention Shakespeare - he was in serious danger of disappearing off to never-never land. The only way forward was to ignore him - she would enjoy her last evening as long as she could, and so would he.
Babushka's caravan was cosy and cluttered and like something out of a movie set, and as she pottered about, clearing her table and asking whether they wanted a bit of cake, Allison felt more than a little thrill go through her. She hadn't even known that Babushka also acted as fortune teller, and half expected her to bring out a glass globe. As it turned out she used tarot cards, which was almost better. Allison eagerly volunteered to go first, and discovered that she had to shuffle the cards herself - something about transferring her energy.
Once done, Babushka carefully laid out the cards - old, old cards, the colours faded and the edges frayed - and it was all entirely too wonderful for words. The images and particular arrangements made no particular sense to Allison (apart from the sort of basics she'd picked up from films), so she waited for the old woman to pore over them, nodding sagely to herself. A small lamp lit up the table, leaving most of the rest of the caravan in cosy semi-darkness.
"Good. Very good," she said, and then began speaking. Her English wasn't particularly fluent, but she told Allison that she would go on a long journey, that she would be loved by a good man, that she might or might not have children (the cards were unclear) and that she would win great renown. Allison felt immensely satisfied - a touch predictable, but still. It really was just like something out of a movie...
Then it was Alex's turn, and he still seemed immensely unwilling to co-operate. Having shuffled the cards he handed them over with visible reluctance, but as Babushka laid them out her hand almost faltered now and again. Allison was intrigued by this, and indeed the elderly woman took a long time to study the cards, the tension growing as Alex bit his lip. Allison thought it was marvellous.
Finally Babushka lifted her eyes, a wry smile twinkling in her eyes.
"Alexei... Ah yes, I see. You truly are Alexei Tsesarevich. Son of Empire, Child of the stars. But hiding."
This was more like it - Allison leaned forward to try to study the cards more clearly. She knew that 'Death' was supposedly a good card, meaning change and transition, and whilst there was a bit of that, and some 'Lovers' (which made her smile - the very same card had turned up in her own reading) as well as a good few Kings, the main theme seemed to be 'the Magician' - which were men with wands and an infinity symbol over their head. Whatever that meant. He was certainly good at appearing magical.
"I see long life and great love and mighty deeds and travels too vast to measure. But... your destiny. Ah your destiny. It is-"
"I don't have a destiny," Alex interrupted curtly, and when Allison looked up she saw that he had gone very pale. She didn't have time to ponder this, as Babushka continued unaffected.
"Your destiny is to rule. There is no mistake. Much power, much much power, it will light the sky - shining. All the worlds will know your name. And you will be... Not Alexei. No. English name, what is the English name..." She looked up, fixing Alex with eyes so keen and bright they belied her old and wrinkled face: "Alexander the Great. A Mighty King and Ruler. Yes. That is your destiny."
Abruptly moving backwards, as if slapped, Alex nearly fell off his chair, before leaping to his feet, as Allison stared at him, shocked.
"No. No, you are wrong. You read it wrong. This can't be it!"
She smiled gently, and shook her head.
"Child - my cards have never deceived me. They have not done so now. Your future is great, I have seen it."
Alex at this point looked like he was going to burst into tears, sinking back into the chair, hopelessness written in every line of his body - then a second later leaning forward, hands grasping the table so hard they turned white.
"Please - please Babushka, find something else. This mustn't happen. Oh there has to be something else..."
Unhurried she began to gather up the cards, momentarily inclining her head towards him.
"I told you everything I have seen, and I am honoured to have met you, Tsesarevich - child born to rule."
"You're welcome," he muttered tonelessly, letting go of the table and looking ahead into nothingness, face blank. After a moment he lifted his head, studying Babushka who was now busy tidying the cards away in a drawer.
"Just... don't tell the others. I don't want the family to know. None of it - please?"
She nodded acquiescence, and Allison felt like she'd been in a play that everyone else had rehearsed except her. Deciding that it was probably time for the show to end before her boyfriend lost all his marbles, she stood up.
"Well you can tell them about me. Thank you. I think that's probably what Alex meant too, he's just forgotten his manners."
Somehow she managed to say their goodbyes and get her now completely silent boyfriend out the door - the bustle of a city at night could be heard in the distance, but the camp site itself was mostly quiet, with only peeks of dim light from the different caravans. As she took his hand and made her way towards their own camper van, he suddenly stopped, letting go of her hand, and when she turned, he looked at her as if from some vast distance.
"A different time line. The cards could have seen a different time line. That would explain it. Right?"
She stared at him for a long moment.
"OK, first of all: You are now talking sci-fi gobbeldy-gook. Secondly: The cards didn't 'see' anything. They're cards. Little bits of coloured paper. And little bits of coloured paper should be enjoyed, but not taken seriously."
She shook her head.
"I can't understand why you're so rattled, or what exactly happened to you in there - I thought you were a scientist. Are you not feeling well, or did you have too much of that nice wine?"
His demeanour didn't change at all, except his eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Not scientist. Renaissance man. And there is so much more to the world than cold hard facts... Jack knows-"
She tried to stifle a sigh.
"No, listen Allie - Jack knows a little girl who is not a little girl, who can tell the future. She is never wrong. Ever."
Allison was beginning to thoroughly loathe sentences that began with 'Jack knows' (or 'Jack says' or 'Jack did'), because it always meant that whatever-it-was could not be argued with, since Alex generally regarded Jack as the be-all and end-all of everything and a fount of endless knowledge. Taking a deep breath she tried her best to tackle this latest challenge.
"Fine. Let's for arguments sake say that there's a freaky little girl somewhere who can actually tell the future. How does that prove that a little old Babushka in Central Europe can do so too?"
He opened his mouth, but didn't seem capable of making any kind of sound. She tilted her head in her best impression of her mother.
"See? Logic wins the day. It's all a storm in a teacup..."
Reaching out, she realised that he was shaking.
"Alex? What's the matter?"
He was never cold, and it was a balmy evening.
"Wouldn't you be affected if someone had just laid out your worst nightmare in front of you?" he asked, possibly aiming for flip, but missing spectacularly as the look in his eyes spoke of something more - she'd never seen him cry, but it could only be tears blurring his eyes now. And she realised that he really truly had taken the reading seriously, to a degree she couldn't quite wrap her head around.
"Let's get you a cup of tea," she said (it was the only thing she could think of) and he nodded.
As she boiled their tiny little two-cup kettle a moment later, she took a moment to fetch a blanket for him, as he was still physically shaking; a strangely silent figure huddled on their sofa bed. What had initially seemed like a lark, had apparently - unlikely as she still regarded it - managed to cause some kind of genuine shock. 'Worst nightmare'... His worst nightmare was to become a king? No, he could never be normal, not even when it came to things to be scared of. The words nearly tripped up her hand as she added the milk. Scared. He had been - was - genuinely scared. Terrified even. Pleading. Desperate. Whatever had just happened, it had been something much deeper than a silly card game, because she had never seen him like this, never had the slightest indication that there was anything he could be scared of... Because this was a million miles away from self-pity.
"Here you go," she said, handing over the tea cup, and he took it with both hands, not even looking up.
Sitting down next to him, she waited until he'd managed to get the shaking under control, then asked, as gently as she could: "Please... What just happened?"
For a long moment he was silent, looking ahead, then he sighed.
"I don't know. I'm trying to work it out..."
Emptying his cup, he finally turned to look at her.
"That probably doesn't mean what you presume. I... don't see the world like you do. It's impossible for me to just dismiss what happened as unreal. How to explain it... Have you seen Donnie Darko?"
"Once," she said, and he nodded. "Remember how he sees sort of 'action waves' coming from people showing where they're about to go?"
"Yes," she answered, by now thoroughly baffled, and he continued.
"It's a bit like that. OK, I don't see weird watery blobby arrows - that bit is just weird - but I can see the consequences of things. Actions. I look at you, and I can picture almost every possible future. The ones where you leave me tomorrow, the ones where we slowly drift apart, the ones where you stay with me until you're old and grey, the ones where you leave me because of work... And the ones that are still only maybes - maybe you meet someone else, maybe I do, maybe you get run over by a bus - not to mention all the unknown unknowns, the black swans, that I know I can't know, but that I still try to prepare for... And every time something happens to us, it causes some avenues to be closed off, and others to open. Does that make sense?"
She nodded, still not sure where he was going with it all, but he kept talking, voice careful and searching.
"Now if someone came along and said that we would end up as bitter enemies, I would be very upset. And I would try to look at all the paths that would take us there and wonder which one it could be, and if I could somehow do something to prevent it. That's what tonight was... Except so much worse."
He shivered again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
"I can't let it happen," he whispered. "Can't."
"But Alex... Wildly unlikely as it is, what is so terrible about being a king? I don't... I just don't understand. Most people have silly dreams about what they'd do if they ruled the world."
He tried to shrug, causing the blanket to slip, and he pulled it back up without thinking, simultaneously setting the cup down on the floor.
"Objectively there's nothing wrong with being king. It's not the word that frightens me, or the responsibility, or anything like that. What scares me is... me."
He shot her a look both heartbroken and wry.
"I'm my own worst nightmare. Psychiatrist field day, and then some, I know, but it doesn't stop it being true."
A long distance stare, as he grasped hold of his pendant (had he been wearing that earlier?), absentmindedly twisting it round and round as he spoke.
"I know I try to make light of my name, do my best to take the sting out of 'Alexander the Great', but still that is what my father named me, and it is who he wants me to be. He is only waiting - waiting for the day I decide to grasp power. It is possible - unlikely, but possible - that tonight was his work: Insert a prophecy into my life so I'd feel compelled to go down that path."
She waited for a smile that never came, then shook her head in disbelief.
"And now you are taking paranoia to new heights, you know that, right?"
"You don't know my father," was the curt reply. "It's exactly the sort of thing he'd do. I can't see how, but it'd fit... However, I can't count on it being just his manipulation. Or 'just pieces of card'. Or some kind of mad coincidence... 'Child of the stars'... How did she know?"
"Alex. You spent half an hour naming stars only a few weeks ago. You've been calling yourself 'Alexei', and I'm sure they're aware of your notoriety, even here. Babushka is a lovely person, but everyone loves a captive audience... She saw how you reacted and went with it. Like... Derren Brown."
He looked at her the way someone would a child.
"That is one possibility, yes. But only one amongst many. This is what I'm trying to explain. I see all the possibilities. And I can't discount any of them. That is my gift and my curse - I am incapable of lying to myself. Maybe... Maybe that's why I lie so much to others - it's a luxury I can't have."
He chuckled joylessly.
"Oh, who am I kidding, I just like to control people - it's simple and easy and I can."
He buried his head in his hands once more, not moving for a long time as she watched him silently, not knowing what to think.
"Remember that photographer?" he finally said. "How that whole affair hangs over us? It was a one-off, but... Extend that to a world and you should see why I mustn't let it happen. Power is... power is neither good nor bad, is just is. The important thing how you use it, and oh, I could do terrible things in the name of good..."
A beat, then a soft smile.
"Jack would stop me. I need to tell him - just in case. But Jack would stop me. If worst comes to the worst it might cause a minor paradox, but that's fixable..."
Allison had a momentary bout of seeing the whole situation as through other eyes, and the absurdity of the thing struck her forcibly. A teenaged boy, wrapped up in a blanket in a small Belgian camper van in the night, terrified that he was somehow destined to go evil like his father and take over the world... Some part of her brain told her that - quite obviously - he wasn't quite right in the head (to put it mildly), because clever though he might be there was no way he could do what he feared. And yet... The situation had miraculously solved her problems, as he had undoubtedly seen the error of manipulation.
Carefully making him move she got the bed ready, telling him that sleep was important, and he acquiesced without a murmur. Hopefully he'd feel better in the morning...
***
Later that night she was woken by flailing limbs and something that sounded like sobbing, before Alex with a very clear "Jack" grabbed hold of her and pulled her close.
For the first time in her life Allison wished that she'd read some kind of relationship help book, as she didn't have a clue how to respond. However it only took a moment before Alex opened his eyes, studying her in the near-darkness.
"You're not Jack," he said with a frown.
"I noticed that," she replied, and he took a deep shaky breath.
"It was a dream..." he said softly. "Just a dream."
Pulling her closer he kept speaking, his low voice almost disembodied in the darkness of the room.
"I dreamt that I was falling... Falling and falling and falling and I knew if I could just find Jack I'd be OK, but he wasn't there at all..."
A sniffle, as he buried his head in her shoulder, and she could feel that his face was moist with tears.
"I've not had a dream like this in years... Small and lost and scared and it hurts and why are they doing this to me? Reliving it all, but it just goes on and on, because that's what dreams are like..."
She felt him swallow, and when he spoke again, there was an unexpected anger in his voice.
"They never even explained or... warned me - is it any wonder I hate being unprepared? When those who love you hurt you, wouldn't you be wary of the unexpected?"
The words caused a sudden chill to Allison's insides. Maybe he was just talking about a dream. Maybe it was nothing. She should just leave it, he would laugh at her, and yet - and yet her mother had taught her to vigilant against just this kind of thing from a fairly early age, and she'd never been one for staying quiet. 'Reliving it' he'd said, and he'd talked about being small and hurting... It was on one level a ludicrous notion, yet it'd explain a lot...
"Alex," she said carefully, relieved the darkness was hiding her, "were you..." she swallowed, "were you abused when you were younger?"
He didn't laugh. He went very, very quiet, then shifted, reaching up to pull one of the little curtains slightly open, his face turning into a mask of muted gold and black.
"That's an... odd term to use. It makes me think of predatory pedophiles and small children used for their illicit pleasure, and it was nothing like that. Nothing at all. But..."
He paused for a moment.
"If you would categorise making a child achieve their full potential at the expense of their innocence as 'abuse'... Then yes."
What could you say to something like this? What had caused this sudden openness?
"How old were you?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Eight. Not a very long childhood, really. Not that my life wasn't perfectly happy afterwards, but there was no way to get back what I'd lost. Didn't quite understand it at the time of course, I just knew that I was different..."
"But who-"
('Those who love you' he'd said - but surely that didn't mean...)
A wry look, even though most of his face was now in darkness again.
"Who do you think? The same ones who sent me here."
She must have made some sort of sound, because he chuckled.
"Oh yes, it was both my Uncle and my father. Then and now. Quite formidable when they work together - and even though their aims for me are very different, their methods are sometimes indistinguishable. And I won't behave, much to their surprise."
He shook his head, and his eyes seemed to harden in the dim light.
"I know what I am. I understand my responsibilities; accept what I need to be. But I will do it my way, or not at all."
She wasn't sure what he was talking about - it seemed something different to anything else he'd told her - but, before she could ask, the defiant look in his eyes abruptly gave way to something softer.
"So, because I know you are wondering: That's why I love Jack best. Jack just... accepts me how I am and doesn't try to force me into being one thing or another. I realised, back then, back when I was eight, that he was the only one I could trust, because he doesn't have any motives. My Jack..."
"Alex," she said gently, reaching up and gently touching his cheek. "I... don't know what to say."
"Well... it's all hugely, massively private, and I've never told anyone before - I'm not sure what you should say," he replied with a smile which was far more like his normal smile, and then he did a small shrug. "Besides... it happened, and there's no point in pondering could-have-beens. I am who I am because of it, and I wouldn't change it for all the world."
The words froze her, even as they caused a sudden wave of understanding. She had thought his attitude pure youthful arrogance, but it came from quite a different place. And his family - well, father and uncle - were apparently responsible for that attitude... (What had they done to him? He had a great capacity for melodrama, but he'd been immensely matter-of-fact once he'd recovered from the dream, even downplaying it. But he considered his childhood over at eight years old - she needed to think it all over.)
As he fell asleep again with his head on her shoulder (the high emotions of the night obviously taking their toll), she wondered at how a single evening could turn everything upside down. He'd been surrounded by a shell as long as she'd known him, perfectly friendly but fiercely private. There had been the odd chink in the armour now and again, unwished for and unwilling, but tonight... The shell had cracked, and she finally understood why he behaved the way he did. It didn't excuse some of it, but it explained it, and her scientific mind was at rest. Also - it seemed as if the tarot reading had done what his uncle's punishment was unsuccessfully trying to: Teach him restraint. (Although if it was both his father and his uncle who had sent him away to Cambridge... What could he possibly have done? But that was a question for another time. Her mind was too full of revelations for now, to even think about asking more questions.)
She kissed him gently on the temple, and contemplated the next two years with more optimism than she had in a long time. She had her Alex, and although she now knew that he wasn't just brilliant, but also damaged and not quite as sane as he thought himself, it only confirmed her initial assessment: Underneath everything he was achingly human.
Notes: Everything I know about the tarot I've learned from the internet, so please excuse any glaring mistakes. But this is so Alex that it literally took my breath away:
Chapter 12
Fic index here if anyone wants to catch up. And on AO3 here.
Summary: Allison had always thought that university would be an adventure. But she'd not imagined that she'd end up dating Harold Saxon's son.
Setting: 2026 (AU post-Sound of Drums)
Characters: OCs (Alex, Allison, others)
Rating: PG-13.
Wordcount: 5900 words approx.
Feedback: *begs*
Notes: Helena and her family are borrowed/stolen/based upon 'Det Store Nummer' by Anne Marie Løn. Which you should all read, except it's in Danish... (Also apologies for cliché abuse at one point. But clichés are very useful shortcuts...)
Chapter 11
A week into the summer holidays, and Allison was already bored with being at home. But Alex had done his previous trick of vanishing entirely, and besides, since they were 'on a break', she couldn't even luxuriate in feeling abandoned. More importantly, she needed a job. Studying didn't come cheap, and even with student loans she was struggling (Alex would of course help if she asked, but her principles made it impossible for her to take that way out).
Summer jobs, sadly, weren't easy to find, and looking for them was incredibly dull, so when she saw the alert for an incoming call from Alex as she was scouring job sites on the internet she didn't hesitate in answering.
He beamed at her, as if there had never been any arguments, and she tried to look at him sternly.
"Where have you been? Or rather - where are you?"
"Belgium," he promptly answered, and she blinked in surprised.
"Belgium? Why Belgium?"
"I ran away with the circus - look!"
He moved the video phone around, giving her a swift sweep of what was quite obviously a circus setting up camp - a big top was visible in the background and a large group of various camper vans and horse boxes and other oddments were scattered around, with people busy sorting and arranging...
She shook her head, almost laughing out loud.
"Of course you did. Can I ask why?"
"Came past with my uncle - who is being a bastard and won't let me travel completely on my own - and one of their trapeze artists has an injury so I'm training as his replacement - for the summer, see?"
He smiled, happier than she'd seen him in a long time.
"New places every day, new sights to see, difficult skills to master... Oh, and I've been semi-adopted by this family of trapeze artists and acrobats, they're marvellous. Wait - here's Helena..."
He turned to wave to someone, and a moment later a pretty girl, early twenties maybe, dressed in a track suit and her hair in a simple pony tail, looked over Alex's shoulder.
"Allison, this is Helena - she's the main star, and the one who's been training me. Helena - Allison."
Helena smiled a brightly vivid smile and did a little wave to say hello. She wasn't flawlessly gorgeous in the way of Josh or Jamie, nor carefully made up like Chelsea, no - hers was a beauty born of health and fitness and unconscious self-confidence, and she regarded Allison with great interest.
"Alexei - this is your... how do you say it... Cheri?"
"Yes," Allison replied instantly. "His girlfriend."
She could see Alex being somewhat taken aback, but Helana didn't notice.
"Thank you, my English has... gaps. Allison? Your boy-friend is... merveilleux. No wait - invraisemblable. You know this word?"
Although she wasn't quite sure on the meaning, she could certainly make an educated guess, and nodded.
"He certainly is that."
Then there was a call in the distance and Helana excused herself, leaving Alex to study Allison with wry amusement.
"I'm a boyfriend?"
"For the sake of you travelling round Europe with lots of pretty and hyper-fit people, yes, you're definitely spoken for."
A cheeky smile, that made her stomach do flip-flops in a way that very distracting indeed.
"Well that's a shocking victory for young love over principles - or are we talking something as simple as jealousy?"
"Shut up."
He smiled softly.
"I never would. Doesn't even enter my head. However, you could make it all void by joining me..."
She stared at him blankly, before frowning.
"Joining you?"
"Yes. Come spend the summer at the circus with me. I've got myself a camper van with plenty of room for two, so accommodation is sorted and free. You're looking for a summer job, and they could certainly use another hand for all kinds of extra jobs - selling tickets and concessions, feeding the animals... there's tons to do, and their wages are pretty decent. And I'm dealing with the day-to-day expenses anyway, so you'd get to keep all of your earnings."
It sounded entirely too perfect, and Allison was becoming suspicious of perfection by now - something she didn't hesitate in pointing out. Plus, they were still on a break...
He sighed and studied her with great weariness.
"Can we... take a break from the break?"
"Are you serious?"
"Very. I miss you, and I don't want to waste our time together on this. Next time someone does something that seriously pisses me off I'll try my best to just punch them, although that goes against every instinct I have. I just... I just think we could have an amazing summer, and as far as I can see youthful principles are getting in the way of that... Older-me will not thank younger-me for ruining something good."
Realising that this was probably the closest she'd ever get to an apology, Allison tried to gather her wits.
"What if it doesn't work out? What if we keep arguing?"
"I won't argue," he said promptly.
She raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled.
"You don't understand what it's like here. Please. Disappear for a while. Trust me, it's a wonderful feeling."
Which was how she ended up on the Eurostar, heading towards France and wondering how a boy could upend her life to such an extent. It was ridiculous - and yet... There was no one else like him. She was running away with the circus with him - how had that suddenly become not just an option, but a sensible one?
Leaning back in her seat, watching the French countryside move past, beautiful and sun-drenched (the status across her social network sites updated to 'Holiday' and her mobile set to go straight to answer phone), she thought to herself that if it didn't work, she could always go back home. However, it was stupid not to give it a try.
Later, the summer would consist of a series of standout memories - some bright and clear, others fuzzy from repeated overlays - a collection of unforgettable days, etched upon her mind forever...
- The campsite itself, the way the different vehicles were always arranged in the same pattern so you couldn't get lost; the familiarity and comfort of the big top; the change that felt like a palpable thing in the air as everyone made themselves ready for the evening's show; washing strung out between wagons on sunny days; children practicing balancing on planks of wood over two chairs, a makeshift pole in their hands or attempting to juggle with well-worn clubs or any other game which could be converted into future skills; Babushka peeling potatoes in the doorway to her little caravan; the smell and sounds of the horses - a million and one little snapshots, a combination of sight and hearing and smell, which together would forever make up 'Circus' in her mind.
- The sight of Alex, small and slim and perfectly poised, a white sliver against the darkness of the roof of the big top before throwning himself into the void - flying, spinning, twisting; catching and being caught, weightless and impossible and breathtaking.
- Shared meals with the family, four generations squeezed into the largest camper van, the conversation a mishmash of French, German and English with the odd bit of Russian thrown in, the food reflecting whichever region they were currently in, and the stories told ranging across the whole of Europe with snippets from the rest of the world.
- Seemingly endless hours spent in laundromats. The towns changed, yet the laundromats were oddly similar wherever they went. The essentials were washed on the go, but the main bulk of the washing was taken to a laundromats - and it often fell to Allison to accompany whoever was on washing duty, which usually resulted in long and detailed discussions as they tried to understand a way of life utterly different from their own.
- New towns explored with an always enthusiastic Alex, who was much better as a guide when everything was new and unfamiliar.
- Becoming used to wearing a pretty uniform and answering questions in several different languages. She had, a couple of years previously, worked in a fast food restaurant for a few weeks, and had solemnly vowed to never work in a customer service role again - but selling tickets and balloons and popcorn and candy floss to happy and excited people, being part of something of genuine quality, was a world away.
- Driving from town to town (mostly in the dark), listening to odd mid-European radio stations or the eclectic mix of music she and Alex had stored on their phones, and thankfully never getting lost thanks to a combination of the family's extensive local knowledge, google maps and Alex's encyclopaedic brain (he'd read some guide books and apparently memorised them).
- Training sessions in the big top, with Alex and Helena and the other two trapeze artists as happily excited little figures high up in the air, with sunlight - or the greyness of rain - peeping through the tent flaps as the four of them (as well as the injured one, who tried to keep an overview from the ground) tried to tweak the routine or teach Alex new tricks. Or alternatively the acrobatics (which Alex also joined in), something that involved mad things like deciding that they wanted to create a four-person tall pyramid, leading to the 5 year old sitting on the shoulders of the 17 year old, who then jumped onto the shoulders of those on the second tier...
- Making love in their little home-on-wheels, as the afternoon sun laid like a blanket over the site, and it seemed that the whole world existed within the walls of a 7 year old orange Belgian camper van.
- Learning the art of sewing on approximately a million sequins without her fingers falling off - the family had a seamstress somewhere, who furnished them with new costumes whenver they could afford them, but alterations and repairs had to be done as and when.
- A magical evening, when the family - whilst en route from one city to another - decided to meet up at a resting place they knew, where they all ate late dinner together, before quitely watching the darkness deepen and the stars come out, as Alex, voice soft with some emotion Allison couldn't place, started naming them one after another, the whole of the dome of the sky lit up with tiny bright lights; and Allison felt as much in awe as she ever had in the Planetarium.
- And more than anything, Alex. (Or, as everyone called him - Alexei.) She had never quite understood what he meant about university curbing him, but in the freedom and challenges of the circus he thrived and blossomed in ways she found hard to put into words. Mostly he was just happy, a deep satisfaction surrounding him in an unbreakable shell, something he'd now again try to explain ("It engages everything: Mind and body, and timekeeping is of the utmost importance. And it's always new and fresh and real, yet it's so tightly controlled that you can't deviate by a split second or the whole thing collapses. Everyone is relying on everyone else..."), and she would just smile and nod, because the sheer joy was so infectious. There were no mood swings, no self-pity, no arguments, and - more surprisingly - no particular showing off. It truly was perfection in a bubble, and she was beginning to dread the end of the holidays, no matter how much she looked forwards to actual learning again. Cambridge would also mean a return to the real world, and to all the issues they'd avoided - and to a 'caged' boyfriend. Much as she still thought he needed to be taught a lesson, she couldn't deny that she much preferred him when he was free...
(She mentioned it, somewhat wistfully, as they got ready for the party the family were throwing on their last evening, and he smiled a smile she'd not seen in several months and said "He can't stop me thinking" - before quickly shaking his head and apologising. But the damage was done... She could feel the weight of May Day settle once again, and wasn't sure what to do.)
The party was marvellous of course, with plenty of good food, stories and music, and exchanges of gifts - but as things wound down and people said goodnight Babushka surprised Allison by taking her hand as they were about to head back to their own van. Babushka was possibly of Russian lineage, and somewhere in her 80s, maybe 90s. She was a comforting and stabilising background figure, someone whose circus/performing blood ran back to the genuinely old days. Looking from Allison to Alex she smiled an oddly secretive smile.
"You have become like part of our family. As a present now you leave... I could read your future?"
Once more Allison felt as if she had stumbled into a real-life story, hardly able to believe her ears.
"Of course - we would be delighted!" she answered, before seeing the oddly stifled smile on Alex's face.
As Babushka walked off, she grasped his hand.
"Come on - it'll be fun."
But 'fun' seemed to be the last thing on his mind, as he looked at her with the strangest, most apprehensive look she had ever seen.
"I fear too early: for my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars," he whispered, and she had to stop herself from throwing her hands up in the air. When he started to quote literature - not to mention Shakespeare - he was in serious danger of disappearing off to never-never land. The only way forward was to ignore him - she would enjoy her last evening as long as she could, and so would he.
Babushka's caravan was cosy and cluttered and like something out of a movie set, and as she pottered about, clearing her table and asking whether they wanted a bit of cake, Allison felt more than a little thrill go through her. She hadn't even known that Babushka also acted as fortune teller, and half expected her to bring out a glass globe. As it turned out she used tarot cards, which was almost better. Allison eagerly volunteered to go first, and discovered that she had to shuffle the cards herself - something about transferring her energy.
Once done, Babushka carefully laid out the cards - old, old cards, the colours faded and the edges frayed - and it was all entirely too wonderful for words. The images and particular arrangements made no particular sense to Allison (apart from the sort of basics she'd picked up from films), so she waited for the old woman to pore over them, nodding sagely to herself. A small lamp lit up the table, leaving most of the rest of the caravan in cosy semi-darkness.
"Good. Very good," she said, and then began speaking. Her English wasn't particularly fluent, but she told Allison that she would go on a long journey, that she would be loved by a good man, that she might or might not have children (the cards were unclear) and that she would win great renown. Allison felt immensely satisfied - a touch predictable, but still. It really was just like something out of a movie...
Then it was Alex's turn, and he still seemed immensely unwilling to co-operate. Having shuffled the cards he handed them over with visible reluctance, but as Babushka laid them out her hand almost faltered now and again. Allison was intrigued by this, and indeed the elderly woman took a long time to study the cards, the tension growing as Alex bit his lip. Allison thought it was marvellous.
Finally Babushka lifted her eyes, a wry smile twinkling in her eyes.
"Alexei... Ah yes, I see. You truly are Alexei Tsesarevich. Son of Empire, Child of the stars. But hiding."
This was more like it - Allison leaned forward to try to study the cards more clearly. She knew that 'Death' was supposedly a good card, meaning change and transition, and whilst there was a bit of that, and some 'Lovers' (which made her smile - the very same card had turned up in her own reading) as well as a good few Kings, the main theme seemed to be 'the Magician' - which were men with wands and an infinity symbol over their head. Whatever that meant. He was certainly good at appearing magical.
"I see long life and great love and mighty deeds and travels too vast to measure. But... your destiny. Ah your destiny. It is-"
"I don't have a destiny," Alex interrupted curtly, and when Allison looked up she saw that he had gone very pale. She didn't have time to ponder this, as Babushka continued unaffected.
"Your destiny is to rule. There is no mistake. Much power, much much power, it will light the sky - shining. All the worlds will know your name. And you will be... Not Alexei. No. English name, what is the English name..." She looked up, fixing Alex with eyes so keen and bright they belied her old and wrinkled face: "Alexander the Great. A Mighty King and Ruler. Yes. That is your destiny."
Abruptly moving backwards, as if slapped, Alex nearly fell off his chair, before leaping to his feet, as Allison stared at him, shocked.
"No. No, you are wrong. You read it wrong. This can't be it!"
She smiled gently, and shook her head.
"Child - my cards have never deceived me. They have not done so now. Your future is great, I have seen it."
Alex at this point looked like he was going to burst into tears, sinking back into the chair, hopelessness written in every line of his body - then a second later leaning forward, hands grasping the table so hard they turned white.
"Please - please Babushka, find something else. This mustn't happen. Oh there has to be something else..."
Unhurried she began to gather up the cards, momentarily inclining her head towards him.
"I told you everything I have seen, and I am honoured to have met you, Tsesarevich - child born to rule."
"You're welcome," he muttered tonelessly, letting go of the table and looking ahead into nothingness, face blank. After a moment he lifted his head, studying Babushka who was now busy tidying the cards away in a drawer.
"Just... don't tell the others. I don't want the family to know. None of it - please?"
She nodded acquiescence, and Allison felt like she'd been in a play that everyone else had rehearsed except her. Deciding that it was probably time for the show to end before her boyfriend lost all his marbles, she stood up.
"Well you can tell them about me. Thank you. I think that's probably what Alex meant too, he's just forgotten his manners."
Somehow she managed to say their goodbyes and get her now completely silent boyfriend out the door - the bustle of a city at night could be heard in the distance, but the camp site itself was mostly quiet, with only peeks of dim light from the different caravans. As she took his hand and made her way towards their own camper van, he suddenly stopped, letting go of her hand, and when she turned, he looked at her as if from some vast distance.
"A different time line. The cards could have seen a different time line. That would explain it. Right?"
She stared at him for a long moment.
"OK, first of all: You are now talking sci-fi gobbeldy-gook. Secondly: The cards didn't 'see' anything. They're cards. Little bits of coloured paper. And little bits of coloured paper should be enjoyed, but not taken seriously."
She shook her head.
"I can't understand why you're so rattled, or what exactly happened to you in there - I thought you were a scientist. Are you not feeling well, or did you have too much of that nice wine?"
His demeanour didn't change at all, except his eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Not scientist. Renaissance man. And there is so much more to the world than cold hard facts... Jack knows-"
She tried to stifle a sigh.
"No, listen Allie - Jack knows a little girl who is not a little girl, who can tell the future. She is never wrong. Ever."
Allison was beginning to thoroughly loathe sentences that began with 'Jack knows' (or 'Jack says' or 'Jack did'), because it always meant that whatever-it-was could not be argued with, since Alex generally regarded Jack as the be-all and end-all of everything and a fount of endless knowledge. Taking a deep breath she tried her best to tackle this latest challenge.
"Fine. Let's for arguments sake say that there's a freaky little girl somewhere who can actually tell the future. How does that prove that a little old Babushka in Central Europe can do so too?"
He opened his mouth, but didn't seem capable of making any kind of sound. She tilted her head in her best impression of her mother.
"See? Logic wins the day. It's all a storm in a teacup..."
Reaching out, she realised that he was shaking.
"Alex? What's the matter?"
He was never cold, and it was a balmy evening.
"Wouldn't you be affected if someone had just laid out your worst nightmare in front of you?" he asked, possibly aiming for flip, but missing spectacularly as the look in his eyes spoke of something more - she'd never seen him cry, but it could only be tears blurring his eyes now. And she realised that he really truly had taken the reading seriously, to a degree she couldn't quite wrap her head around.
"Let's get you a cup of tea," she said (it was the only thing she could think of) and he nodded.
As she boiled their tiny little two-cup kettle a moment later, she took a moment to fetch a blanket for him, as he was still physically shaking; a strangely silent figure huddled on their sofa bed. What had initially seemed like a lark, had apparently - unlikely as she still regarded it - managed to cause some kind of genuine shock. 'Worst nightmare'... His worst nightmare was to become a king? No, he could never be normal, not even when it came to things to be scared of. The words nearly tripped up her hand as she added the milk. Scared. He had been - was - genuinely scared. Terrified even. Pleading. Desperate. Whatever had just happened, it had been something much deeper than a silly card game, because she had never seen him like this, never had the slightest indication that there was anything he could be scared of... Because this was a million miles away from self-pity.
"Here you go," she said, handing over the tea cup, and he took it with both hands, not even looking up.
Sitting down next to him, she waited until he'd managed to get the shaking under control, then asked, as gently as she could: "Please... What just happened?"
For a long moment he was silent, looking ahead, then he sighed.
"I don't know. I'm trying to work it out..."
Emptying his cup, he finally turned to look at her.
"That probably doesn't mean what you presume. I... don't see the world like you do. It's impossible for me to just dismiss what happened as unreal. How to explain it... Have you seen Donnie Darko?"
"Once," she said, and he nodded. "Remember how he sees sort of 'action waves' coming from people showing where they're about to go?"
"Yes," she answered, by now thoroughly baffled, and he continued.
"It's a bit like that. OK, I don't see weird watery blobby arrows - that bit is just weird - but I can see the consequences of things. Actions. I look at you, and I can picture almost every possible future. The ones where you leave me tomorrow, the ones where we slowly drift apart, the ones where you stay with me until you're old and grey, the ones where you leave me because of work... And the ones that are still only maybes - maybe you meet someone else, maybe I do, maybe you get run over by a bus - not to mention all the unknown unknowns, the black swans, that I know I can't know, but that I still try to prepare for... And every time something happens to us, it causes some avenues to be closed off, and others to open. Does that make sense?"
She nodded, still not sure where he was going with it all, but he kept talking, voice careful and searching.
"Now if someone came along and said that we would end up as bitter enemies, I would be very upset. And I would try to look at all the paths that would take us there and wonder which one it could be, and if I could somehow do something to prevent it. That's what tonight was... Except so much worse."
He shivered again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
"I can't let it happen," he whispered. "Can't."
"But Alex... Wildly unlikely as it is, what is so terrible about being a king? I don't... I just don't understand. Most people have silly dreams about what they'd do if they ruled the world."
He tried to shrug, causing the blanket to slip, and he pulled it back up without thinking, simultaneously setting the cup down on the floor.
"Objectively there's nothing wrong with being king. It's not the word that frightens me, or the responsibility, or anything like that. What scares me is... me."
He shot her a look both heartbroken and wry.
"I'm my own worst nightmare. Psychiatrist field day, and then some, I know, but it doesn't stop it being true."
A long distance stare, as he grasped hold of his pendant (had he been wearing that earlier?), absentmindedly twisting it round and round as he spoke.
"I know I try to make light of my name, do my best to take the sting out of 'Alexander the Great', but still that is what my father named me, and it is who he wants me to be. He is only waiting - waiting for the day I decide to grasp power. It is possible - unlikely, but possible - that tonight was his work: Insert a prophecy into my life so I'd feel compelled to go down that path."
She waited for a smile that never came, then shook her head in disbelief.
"And now you are taking paranoia to new heights, you know that, right?"
"You don't know my father," was the curt reply. "It's exactly the sort of thing he'd do. I can't see how, but it'd fit... However, I can't count on it being just his manipulation. Or 'just pieces of card'. Or some kind of mad coincidence... 'Child of the stars'... How did she know?"
"Alex. You spent half an hour naming stars only a few weeks ago. You've been calling yourself 'Alexei', and I'm sure they're aware of your notoriety, even here. Babushka is a lovely person, but everyone loves a captive audience... She saw how you reacted and went with it. Like... Derren Brown."
He looked at her the way someone would a child.
"That is one possibility, yes. But only one amongst many. This is what I'm trying to explain. I see all the possibilities. And I can't discount any of them. That is my gift and my curse - I am incapable of lying to myself. Maybe... Maybe that's why I lie so much to others - it's a luxury I can't have."
He chuckled joylessly.
"Oh, who am I kidding, I just like to control people - it's simple and easy and I can."
He buried his head in his hands once more, not moving for a long time as she watched him silently, not knowing what to think.
"Remember that photographer?" he finally said. "How that whole affair hangs over us? It was a one-off, but... Extend that to a world and you should see why I mustn't let it happen. Power is... power is neither good nor bad, is just is. The important thing how you use it, and oh, I could do terrible things in the name of good..."
A beat, then a soft smile.
"Jack would stop me. I need to tell him - just in case. But Jack would stop me. If worst comes to the worst it might cause a minor paradox, but that's fixable..."
Allison had a momentary bout of seeing the whole situation as through other eyes, and the absurdity of the thing struck her forcibly. A teenaged boy, wrapped up in a blanket in a small Belgian camper van in the night, terrified that he was somehow destined to go evil like his father and take over the world... Some part of her brain told her that - quite obviously - he wasn't quite right in the head (to put it mildly), because clever though he might be there was no way he could do what he feared. And yet... The situation had miraculously solved her problems, as he had undoubtedly seen the error of manipulation.
Carefully making him move she got the bed ready, telling him that sleep was important, and he acquiesced without a murmur. Hopefully he'd feel better in the morning...
Later that night she was woken by flailing limbs and something that sounded like sobbing, before Alex with a very clear "Jack" grabbed hold of her and pulled her close.
For the first time in her life Allison wished that she'd read some kind of relationship help book, as she didn't have a clue how to respond. However it only took a moment before Alex opened his eyes, studying her in the near-darkness.
"You're not Jack," he said with a frown.
"I noticed that," she replied, and he took a deep shaky breath.
"It was a dream..." he said softly. "Just a dream."
Pulling her closer he kept speaking, his low voice almost disembodied in the darkness of the room.
"I dreamt that I was falling... Falling and falling and falling and I knew if I could just find Jack I'd be OK, but he wasn't there at all..."
A sniffle, as he buried his head in her shoulder, and she could feel that his face was moist with tears.
"I've not had a dream like this in years... Small and lost and scared and it hurts and why are they doing this to me? Reliving it all, but it just goes on and on, because that's what dreams are like..."
She felt him swallow, and when he spoke again, there was an unexpected anger in his voice.
"They never even explained or... warned me - is it any wonder I hate being unprepared? When those who love you hurt you, wouldn't you be wary of the unexpected?"
The words caused a sudden chill to Allison's insides. Maybe he was just talking about a dream. Maybe it was nothing. She should just leave it, he would laugh at her, and yet - and yet her mother had taught her to vigilant against just this kind of thing from a fairly early age, and she'd never been one for staying quiet. 'Reliving it' he'd said, and he'd talked about being small and hurting... It was on one level a ludicrous notion, yet it'd explain a lot...
"Alex," she said carefully, relieved the darkness was hiding her, "were you..." she swallowed, "were you abused when you were younger?"
He didn't laugh. He went very, very quiet, then shifted, reaching up to pull one of the little curtains slightly open, his face turning into a mask of muted gold and black.
"That's an... odd term to use. It makes me think of predatory pedophiles and small children used for their illicit pleasure, and it was nothing like that. Nothing at all. But..."
He paused for a moment.
"If you would categorise making a child achieve their full potential at the expense of their innocence as 'abuse'... Then yes."
What could you say to something like this? What had caused this sudden openness?
"How old were you?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Eight. Not a very long childhood, really. Not that my life wasn't perfectly happy afterwards, but there was no way to get back what I'd lost. Didn't quite understand it at the time of course, I just knew that I was different..."
"But who-"
('Those who love you' he'd said - but surely that didn't mean...)
A wry look, even though most of his face was now in darkness again.
"Who do you think? The same ones who sent me here."
She must have made some sort of sound, because he chuckled.
"Oh yes, it was both my Uncle and my father. Then and now. Quite formidable when they work together - and even though their aims for me are very different, their methods are sometimes indistinguishable. And I won't behave, much to their surprise."
He shook his head, and his eyes seemed to harden in the dim light.
"I know what I am. I understand my responsibilities; accept what I need to be. But I will do it my way, or not at all."
She wasn't sure what he was talking about - it seemed something different to anything else he'd told her - but, before she could ask, the defiant look in his eyes abruptly gave way to something softer.
"So, because I know you are wondering: That's why I love Jack best. Jack just... accepts me how I am and doesn't try to force me into being one thing or another. I realised, back then, back when I was eight, that he was the only one I could trust, because he doesn't have any motives. My Jack..."
"Alex," she said gently, reaching up and gently touching his cheek. "I... don't know what to say."
"Well... it's all hugely, massively private, and I've never told anyone before - I'm not sure what you should say," he replied with a smile which was far more like his normal smile, and then he did a small shrug. "Besides... it happened, and there's no point in pondering could-have-beens. I am who I am because of it, and I wouldn't change it for all the world."
The words froze her, even as they caused a sudden wave of understanding. She had thought his attitude pure youthful arrogance, but it came from quite a different place. And his family - well, father and uncle - were apparently responsible for that attitude... (What had they done to him? He had a great capacity for melodrama, but he'd been immensely matter-of-fact once he'd recovered from the dream, even downplaying it. But he considered his childhood over at eight years old - she needed to think it all over.)
As he fell asleep again with his head on her shoulder (the high emotions of the night obviously taking their toll), she wondered at how a single evening could turn everything upside down. He'd been surrounded by a shell as long as she'd known him, perfectly friendly but fiercely private. There had been the odd chink in the armour now and again, unwished for and unwilling, but tonight... The shell had cracked, and she finally understood why he behaved the way he did. It didn't excuse some of it, but it explained it, and her scientific mind was at rest. Also - it seemed as if the tarot reading had done what his uncle's punishment was unsuccessfully trying to: Teach him restraint. (Although if it was both his father and his uncle who had sent him away to Cambridge... What could he possibly have done? But that was a question for another time. Her mind was too full of revelations for now, to even think about asking more questions.)
She kissed him gently on the temple, and contemplated the next two years with more optimism than she had in a long time. She had her Alex, and although she now knew that he wasn't just brilliant, but also damaged and not quite as sane as he thought himself, it only confirmed her initial assessment: Underneath everything he was achingly human.
Notes: Everything I know about the tarot I've learned from the internet, so please excuse any glaring mistakes. But this is so Alex that it literally took my breath away:
The Magician
"He consciously creates reality through his will and imagination. As an alchemist and transformer, he epitomizes the ability to translate ideas into action. He relies on self confidence, power, and determination to see him through.
The astrological counterpart of the Magician is Mercury, the planet of mental agility and quickness. He symbolizes creative intelligence, psychic discovery, new beginnings, and the realization that with desire, intent, and focus, all our dreams are within our reach."
Chapter 12
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Have you read The Man Born To Be King? Judas is the supreme example of this, in Dorothy Sayer's hands.
that he caused damage to Allison
Nnnnot really? He knows he COULD (and asks Jack to look out), but only thinks of it in terms of something he might deliberately do, not something accidental. He does not grasp the damage he's already done. (But it might be better to leave this until later.)
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It’s weird though how, for me, that’s one of the pieces of knowledge/insight/whatever that just never seems to stick.
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But the first 10 seconds of this trailer are a good Doctor Who example of it:
(All of AGMGTW, actually. 'The War is won, but the child is lost.' See icon.)
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ETA: This is probably my favourite S6 vid: Space Oddity.
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Although right now I'm off to bed. See you in the morning.
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Tomorrow!
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I have PLENTY MORE RECS, but I shall leave alone for now. ;)
The icon is by
And today!