FIC: Five Lies Matthew Farrell Told Because of Tommy Donnelly (Black Donnellys)
Title: Five Lies Matthew Farrell Told Because Of Tommy Donnelly
Author: chicafrom3
Characters/Pairings: Matty Farrell (appearances by Tommy Donnelly, Kate Farrell, Joey Ice Cream; Tommy/Kate if you want to read into it)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 884
Spoiler alert: the Tommy/Kate/Matty storyline through "All Of Us Are In The Gutter" is fair game.
Summary: Future spec: five ways that Tommy impacted Matty's life; five times that Matty lied because of it.
Author’s Notes: Unbetaed. Concrit welcomed with enthusiastic applause. I watched "All Of Us Are In The Gutter" and for some unknown reason this is what it inspired me to write. If I screwed up and contradicted canon somewhere, tell me; I'm a bit sleep-deprived at the moment.
v.
Matthew Farrell was twenty-three and the woman he loved was leaning on his shoulder, breathing him in.
"Where did you learn how to draw like that?" she asked.
He thought about crayons held in large hands, warm eyes and patient instructions. "After my dad died...a friend of my mom's, Tommy Donnelly. He hung around to make sure we were okay. He taught me; he was an art student."
He didn't mention that Tommy Donnelly killed his father; or that Tommy Donnelly stole from his mother; or that Tommy Donnelly gave up art to take over organized crime in their neighborhood. He didn't mention it because he didn't want to remember it--even though he'd never forget.
He wanted to remember the Tommy who made fun of Uncle Dokey to make him less scary; the Tommy who brought him crayons and taught him to draw; the Tommy who joked about holding down one of his brothers and letting Matty beat him up.
"He was a good guy," Matthew concluded, and she let it drop.
iv.
Matthew Farrell was nineteen and swearing to himself and to God and to the universe that he would never, ever become like his father, or his uncle, or Tommy Donnelly.
He wrote out a list to himself, all the people he knew personally who had died because of his father, or his uncle, or Tommy Donnelly, and then he taped the list inside one of his notebooks--a reminder, for whenever he might forget why he'd made that decision.
He half wished he had a brother, or brothers, someone who might be expected to take over and live up to the Farrell name instead of Matty. Then he walked by the Firecracker Lounge on his way home, and thought: No. It was a good thing he was an only child. At least he had no one to protect.
Except his mother, and he went home and fixed the front steps like she'd been asking him to, and promised himself again that he wouldn't be his father.
iii.
Matthew Farrell was sixteen and had just spent most of his savings to get across New York, to the prison, with no one at home the wiser. He handed over a fake ID his cousin had set him up with, lied easily about who he was, and fifteen minutes later was sitting in a cell, staring at a guy he'd known without really knowing for most of his life.
Getting Joey Ice Cream to talk wasn't hard. But then, people had always joked that getting Joey to shut up was the difficult part.
Joey lied, but Matthew had expected that. He kept asking questions, coming at Joey's story from new angles, prying away the lies to get at that little bit of truth. And in the end, Joey told him what had really happened, the year Matthew turned nine and his father died.
Matthew left the prison, went back home, broke and lying about where he'd spent the day. And when his mother left and he was alone in the room, he smashed a glass on the floor and bit back a scream of anger and frustration and grief.
Maybe he hadn't wanted to know the truth about Tommy Donnelly after all.
ii.
Matthew Farrell was twelve and not stupid.
At school, other kids talked about him in whispers, but not for the normal stupid high school reasons. They didn't gossip about his luck with girls or grades or sports.
They whispered, instead, about his parents; about his mother, Kate Farrell, the woman best known in the neighborhood for the pictures that teenage boys circled around; about his father, Huey Farrell, the now-dead head of the Irish mob; they whispered about his uncle, Derek Farrell, who had filled that place in the neighborhood until his own untimely death; they whispered about Tommy Donnelly and his regular visits to Matthew's home, his standing order to leave the Farrell family alone.
Matthew never heard them, but he knew they whispered, Matty's going to take over the neighborhood someday.
Tommy Donnelly came to Sunday dinner, to check up on Kate and Matthew, and when he asked Matthew how school was going, Matty just smiled and said it was fine, he had lots of friends.
Matthew had learned how to lie a long time ago.
i.
Matthew Farrell was nine and held Tommy Donnelly's future in his hands.
I won't tell anyone, he'd promised, but Tommy obviously didn't understand why that was. Tommy looked scared; Tommy looked guilty.
Matty liked Tommy, because Tommy was nice and made his mom feel better; she smiled more when Tommy Donnelly came by. Tommy joked around with him and didn't talk down to him; Tommy had promised to teach him to draw and roughhouse; Tommy wasn't scary like Uncle Dokey. Tommy understood, what it was like to lose your dad, what it was like to need to take care of your mom.
If Tommy had taken the box, then Tommy must have a good reason. Matty would keep his mouth shut--because otherwise his mom might make Tommy go away, and she might stop smiling again.
So Matthew told Tommy that he wouldn't tell, and promised himself that he'd take the secret with him to the grave if necessary.
Author: chicafrom3
Characters/Pairings: Matty Farrell (appearances by Tommy Donnelly, Kate Farrell, Joey Ice Cream; Tommy/Kate if you want to read into it)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 884
Spoiler alert: the Tommy/Kate/Matty storyline through "All Of Us Are In The Gutter" is fair game.
Summary: Future spec: five ways that Tommy impacted Matty's life; five times that Matty lied because of it.
Author’s Notes: Unbetaed. Concrit welcomed with enthusiastic applause. I watched "All Of Us Are In The Gutter" and for some unknown reason this is what it inspired me to write. If I screwed up and contradicted canon somewhere, tell me; I'm a bit sleep-deprived at the moment.
v.
Matthew Farrell was twenty-three and the woman he loved was leaning on his shoulder, breathing him in.
"Where did you learn how to draw like that?" she asked.
He thought about crayons held in large hands, warm eyes and patient instructions. "After my dad died...a friend of my mom's, Tommy Donnelly. He hung around to make sure we were okay. He taught me; he was an art student."
He didn't mention that Tommy Donnelly killed his father; or that Tommy Donnelly stole from his mother; or that Tommy Donnelly gave up art to take over organized crime in their neighborhood. He didn't mention it because he didn't want to remember it--even though he'd never forget.
He wanted to remember the Tommy who made fun of Uncle Dokey to make him less scary; the Tommy who brought him crayons and taught him to draw; the Tommy who joked about holding down one of his brothers and letting Matty beat him up.
"He was a good guy," Matthew concluded, and she let it drop.
iv.
Matthew Farrell was nineteen and swearing to himself and to God and to the universe that he would never, ever become like his father, or his uncle, or Tommy Donnelly.
He wrote out a list to himself, all the people he knew personally who had died because of his father, or his uncle, or Tommy Donnelly, and then he taped the list inside one of his notebooks--a reminder, for whenever he might forget why he'd made that decision.
He half wished he had a brother, or brothers, someone who might be expected to take over and live up to the Farrell name instead of Matty. Then he walked by the Firecracker Lounge on his way home, and thought: No. It was a good thing he was an only child. At least he had no one to protect.
Except his mother, and he went home and fixed the front steps like she'd been asking him to, and promised himself again that he wouldn't be his father.
iii.
Matthew Farrell was sixteen and had just spent most of his savings to get across New York, to the prison, with no one at home the wiser. He handed over a fake ID his cousin had set him up with, lied easily about who he was, and fifteen minutes later was sitting in a cell, staring at a guy he'd known without really knowing for most of his life.
Getting Joey Ice Cream to talk wasn't hard. But then, people had always joked that getting Joey to shut up was the difficult part.
Joey lied, but Matthew had expected that. He kept asking questions, coming at Joey's story from new angles, prying away the lies to get at that little bit of truth. And in the end, Joey told him what had really happened, the year Matthew turned nine and his father died.
Matthew left the prison, went back home, broke and lying about where he'd spent the day. And when his mother left and he was alone in the room, he smashed a glass on the floor and bit back a scream of anger and frustration and grief.
Maybe he hadn't wanted to know the truth about Tommy Donnelly after all.
ii.
Matthew Farrell was twelve and not stupid.
At school, other kids talked about him in whispers, but not for the normal stupid high school reasons. They didn't gossip about his luck with girls or grades or sports.
They whispered, instead, about his parents; about his mother, Kate Farrell, the woman best known in the neighborhood for the pictures that teenage boys circled around; about his father, Huey Farrell, the now-dead head of the Irish mob; they whispered about his uncle, Derek Farrell, who had filled that place in the neighborhood until his own untimely death; they whispered about Tommy Donnelly and his regular visits to Matthew's home, his standing order to leave the Farrell family alone.
Matthew never heard them, but he knew they whispered, Matty's going to take over the neighborhood someday.
Tommy Donnelly came to Sunday dinner, to check up on Kate and Matthew, and when he asked Matthew how school was going, Matty just smiled and said it was fine, he had lots of friends.
Matthew had learned how to lie a long time ago.
i.
Matthew Farrell was nine and held Tommy Donnelly's future in his hands.
I won't tell anyone, he'd promised, but Tommy obviously didn't understand why that was. Tommy looked scared; Tommy looked guilty.
Matty liked Tommy, because Tommy was nice and made his mom feel better; she smiled more when Tommy Donnelly came by. Tommy joked around with him and didn't talk down to him; Tommy had promised to teach him to draw and roughhouse; Tommy wasn't scary like Uncle Dokey. Tommy understood, what it was like to lose your dad, what it was like to need to take care of your mom.
If Tommy had taken the box, then Tommy must have a good reason. Matty would keep his mouth shut--because otherwise his mom might make Tommy go away, and she might stop smiling again.
So Matthew told Tommy that he wouldn't tell, and promised himself that he'd take the secret with him to the grave if necessary.