Alias/Carnivale FIC: Bloodlines (1/1)
Don't blame me, blame them.
This one is for selenak, the first of several requested fics for a variety of people.
Bloodlines
She was back in San Francisco again, her mother holding her hand and her father pacing outside; smoking, smoking, smoking. She could hear the steady beat of his booted feet outside her hospital room, to-and-fro, like a guard at her door. The nurses would stop by occasionally and ask him to sit down, to stop disturbing the other patients, this is a sanatorium, not a fairground! His answer was pitched lower than she could hear, and on he would pace, to and fro; a guard outside her door.
"Now, remember, honey, you can stop any time you want to, okay?" Her mother squeezed her hand. "They can always come back later, I'm sure they won't mind, will you, gentlemen?"
"No, ma'am, of course not," the taller agent said.
The shorter one had gone outside, presumably to try to talk to her dad. Eleanor was vaguely glad about that; something about the clean, crisp manner of these men unnerved her. No one could be that clean, surely. (No one at New Canaan had been.)
"We'll only talk as long as you are able, Miss Hooper." He moved a little closer to her, pointedly ignoring the way she shrank back into her hospital bed. "Now, what can you tell me about the cult leader Justin Crowe?"
*
"Will she be all right?"
"Mr Hooper -"
"I mean - will she? That's my little girl in there, you know, my only child -"
"I know, sir, and -"
"And that madman just took her, he took her, and we were only there for a few days! I curse the day I ever drove north, Agent Smith, let me tell you, I wish we'd stayed here and let my damn sister-in-law go to hell."
"Mr Hooper -"
"But no, sir, I took it as my Christian duty - my Christian duty - to go there, to visit her and her children, and bring them a few things we could spare. And it weren't much, don't get me wrong; it's not like we're living like kings while she starves, it's not that at all. But I took pity, Agent Smith, and that wretch damn near bit my hand off for it. Taking my little girl to that mockery of a church! And that priest - that's no goddamn priest, not any priest I of, Agent Smith, let me tell you -"
"Mister Hooper!"
He ran out of breath and stopped, glaring at the FBI agent, all clean and pressed like he'd walked out the house with steam still rising from his clothes. "He molested my little girl, Agent Smith! What are you going to do about that?"
"We need your daughter's testimony, Mr Hooper. We need to know what she knows about Brother Justin."
He rocked back on his heels a little, arms crossed over his chest, squinting. "Does that mean you're gonna do something?"
The agent seemed a little uncomfortable. "I assure you, sir, that the Bureau will make every effort to investigate this complaint."
This wasn't really what he'd wanted to hear. "And what about my daughter? What happens to my Ellie?"
This seemed to make the agent even more uncomfortable. "Sir, I'm really not at liberty to -"
"Mr Hooper? Sir!" The young man running in was in such a hurry he nearly knocked over the head nurse.
Oh, God, not now. "David," he said wearily. "What are you doing here?"
"I stopped by the house to see if there had been any news - anything at all - and Mrs Buchanan said that you'd come back, and that you were all at St Francis. And -" Sloane ran a hand through close-cropped dark hair, "I wanted to see Ellie, sir. I wanted to make sure she's all right."
The agent had moved away, giving them a little privacy. Hooper wished there was some way of making the nurses disappear as well; the boy, too, if he had any say in the matter. Not anymore, the thought came, unbidden. Not in this.
"David," he said slowly, and guided the young man to the rickety wooden bench. "Something has happened to Ellie."
...
fin!
No-one to blame but yourself, remember...
This one is for selenak, the first of several requested fics for a variety of people.
Bloodlines
She was back in San Francisco again, her mother holding her hand and her father pacing outside; smoking, smoking, smoking. She could hear the steady beat of his booted feet outside her hospital room, to-and-fro, like a guard at her door. The nurses would stop by occasionally and ask him to sit down, to stop disturbing the other patients, this is a sanatorium, not a fairground! His answer was pitched lower than she could hear, and on he would pace, to and fro; a guard outside her door.
"Now, remember, honey, you can stop any time you want to, okay?" Her mother squeezed her hand. "They can always come back later, I'm sure they won't mind, will you, gentlemen?"
"No, ma'am, of course not," the taller agent said.
The shorter one had gone outside, presumably to try to talk to her dad. Eleanor was vaguely glad about that; something about the clean, crisp manner of these men unnerved her. No one could be that clean, surely. (No one at New Canaan had been.)
"We'll only talk as long as you are able, Miss Hooper." He moved a little closer to her, pointedly ignoring the way she shrank back into her hospital bed. "Now, what can you tell me about the cult leader Justin Crowe?"
*
"Will she be all right?"
"Mr Hooper -"
"I mean - will she? That's my little girl in there, you know, my only child -"
"I know, sir, and -"
"And that madman just took her, he took her, and we were only there for a few days! I curse the day I ever drove north, Agent Smith, let me tell you, I wish we'd stayed here and let my damn sister-in-law go to hell."
"Mr Hooper -"
"But no, sir, I took it as my Christian duty - my Christian duty - to go there, to visit her and her children, and bring them a few things we could spare. And it weren't much, don't get me wrong; it's not like we're living like kings while she starves, it's not that at all. But I took pity, Agent Smith, and that wretch damn near bit my hand off for it. Taking my little girl to that mockery of a church! And that priest - that's no goddamn priest, not any priest I of, Agent Smith, let me tell you -"
"Mister Hooper!"
He ran out of breath and stopped, glaring at the FBI agent, all clean and pressed like he'd walked out the house with steam still rising from his clothes. "He molested my little girl, Agent Smith! What are you going to do about that?"
"We need your daughter's testimony, Mr Hooper. We need to know what she knows about Brother Justin."
He rocked back on his heels a little, arms crossed over his chest, squinting. "Does that mean you're gonna do something?"
The agent seemed a little uncomfortable. "I assure you, sir, that the Bureau will make every effort to investigate this complaint."
This wasn't really what he'd wanted to hear. "And what about my daughter? What happens to my Ellie?"
This seemed to make the agent even more uncomfortable. "Sir, I'm really not at liberty to -"
"Mr Hooper? Sir!" The young man running in was in such a hurry he nearly knocked over the head nurse.
Oh, God, not now. "David," he said wearily. "What are you doing here?"
"I stopped by the house to see if there had been any news - anything at all - and Mrs Buchanan said that you'd come back, and that you were all at St Francis. And -" Sloane ran a hand through close-cropped dark hair, "I wanted to see Ellie, sir. I wanted to make sure she's all right."
The agent had moved away, giving them a little privacy. Hooper wished there was some way of making the nurses disappear as well; the boy, too, if he had any say in the matter. Not anymore, the thought came, unbidden. Not in this.
"David," he said slowly, and guided the young man to the rickety wooden bench. "Something has happened to Ellie."
...
fin!
No-one to blame but yourself, remember...