Crocodile Tears [Interlude/?]
Title: Crocodile Tears [Interlude/?]
Rating: R
Fandom: Bandom [Elliot Minor/Empires/Suns]
Pairing(s): So far, Tom Conrad/ Mikey Russell
Summary: Murder and abduction is never easy, but the Princes in the Tower case is turning out to be something else entirely. Alex Davies wasn't expecting this after the Bernstein case.
Genre: AU/Angst
Warnings: swearing, violence, murder, character death, child abuse, domestic abuse
Notes: [448 words]
Edward and Richard
He picked up the phone silently, running a hand through his hair.
“Hello Alistair.” The person on the other end of the phone purred calmly. “I found you.”
The man’s eyes widened in shock, and he dropped the phone, jumping back as though it had hurt him. He could hear the voice crackling through the speaker, still talking.
“Alistair? Alistair, can you hear me?” The voice felt like it filled the room. He pressed his hands over his ears, shaking frantically. The voice was hammering into his mind.
He grabbed the phone. “There’s no Alistair here.” His voice shook, and he hated himself for it. Hated that they could still induce this fear to him, still stop his breathing and raise his heart rate.
“Are you scared, Alistair?” They mocked. “Are you scared? I’m going to make you pay. I’m going to make you pay. You took my sons, and you are going to pay.”
“You’re lying.” He whispered. “You’re lying!”
“You took my sons, and now I’m going to make you pay.” The person taunted. “I’m going to rip you to pieces.”
“Leave me alone!” He slammed the phone back down on its cradle and stepped back, never letting it out of his sight. The phone rang again and he cancelled the call, fiddling with the phone so he wouldn’t get any more calls, couldn’t get any more calls, no, no, no.
He walked backwards, not turning his back on the phone. He tripped over something - a toy, it’s just a toy - and fell, landing hard.
There were echoes of children’s laughter in his head. Echoes of Edward’s pain filled screams, as the acrid smell of burning flesh filled that small room. Echoes of Richard’s eyes filling with tears, his hand gripping onto the little boy’s arm and bruising it - don’t tell, it’s ok, I’ll look after you, everything’s going to be fine, don’t cry Dickon, don’t cry.
It was the use of that name that had stopped him, stopped him crying. The name that only his father called him. Dickon, I love you.
The name had stopped everything then. It had stopped people noticing him taking the boys, stopped people noticing the hunched up way Edward was walking, the little gasps of pain he made at every step. Brave boy, good boy. Be quiet Edward, everything is gonna be alright. It had even stopped them noticing when Edward couldn’t walk anymore and sank to his feet, sobbing in pain, and he just picked him up, cradled him like a baby, and kept walking.
The name wasn’t helping anymore. Nothing could help him. Nobody would even try. He buried his head in his knees and cried.
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