Tintin: The Sinner of Satchsweet VIII
Title: The Sinner of Satchsweet
Authors: ArethaHelena and Rachel (~RaltheCommentator)
Rating: PG-15
Summary: When Rastapopoulus discovered something crucial to Tintin, he decided to use it against him.
Genre: AU (NOT taken from ‘Past, Present, and Future’ and ‘He’s the Boy’, but have several characters, relevance, and storylines from them). Haddock did not raise Tintin in this story, he lived with his parents until they died and he was moved into the orphanage. But still, Myriam hated him with a passion.
Warning: Violence
A/N: This is based on my Tintin RP with ~RaltheCommentator. When the RP turned into a simple story, that’s what happened to this one. I hope you readers like it, and I apologize if there was some irrelevance and stuffs.
Quick & Flupke (c) Herge.
Prologue: What I Discovered
Chapter One: So-Called Vacation?
Chapter Two: What I Found
Chapter Three: Let Me Tell You
Chapter Four: Scheduled for Demolition, No Trespassing!
Chapter Five: Darkest Fears Emerged
Chapter Six: Insults Made Their Way Out
Chapter Seven: A Very Unusual Morning
Chapter Eight: Helps and Conversations
Haddock walked into Tintin's room and saw the young lad was deep in his thoughts. He cleared his throat and the reporter snapped out his musings. Tintin looked up at Haddock as his best friend settled himself on the chair next to the bed.
"Captain, do you see Snowy?"
Haddock shook his head, and was surprised when he realized it wasn't the first Tintin asked since he woke up. He began to worry himself. Where is that mutt? "He followed me, but I haven't seen him until now."
To his surprise, Tintin didn't press the subject. And he was silent too, which surprised the captain further.
"Why did she come here, Captain?" Tintin suddenly asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"She told me everything," Haddock said as calmly as possible. "She has nothing to do with this."
His hand gripped the newspaper tightly behind his back. Maybe it is the perfect time to tell him, he thought.
"And what makes you believe her, Captain? You know by yourself that she..."
And at that exact moment, Haddock's calmness broke. He jumped out his chair and shoved the newspaper to his best friend. "Blue blistering barnacles, Tintin! If she had something to do with this, you were dead now, boy! Look at this!"
Tintin read the headlines of his reported murder, and needless to say, he was shocked. A photograph of his own body was even posted on the front page!
**
Meanwhile, the hobo returned to where Rastapopoulus was hiding. A huge smile plastered on his face. He was carrying a brown sack, filled with an alive (and kicking) white terrier. Maybe this can earn me more money, he thought. That drunken sidekick of the reporter absolutely ruined Rastapopoulus' plan, but the hobo paid him no heed. As long as it was money, he was okay to switch sides.
"Boss," he called. The short man looked away from the window, and his interest clearly peeked out as he noticed the brown sack. "I've got the dog. That nosy reporter's dog."
To his surprise, his boss' face curled in annoyance instead of thankfulness. "Idiot!" he snapped angrily, making the bum jumped. "Are you out of your mind? If they find it here, they'll find us with it! Get rid of it!"
The hobo practically shrank in fear. He hurriedly ran outside, took a neglected motorcycle, and drove toward the harbour. Since his boss didn't want the dog, he could kill it, drown it. Maybe if he did, his boss would give him more money.
**
It was no ordinary day if it gone without any single prank. A blond haired boy, younger than Chang, named Flupke was walking in the dock, thinking about his best friend and pranks they could do together. This was his favourite place, because people were too busy to notice him and Quick playing here.
Sad enough Quick wasn't here; he was too busy making a bookshelf for his too much books. Flupke despised Quick's do-it-yourself talent, because it could only make mess for him or both of them.
He was too busy in his thoughts until something stopped him. It was the cruellest scene he had ever seen. The man was tying a brown sack and it was obvious for the boy that the sack contained a living creature, because it kept kicking. Maybe a little dog?
"Somebody tried to kill that dog!" he stated in shock. He and Quick might be two little brats, but killing an animal, let alone a dog, was unforgivable. He knew that it was useless if he went against that man alone, because he was the only witness. He would be beaten rather easily if he did. So he worked his brain (the thing he sometimes did) and finally could find a plan.
He hid behind the nearest wall, and watched as the man threw the sack off the sea. After he saw the man's departure, he hurriedly ran downstairs the wooden steps and jumped to the sea. He silently thanked his mother who had taught him how to swim and dive.
Finally he could find the sack and pulled it out with all his might. His clothes were heavy and wet; he was a fool not to release his clothes before jumping to the sea, but he was far past caring. He sat on a wooden step and opened the sack. He gaped at the scene.
A little white dog was staring at him intently. Flupke knew this dog, who didn't? This was the most famous dog in the entire Brussels. "Goodness! This is Tintin's dog! How could he?" he cursed the man who tried to drown the innocent little mutt before.
He scooped the dog into his arms and ran away the harbour, to the market near it. He ran to a certain house and squatted in front of the small window, which placed on the ground. He peeked in and saw Quick was cutting some wooden blocks in his underground workroom.
"Quick!" he called his best friend, who looked up immediately. "Look what I've found!"
**
The afternoon turned into uneventful evening. Tintin was reading a book while Haddock took a nap on the chair beside him. Tintin sometimes glanced at his best friend. It was like the Moon adventure all over again.
The reporter didn't have a heart to shoo the captain back to Marlinspike, and he knew it was useless anyway. Haddock was as stubborn as himself. Tintin smiled grimly and sighed. He stared at the newspaper and wondered why his nanny had nothing to do with this. Yes, he had forgiven her, but this... this reopened his old wounds. And a question kept nagging his mind.
Did I really forgive her?
Maybe he had to let Myriam talked her heart out before judging her. He knew that she was incapable of breaking his legs. In her younger days she could, but not now. She was a bit too old to have strength like a sledgehammer.
**
"Someone wants to meet you, Monsieur Haddock."
Myriam could hear the nurse's words from outside the room. She finally could compose herself. She decided to approach Tintin, hoping to finally resolve this devastation, and, with luck, make some amend to his suffering. She merely wanted to set this chaos to rights.
The nurse walked out the room, Captain Haddock followed. His eyes widened when he saw her. "Good evening, Monsieur Haddock. How is our patient?" Myriam said, as warmly as she could. She had to admit that it was still a huge difficulty for her to say Tintin's name.
"He has calmed down, and you better don't put some other nonsense in his mind."
"He's the most logical boy I've ever foster, Monsieur." Myriam answered hastily. "And I won't. I promise. Now, do you mind?" she gestured to Tintin's room. Haddock paused for a while before nodded.
"Alright. Besides, I want some cold whisky from Marlinspike, so I think I have to go home for a while. Remember, Madame..."
"...pouring nonsense to his head and you'll have my neck. Yes, I know," she said before knocking the door. Haddock stared at her for a while before went away.
"Come in," she could hear the soft voice inside. She opened the door and walked in.
"Good evening, Tintin," she greeted. Tintin visibly shrank in fear, and she automatically wanted nothing more than walked out the room and didn't speak to the boy at all. But her mind was stronger than that, and she made herself welcome as she sat on the nearest chair.
"Good evening, Ma'am. I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk to you. Now if you please, I want to catch some sleep," Tintin said, trying to sound brave, but Myriam could hear his obvious edgy tone.
Myriam frowned. Tintin was acting like a brat, but Myriam was skilled with brats. She merely said, "Oh no, you don't. Listen..."
The reporter swished his hand. "No need. Captain has told me everything."
"You don't seem drowned enough for me, Monsieur Haddock surely didn't that cruel to drown you." Myriam said, mentally thanking Haddock for doing the hardest job. "And if I really the one who hit you, which I didn't, Monsieur Haddock surely didn't want to drown you. Is there anything else you want to say?"
Tintin was taken aback; it was visible from his body language. It also took Myriam a while to realize that she had said her former words in a very gentle tone, the tone she always used to talk to little children. Yes, all of them but the lad in front of her.
Suddenly Tintin buried his head in the pillow. "I heard your voice," he chanted. "I heard your voice."
"I know, and I'm sorry." Myriam said. Tintin looked up from the pillow, his eyes wide. Myriam had never apologized to him before, at least not directly. She wasn't a type of woman who could just walk to someone and said, "I'm sorry." She was a lot harder than that.
"What for? You didn't do anything yesterday."
"For making you scared of it. My voice, I mean. But you have to know, Tintin, that goddamned Rastapopoulus held one of the girls as a hostage in order to record my voice."
If possible Tintin's eyes grew wider. He tried his best to sit up, which he failed miserably. He fell back to the bed, groaning. Myriam almost pushed him back to the bed, not wanting the lad to worsen his recovery while she was the only one near him. Haddock would kill her if she did.
"He did that? Great snakes!"
"Yes, he did. Remember your friend Brigitte? She was there too, wanting to adopt a little boy. You can ask her if you want to, before she goes back to Paris."
"I understand," Tintin said before yawned widely. He looked up, and Myriam swore that she could see weight being lifted off his shoulder. "Ma'am, do you see the Captain?"
"He's back to Marlinspike, wanting to take some other cold whisky. You better take a rest, I have to go."
"Alright then, Ma'am." Tintin answered. "Good evening."
"Good evening to you too," she said before walked out the hospital room. She didn't go back to the orphanage immediately. Instead, she sat on the chair in the waiting room, and when a nurse walked past her, she called for her.
"Can you see that Monsieur Tintin is asleep or not?" she asked. The nurse merely nodded and went inside the room. A while later she was out again, nodded before went away again. Myriam stood and walked inside the room.
Tintin was indeed sleeping. She had never seen someone slept like that before, maybe that was because she never actually watched him sleep when he was still under her wings. Tintin became angelic in his sleep, like what she had expected. She walked toward the bed and stroked his hair gently.
"I'll help you," she chanted. "I'll help you, boy, you don't need to worry."
Authors: ArethaHelena and Rachel (~RaltheCommentator)
Rating: PG-15
Summary: When Rastapopoulus discovered something crucial to Tintin, he decided to use it against him.
Genre: AU (NOT taken from ‘Past, Present, and Future’ and ‘He’s the Boy’, but have several characters, relevance, and storylines from them). Haddock did not raise Tintin in this story, he lived with his parents until they died and he was moved into the orphanage. But still, Myriam hated him with a passion.
Warning: Violence
A/N: This is based on my Tintin RP with ~RaltheCommentator. When the RP turned into a simple story, that’s what happened to this one. I hope you readers like it, and I apologize if there was some irrelevance and stuffs.
Quick & Flupke (c) Herge.
Prologue: What I Discovered
Chapter One: So-Called Vacation?
Chapter Two: What I Found
Chapter Three: Let Me Tell You
Chapter Four: Scheduled for Demolition, No Trespassing!
Chapter Five: Darkest Fears Emerged
Chapter Six: Insults Made Their Way Out
Chapter Seven: A Very Unusual Morning
Chapter Eight: Helps and Conversations
Haddock walked into Tintin's room and saw the young lad was deep in his thoughts. He cleared his throat and the reporter snapped out his musings. Tintin looked up at Haddock as his best friend settled himself on the chair next to the bed.
"Captain, do you see Snowy?"
Haddock shook his head, and was surprised when he realized it wasn't the first Tintin asked since he woke up. He began to worry himself. Where is that mutt? "He followed me, but I haven't seen him until now."
To his surprise, Tintin didn't press the subject. And he was silent too, which surprised the captain further.
"Why did she come here, Captain?" Tintin suddenly asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"She told me everything," Haddock said as calmly as possible. "She has nothing to do with this."
His hand gripped the newspaper tightly behind his back. Maybe it is the perfect time to tell him, he thought.
"And what makes you believe her, Captain? You know by yourself that she..."
And at that exact moment, Haddock's calmness broke. He jumped out his chair and shoved the newspaper to his best friend. "Blue blistering barnacles, Tintin! If she had something to do with this, you were dead now, boy! Look at this!"
Tintin read the headlines of his reported murder, and needless to say, he was shocked. A photograph of his own body was even posted on the front page!
**
Meanwhile, the hobo returned to where Rastapopoulus was hiding. A huge smile plastered on his face. He was carrying a brown sack, filled with an alive (and kicking) white terrier. Maybe this can earn me more money, he thought. That drunken sidekick of the reporter absolutely ruined Rastapopoulus' plan, but the hobo paid him no heed. As long as it was money, he was okay to switch sides.
"Boss," he called. The short man looked away from the window, and his interest clearly peeked out as he noticed the brown sack. "I've got the dog. That nosy reporter's dog."
To his surprise, his boss' face curled in annoyance instead of thankfulness. "Idiot!" he snapped angrily, making the bum jumped. "Are you out of your mind? If they find it here, they'll find us with it! Get rid of it!"
The hobo practically shrank in fear. He hurriedly ran outside, took a neglected motorcycle, and drove toward the harbour. Since his boss didn't want the dog, he could kill it, drown it. Maybe if he did, his boss would give him more money.
**
It was no ordinary day if it gone without any single prank. A blond haired boy, younger than Chang, named Flupke was walking in the dock, thinking about his best friend and pranks they could do together. This was his favourite place, because people were too busy to notice him and Quick playing here.
Sad enough Quick wasn't here; he was too busy making a bookshelf for his too much books. Flupke despised Quick's do-it-yourself talent, because it could only make mess for him or both of them.
He was too busy in his thoughts until something stopped him. It was the cruellest scene he had ever seen. The man was tying a brown sack and it was obvious for the boy that the sack contained a living creature, because it kept kicking. Maybe a little dog?
"Somebody tried to kill that dog!" he stated in shock. He and Quick might be two little brats, but killing an animal, let alone a dog, was unforgivable. He knew that it was useless if he went against that man alone, because he was the only witness. He would be beaten rather easily if he did. So he worked his brain (the thing he sometimes did) and finally could find a plan.
He hid behind the nearest wall, and watched as the man threw the sack off the sea. After he saw the man's departure, he hurriedly ran downstairs the wooden steps and jumped to the sea. He silently thanked his mother who had taught him how to swim and dive.
Finally he could find the sack and pulled it out with all his might. His clothes were heavy and wet; he was a fool not to release his clothes before jumping to the sea, but he was far past caring. He sat on a wooden step and opened the sack. He gaped at the scene.
A little white dog was staring at him intently. Flupke knew this dog, who didn't? This was the most famous dog in the entire Brussels. "Goodness! This is Tintin's dog! How could he?" he cursed the man who tried to drown the innocent little mutt before.
He scooped the dog into his arms and ran away the harbour, to the market near it. He ran to a certain house and squatted in front of the small window, which placed on the ground. He peeked in and saw Quick was cutting some wooden blocks in his underground workroom.
"Quick!" he called his best friend, who looked up immediately. "Look what I've found!"
**
The afternoon turned into uneventful evening. Tintin was reading a book while Haddock took a nap on the chair beside him. Tintin sometimes glanced at his best friend. It was like the Moon adventure all over again.
The reporter didn't have a heart to shoo the captain back to Marlinspike, and he knew it was useless anyway. Haddock was as stubborn as himself. Tintin smiled grimly and sighed. He stared at the newspaper and wondered why his nanny had nothing to do with this. Yes, he had forgiven her, but this... this reopened his old wounds. And a question kept nagging his mind.
Did I really forgive her?
Maybe he had to let Myriam talked her heart out before judging her. He knew that she was incapable of breaking his legs. In her younger days she could, but not now. She was a bit too old to have strength like a sledgehammer.
**
"Someone wants to meet you, Monsieur Haddock."
Myriam could hear the nurse's words from outside the room. She finally could compose herself. She decided to approach Tintin, hoping to finally resolve this devastation, and, with luck, make some amend to his suffering. She merely wanted to set this chaos to rights.
The nurse walked out the room, Captain Haddock followed. His eyes widened when he saw her. "Good evening, Monsieur Haddock. How is our patient?" Myriam said, as warmly as she could. She had to admit that it was still a huge difficulty for her to say Tintin's name.
"He has calmed down, and you better don't put some other nonsense in his mind."
"He's the most logical boy I've ever foster, Monsieur." Myriam answered hastily. "And I won't. I promise. Now, do you mind?" she gestured to Tintin's room. Haddock paused for a while before nodded.
"Alright. Besides, I want some cold whisky from Marlinspike, so I think I have to go home for a while. Remember, Madame..."
"...pouring nonsense to his head and you'll have my neck. Yes, I know," she said before knocking the door. Haddock stared at her for a while before went away.
"Come in," she could hear the soft voice inside. She opened the door and walked in.
"Good evening, Tintin," she greeted. Tintin visibly shrank in fear, and she automatically wanted nothing more than walked out the room and didn't speak to the boy at all. But her mind was stronger than that, and she made herself welcome as she sat on the nearest chair.
"Good evening, Ma'am. I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk to you. Now if you please, I want to catch some sleep," Tintin said, trying to sound brave, but Myriam could hear his obvious edgy tone.
Myriam frowned. Tintin was acting like a brat, but Myriam was skilled with brats. She merely said, "Oh no, you don't. Listen..."
The reporter swished his hand. "No need. Captain has told me everything."
"You don't seem drowned enough for me, Monsieur Haddock surely didn't that cruel to drown you." Myriam said, mentally thanking Haddock for doing the hardest job. "And if I really the one who hit you, which I didn't, Monsieur Haddock surely didn't want to drown you. Is there anything else you want to say?"
Tintin was taken aback; it was visible from his body language. It also took Myriam a while to realize that she had said her former words in a very gentle tone, the tone she always used to talk to little children. Yes, all of them but the lad in front of her.
Suddenly Tintin buried his head in the pillow. "I heard your voice," he chanted. "I heard your voice."
"I know, and I'm sorry." Myriam said. Tintin looked up from the pillow, his eyes wide. Myriam had never apologized to him before, at least not directly. She wasn't a type of woman who could just walk to someone and said, "I'm sorry." She was a lot harder than that.
"What for? You didn't do anything yesterday."
"For making you scared of it. My voice, I mean. But you have to know, Tintin, that goddamned Rastapopoulus held one of the girls as a hostage in order to record my voice."
If possible Tintin's eyes grew wider. He tried his best to sit up, which he failed miserably. He fell back to the bed, groaning. Myriam almost pushed him back to the bed, not wanting the lad to worsen his recovery while she was the only one near him. Haddock would kill her if she did.
"He did that? Great snakes!"
"Yes, he did. Remember your friend Brigitte? She was there too, wanting to adopt a little boy. You can ask her if you want to, before she goes back to Paris."
"I understand," Tintin said before yawned widely. He looked up, and Myriam swore that she could see weight being lifted off his shoulder. "Ma'am, do you see the Captain?"
"He's back to Marlinspike, wanting to take some other cold whisky. You better take a rest, I have to go."
"Alright then, Ma'am." Tintin answered. "Good evening."
"Good evening to you too," she said before walked out the hospital room. She didn't go back to the orphanage immediately. Instead, she sat on the chair in the waiting room, and when a nurse walked past her, she called for her.
"Can you see that Monsieur Tintin is asleep or not?" she asked. The nurse merely nodded and went inside the room. A while later she was out again, nodded before went away again. Myriam stood and walked inside the room.
Tintin was indeed sleeping. She had never seen someone slept like that before, maybe that was because she never actually watched him sleep when he was still under her wings. Tintin became angelic in his sleep, like what she had expected. She walked toward the bed and stroked his hair gently.
"I'll help you," she chanted. "I'll help you, boy, you don't need to worry."