Oh my the last chapter - Meckett
Yes people it has officially ended. Yes my little shiny peeps it has ended.
Title: Deliver Me 9/9
Pairing: Meckett
Rating: R
Summary: Beckett owns a strange house, one that isn't quite right. Mercer is hired to be his clerk and strange things ensue.
Note: Age: Beckett is in his mid twenties and Mercer in his mid thirties.
Part I Part IV Part VII
Part II Part V Part VIII
Part III Part VI
"Tell them to put me down!" One of Follett's men gasped as he was pulled up into the air.
"I can't exactly do that." Jane said, her face perfectly calm.
"Please! I don't want to die!"
"They won't kill you."
"I'm going to die!"
"No you're not."
Suddenly the man was dropped, landing hard on his back and knocking the wind out of him. Follett watched silently from the corner of the room. He had set his men to find the answers through any means possible but they had been stopped before they had started.
"What are you doing to my sister?" Beckett growled as he opened the door and entered the room. Jane quickly stood and gave him a smile.
"Hello Cutler, how nice of you to join us. And I see you brought Mr. Mercer as well, he's welcome too."
"Follett," Beckett hissed, ignoring his sister and striding over to the other man. "Get your useless - get your bloo- get out."
"Now, now my dear man, no need to get hasty and fiery. Your sister and I were just having a lovely discussion about history."
"Shut your trap and get out." It was breathed more than said but Follett simply gave Beckett a sunny smile in return.
"Watch your language. There is a lady present."
"I believe I heard your man screaming worse that half said curses." Mercer said with a dry smile, appearing suddenly beside Follett and taking the man's elbow in hand.
"They - well - they're coarse."
"And you're not?"
"You have no room to speak either. I have more noble blood than you."
"Gentlemen." They all looked over to Jane who was still seated in her chair, a placid smile on her face. "Could we continue?"
"Momentarily," Mercer said as he led Follett over to another chair in the room and forced him down. He then slipped behind the man and stood in the shadows with one hand lingering on Follett's shoulder. Follett's men began to gather themselves and draw weapons but with a motion from their leader they stopped.
"Now, are we ready?" Beckett asked but continued without a response. "There are a few questions I would like answered before we continue any farther with threats and insults - I will leave that work to Mercer as I believe he is better equipped to deal with it than I. Now Follett - may I ask what exactly it is that you are after."
"You don't know?" The man sneered which turned to a scowl as the grip on his shoulder tightened.
"Just answer the question and no harm will come to you, or to your men."
"The box that I require has the deeds to the house in it, of which I am entitled to."
"You? How are you entitled to my house?"
"Compensation."
"Too much information, Mr. Follett." Mercer said with a smirk. Beckett rolled his eyes and his clerk murmured an apology.
"My great grandmother was raped by your great grandfather. She had a son who had a son, my father, who then had me. I have your family's blood in me so I am just as entitled to this house as you are. More so, I actually want to unlock its secrets."
Beckett tsked and pulled a chair up. Sitting down in it he let out a slow sigh. "There are times," he said slowly as if he had all the time in the world. "When it's best not to know."
"Really? Why is that?"
"There are things in this house that I would not want unleashed for reasons that I would rather not delve into. Mercer seems to know more than he ought perhaps, at a later date, if you're still alive, he can inform you. I'm sure he'll do it in gruesome detail."
"Perhaps with a demonstration." The clerk added with a smirk.
"Perhaps."
Follett sat in stony silence, looking with a passive face from Jane to Beckett. Lingering on Beckett's face he seemed to see something before breaking out in a wary smile.
"In any case, I wished to have the house - I still do and I will get it."
"How did you come to know of the box?"
"Legend." A blank stare from the younger Lord. "My father used to tell me that your great grandmother found out what her husband had done and sought vengeance. She bidded her time, plotting how she was going to do it. A year past and a baby was born - my grandfather. After a few months your great grandfather sought out another meeting with my great grandmother and she went-"
"Which makes me wonder if he really raped her." Mercer offered. Follett glared up at the man before continuing.
"Finding them together your great grandmother reputedly shot her husband and caught my great grandmother. Thinking her guilty of seducing her husband she knocked her out and managed to drag both bodies to a secluded spot and burnt both of them - my great grandmother she burnt alive."
"And your great grandfather by name - her husband - never pressed charges?" Beckett asked with seeming disinterest.
"He never knew, all he knew was that she disappeared one night and never came back."
"A kind man."
"Sorry?"
"A kind man to raise the child of a woman who made a cuckold out of him." With a sigh Beckett seated himself fully upright in his chair, clearing his face from the look of boredom that had settled on it during Follett's story. "What does the story, fascinating as it was, have to do with my box."
"Apparently the ashes of your great grandfather and my great grandmother are in it alongside the deeds to the house."
"She, because of her husband's infidelities, turned to hate the rest of his family, including her own son." Mercer started, his voice drifting in from the darkened corner. "So, out of spite, she ensured that none of her descendents would ever truly own this house so she hid the deeds to the house along with the remains of her husband."
Follett nodded slowly, "made sure neither were put to rest."
"Sorry?" Beckett looked up with keen interest.
"They weren't buried on sacred ground." Mercer made a noise of disagreement but went no further. "In any case, I have as much right to the house as you."
"So you were going to destroy it then take it?" Beckett said, his voice still flat.
"I had to search it."
"You knew it was in the garden, why were going through the inside?"
"I told you, there are other secrets in the house worth unlocking." Mercer's hand tightened on his shoulder, keeping his back firmly pressed against the chair. He felt the older man's breath ghosting on the back of his neck.
"Are they really?"
Illyria cursed as she made her way through the house, Mercer's sister in tow. They round corners and went down stairs then back up then back down. Rooms were entered several times, each from a different door from a different hall or room. Anne found herself getting more and more lost by the second. At last Illyria gave up on the main quarters of the house and headed towards the east wing. The east wing was silent as usual, the only sound coming from soft whispering that seemed to permeate every area of the room. It sounded as if a million voices where all whispering at once, it was a deafening sound.
"Where are we?" Anne hissed as she caught up to Illyria, tugging on the older woman's sleeve with impatience and fear.
"East Wing Mrs. Connelly."
"I don't like it."
"Few do."
"Why has it been closed off?"
"It's not."
"Then why-"
"Lady Jane likes it like this."
"Someone lives here?" Her voice was one of shock.
"Yes."
"Ah." She went silent as Illyria stopped outside a door. Anne could see a small line of light oozing from under the door and muffled voices from within. Illyria raised her hand and knocked.
Follet found himself wretched up from the chair and marched out of the room and into the dark hall. His men were still dangling in the air by the lapels after their attempt to rescue him. Behind him, with one hand still on his shoulder, marched Mercer. Behind the dower clerk was Lord Beckett and Lady Jane, then Anne and Illyria. They wound their way through the house till eventually, after several minutes of walking, they wound up outside. Snow was falling as Mercer pushed him forward off the terrace and onto the covered path.
The group walked in silence and Follett could feel Beckett's anger growing as they passed each new broken statue. At last they came to what was called the almond courtyard.
"It's under the tree." He said, motioning to the shaking Almond tree.
"You said it was the Chestnut tree." Beckett murmured to Mercer. The clerk shrugged and replied that it was as good as guess as any.
"That was my first thought too," Follett muttered. "There's nothing there. Nothing." A nod from Beckett and a shovel was produced and handed to Follett.
"Dig." The man glowered at the group standing around him but did as he was told. Minutes passed and the snow was falling thicker. Anne found herself shivering and soon covered by her husband's coat, which Mercer had still been wearing. At last there was the sound of something solid and Follett threw the shovel to the ground and drooped to his knees. Digging eagerly he eventually pulled up a fragmented box. Parts of it were missing and eaten away. The lid fell off when they opened and ashes began pouring onto the snow. Inside the box were the remnants of the ashes that hadn't spilled along with several folded pieces of paper. Mercer leaned over Follett and picked them up before the other man could and carefully handed them to Beckett.
"They're not the deeds." Beckett said, quickly reading over them.
"Are you sure?" Illyria asked, leaning over to look.
"They're nothing, just ravings from my great grandmother. They make no sense." He thumbed through the rest, carefully scanning each one. "Nothing."
"What?" Follett hissed, looking up at them from bent knees. "What do you mean they're nothing?" His voice began climbing. "They have to be something. That's what my father and my grandfather said. They have to be the deeds. You don't have them." He stood, body shaking. "You're lying," he said at last with a smile. "You're lying. Give them to me." Beckett stared at him blankly before handing the papers over. "These have to be them, these have to be them. All my life, searching." Frantically he read each paper, mumbling along with the written words.
"Mercer." Beckett murmured with a glance from his clerk to Follett. Mercer gave a small nod and took Follett's arm.
"Come now Mr. Follett. Come with me." Follett allowed himself to be led away from the group, still mumbling to himself and reading the letters, his eyes wide and smile broken.
Beckett watched quietly as the man was taken slowly around the hedge towards the other end of the garden, to where the forest started.
"Should we do this?" Illyria whispered, clutching at her shawl in the cold.
"Do what?" Anne asked, looking at them all with confusion.
"Yes, yes we should." Beckett turned away with eyes closed and headed towards the house. "When Mercer comes back tell him I wish to speak with him, I'll be in my rooms."
"Of course m'lord." Illyria gave a small bow.
"And tell him we're to have a ball in a week and a half and he is to prepare it."
"Of course m'lord."
Lady Kostova was the first to arrive at the ball, the first to dance with Lord Beckett, and the first to comment on the beautiful chandelier and new stain glass windows. She was also the first that Lord Beckett set out to avoid for the rest of the evening. Within two hours Beckett decided he had enough and left his guests to their own devices.
"Vacating again?" A soft voice intoned from the shadows of the library.
"Do you ever stand in the light Mercer?"
"I'm afraid it might burn my eyes."
"Why?"
"I'm not fit to stand in the light of the Lord."
"Very funny now come out to where I can see you." The clerk materialized by one of the many bookshelves with an amused smirk on his face.
"How is it?"
"Charming, as always." Beckett smiled and took Mercer's arm, leading him to one of the large bay windows. "I told the guests a rather fanciful tale of attempted murder and robbery in order to explain the state of the house."
"They ate it up?"
"Of course. I'm thinking of marrying."
"Are you?"
"Oh yes, Lady Kostova should do, she's brainless enough."
"If you ever need a boost for your ego she'll be more than enough."
Beckett snorted and nudged Mercer in the ribs.
"You're horrid."
"I? M'lord?"
"Do I speak of any other?"
"Are we to play the game?"
"Is that for me to say?"
"Do you have the ability to say?"
"What does it mean to speak?"
"Are they merely words?"
"Can we have an actual conversation now Mercer?"
"If you so desire."
"Statement, one love." Mercer glowered at his lord who merely smirked in return.
"Sing me something." Beckett said as he leaned against the slightly taller man.
"Why?"
"Because it's romantic and I'm feeling romantic."
"Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott, ein'-"
"No German hymns are allowed."
"I'm afraid that's all I know m'lord."
"You're useless."
"I try m'lord, I try."
They stood silent for a few minutes. Each watching as the snow began to fall again, blanketing the newly cleared paths. After a moment they watched as people retreated back inside from their nightly strolls. Men were straitening their hats and coats while women adjusted shawls and well placed necklaces.
"Shawls are useful." Mercer murmured after a moment as a well placed nip was covered up.
"Hmm. Would you like to find the promise land?"
"M'lord?"
"Would you?"
"I suppose," Mercer smirked and tilted Beckett's face up, kissing him.
"Sing something." The lord said as he pulled away with a smirk.
"M'lord all I know are -"
"I don't care."
"Very well, ein' feste burg ist unser Gott, ein' gute wehr und waffen; er hilft uns frei aus aller not…" He stumbled on the last few words before dying into silence. Beckett shifted in his arms, casting eyes about the half lit room, they finally landed on a map of the world.
"Tell Mercer, what do you know of the Caribbean?"
---End---
Wow, I am done. This feels weird. But I am pleased to say that it is the first long story of Meckett I have ever written. Huzzah!
Thank you everyone who has stuck with me through it ^_^ I love you all and shower many hugs and cookies down upon you all.
*bows then does happy dance*
Notes if you are interested
Title: Deliver Me 9/9
Pairing: Meckett
Rating: R
Summary: Beckett owns a strange house, one that isn't quite right. Mercer is hired to be his clerk and strange things ensue.
Note: Age: Beckett is in his mid twenties and Mercer in his mid thirties.
Part I Part IV Part VII
Part II Part V Part VIII
Part III Part VI
"Tell them to put me down!" One of Follett's men gasped as he was pulled up into the air.
"I can't exactly do that." Jane said, her face perfectly calm.
"Please! I don't want to die!"
"They won't kill you."
"I'm going to die!"
"No you're not."
Suddenly the man was dropped, landing hard on his back and knocking the wind out of him. Follett watched silently from the corner of the room. He had set his men to find the answers through any means possible but they had been stopped before they had started.
"What are you doing to my sister?" Beckett growled as he opened the door and entered the room. Jane quickly stood and gave him a smile.
"Hello Cutler, how nice of you to join us. And I see you brought Mr. Mercer as well, he's welcome too."
"Follett," Beckett hissed, ignoring his sister and striding over to the other man. "Get your useless - get your bloo- get out."
"Now, now my dear man, no need to get hasty and fiery. Your sister and I were just having a lovely discussion about history."
"Shut your trap and get out." It was breathed more than said but Follett simply gave Beckett a sunny smile in return.
"Watch your language. There is a lady present."
"I believe I heard your man screaming worse that half said curses." Mercer said with a dry smile, appearing suddenly beside Follett and taking the man's elbow in hand.
"They - well - they're coarse."
"And you're not?"
"You have no room to speak either. I have more noble blood than you."
"Gentlemen." They all looked over to Jane who was still seated in her chair, a placid smile on her face. "Could we continue?"
"Momentarily," Mercer said as he led Follett over to another chair in the room and forced him down. He then slipped behind the man and stood in the shadows with one hand lingering on Follett's shoulder. Follett's men began to gather themselves and draw weapons but with a motion from their leader they stopped.
"Now, are we ready?" Beckett asked but continued without a response. "There are a few questions I would like answered before we continue any farther with threats and insults - I will leave that work to Mercer as I believe he is better equipped to deal with it than I. Now Follett - may I ask what exactly it is that you are after."
"You don't know?" The man sneered which turned to a scowl as the grip on his shoulder tightened.
"Just answer the question and no harm will come to you, or to your men."
"The box that I require has the deeds to the house in it, of which I am entitled to."
"You? How are you entitled to my house?"
"Compensation."
"Too much information, Mr. Follett." Mercer said with a smirk. Beckett rolled his eyes and his clerk murmured an apology.
"My great grandmother was raped by your great grandfather. She had a son who had a son, my father, who then had me. I have your family's blood in me so I am just as entitled to this house as you are. More so, I actually want to unlock its secrets."
Beckett tsked and pulled a chair up. Sitting down in it he let out a slow sigh. "There are times," he said slowly as if he had all the time in the world. "When it's best not to know."
"Really? Why is that?"
"There are things in this house that I would not want unleashed for reasons that I would rather not delve into. Mercer seems to know more than he ought perhaps, at a later date, if you're still alive, he can inform you. I'm sure he'll do it in gruesome detail."
"Perhaps with a demonstration." The clerk added with a smirk.
"Perhaps."
Follett sat in stony silence, looking with a passive face from Jane to Beckett. Lingering on Beckett's face he seemed to see something before breaking out in a wary smile.
"In any case, I wished to have the house - I still do and I will get it."
"How did you come to know of the box?"
"Legend." A blank stare from the younger Lord. "My father used to tell me that your great grandmother found out what her husband had done and sought vengeance. She bidded her time, plotting how she was going to do it. A year past and a baby was born - my grandfather. After a few months your great grandfather sought out another meeting with my great grandmother and she went-"
"Which makes me wonder if he really raped her." Mercer offered. Follett glared up at the man before continuing.
"Finding them together your great grandmother reputedly shot her husband and caught my great grandmother. Thinking her guilty of seducing her husband she knocked her out and managed to drag both bodies to a secluded spot and burnt both of them - my great grandmother she burnt alive."
"And your great grandfather by name - her husband - never pressed charges?" Beckett asked with seeming disinterest.
"He never knew, all he knew was that she disappeared one night and never came back."
"A kind man."
"Sorry?"
"A kind man to raise the child of a woman who made a cuckold out of him." With a sigh Beckett seated himself fully upright in his chair, clearing his face from the look of boredom that had settled on it during Follett's story. "What does the story, fascinating as it was, have to do with my box."
"Apparently the ashes of your great grandfather and my great grandmother are in it alongside the deeds to the house."
"She, because of her husband's infidelities, turned to hate the rest of his family, including her own son." Mercer started, his voice drifting in from the darkened corner. "So, out of spite, she ensured that none of her descendents would ever truly own this house so she hid the deeds to the house along with the remains of her husband."
Follett nodded slowly, "made sure neither were put to rest."
"Sorry?" Beckett looked up with keen interest.
"They weren't buried on sacred ground." Mercer made a noise of disagreement but went no further. "In any case, I have as much right to the house as you."
"So you were going to destroy it then take it?" Beckett said, his voice still flat.
"I had to search it."
"You knew it was in the garden, why were going through the inside?"
"I told you, there are other secrets in the house worth unlocking." Mercer's hand tightened on his shoulder, keeping his back firmly pressed against the chair. He felt the older man's breath ghosting on the back of his neck.
"Are they really?"
Illyria cursed as she made her way through the house, Mercer's sister in tow. They round corners and went down stairs then back up then back down. Rooms were entered several times, each from a different door from a different hall or room. Anne found herself getting more and more lost by the second. At last Illyria gave up on the main quarters of the house and headed towards the east wing. The east wing was silent as usual, the only sound coming from soft whispering that seemed to permeate every area of the room. It sounded as if a million voices where all whispering at once, it was a deafening sound.
"Where are we?" Anne hissed as she caught up to Illyria, tugging on the older woman's sleeve with impatience and fear.
"East Wing Mrs. Connelly."
"I don't like it."
"Few do."
"Why has it been closed off?"
"It's not."
"Then why-"
"Lady Jane likes it like this."
"Someone lives here?" Her voice was one of shock.
"Yes."
"Ah." She went silent as Illyria stopped outside a door. Anne could see a small line of light oozing from under the door and muffled voices from within. Illyria raised her hand and knocked.
Follet found himself wretched up from the chair and marched out of the room and into the dark hall. His men were still dangling in the air by the lapels after their attempt to rescue him. Behind him, with one hand still on his shoulder, marched Mercer. Behind the dower clerk was Lord Beckett and Lady Jane, then Anne and Illyria. They wound their way through the house till eventually, after several minutes of walking, they wound up outside. Snow was falling as Mercer pushed him forward off the terrace and onto the covered path.
The group walked in silence and Follett could feel Beckett's anger growing as they passed each new broken statue. At last they came to what was called the almond courtyard.
"It's under the tree." He said, motioning to the shaking Almond tree.
"You said it was the Chestnut tree." Beckett murmured to Mercer. The clerk shrugged and replied that it was as good as guess as any.
"That was my first thought too," Follett muttered. "There's nothing there. Nothing." A nod from Beckett and a shovel was produced and handed to Follett.
"Dig." The man glowered at the group standing around him but did as he was told. Minutes passed and the snow was falling thicker. Anne found herself shivering and soon covered by her husband's coat, which Mercer had still been wearing. At last there was the sound of something solid and Follett threw the shovel to the ground and drooped to his knees. Digging eagerly he eventually pulled up a fragmented box. Parts of it were missing and eaten away. The lid fell off when they opened and ashes began pouring onto the snow. Inside the box were the remnants of the ashes that hadn't spilled along with several folded pieces of paper. Mercer leaned over Follett and picked them up before the other man could and carefully handed them to Beckett.
"They're not the deeds." Beckett said, quickly reading over them.
"Are you sure?" Illyria asked, leaning over to look.
"They're nothing, just ravings from my great grandmother. They make no sense." He thumbed through the rest, carefully scanning each one. "Nothing."
"What?" Follett hissed, looking up at them from bent knees. "What do you mean they're nothing?" His voice began climbing. "They have to be something. That's what my father and my grandfather said. They have to be the deeds. You don't have them." He stood, body shaking. "You're lying," he said at last with a smile. "You're lying. Give them to me." Beckett stared at him blankly before handing the papers over. "These have to be them, these have to be them. All my life, searching." Frantically he read each paper, mumbling along with the written words.
"Mercer." Beckett murmured with a glance from his clerk to Follett. Mercer gave a small nod and took Follett's arm.
"Come now Mr. Follett. Come with me." Follett allowed himself to be led away from the group, still mumbling to himself and reading the letters, his eyes wide and smile broken.
Beckett watched quietly as the man was taken slowly around the hedge towards the other end of the garden, to where the forest started.
"Should we do this?" Illyria whispered, clutching at her shawl in the cold.
"Do what?" Anne asked, looking at them all with confusion.
"Yes, yes we should." Beckett turned away with eyes closed and headed towards the house. "When Mercer comes back tell him I wish to speak with him, I'll be in my rooms."
"Of course m'lord." Illyria gave a small bow.
"And tell him we're to have a ball in a week and a half and he is to prepare it."
"Of course m'lord."
Lady Kostova was the first to arrive at the ball, the first to dance with Lord Beckett, and the first to comment on the beautiful chandelier and new stain glass windows. She was also the first that Lord Beckett set out to avoid for the rest of the evening. Within two hours Beckett decided he had enough and left his guests to their own devices.
"Vacating again?" A soft voice intoned from the shadows of the library.
"Do you ever stand in the light Mercer?"
"I'm afraid it might burn my eyes."
"Why?"
"I'm not fit to stand in the light of the Lord."
"Very funny now come out to where I can see you." The clerk materialized by one of the many bookshelves with an amused smirk on his face.
"How is it?"
"Charming, as always." Beckett smiled and took Mercer's arm, leading him to one of the large bay windows. "I told the guests a rather fanciful tale of attempted murder and robbery in order to explain the state of the house."
"They ate it up?"
"Of course. I'm thinking of marrying."
"Are you?"
"Oh yes, Lady Kostova should do, she's brainless enough."
"If you ever need a boost for your ego she'll be more than enough."
Beckett snorted and nudged Mercer in the ribs.
"You're horrid."
"I? M'lord?"
"Do I speak of any other?"
"Are we to play the game?"
"Is that for me to say?"
"Do you have the ability to say?"
"What does it mean to speak?"
"Are they merely words?"
"Can we have an actual conversation now Mercer?"
"If you so desire."
"Statement, one love." Mercer glowered at his lord who merely smirked in return.
"Sing me something." Beckett said as he leaned against the slightly taller man.
"Why?"
"Because it's romantic and I'm feeling romantic."
"Ein' feste burg ist unser Gott, ein'-"
"No German hymns are allowed."
"I'm afraid that's all I know m'lord."
"You're useless."
"I try m'lord, I try."
They stood silent for a few minutes. Each watching as the snow began to fall again, blanketing the newly cleared paths. After a moment they watched as people retreated back inside from their nightly strolls. Men were straitening their hats and coats while women adjusted shawls and well placed necklaces.
"Shawls are useful." Mercer murmured after a moment as a well placed nip was covered up.
"Hmm. Would you like to find the promise land?"
"M'lord?"
"Would you?"
"I suppose," Mercer smirked and tilted Beckett's face up, kissing him.
"Sing something." The lord said as he pulled away with a smirk.
"M'lord all I know are -"
"I don't care."
"Very well, ein' feste burg ist unser Gott, ein' gute wehr und waffen; er hilft uns frei aus aller not…" He stumbled on the last few words before dying into silence. Beckett shifted in his arms, casting eyes about the half lit room, they finally landed on a map of the world.
"Tell Mercer, what do you know of the Caribbean?"
---End---
Wow, I am done. This feels weird. But I am pleased to say that it is the first long story of Meckett I have ever written. Huzzah!
Thank you everyone who has stuck with me through it ^_^ I love you all and shower many hugs and cookies down upon you all.
*bows then does happy dance*
Notes if you are interested