Icarus Falls

| Separatist Son | Estranged Father | Neurosurgeon ⚕ | "There comes a time when the storm winds blow so strong that a man has no choice but to furl his sails."

[drrutherford]

[val-dautremer]

It always came back to one's morality and ethics with people who were on the other side of the curtain. This woman was clearly one of them, with her judgement of the man sat next to her. What they would never understand was the sheer amount of ethics you had to possess to make the decisions they did each day. That, along with what they'd had to sacrifice for it.

No one lived they lives they did unscathed.

Val's mind wandered back to the first time she'd lost someone dear to her. A friend, a confidant, a woman she would never forget. She dared not think her name lest it lead to unbound emotions. The plane cabin was much too small for that; later. Instead, Val forced herself to answer Gideon's other queries with not quite a smile but enough grace not to offend.

"My sister-in-law, Elaina Halévy. It's less you that she dislikes and more...everyone." She smiled as she thought of the woman. Difficult on the inside and out yet undeniably charming and loyal. Val couldn't ask for a better relative and friend. "That's my way of reassuring you to stop worrying and chiding you on not taking the opportunity sooner." Leading by example, Val finished her glass, accepting another from the hostess and passing Gideon one as well.

The frown went as quickly as it came. "That depends, do you view harmlessness as a weakness or a strength? Most of my friends would argue against being harmless. Too must risk involved." While Val was more of a pacifist than most of her group, she was absolutely of the same mind. It was safer to be more...proactive than not. What people often forgot was danger didn't necessarily equate to violence. Sharp minds could achieve just as much as brute force in most cases. "Don't forget, I said harmless enough. I didn't absolve you from the trait altogether."

[drrutherford]

Elaina Halévy. The bulk of his knowledge comes from Divya Koshal's deep-seated hatred of her. None of the Rutherford soldier's stories would make for polite conversation here, so Gideon aims for a more neutral—"Ah. Wasn't aware she was a sister-in-law."

Although he's surprised to know he's in Halévy's crosshairs, there's comfort in assuming that he's low priority, given the vendettas she's wracked up for herself in London. Still, he can't help but snort; "Splendid. Gotten so good at making enemies, I now make them in my sleep." Loftily, he accepts a glass from the Frenchwoman and raises it in a toast.

"Cheers to that. And to our trip, of course."

The real toast is the unspoken one; the interlude of peace – however brief – between two people who wouldn't otherwise find common cause in London. Maybe that's why he can humour a philosophical chat on the ability to cause harm, whether strength or weakness.

"It depends on one's capacity for it." Gideon muses, mirroring the frame of her question and volleying it right back. "Are you incapable of causing the harm that you nonetheless desire? Then your restraint is a moot point... Are you capable of causing harm but resist the temptation anyhow? Then yes, that's strength." That's self-control.

... He hasn't seen much of that when it comes to the mobsters waging war back home.

A few beats of silence pass as his gaze drifts back to Valérie. He takes a sip of his wine as he listens to her thoughts: 'Most of my friends would argue against being harmless... Too much risk involved.' He almost smiles, it's so familiar. An echo of conversations that have been had around his own family's dinner table, many times over many years.

Yet it is also the Warmonger's Philosophy; taken from the pages of a book perpetually penned by authors like Andrew, like Melissa, like Johnathan. Authors no one asked for, substituting ink for blood in the tomes that they write, and the lives that they blot out.

He grimaces. This time, he doesn't try to hide it. "Dunno, Valérie..." It's the first time he's used her given name aloud, though he doesn't appear to notice it himself. Gideon's eyes are fixed to the thick sheet of clouds beyond her window. "Reckon I know your friends' response, but the longer I live, the more I want to be just that... Intentionally harmless."

[drrutherford]

[val-dautremer]

The revelation was so genuine that Valérie could see that it had shocked even him. Making polite conversation with a practical stranger so the situation wasn't unbearable was one thing. Admitting to something that was clearly weighing on his mind was something else entirely. She never would have made such an admission, more so considering who he was. She didn't doubt that he knew who she was either- leaving her wondering where the comfort to speak his mind came from.

The tremor of his voice told her he didn't know either.

"We do live lives that hold extremely high expectations, don't we?" A beat. Now she was bordering on familiarity. "What I mean to say is, I understand." Another beat. Another step toward comfort. "Is that the reason you two didn't work? The expectations and..." Val let her words trail off, her hand waving toward him, to what was left unsaid.

The fact that you come from a family that runs an age old organization that plays with London how it pleases.

"It's more likely his date is doing that with your picture but don't think about it too hard." She hadn't asked Yves how he felt about the results of the auction but they'd surely discuss it when they returned. However, Valérie was almost certain her husband didn't view the man as a threat. Elaina on the other hand... "She reminded me that they're only an hour's plane ride away. But again," she flashed a rueful smile at him, "I wouldn't worry about it too much. You're harmless enough."

And with that she had gone a step too far.

There was no real way of knowing if the doctor was really as docile as people made him out to be but Valérie felt as though he was. Why she had voiced it to him was beyond her. It was her turn to frown.

[drrutherford]

His gaze is still averted, trying to recover from his too-honest slip, so Gideon misses the sympathy in her eyes as she looks at him. But even when he does look up, briefly, he can tell Valérie's trying to weigh her words in response. And it's a damn sight more than he'd ever expect from someone like her... A natural born enemy.

'Is that the reason you two didn't work? The expectations and...'

"... The moral compass." The Rutherford supplies, tone deceptively light. They might as well be discussing the cabin temperature. "She has one, I suppose in her eyes I don't."

Of course, that wasn't exactly how Amélie had put it, but the nuance had mattered little, considering the outcome had been the same: So long as he remained bound to his family – even if only out of brotherly love – their realities could not be made compatible. And the scar tissue around his heart still prickles and pulls whenever he thinks about it—just as it does when Valérie Dautremer claims to understand.

Do you?... The surgeon wonders silently, nursing on the bitterness that rises up his throat but moves no further past his tongue. What have you had to sacrifice for family?... When have you had to give up the one you love?...

He's almost grateful for the excuse to discuss Yves instead. "Who's that again, his date?"

He'd been too preoccupied with his own. Though the idea that Yves' date might have a bigger bone to pick with him than Yves himself isn't exactly reassuring. Unfortunately, it doesn't generate a shortlist when it comes to people that dislike him, either. "Is that your way of warning me to get a head start on the duty-free alcohol?" Gideon asks, lifting an arm into the air as his eyes drop to the rueful smile on her lips. 'You're harmless enough' she replies, and just like that their expressions flip... Valérie loses her smile to a sudden frown, while surprised amusement now tugs at the surgeon's mouth.

"Am I?... Is that a compliment or an insult, Mme Dautremer?"

[oscar-velholobo]

"Don't I know it," Óscar said under his breath before knocking back the rest of his drink. As much as this job had been easy the couple years with mostly tending to and protecting the kids, it was still a job he continued to train hard for. Every day. To stay as sharp and keen as possible, Heaven forbid something finally did happen.

When Gideon's voice dropped low, the bodyguard naturally shifted closer to hear the doc. Giving small nod. Accompanied with a breathless chuckle, "Good enough," he agreed full-heartedly.

Once Nevra's name hit the air, the grin on Óscar's face brightened, "A while now. Definitely since Halloween. But, really, after a certain...night...tha left me in the hospital. And she was there for me," he grabbed another drink with a sheepish grin, "What about you, Gideon? Sweet on anyone these days?"

[drrutherford]

'Since Halloween.'

Gideon's mind travels back to the night in question, and the invitation to his sister's annual charity mixer that he hadn't been able to attend due to being on-call. But as always, Adriana had made sure to regale him with the gossip, solicited or otherwise.

It's coming back to him now; a faint snippet about Óscar working the room with his Latin charms. Not difficult to envision, given all that he's come to know about the amiable man over the years, but it says something that he'd fallen for an assassin of all people in return.

Gideon watches the man's face brighten, just to be discussing her. Hook, line, and sinker.

"Do know if she feels the same way?" The Rutherford asks, treading carefully. "And while we're on the subject, what happened to land you in hospital?... You'll have to forgive me, I didn't catch wind of it, or else I'd have visited." He watches as the bodyguard reaches for another drink and shakes his head to decline the offer to replace his own.

"No, not sweet on anyone." No one new, anyway... And bittersweet is a better word to describe those tendrils around his heart that have yet to release him from the past. He cocks a brow, gruffness seeping into his next words to dispel any unwanted pity; "Well, sweet on the freedom that Fe and I have had since winning his custody case last May... That's all the love I need in my life, Romero. Otherwise, solitude suits me perfectly well."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan leaned back slightly, letting a smirk slowly curve his mouth. “My father would probably find this all amusing,” he said, voice dry and deliberate. “Monaco, eh? Trading the theatre of the hospital for glittering, over-the-top, exhausting promenades. I can’t say I envy the chandeliers and sunsets, though my pub crawls have a certain honesty, the kind that spares one from performing for every passing eye.” His gaze flicked to Dr. Rutherford, teasing as the smirk fully asserted itself. “As for you, I imagine you’d have to convert, resign yourself, if I may, to being the bottom. I can’t say either of us are truly ready for that level of submission, though there is a curious, almost philosophical merit to it.” He chuckled softly. “Small mercy. Some pleasures, after all, are measured, not flaunted. Your sister, on the other hand, would likely have far less approving words.”

[drrutherford]

"Amusing?... Maybe if my head was on a spike." Gideon responds with a grimace. It is hardly the sentimental sort of imagery that should be conjured on a night like this one, but the pragmatist in him can't help it. Thought if he thinks he'd do poorly with Hasan's father, he knows the Turk's right in surmising he'd fare no better with Lara.

"Maybe in another lifetime, Demir. In this one, I'll forfeit the philosophical merit of that theory if it means I get to keep a head on my shoulders—no offense, of course."

With that, he tries to steer the conversation into less choppy waters. "Not the biggest fan of Monaco, then?" It's a rhetorical question, Hasan's hardly been subtle in his assessment of what the city-state promises. "Don't worry, I've no intention of performing for anyone on this date, much less every passing eye. I'll count myself lucky just to keep a low profile and not steal too many glances at my watch all the while."

[yvonne-rutherford]

"Exactly. Because I married a smart man that I then proceeded to wrap around my little finger. It's the baby sister way." It was all she'd ever wanted from life, truly. To matter that much to another person And she was happy to report it was not a be careful what you wish for situation.

"I'll be fine. I'm going to spend all weekend trying to make it up to Óscar for turning his vacation into a work trip and then afterwards Fé and I are going to have a laugh about this whole situation." She smiled at Gideon. "Pregnancy hormones are stupid, that's all. I trust my husband."

[drrutherford]

Much as no brother wishes to hear about his sisters' wiles, he is grateful, at least, that Yvonne has settled on one partner, instead of perpetually juggling options the way his other three siblings have done for years now, and with no shortage of notoriety.

And while he may not share the innate faith she has in her husband – trust being a luxury he can ill afford these days, unless earned over many years – he doesn't think Rodriguez will use this Valentine's date for anything other than some good PR.

"Good. Don't need anything upsetting you for the next three or four months... Doctor's orders." Her last pregnancy had shaved a few metaphorical months off of his own life—maybe even years. They can't have a repeat of that. "Seriously, though... Between Félix and Óscar I know you'll be fine, but If you lot do run into any trouble overseas, call me."

[theo-commandant]

Even with the insult — at least he took it as that —Théo shrugged it off. Merely chuckling at how colorful Gideon was getting. Titling his head as he looked over the doctor, "I'll keep my mind where it is, merci. Tis not as dark and full of regret as some others in London," the French commandant commented lightly, but knew how true it was. How darkness and hate could run rampant easily in his line of work.

He then smirked slightly a how such a simple throw away line to Théodore seemed to get under Gideon's skin. It really hadn't meant anything. Merely a comment on how the doctor's mind slipped of the common French colloquialism Théo had used. So, instead, he shook his head, "We're both getting up there in age, Rutherford. Nothing so sinister as to throw in an assessment. I promise."

[drrutherford]

'I'll keep my mind where it is, merci. Tis not as dark and full of regret as some others in London.'

"No, sadly. That's just the experience you so kindly bestow on the rest of us." He's not sure what, or who, more likely, the Frenchman may be referencing, but it does little to slow the retort from flying off his tongue. Really, he can't help himself with Théo.

It might be years old at this point and – though he'll never admit it – largely toothless, but a grudge is a grudge, and Gideon Rutherford isn't a man known for letting them go easy.

"Give me a break, Chaussard. Rather shove this flute down my throat than take language lessons from you, yea?" He raises his champagne for reference and steps back to go with an exaggerated bow. "But merci bea-fucking-coup for your services."

— End.

[hasan-demir]

“You enjoy poetry and philosophy, Gideon? Maybe something could be arranged.” A brief pause, thoughtful. “We can consider the date a test run.” He tilts his head. “Though I’m curious, when was the last time you went on a proper pub crawl?” (@drrutherford)

[drrutherford]

He's partial to philosophy, although completely hopeless when it comes to poetry. Both as a writer and as an appreciator, akin to more artistic souls. Including, apparently, Hasan.

"What do ya mean the date's a test run??... You're going with Nora, though it pains me to inform you. It's been ages since I've done a pub crawl—I'd swap out either one of you in a heartbeat, if I could." Preferably swapping out Hasan, but then, he'd have been willing to take the man's company as well, if it meant getting to stay local and do more relaxing and less... Everything. Everything glitzy and over the top that comes with Monaco.

"Alas, it isn't meant to be. Good thing, too. Else next thing you know, we'll be running off into the sunset together." He gives the Turk a flat look. "Bet your father would love that."

[oscar-velholobo]

Óscar laughed softly. Yes. He'd gotten his fair share of restless nights over the years. And knowing — albeit, vaguely — of Nevra's work might have made others nervous. But not him. Besides. They'd been training together; laughing together. Her smile was his sunshine. And so, in reply to the young Rutherford, Óscar shrugged playfully, "Maybe. But The army made that a habit long ago."

A hand covered his mouth and dragged it down to his beard as Gideon said he'd try not to take offense. A small apologies came from the bodyguard. Meeting his gaze, Óscar shook his head, "Hardly think it's a cop-out. Especially under those circumstances," Then, at Gideon's last quip, Óscar laughed behind his hand before holding his stomach, "Fair enough. You looking forward to the trip, at least?"

[drrutherford]

He claps a hand over the bodyguard's bicep in response to the man's sheepish apology. "I'm kidding, Romero... Bloody hell, you need a day off." And then, letting his voice drop to a murmur so that it cannot be overheard by even the nearest guests, he adds;

"—I'm looking forward to allowing a French criminal wine and dine me while our city's children profit, yes. Good enough for ya?"

Does Óscar know the woman is a high ranking mobster?... Gideon doesn't know. He also doesn't particularly care if this is how he finds out, though. Better to be safe than sorry.

A beat, and then he passes onto the sunnier topic—even if only by a thin margin.

"So... How long have you been sweet on Nevra?"

[yvonne-rutherford]

"Careful, the more times you almost compliment my husband, the more I'm going to think you almost like him." Neither Félix nor Gideon would ever admit it out loud, but Yvonne could tell. Those two actually enjoyed each other now, as opposed to barely tolerating at best.

"Please, I don't need a gun," Yvonne scoffed. "In fact, I will be friendly and pleasant and I won't even glare." She didn't need to. Like Gideon said, Félix wasn't stupid or homicidal.

Fuck, she was ready to be done with pregnancy hormones.

"It's a good thing you're the oldest brother and you didn't go into politics."

[drrutherford]

He makes a face, as if the suggestion is horrifying to him. "Perish the thought." But really, it's more for Yvie's benefit—and maybe to throw her off the scent of a slightly reckless and definitely covert freedom he's just offered his brother-in-law, involving some impromptu and decidedly non-professional lessons on his new motorcycle.

'Please, I don't need a gun.'

"Ah, yes." the eldest brother bows his head, feigning solemnity. "All he needs is that one particular expression of yours that could freeze gin—I stand corrected." But the pretense of solemnity melts with a laugh, and half a beat later, he looks at her.

Really looks at her. "You gonna be okay?"

[drrutherford]

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — The Barbican Centre. DATE — Friday, February 13th, 2026. STARTER — Closed for @hasan-demir

London Pubs and the Curtain Club ... It won't be winning any awards for creativity, but there's a coziness to it that Gideon can more than appreciate, the older he gets.

"You're lucky it wasn't a mix of genders voting and being voted on, Hasan... 'Else you'd probably be going on that date with yours truly."

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — The Barbican Centre. DATE — Friday, February 13th, 2026. STARTER — Closed for @cassandra-acton

He reads from the promo script of the date she'd picked and won, amusement colouring his voice as he comes up next to her. "Cap things off with a visit to the infamous red light district... That's what cinched it for ya?"

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — The Barbican Centre. DATE — Friday, February 13th, 2026. STARTER — Closed for @maksimkurylenko

"Have you made up a will?"

[val-dautremer]

The snort-like laugh that forced its way out of her mouth couldn't be contained by her hand whipping up to stop it. Peanuts? Really? It was so sudden, so mundane that the reaction was unavoidable.

"I-no. I'll stick to wine." Val lifted her glass to show just how dedicated she was to it but changed her mind halfway through. Staying sober wasn't the worst idea. "Well...why not." She accepted the packet and popped it open, the contents spilling on the tray in front of her.

A lovely start.

Scooping them up quickly, she glanced at Gideon briefly - assessing, thinking, judging. He might be a Rutherford but that didn't mean Valérie hated the man on principle. She very rarely hated anyone without good reason and knew first hand that last names were inherited, not won as a prize. Everything she knew about the man told her that he would have thought the same.

"So, were you hoping for someone specific or just out for a good time?" If they were going to be together for twenty-four hours, they had better get used to small talk. It was unlikely conversation would venture beyond it. Even if Gideon might not be directly involved with his father's business, he still spoke to the man and she didn't need him mentioning something seemingly benign said here. Andrew Rutherford was who he was for a reason and that included taking every piece of information and using it to his advantage.

But Gideon has the good sense to keep quiet.

The hushed, subconscious voice in her head made itself known for the second time in so many days. The first had been her conversation with Elaina- the sense that something was off with her pairing. Now it begged the question that she knew Gideon better than it would seem.

Ridiculous.

Valérie glanced sideways at him again, waiting for an answer.

[drrutherford]

She lets out half a snort, half a laugh in surprise and Gideon jerks his head to look at her. There's something there for a beat, something familiar, even though it shouldn't be. Even though it's the first time he's heard Valérie Dautremer laugh. Is it that he is surprised she's capable of it?... But then no, he's not so narrow-minded as to believe that bad people are insensate to pleasure or incapable of mirth.

And is that what she is?... Bad? It's such a reflexive association, he feels uncomfortable even trying to unpack it. What's worse, he wonders; to condemn the woman who sits, polite and patient, beside him without fair chance or trial—or to absolve the irrefutable criminality of her rank, simply because she seems so inoffensive now?...

He's still mulling it over when she takes the packet of nuts from him, ripping it open and scattering the contents on the tray in front of her. One goes skidding off the edge, right into the quick snap of his palm, and he grins despite himself as he deposits it back with the others. "That's for laughing at my very generous offer."

Whatever she thinks of him and vice versa, Gideon hopes she knows he's kidding. It won't make for a very good start to their trip if she takes him for a complete prick. Partial is as good as he can hope for, he's sure, in light of their first two encounters.

"Maybe my ex." He answers, when she asks whether he'd been hoping for any particular valentine. As soon as it's out of his mouth, Gideon isn't sure why he's said it. It isn't what he'd said the other dozen times he'd been asked, and what's more, he isn't even sure that it's true. Wouldn't have allowed Diana to talk him into a date so far out of Amélie's style or bidding range if that had been the case. He looks away with a frown, more confused than before. "Not-... Not to force anything. Just, maybe a chance to check in... See how she's doing. Catch up, in a way that doesn't carry the pressure of expectation."

Yes. A brief escape from reality. A world, a weekend, where the mob didn't exist, and Amélie could see him for him... Why had he chosen to share any of that with Valérie?

Gideon clears his throat, looking at her again. "Suppose your preferred date is obvious. I do hope he isn't currently target-practicing with a picture of my face as the bullseye."

[theo-commandant]

A small shrug came from Théo. He wasn't easily insulted. Or deterred. Even if the use of the lovely nickname 'Teddy' was seemingly in disdain. Besides, he knew plenty on the subject offered. Mistakes — or rather, life — simply happened. And the most precious gift in the world had been given to him with Maddie because of it.

"Well, as a medical professional, I don't think you give free advice. Nor am I looking for a new doctor," the commandant chuckled, "But my offer of some French-isms still stands. If you can manage to remember."

[drrutherford]

Gideon squints at him. "Not sure how you've managed to avoid a trip to the A&E, given your uh..." He gestures up and down, "Charm, but the NHS is free... Some might argue, regrettably so." Lucky git. "Could even fit you in for a free lobotomy, if you were ever so inclined." Now that would be real charity.

He can't, of course – can't do anything much more than grouse – but damn Théo for choosing this evening out of any to stroll by and offer his linguistic services.

"And what's that supposed to mean—'manage to remember'??... I'll challenge you to a MOCA assessment any day, Chaussard. Any hour, in fact. Manage to remember..."