In "Armies" Neil has long hair (I think it said until his chin) so how do you picture him? Like, photos?
Ah… okay, I think I answered this one before and might have linked to things. Keep in mind these images are not my own.
Here’s an idea of what he looks like after he gets his hair cut and dyed back to his original auburn color (only a bit wavier than what’s pictured here):
Bangs cut shorter around the face, hair generally chin length (though I can’t find any images with an under cut).
Before the hair cut/return to his original color? Yes, it’s longer, around shoulder length (at least at the start of the fic and he’s bad about cutting it when he’s busy), and black. So he often pulls it back to keep it out of the way, which is why family/friends gives him nice hair ties as presents. :) So like this, only dyed black.
Ok so, I read a lot of your work on Ao3, but I just found your blog, and I gotta say, Armies is one of the best fic that I read, it's absolutely amazing ! Thanks for the work that you put into it ! I really love the Hartford verse, I saw the prompt you did in it, it's so great ! I don't know, I just really like the family ! Do you have, like random facts or just little things about them ? (If that doesn't bother you to tell us) ! Thanks again for writing it ;)
Thank you SO MUCH. 😘 I’m really proud of that fic and so happy when people enjoy it, the darkness aside. And I do adore my Hatfords (well, Stuart’s not really mine, I just expanded on his grumpy greatness).
Of course I have a lot of little facts about them tucked away - it seems there’s never a chance to get all of it down on fic. Let’s see…
Jamie idolizes Mary. It’s not a blind idolization, mind you, but she grew up hearing all these stories from her dad and uncle and even a bit from her mum about Aunt Mary, about this lovely young woman whom no one could really control, who was smart and headstrong and could take down men twice her size and outwit just about anyone. She heard the affection and admiration and longing in their voices and wanted to be just like her aunt, wanted people to talk about her like that.
It wasn’t until she grew older and learned about Nathan Wesninski, about what had happened in Baltimore and why Mary had left her husband, had run off with adorable young Abram that Mary became more of a cautionary tale. She still wanted to be like Mary… but a smart Mary. A Mary who didn’t cause her family so much grief.
It’s also in part why she looks after Abram so much.
Will fell for Miriam when he was with a couple of cousins and enforcers around his age, and ran into a small group of young women out enjoying themselves. One in particular refused to be intimidated by him and his friends, to put up with the crude language and come-ons, and he was intrigued. So he and a couple of others kept going back to where the women hung out, and eventually Miriam became charmed despite herself with the way he put up with her sharp tongue and put-downs.
She came from enough of a ‘socially disadvantaged’ background to know what it meant to be with a Hatford, but wasn’t involved in that life before she meet him. That’s part of the reason why many people in the syndicates favor Abram over her children.
Ally was definitely spoiled a bit as the third child/second boy. Part of it was Miriam’s (and a little Will’s as well) hope that he would decide to live a life outside of the ‘family business’ since there was Henry and Jamie to take over things (to not be Mary). That’s part of the reason for his often foolish behavior, why he doesn’t take things seriously; he grew up knowing that his older siblings would take care of things and do it well. It’s still one big game to him, something he can walk away from at any moment.
At least, it was, until he met Nathan Wesninski. Even so, it’s hard to change after so many years, but he’s trying.
Stuart was always closer to Mary than Will, there was less of an age gap between him and his younger sister than his older brother. That wasn’t to say that he and Will didn’t get along, because Will took his job as the oldest seriously (Will takes everything seriously, as Miriam likes to tease), but he was older and had a lot of expectations on him. Stuart was the middle child and second son, and often had to look after Mary (which had somewhat to do with her rebelling so much). Which was why in part he always saw her as his little sister, as someone to protect and look after, and couldn’t understand why she insisted on marrying some Yank with cold eyes and a cruel smile, why she had to move to the States. Why she wouldn’t accept help when she finally left the abusive bastard.
He could count the times he’d cried once he’d hit puberty on one hand (the first time he’d had his heart broken, each time his parents had died), and he’d cried again when Abram had called him to tell him about Mary. Then he’d put aside the grief so he could focus on his dear sister’s son, the only bit of her he had left even if he barely knew the boy.
He’d die before he let anything happen to Mary’s child - he wouldn’t fail her again.
He’d die before he let anything happen to Ram. He wouldn’t let the boy down ever again.
Henry. Ah Henry. He was so much like his father, so serious and earnest, yet he had enough of his mother in him to unleash a smile so charming which made people forget that he could shoot you in the heart without the expression slipping if he felt just cause. No one doubted that the Hatfords would continue to grow, to expand, with him as the heir apparent.
Then he saw Jamie’s back exposed during the fight with Nathan’s people, and he did what his father had always taught him, and that was to put blood before everything else, and Jamie became the new heir apparent.
Hi! ❤️ I’m reading Armies right now and I kinda ship Stuart and Davis haha
Ha! You know, when I wrote the story, I wondered if people would ship those two - Davis does look after Stuart, doesn’t he? He’s a good one (and puts up with a lot). Stuart’s a lucky man. 😉
*sighs* I’ve spent the last hour or so looking at heraldry generators, but they’re not really good - they don’t allow for many images to be selected. So basically, it’s a shield and the colors are red and a bluish grey, with poppies (there’s a reason why that’s Mary’s favorite flower) and I’m thinking a fox or weasel-like creature to show that the Hatfords favor cunning - their ‘virtues’ are along the lines of loyalty, wisdom, cunning and perseverance, with their motto being ‘strength from the shadows’. Also, probably a key and a moon symbol as well (to show that they go where they want and they operate more in the dark).
But that’s the tattoo that Andrew (and Abram/Neil and Liz and Jason and Jamie and everyone who has a confirmed kill for the Hatfords, who is loyal to them) bears.
Hey! I love your writing, youre immensely skilled at crafting amazing stories (Ive reread each of your fics multiple times) and I'm sorry that so much drama surrounding ao3 and people's thoughts on certain content have been directed towards your blog! I have a quick question about Armies, which is my favourite of your fics, if you don't mind my asking- Do Abram and Andrew get old together? I really hope that they end up grouchy old men, bickering all the time tbh Thank you!!!!
Well, I did post to support ao3 so I did sorta open myself up to some debate. And people were civil for it, which I appreciate.
As for Armies (and aww, thank you!), I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that yes, they do live to be two old, grouchy, bickering men, sitting out by the pond (Andrew still complaining about the fish) and drinking their tea (Andrew’s trying to be healthier) and talking about past missions (more like complaining about all the times that Andrew didn’t duck fast enough or Abram overworked himself too much).
would you ever consider writing abram and stuart’s (and the rest of the hatford crew) meeting abram for the first time after he makes the call? i imagine it’ll take a while for abram to open up to stuart and he’d probably be rather skittish
*******
Haaa… hi! So, it appears that I’m in the mood for Armies prompt! (and just a note in general - I have everyone’s prompts and I try not to comment because I like keeping them ‘saved’ in my message box, that way I don’t lose them. So don’t worry if you send me something. If you think tumblr lost it, you can always resend, but I worry about losing prompts or forgetting them so I try to keep them until I can attach the fic).
That out of the way… all right, so this is partially done? Looking at it now I see we just get Stuart’s point of view, but it’s a start at least? And there’s a comment in Armies where Neil/Abram only met Henry once, and that would have been when Abram was a child, so no Henry pov, sorry. But! Stuart pov finally! And this is a prequel of sorts to Armies and I think I may expand upon it - though honestly, Jamie and Ally won’t ‘meet’ Abram until after the whole Popescu thing.
Which all of this is a lot of me rambling without posting the prompt?
TW: character death, mention of past abuse, brief thoughts of suicide
*******
Alex stood still as the cold water of the Pacific Oceanwashed over his ankles, as it rushed forth to cover the small cairn of rockswhich served as his mother’s anonymous grave. Mary Hatford deserved so muchmore, deserved a proper resting place surrounded by family and a coffin and atombstone so loved ones could visit over the years, and instead had herhalf-charred remains all but dumped into a wet hole in the ground which no onewould ever knowingly visit. In a few more minutes, Alex would turn around andwalk away, would discard his current name and leave her behind forever.
He might be joining her in an unmarked grave soon enough –Mary Hatford’s latest sacrifice all for nothing. Over six years on the run fornothing, all the pain and abuse suffered at Nathan Wesninski’s hands for nothing.
All because she refused to give Alex (Nathaniel) up to theMoriyamas.
He wanted to scream his rage and anguish and confusion intothe night sky, to deafen the sound of the endless waves and screeching seagullsas he thought about what his mother had confessed to him as they fled Seattleand his father and what he’d thought had just been yet another bout of terribleviolence and bloody near-miss. Instead, it had been his father landing a fatalblow on Alex’s mother at last, a long-overdue retribution for her taking hisson away, his son and five million dollars… and only increasing the Butcher’sdebt to the criminal syndicate he owed allegiance.
Alex knew that his mother had been born a Hatford, into acriminal empire of sorts in the UK, but he’d thought that his father had beenresponsible for his own business of death and drugs and intimidation on theEast Coast. It seemed that Nathan Wesninski was merely a subordinate, and hadpromised his son to his more powerful employers.
Which meant that Alex had four choices left to him at themoment; he could walk out into the ocean and end things right there, could stoprunning once and for all. He felt so tired, felt so worn down and battered, andit wasn’t just from the bruises littering his body from the fight earlier. Yethe could still hear his mother’s weak, raspy voice in his head telling him to run and never stop.
He could obey her like he always did, could grab his bagsitting on the beach and shed ‘Alex’, could pick a new identity and find one oftheir stashes and rest in city number twenty-three for a while, then move on.And on. And on… until his father or the Moriyamas caught up to him.
He could hand himself over to the Moriyamas and explain thathe hadn’t known the truth. For a moment he felt a faint thrill at the thoughtof playing Exy again, at being on the court at Castle Evermore with Riko andKevin and… and there had to be a reason whyhis mother had taken him and run, hadn’t there? Why she believed everythingthey’d suffered was better than him going on to play for one of the best Exyteams in existence.
Or… or as his final choice, he could retrieve his phone andcall his uncle Stuart, call the number that was to be used as a ‘last resort’.Alex’s mother had done her best to stay away from her family after they’dimmediately left Baltimore, to not rely upon them for help or return to thatlife… but Alex didn’t see any choice at the moment. It was either end up likeher or end up in his father’s hands.
He stared out over the fluid waves for a few more secondsbefore he turned around and had to blink his eyes at the remnants of the fire asit flickered low in the metal frame of the ruins of the car, and stumbledtoward his duffel bag.
He’d already thrown his mother’s belongings into the ocean,those which he hadn’t burned, and had almost gotten rid of his own phone sinceit was the same cheap, disposable model as his mother’s. He gazed at it for acouple of seconds before he forced himself to power it on and then dialed anumber long-memorized, aware that it would be early morning in London.
“Who the hell is this?” Stuart answered after a couple ofrings, his gruff voice thick with sleep. “Ally? This one of your tricks?”
Alex’s throat grew tight at the sound of his uncle’s voice,of the familiar accent. “Ah… it’s-“ he almost said ‘Nathaniel’ before he caughthimself. “It’s Abram,” he said, his voice falling into the same accent, the onehe always used when with his mother, and used the name his mother had alwayscalled him. “Uhm, Mary’s son.”
“Mary’s – fuck, kiddo, what’s going on? Where’s your mum?”Stuart didn’t sound so tired anymore. “Where’s she?”
Alex fought back a sob as he fell to his knees and rockedback and forth. “She… she’s not… I… your number.”
“Dammit. Dammit!”There was the sound of something loud clashing on the other end while Stuartyelled, which made Alex flinch and almost drop the phone. “Dammit, Mary! I –wait, are you okay, kiddo?”
Alex shook his head before he realized that Stuart couldn’tsee him. “I-“
“Are you safe? Is that fucker nearby? He did it, didn’t he?He got Mary.”
“Yu-yeah.” Alex forced himself to answer, even though hehuddled over at the sound of an angry adult male. “Yes, sir.” He recalled acurt man just a few inches taller than his mother, several years older than hismother with blond hair and grey eyes yet who always tried to bribe him with tartcandies to step away from Mary so he could ‘get a proper look at you, kiddo’.Stuart hadn’t seemed so bad, back in London.
“Fuck.” ThenStuart let out a slow breath. “Okay. Okay. We need to focus on you, Abram,” hesaid in a quieter tone of voice. “Where are you? You’re all right, yeah?”
“I’m fine,” Alex told him. “Uhm… California, by the ocean,in the north.” He let out a shudderingbreath. “I… I buried her here. By the water. Burned the car.”
“Fuck,” Stuart breathed out as there was the sound of breakingglass. “Dammit. There a town nearby?”
“Uhm.” Alex scrubbed at his face as he thought about thedrive from Seattle, about his mother’s weak voice and bright eyes and heavywords, how it had been so hard to look away from her even to pay attention tothe road once he’d realized that something was wrong. “Eureka. It’s a few milesnorth.”
“Can you get there without any problems?”
“Yeah.” He was used to walking when they didn’t have a car,when they needed to fade into a city and lose people on crowded streets.
“All right, then you go there, and you find someplace publicyou can crash until I send someone to pick you up, do you understand? It’lljust be a couple of hours, tops, and they’ll get you to the nearest airportwith an international flight to London. I’d come get you myself but this’ll bequickest – I want you out of that hellhole of a country before the day’s out.”
“Okay.” Alex wanted out of the States, too; nothing goodever happened to him while he was there.
“Good boy. Now, give me a safe word or something so you’llknow the person I send to fetch you.”
Alex frowned as he attempted to think of something that hisfather’s people wouldn’t guess; anything related to Exy wouldn’t be a goodidea. “Ah… ‘poppies’,” he said after a couple of seconds, as he glanced over atthe still-smoldering wreck of a car.
It made his chest ache, the thought of how little he’d knownabout his mother (actually, everything to do with her made his chest ache), buthe’d caught her smiling fondly at the little fake flowers they handed out onRemembrance Day one year while in the UK and had learned that poppies were herfavorite flower. She’d never have a proper grave, would never have a placewhere he could leave a bouquet of them on her headstone each year to mark herpassing or birthday or anything like that, he realized.
“’Poppies’,” Stuart repeated, his voice thick once again butnot from sleep – something similar must have occurred to him. “Get going,Abram. Be careful, call as soon as you reach the town or if you need help. I’llsee you soon.” Then he hung up.
Alex held the phone clutched in his hand for a moment, hisfingers scraped raw from digging in the sand, then he forced himself to put thephone into the duffel bag and pull out a clean pair of clothes that didn’t reekof gasoline and smoke and burnt flesh. Once he was changed into them, he threwthe other pair into the flickering flames as he passed the remains of the carthen kept going, refusing to look back as he made his way to Eureka.
*******
“Are you sure about this, Stu? Miriam said that-“
“I’m sure,” Stuart argued for the eighth time as he cutshort his brother, tone a bit snippy but… eighthtime. He knew Will meant well, was stressed and still processing the fact that theirsister was dead, but they had to focus on her son right then. “Give me a day ortwo with him, a little time to get him settled in and then you and Miriam cancome over. But he sounded at his wit’s end the couple of times I talked to him,and if he’s anything like Mary,” dammit,he hated how he could barely say her name, “then you know how that’s gonna go.”
“Yeah.” Will was just as choked up; they should have beenprepared for this day, had thought they were, but Abram’s call had still been ashot to the guts. Mary was – had, dammit– been clever as fuck, been the strongest of the three of them in her own way,so damn stubborn and unwilling to bend. Stuart was amazed that she’d lasted solong on the run, had kept herself and her son free of the Moriyamas and that fucker Wesninski with so littleresources.
Had.
Dammit, keep it together, Hatford.
“Take all the time you need to settle Abram in, and call mefor anything, you hear?” Willordered, his voice back to stern and demanding. “Anything that boy needs. We’llfigure out what to do with him soon enough, the main thing is he’s home now.”
“Right, I’ll keep you updated,” Stuart promised his brotherthen went to pour himself some more coffee once the call ended. It had been along as hell day already and Abram would be there any minute, leaving Stuart todeal with Mary’s teenage son.
Mary… beautiful, stubborn, independent Mary, so certain thatshe always knew what was she was doing, that she didn’t need to listen toanyone, that people were trying to hold her back or treat her like a child ornot trust her to make her own choices. Foolish, fiery Mary who thought shecould do so much better than her brothers, who leapt before looking and marrieda psychopath leashed to the yakuza.
Stuart wanted whisky more than coffee, but he stuck with thecaffeine instead because the last thing poor Abram needed was being dropped offinto the custody of some drunk uncle he barely knew, right?
At least Will still had enough pull with some of theorganization in Vancouver and Arthur Boylen had been able to send one of hismen across the border to fetch Abram, take him to Sacramento and board a planewith him to ensure that he arrived in London in one piece. Cal had been sent to pick up the poor kid andbring him to Stuart’s home since they didn’t want to make it too obvious, thefact that Mary Hatford’s son had left the US to return to her family.
No, the less the Moriyamas found out about Abram’swhereabouts, the better; Stuart knew that Mary hadn’t wanted her son to becomeinvolved in the ‘family’ business, which was why she hadn’t stayed with themafter finally coming to her senses and leaving Nathan Wesninski. That meant heand Will needed to figure out what to do with Abram, what kind of life theycould offer him at last.
He was on his second cup of coffee when Cal finally showedup with an exhausted and wary Abram in tow; Cal was babbling away about takingthe kid down to Covent Gardens to pick pockets, of all things, while Abramslunk into the townhouse as if expecting to be yelled at (or worse) any moment,all defenses up and hunched shoulders.
“Ah, here he is! Your uncle Stuart, in the flesh. I’ll leavethe two of you at it, okay?” Cal nodded to Stuart before he smiled at Abram.“It was nice to meet you, kid. Let me know if you get bored and wanna hangout.”
Abram gave the enforcer a slight nod but didn’t sayanything, his attention flickered all around as he took in Stuart and thetownhouse in a hyperaware manner which Stuart recognized as someone doing hisbest to assess any and all potential threats – Stuart included. So Stuartdidn’t come too close as he did some assessing himself.
Mary’s son had obviously inherited the Hatford genes when itcame to height, or lack of it, since the kid (he’d be at least sixteen, ifStuart remembered correctly) was about 160 centimeters. He was scrawny as fuck,too, which wasn’t helped by the overlarge rags he wore, pale blue jeans and apale grey sweatshirt that had seen better days a long time ago. The red hairStuart remembered in the photos which Mary would send was gone, replaced bywhat he suspected was dark brown dye (it had been dyed a lighter shade duringhis visit years ago), and the kid wore brown contacts as well.
One could see that fucker Wesninski in the kid’s face, couldtell the two of them were related, but Abram’s cheeks were sharper, his facethinner and more refined, and there were bits of Mary in there as well (thefine eyebrows, that mouth). Stuart looked at his nephew and ached as he took inthe dark shadows around those masked eyes, the tightness lining the mouth, themissed years between the young child who’d last stood before him and now.
It occurred to him that he’d never seen Abram laugh – not inany of the pictures that Mary had sent, not in that week when she’d brought himhere, never. He’d rarely seen the kidsmile, either, and those had always been guarded things or falsehoods for thecamera.
“So, uhm, hi,” he said to his nephew, all of a sudden at aloss for words. Part of him wanted to wrap his arms around Mary’s child and hughim, to share in the grief between them, but he knew that Abram was too on edgefor that, too wary of him.
Abram started at the sound of his voice. “Ah, hi.” Hehitched the duffel bag hanging on his left shoulder a little higher. “Uhm…thank you,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and stress. “For… forthis.” He gave a slight wave of his right hand. “I can… I can be gone in a-“
“You’re staying here,” Stuart snapped, furious at thethought of Abram vanishing just like Mary had, of losing the last bit of hissister he had left, and then let out a slow breath when he caught Abram’sflinch. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, but you called me for help and thefamily’s here for you, kiddo. Don’t go running because you think you have to,all right? Rest for a while, we’ll help you figure things out. You’re safehere.” He waited for Abram to slowly relax and nod. “What do want right now?Something to eat? To sleep?” The kid looked ready to pass out.
“Uhm… bed be good,” Abram admitted in a quiet, slurred voiceas he rubbed at his eyes with a hand all scraped up for some reason.
“We can manage that,” Stuart said as he was cautious aboutstepping around his nephew to lead him up the stairs to the bedroom he’dprepared earlier in the day. Abram appeared mindful to stay just out of reach,to keep him in his sights at all time, and after getting over his shock of aroom with the large bed and attached bathroom, locked the door behind Stuart.
There might have been the sound of a chair or somethingbeing pushed against the door a minute later, as Stuart hovered in thestairwell. Mary obviously didn’t raise a naïve child, and Stuart would have hiswork cut out for him in gaining Abram’s trust, it seemed.
Stuart tried not to think about what Abram’s life must havebeen like, all those years on the run. He definitely didn’t want to think aboutwhat it had been like in Nathan Wesninski’s house.
He reheated the last of some take-away as he called Will tolet him know that Abram had arrived, and spent some time talking to hisbrother; Miriam was busy looking into schools for their nephew, possibly aboarding school where he could stay under an alias. Part of Stuart didn’t wantto even contemplate letting Abram being out of his sight, of letting go of Mary’sson after they’d gotten him back… but it would be whatever was best for theboy.
He made a few other calls to ensure that work wouldn’t betoo disrupted by him staying at home for a couple of days, Henry more than capableof stepping in for him (a good learning experience for the young man), andfinally gave in to the urge to grab the bottle of whisky before he tuckedhimself into the one comfortable chair in the living room with an old photoalbum.
They never knew if it had been deliberate or not, theirparents waiting so long to have Stuart and Mary after Will, but William was olderthan Stuart by ten years and Mary by almost another four. The age gap hadn’tbeen so bad between Will and Stuart, but then again they were brothers – he’dalways looked up to Will, had seen him as a mentor and an example and a hero ofsorts, someone to emulate. He’d annoyed Will a little for a few years with hisconstant tagging along and all, but Will had always taken his responsibilitiesto the family seriously, had looked after Stuart and taken the time to show himwhat to do and how to fight and everything else he’d felt was the duty of a bigbrother.
There was less of a gap between Stuart and Mary so they’dgotten along better, had understood each other and felt like it was themagainst their parents and the rest of the family often since they were the ‘youngones’. Still, Mary was the ‘baby’, was the only daughter and seemed to vacillatebetween spoiled/adored and coddled – the first she used to her advantage, thelatter she detested.
Stuart gazed at a picture of his sister - probably no morethan nine or ten years old, her hair pulled back and curled and dressed in someridiculously frilly outfit - glare at the camera with her hands in fists uponher hips and thought he remembered some party his mother had thrown where shewanted Mary to be a ‘proper’ little lady. A party which Stuart and Will didn’thave to attend, of course, which had only added to Mary’s ire.
She could cause one damn righteous scene she could, hissister. He found himself smiling at that memory, before he remembered aboutthat inner fire being snuffed out forever, snuffed out by some American prickwho’d hurt her for years. Hurt her and Abram while he’d been unable to do adamn thing about it.
Stuart began to drink in earnest.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the nextthing he knew was that his neck hurt and his head ached and there was a strangenoise in the house. Cursing beneath his breath, he shoved himself onto his feetand stumbled toward it as he fumbled for a weapon, which turned out to be the mostlyempty bottle which had been on his lap,and blinked as he found a wide-eyedAbram in his kitchen with a glass of water in his trembling hands.
“Ah… I was… I can-“ Abram fumbled to put down the glass ashe backed into the counter.
“No, no, just… jus’ forgot you were here,” Stuart tried to explainas he set the bottle aside. “What time izzit?” he asked as he rubbed at his blearyeyes.
“Ah… six am?” Abram sounded apologetic about that fact, eventhough he’d slept a good bit since he’d arrived the previous evening.
“Right.” Stuart gazed at his nephew who still looked tiredand was dressed in another oversized outfit which hung on his too-thin form. “Whenwas the last time you ate?”
Abram was quiet as he sipped at the water, his eyesdowncast. “There was food on the plane.”
That wasn’t an answer. “Tea or coffee?” Stuart asked as hewent over to start a pot of coffee for himself, mindful not to get too close tothe spooked kid.
“Ah, whatever you’re making,” Abram told him in a quietvoice as he glanced at Stuart from beneath his overlong bangs; Miriam wouldhave to take him to get it cut as well as buy some decent clothes.
Mary had always preferred tea in the morning, so Stuartfilled the electric kettle and pulled out some teabags, and noticed how thetension in Abram’s narrow shoulders eased a little. “All right, breakfast orsomething.” Fuck, he’d been so busy getting Abram out of the States that hehadn’t thought about food, had he? He went over to the refrigerator and frownedas he checked the contents. “Not so much breakfast, eh? Still, something toeat,” he reassured his nephew as he grabbed some cheese and butter. “Grilledcheese sandwiches all right?”
To his surprise, Abram graced him with a slight, sad smile,the first smile Stuart had yet to see from him since he’d arrived. “Yeah, that’sfine. Mum would… well, those are easy to make anywhere,” he finished in a weakvoice as if uncertain he should admit that.
Stuart paused in grabbing the loaf of bread as he thoughtabout being a child and sitting next to a grinning Mary as they fought over thelast grilled cheese sandwich. “She always liked ‘em when we were growing up,”he told his nephew, and felt a pang in his chest at Abram’s obvious surprise. ‘Whatthe hell, Mary’, he thought to himself over that fact, over Abram not knowingsuch a simple thing about his own mother.
Abram kept a too-careful watch as Stuart made thesandwiches, the mug of tea forgotten in his hands while Stuart wielded a knifeto slice the bread and cheese, and didn’t relax until it was discarded into thesink.
A million questions danced around in Stuart’s head,questions about what the hell the kid and Mary had done the last several years,what they’d been doing in Seattle, why she hadn’t called in so long… but heknew it was better not to press right away. Abram was as skittish as an abusedferal cat, distrustful of people and rightfully so after everything he’d beenthrough with his parents.
The important thing was that he’d come home at last, that he’dreturned to the Hatfords. He was blood and he was where he belonged, was wherehe’d be safe – Stuart and Will would make sure of that. They may have lostMary, but they wouldn’t lose Abram, Stuart swore to himself as he set a placeof sandwiches in front of the half-starved young man who clearly had to forcehimself to sit at the opposite side of the island from him.
He wouldn’t let Abram down.
*******
Hmm, trying to decide where to post this - at the start of Armies? Especially if it because a proper prequel/prologue?
hey! in armies how do you think stuart and the hatfords found out that mary was abusive and how they felt abt that?
Hmmm. Not to steal too much from the prequels that’ll be coming around soon (so there may be some overlap here):
Obviously Stuart and Will and Miriam know that Abram/Neil was abused by Nathan (aka the f*cking bastard)
They knew about it from the little they managed to get out of the ‘spies’ they planted (or tried to plant) in the house in Baltimore, from what Mary said (or didn’t say), from what the f*cking bastard taunted them with the few times Will or Stuart dealt with him
From that week when Mary and Abram/Neil stayed in London with Will and Miriam, still bearing bruises that they mostly hid with long sleeves and ducked heads (and makeup on Mary’s part), the way that Abram/Neil would never be more than a couple of feet from his mother’s presence and watched Will and Stuart with huge, fear-filled blue eyes
So Stuart expected to have a wary as f*ck teenager on his hands when Abram called him without warning and told him that Mary was dead, when this battered, too-thin kid showed up on his doorstep
He expected to have to take things slow, to keep his voice pitched low and not move too fast because of what that f*cking bastard did to Abram when he was young, because of all those years on the run
What he (and Will and Miriam) didn’t expect? How quiet Abram was, even once in a safe place, how he didn’t talk out of turn to an adult, how he stood there and watched and listened and was quick to do things (always just out of reach, always attentive)
That… wasn’t like Henry or Jamie or Ally (oh hell no was it like Ally)
They expected him to be leery of Will and Stuart because of… well, because, but he didn’t relax around Miriam despite her smiles and kind words and attempts to put him at ease
And she was good at putting people at ease
If anything, he watched her with too-intent care and was quick to do whatever he thought she wanted (other than to get rid of his ‘old rags’ - his over-sized, worn clothes)
What made them realize that the f*cking bastard wasn’t the only one to lay a hand on Abram was when Miriam was chiding Abram about his clothes one day before he was supposed to go off to the boarding school she’d picked out for him - she was worried that he wouldn’t fit in if he didn’t dress properly
Abram, obviously stressed about leaving Stuart’s home to go live in a strange dorm, snapped at his aunt that his clothes were ‘fine’, that he was ‘fine’… and then went still as he realized what he’d just done before he hung his head and appeared to brace himself for something while mumbling ‘sorry’ beneath his breath
Miriam shared a surprised look with Will and Stuart before she assured her nephew that it was all right, her expression twisted with sorrow when she reached out to touch Abram on the shoulder only for him to flinch
Stuart began to ask questions (pry) a bit more after that, to ask Abram here and there about Mary (he couldn’t push too hard, not with such a skittish creature as his nephew)
He… didn’t like the answers; he knew his sister wasn’t perfect, not after the last fifteen years or so, especially not when she’d taken a young Abram and went running helter-skelter all around Europe rather than allowing the family to help her and the child
But to know she’d laid hands on a poor kid already scarred enough by the f*cking bastard?
He adored his sister, he did, she was his flesh and blood, but part of him didn’t like her very much right then
The worst part of it all was that Abram didn’t even see anything wrong with what she’d done - a hit here or there to keep him in line, to remind him to be quiet, to be careful… it had been for his own good, in his mind
All Stuart (and Will and Miriam) could hope for was that he’d spend some time around normal kids his own age and see that it wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t go through life with someone who was supposed to look out for him roughing him up all the time to keep him ‘safe’. He’d have a chance for a normal life at last
And then the Moriyamas found out where they’d hidden Abram and sent the Popescu cousins after him, and Stuart (and Will and Miriam) had to figure out how to put Abram back together (when he hadn’t even been ‘whole’ in the first place) once they ‘rescued’ him
Hmm. I definitely wanted it to be a ‘harder’ fic because of the content, with Neil/Abram and Andrew older, hardened by the world around them. So a lot of ‘darker’ content - the fighting, the torture, the ‘gang’ world to reflect that. And really, I just hadn’t seen anything like Armies yet in AFTG? Or done something like it, so I was excited to try something new.
2. Whatscene did you first put down?
Ha, I think it might have been Andrew meeting Neil/Abram at the bar?
3. What’syour favorite line of narration?
Oh hell, in a fic this long??? Hmm… this might change from day to day, but for now:-“What?” Abram frowned as he tried to make sense out of that. Him first what? A mental breakdown? Yes, that seemed very doable at the moment, thank you.-
I just love how it shows Neil/Abram beginning to lose it when it comes to Andrew, becoming so flustered as he tries to do something nice for his ‘roommate’ and yet still a bit clueless.
4. What’syour favorite line of dialogue?
You’re killing me here! Technically a little more than a line:
-It was almost amusing, the expression of misery on Abram’s face as he slumped down in the seat. “Oh look, there’s a bridge ahead. Why don’t we go off of it? Might be fun.”“Drama queen,” Andrew sneered.“Bonding time with Nicky?” Abram countered as he scowled, his hands now busy fussing with the plaid scarf wrapped around his neck – the scarf he wore in an attempt to hide the hickeys Andrew had left there just a couple of hours ago.All right, maybe going over the bridge wasn’t such a bad idea, not that Andrew would admit it to the idiot.-
Ah yes, Neil/Abram and Andrew dealing with their families…
