Discover Top Posts Tagged with #savvie

Every Time

One of the @amonthofwhump Whumpmas prompts hit me just right.

TW: murder, intimate whump, drugging mention, referenced emotional abuse and child neglect.

Savvie, Izzy and Jamie are characters from @ashintheairlikesnow and written collaboratively!

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @eatyourdamnpears

-

Jax wakes up without moving. Moving isn’t safe. He takes his first conscious breath of the day without even opening his eyes. Where is she? What’s the last thing he remembers from last night? What was the last thing he ate and drank? Can he feel any pain?

Savvie is lying next to him, half-draped over him as usual. Her hair is what woke him up, tickling the underside of his chin, with threatening strands around his mouth. He’s dreamt of choking to death on her hair, more than once. He doesn’t need blankets when she does this.

He twists his head, then waits. She doesn’t stir. Her breathing remains steady. He opens his eyes.

There’s light behind the heavy curtains, but only enough to suggest the sun is up. It’s not daytime yet. She won’t want to be woken up, and if he tries, she’ll grumble and roll over.

That makes it the perfect time. He reaches out for the edge of the mattress, fingers curling around it, and uses the leverage to slide himself sideways on the bed without sitting up. Gently, he slips free of her weight. One of her hands flexes, reaching for him, and she lets out a tiny groan, which stops him dead.

“I’ve got it,” he murmurs to her.

Half-asleep, she doesn’t wonder what it is that he’s supposedly got. It could be anything. But he’s taking care of it, so she doesn’t have to move, or care, or wake up and ask why he’s leaving her. He knows she usually doesn’t even remember these moments in the morning. When he draws the covers back over her, she smiles and sighs, eyes still closed.

He tiptoes over the plush carpet and out the door. He exhales his first full breath. Free for an hour or two, except for the cameras and the locks. And the collar, but that’s only a problem if she wakes up annoyed that he’s not there.

Feet angled along the edge of the floorboards, he pads his way down to the other end of the hall, where the kids’ rooms are secluded far enough that they won’t disturb their mother, but close enough that they can rouse their father, if they need him. He listens at Izzy’s door before knocking softly, knuckles barely brushing the painted wood underneath her Isabella sign.

There’s no answer, so he moves on to Jamie’s room. He doesn’t need to knock for Jamie, but he does anyway, another soft rapped pattern. He is not surprised when he hears a whispered voice inside, and moments later, the door opens to show his daughter.

“Hi, daddy,” she whispers.

She knows it’s him before she sees him, of course. That’s why he knocks, no matter what room she’s in. She doesn’t deserve the stress of being startled, even if it’s a happy surprise. He smiles at her anyway, and she carefully checks up the hall for Savvie’s bedroom door. Seeing it shut, her eyes light up, unguarded this early in the morning. The monster still sleeps in its cave.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, stepping into the room. He looks for Jamie as his first instinct. He knows where Izzy is, closing the door quietly behind him, so he needs to account for his other top priority.

Jamie is half-sitting on an array of pillows, clearly arranged to help him stay mostly upright. One of his books is at his feet, and his pudgy fingers touch its open cardboard pages, exploring the textures of the creatures on the page. He does this with an obvious expression of total wonder. It’s one of Jax’s favourite things about raising this little boy: the world is endlessly fascinating to him.

Izzy knows the truth about the world, but still, she likes the occasional story. He scoops her into a quick hug. “You woke up early again?”

She gets put to bed so damn early it’s no surprise. Savvie wants mommy and daddy time, which is code for the shit Izzy absolutely does not get to see or hear about ever at all. Of course, mommy and daddy time cannot have their actual children present. Jax hasn’t yet pointed out the irony.

Izzy is already going back to Jamie, who has noticed Jax’s presence and is trying to drag himself off the bed. Jax isn’t sure why Savvie put a bed in here, next to the crib, but he’s glad she did. Even if he usually falls asleep in the armchair instead, Jamie in his arms.

Jax joins her, helping Jamie onto his lap, where he desperately wants to be. He lifts his baby boy up to his chest, so Jamie can throw his little arms around his daddy’s neck. Izzy tucks into his side.

“We was reading a story,” Izzy explains. “Jamie wanted to feel.”

Jax picks up the book, but Jamie isn’t about to let go for a minute. “A story for Jamie, huh? How about you go get one for yourself? I think he’s going to want to cuddle for a bit, no story.”

Izzy looks at her brother and nods. She gets down without another word, and a brief instinct clutches Jax, urging him to reach for her and make sure she doesn’t leave. He doesn’t let it show. She’ll be right back.

He watches, lips brushing Jamie’s hair, as she opens the door as little as possible and slips out. He has the sudden realisation that she learned it from him. The less you open the door, the less it creaks. He can’t hear her footsteps down the hall, or the door of her own bedroom open and close.

She’s back within moments, book in her hands. Jamie’s breathing has slowed, hot pools against his collarbone, and Jax tucks his arms back down where he can clutch shirt and not collar. He pats the space next to him, and Izzy comes back to his side.

If he shrinks the world just to this space on the bed, and makes everything else disappear, there’s a chance he could be at home. It would have to be Izzy’s bed, though. And he wouldn’t buy her a duvet cover like this. She’d want a unicorn or something. But if he ignores that too, just focuses on his two kids and the books on his lap, that’s enough.

He reads quietly, stopping here and there to point out the illustrations, or see if Izzy can work out the big letter at the start of each page. Jamie sleeps, stirs, gets his bottle, sleeps again. Izzy sits completely still, but pays perfect attention, giggling at the jokes he dredges out of his brain for her. If this morning could last forever, with Savvie always asleep, he could probably make a life out of it.

Stupid wish. She makes herself known before they’ve even finished the damn book, her door opening with a loud click and her footsteps thudding down the hall. “Jax?” she calls, even though she knows damn fucking well where he’ll be.

Izzy is already reaching out to take Jamie from him. He feels that tug again. The fear of leaving them both.

He screws it up in his stomach and lets Izzy take her brother. Her arms are safer than his right now. He kisses her on the forehead as his goodbye.

“Jax?” She demands his presence. He crosses the room in three steps and slides out of the door, closing it behind him promptly before she can look inside and remember her children exist, and can therefore be hurt.

“Morning, Miss Savvie.” He breathes out a smile. “I didn’t think you’d be awake so early.”

She gives him a pouty look, but her eyes are smarter than the rest of her face. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He takes another easy breath and course-corrects. “Well, it’s more like I’m disappointed. I was hoping to bring you breakfast in bed.”

He listens for Izzy and Jamie, behind him in the bedroom, behind the door he’s guarding. He can’t hear them. Jamie must not have woken at being passed off. Jax’s arms ache for the warm, soft weight in them.

Savvie smiles like she doesn’t quite believe him, but she chooses to. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Let’s go out for breakfast instead. I don’t want anything we have in the cupboards.”

It’s a punishment for going to see them, instead of staying with her. He’ll find a moment later, when it’s less obvious, to mention that Jamie was starting to cry. He’ll give her the excuse and mollify her, but he can’t do it now. She’ll deny it’s a punishment - how could it be? Isn’t it a treat? - and possibly notice the manipulation. He doesn’t want her to notice that he lies.

Even though she demands that he does, to her face, several times a day.

“That sounds great. How soon can Hannah be here?”

The assumption tries to place her under obligation, but she breezes past it. “Oh, they’ll be fine for a couple of hours, won’t they? Isabella knows how to take care of her brother. Come on, we need to pick your outfit.”

She loops her arm around his, and he doesn’t resist as she effortlessly drags him away.

He doesn’t see his kids for the rest of the day.

-

Jax wakes up without moving. Moving isn’t safe. He breathes in slowly, slow enough that if she’s already awake, he’ll still sound like he’s asleep. He listens for her. She’s draped over his chest, arm around him, hair carpeting him from shoulder to chin. Strands tickle at his throat.

She’s asleep. He can feel her chest rising and falling. He opens his eyes.

Early morning again, that’s good. No, actually… He probably shouldn’t get up again today. She’ll hold it against him if she notices a pattern. He stays where he is, at least for a few seconds. Then he just has to get her hair out of his face. He strokes it instead of shoving it, though, and she breathes out deeply as he does, comforted.

He swallows painfully, thinking of Izzy with that same hair. Fuck it. He has to see them, whether Monster Mommy likes it or not. He reaches for the edge of the bed, grabs it, and pulls himself free. He imagines her making a sucker-popping noise as he comes loose, like an octopus.

He gets his feet to the floor, and then he’s running free, long tiptoed steps out of the door and down the hall. He knocks at Izzy’s door, gets no answer, knocks at Jamie’s.

The first blink of deja vu happens when she opens it. Something about the sound. Something about the exact arrangement of her oversized curls. He looks past her, and there’s Jamie–

“Hi, daddy,” she whispers.

–propped up on a throne of pillows, with the same book in his lap, his fingers touching the sheep’s wool.

No, Jax tells himself. Jamie likes the same book for days.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says. He steps into the room, and the relief is the same, to be out of the hall, out of sight of the door that could open at any time.

Jamie looks up, and this time, Jax sees his face drop into an expression of total shock before he starts crawling determinedly for the edge of the bed. Izzy hurries to stop him, and he lets out a short grunt of annoyance as she scoops him back onto the pillows. Jax sits down, and of course, his lap is colonised by the little terror Izzy cannot restrain.

“Been reading?” he asks. He can’t bring himself to say, again? Maybe he dreamt yesterday. Maybe it’s just a scene he’s seen before. This morning routine of his is hardly new.

“Mhmm,” Izzy confirms, picking up Jamie’s book and offering it to him without success. Jamie is gripping Jax’s shirt, trying to pull himself up, his little feet digging into Jax’s legs.

“You really like this one, huh, Jamie?” It’s the closest he dares to admitting his suspicion. Then he thinks of a better way. “But it looks like he’s only interested in cuddling right now. How about you go get a book for yourself, kiddo?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Down she gets. Off she tiptoes. Slips out of the door and disappears.

Jax puts his hands around Jamie’s waist to help him stand properly. “Now then, you. What’s going on?”

Jamie stares back at him with befuddled brown eyes. Jax picks him up and hugs him close.

Izzy comes back in, and Jax smiles at her without needing to try. When he sees the book in her hands, he doesn’t flinch. The butterfly on the cover. The same one.

He pats the space next to him. At least he knows how to do this. She snuggles up and they read. He tries out the same jokes, the same letters for her to identify, and is rewarded with the same little giggles, the same tentative answers, and inevitably…

He hears the click of the door like a gunshot. He sets Jamie into Izzy’s ready arms.

She calls, “Jax?”

He’s already at the door. It hurts. He gets himself out of the room just as she’s calling his name again, and he meets her in front of Izzy’s door. “Morning, Miss Savvie.”

If this is the same as yesterday…

“I didn’t think you’d be awake so early.”

The pout. The calculating stare. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He takes a breath. Switches the script. “Well, the weather looks rubbish today. I thought you’d sleep in.”

“Oh, is it? I didn’t notice.” She tilts her head at him, her smile sparkling. “Rubbish, is it?”

He twists out a smile at her pantomime accent. He plays the game. “Aye, Miss Savvie.”

She laughs, looping her arm through his, turning to go back down the hall. “You’re so funny, Jax. Come on, let’s get breakfast. I want to try out that cafe–”

“We’re going out?”

“Yes,” she shakes his arm slightly, “and don’t interrupt, it’s rude.”

Fuck, fuck. “Do you want me to call for Hannah?”

“Don’t be silly. They’ll be fine for a couple of hours, won’t they?”

But it wasn’t. It won’t be. It was breakfast, coffee and pastries at the cafe, then the boutique next door, then a whole fucking shopping spree, lunch at a restaurant so fancy he thought he’d be asked to serve tables, then over to Isaac’s for dinner, and only then would she tell him to send someone to check on the kids, and she wouldn’t let Jax see them for the rest of the fucking day until he persuaded her to let him at least tuck them in so they’d sleep properly and not disturb their fucking mommy and daddy time.

The helpless lump in his throat gets swallowed down, where it burns and burns. “A couple of hours, yeah. I guess so.”

“You worry too much. Isabella’s old enough to take care of her brother.”

Maybe if he’s good enough at breakfast, she’ll give up on her revenge. He takes another breath.

“You’re right. Let’s go uh, pick my outfit?”

She giggles delightedly. She drags him away.

-

Jax wakes up without moving. He opens his eyes. Savvie’s arm presses down on his chest, her hair nearly in his mouth, and her breathing deep and slow.

He closes his eyes again. He’s sick of this dream. He’s sick of this everything.

He wakes up to her fingers tracing his eye socket. He blinks awake, flinching from the nail that’s right in front of his eyeball. She’s probably just being affectionate, he realises a second later, but a second is too long.

“Oh,” he says quickly. “Oh, Miss Savvie.” He breathes sharply, too fast. “I was having a bad dream, thank you for waking m-me.”

Her head tips to the side. She pretends she isn’t doing it to shake out her hair. She thinks it makes her look good. “Of course, sweetie,” she purrs. “You were frowning in your sleep. I just had to smooth away those wrinkles.”

He gives her a soft, dreamy smile. “You knew.”

It’s bullshit. She likes it when he’s scared, she wouldn’t wake him. But she just smiles more widely back. “Of course,” she repeats. She snuggles down, and he puts his arms around her how he’s meant to. “You must be stressed.”

For once, she’s not fucking wrong. Then again, that’s pretty much always true. “Yeah, a little.”

“Hmm.” She sits up, gasping as if she’s just had an idea. “Ooh, I know! Let’s go out today. We can get away from everything for a bit, have some time together, just us.”

His heart cracks. She’s not just talking about breakfast. Even though he didn’t get up, even though he’s right here where she wants him, and he’s being perfect, she still wants to take him away from the kids.

“That sounds lovely, Miss Savvie,” he says, each word tasting like chalk. The word lovely never used to be in his goddamn vocabulary. “You were telling me about that new cafe…”

She looks taken aback for a moment, and then she beams. “Oh, honey, you do know me so well. Let’s do it.”

He straightens, looking to the wardrobe. “Should I wear the new jumper, the cashmere one?”

It’s what he’s been wearing the last two days. But it seems, because he’s suggested it, it goes off the table. “Mm, not yet. Wait…”

As he watches, she gets that scheming look in her eyet.

“Yes, wear that. With the ivory slacks. You’ll look smart.”

Smart enough for dinner at her uncle’s, he guesses. She’s already got the whole day mapped out before she’s said a word to him. He’ll be sitting opposite Brayden getting his toes stamped on by the end of the day.

It’s pointless, but he asks. “Will you send someone to be with the kids, when they wake up?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. Isabella’s old enough to take care of her brother.”

“If we’re going out for the day, though, Miss Savvie… We can’t risk a hospital trip.”

She sighs. “See, look how stressed you are! Maybe we should go away for longer.”

He hates her. God, he wants to smack her stupid smile off. “Maybe. We can see how I feel after today?”

“Mm.” She stretches. She casts a look his way, under her eyelashes. “Alright. If you’re still grumpy tomorrow.”

He has a feeling it won’t fucking matter, either way.

-

Jax wakes up without moving.

He sits up, gently placing her arm down by his side. He takes the pillow out from underneath his shoulder. He shifts a knee over her.

Doesn’t fucking matter either way, does it?

He puts the pillow over her face.

He’s going to have a nice, peaceful day with his kids.

-

He’s lost count.

“Can you go get a book for yourself, kiddo? I’m going to take Jamie down and make Mommy breakfast, and then I’ll be right back.”

She slips down off the bed. He holds Jamie close, and swallows the same old fear. She’ll come back. He knows that, now. She’ll come back with the butterfly book, and they’ll read it together. She’ll laugh when he points out the cross eyes on the little girl in that one picture. She’ll get O and D mixed up when he asks her to tell him which letter is on page six. Jamie will cling to his shirt.

They’ll have a nice morning together, if he can keep Savvie placated.

It’s the same as yesterday, as every day, as his whole fucking life before and after this…whatever this is.

Purgatory, probably.

-

They sit on either side of the little round table in the window of her new favourite cafe, sharing two pastries. He managed to get the coffee plain and black this time around, but he still imagines he can taste the fucking gingerbread syrup from every other cup he’s had.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asks. It’s blunter than usual. She must be upset he’s not making this the romantic getaway of her dreams.

His hand curls around the mug. It’s so hard to keep looking forwards, when it’s the same as looking backwards.

She sets her hand down on the table, demanding he put his into hers. “Sweetie?”

The mug burns his skin. He imagines throwing it in her face. But no, it’s too early in the day. She’d have time to make the kids hurt. He’ll wait.

“We should go on a trip,” he tells her. “Just us two. It’s been a while.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea!” She is instantly distracted. Too delighted to even be suspicious. “Where should we go? No, I know where…”

Later, he tells his aching hand. Closer to midnight. When nothing fucking matters.

-

He puts a finger over his lips. Izzy stares, wide-eyed, but nods slowly. She trusts him. No matter what. He kisses her forehead, and scoops Jamie out of his pillow kingdom.

They tiptoe downstairs, her little feet placed in his footsteps. He makes her a full English breakfast. By the time he sets the plate in front of her, he can hear Savvie’s footsteps down the hall.

He puts Jamie in his chair. He’ll have to cut up the hash browns and fried eggs for him afterwards.

The coffee cup is waiting on the side. He takes it upstairs. She’s calling.

He kisses her on the mouth before he hands her the drink. He watches her as she coos over his generosity. He watches her drop the mug after her first mouthful. Then she drops, too.

He’s done this too many times to care, anymore. He can keep the kids busy enough they won’t notice. He drags her back into the bedroom and shuts the door. He goes back downstairs to his children.

“Mommy’s not very well today,” he tells Izzy. He sits down next to Jamie to feed him quarters of button mushrooms. “She’s going to stay in bed all day. So we can do anything you want today.”

“Do we have to be very quiet?” she asks.

“Not at all. Mommy took some medication that makes her sleepy. We don’t need to worry.”

The light comes into her eyes. He’s never going to see a fucking sunrise again, but he can make do like this. “Okay, Daddy.”

Jamie bites down on his finger, and he laughs, until he cries.

It could be any day. It will be every day. He’ll never see Hannah again, not even if he lets Savvie drag him to the fucking Marcoset family dinner - which he does, sometimes, just for the variety, and to remember what Stewart looks like. He’ll never see his dad again, his mum or his sisters, and any of his friends. He’ll never go home and buy Izzy the unicorn duvet cover she deserves.

He’ll read every book in the house to them. He’ll watch every show on TV. He’ll teach Izzy the difference between O and D every single day. He’ll fry the eggs, grate the potatoes, chop the tomatoes, and put bleach in Savvie’s coffee, covered up by enough syrup to make her swallow it.

Every time. Parents would kill for this, he thinks. To spend every day with their kids, and never have to watch them grow up. Never having to watch them leave.

-

He figures out the passcode to her phone eventually. They’re sitting at the café at the table in the window, Izzy’s feet pressed gently against his legs just to feel him there on the other side of the table. She sips very carefully at her hot chocolate while Jamie gnaws on a flapjack, and Jax stares at his own face on the home screen of her newly opened phone.

He dials without thinking about it. Then he dials again, remembering the international code.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad.”

Izzy’s eyes go wide. She freezes in place, and he regrets his impulsivity. He tries to smile reassuringly at her.

“Jax?” his dad whispers. “Where are you?”

He probably should have planned this better. But he’ll get a do-over tomorrow. “I’m good, Dad. Uh, yeah, I’m out. I’m safe, I’m at this shelter. Cops are working on getting me home.” He pauses. What else would his dad want to hear? “And I’m not f… messed up, like before. I’m okay.”

“You’re coming home?”

“Yeah.” He reaches for Izzy’s hand, gently loosening it from the cup. “And, listen, Dad… I’ve got kids. Don’t – don’t ask the question you’re thinking. I’ve got a little girl called Izzy and a baby boy called Jamie, and they’re perfect. I’m happy, right now, alright? And I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

His throat nearly closes. Alfie will never get to meet them at this rate. But they can’t exactly get across the fucking ocean in a single day.

“Two kids,” Alfie repeats, stunned. “Your own kids?”

“Yeah. Gallagher kids. You know all about beans on toast, don’t you, kiddo?” He smiles at her. She’s starting to relax, slowly, at realising her mother isn’t going to appear and rain hell on them all for Jax daring to speak to his old family. “They’re mine and they’re coming with me wherever I go.”

“Well, of course…” Alfie’s voice is starting to ease from shock to wonder. “I, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me how mam’s doing. And Georgia and Poppy and the kids, and Casey, and everything.”

Jamie drops oats down his front, and Jax puts the phone down on speaker on the table so he can clear them up. He doesn’t let go of Izzy’s hand as Alfie starts to talk.

-

Jax wakes up already rolling out of bed. He feels like he can handle the pillow today. Sometimes, seeing her thrash for her life is too much, but recently it’s started to feel routine. She’s long since been dead, to him. This is just catching her up with reality.

He knows where the remote is. He knows how to disable the collar. He’s forgotten what the days were like when they were different, but this one, he knows perfectly.

The kids are awake. He gets them dressed, kissing each of them as he helps with buttons and babygros. He takes the car keys. He throws all the food he fancies into a bag and entrusts it to Izzy. They’re going for a picnic. Yes, Mommy said it was okay.

Maybe he’ll make it to the coast, this time.

Maybe he’ll take another stab at getting to Hannah.

Maybe he’ll just go to the field with the wildflowers. They both loved that one.

Or maybe he’ll think of something new.