Dr. Anayeli Stone

Anayeli Stone, married to Clarence Stone, and the personal doctor to the Carbonell family. This is the 1920's AU verse for Anayeli Rojas. {Icon edit by agentsirenphillips, above edit from agentssmithandprentice. And gifs and images used are also not my own, unless stated otherwise.}

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Just that kind of night | open (1920s AU)

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She always found it difficult to fully relax in here. When Cecelia had first started coming here with Reg, it had been enjoyable more often than not and she’d almost liked the thrill of participating in something not strictly on the right side of legality. But then things had gone down hill, Reg had gotten in too deep with the proprietors and too attached to the booze, and… and then suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. If it hadn’t been for Wesley re-emerging in her life, she didn’t think she’d have made it through any of this at all. What little joy she’d once derived from coming to the Underground had soured into fear and dread. One of these days, I’ll get out of this mess, she told herself, staring at the wood grain of the table before her.

Cecelia felt rather than saw the approaching figure. She assumed it was her partner returning with something strong to make her problems feel weak. But when she looked up, it was a different familiar face she saw. “Anayeli,” she exclaimed. She hadn’t expected her friend to be here on this particular evening. The Carbonell’s resident doctor was a welcome sight. She was certainly a good deal more pleasant company than the gentleman she’d just been dealing with. “Please, sit. ” She nodded to the seat beside her and shifted in her own chair.

"Oh, a number of things, dear. Namely the fact that some men in this world can lack so many common manners," Cecelia said finally, managing a slightly forced smile. She did not have the same sort of high breeding as her late husband, but she still had her own sort of pride and dignity to uphold. "We were just sorting out a little business, nothing terribly interesting. I didn’t expect to see you tonight. What brought you in?"

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Anayeli sat across from Cecelia, listening to her speak. She smiled at the remark, shaking her head. "That sounds terrible, Cecelia, interesting or not. I came here to wait on my husband, actually. He should be getting back from work soon." Anayeli look around at the other men and women around them, sighing softly. She hated to hear Cecelia was having a hard with Carbonell. The woman was respectable, and the doctor didn't like to hear that she was being troubled.

"I come here on occasion, though. It's nicer to wait for my husband here, where I know I'll find him, than at home. I guess I can be a little impatient about seeing him..." Anayeli had been with her husband for seven years, and their marriage was what she'd call a blessing. After her first marriage went straight to hell... Well, she wasn't giving John Flagler enough credit. He was a good man, but they lacked the love she felt for Clarence. They had only been married two years before they were separated by the war, and the contact they held was sparse, to say the least. Coming back to hear of his death had been hard on her, but it was more the knowledge that she was going back home with nothing to hope for that hit her hardest.

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20's AU (Open)

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"I know, I’d bring you with me, but this place would go to hell without their doctor around to help them, and you know I’ll always come back for you."  He stroked her hand with his thumb, "I’m glad you came by, I don’t like being away from you, but I’m the best driver this place has." He smiled again and picked up his drink, "Do you want to stick around for a little while, or would you like to head home?  I can think of things I’d like to do either way." 

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"Clarence..." Anayeli sighed, leaning over to place another kiss on his cheek. "You always know just what to say." The doctor thought about it, but she knew what her answer would be. Even if she liked the atmosphere of Carbonell, it was always welcome to spend time with her husband outside of the speakeasy.

"Heading home sounds wonderful."

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Just that kind of night | open (1920s AU)

The speakeasy was as busy as usual, filled with a lot of faces that Cecelia couldn’t put names to and a few that she could. She glanced around, feeling the usual tightening in her throat that she got whenever she came here these days. She tried to breathe, give herself courage, but she couldn’t muster it. She had spotted the “gentleman" they were supposed to speak to about the next shipment of supplies for the Underground and its owners. This whole dirty business was going to start making her properly ill one of these days. At her side, Wesley stood tall and straight, casual yet subtly imposing in his charcoal suit and fedora. His blue eyes swept the place, the eyes of a soldier picking out anyone who might try something and making careful note of how best he would take them if they were stupid enough to do so. One hand sat languidly in a jacket pocket, but she knew that it was resting on a small pistol. His presence was soothing for her; at least she wasn’t doing this alone.

As they walked towards the table the Carbonell’s man was occupying, Cecelia avoided eye contact with everyone around her. Even so, she drew a bit of attention. Most of the women in here were very fashionably dressed, and she stood out as slightly plainer than the rest of them. Her long, dark green chemise fell to her shins, much less glamorous than the bright colors and patterns around her. And she had yet to give in to the trend of short, bobbed hair, choosing instead to pin her long dark hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her simple black cloche hat covered the rest of her hair down to her eyebrows, sitting slightly awkwardly at the back because of the bun. Maybe she should just cut all her hair off and get it over with. She’d blend in better. She hated standing out these days.

At the table, the well-dressed man awaited them with a tumbler of whiskey and a dangerous, cocked smirk. “Well, well, well. Took yous two long enough." He looked Cecelia up and down in a way that made her swallow bile. “You know, you hike up that skirt a bit, show off them gams a bit, and I bet you’d be quite the looker." He leered.

As if I care whether or not scum like you think I’m a looker, she thought privately. But saying such a thing was out of the question. She remained silent as she took a seat, Wesley sitting beside her. She allowed her friend, partner and bodyguard to speak for her, and was glad that he didn’t linger on the subject of her looks. "The next shipment will be coming in tomorrow night. Same pier as usual. Although we’d rather appreciate it if your boys could be on time. Their tardiness at the last pickup was incredibly inconvenient." His bluntness didn’t seem to be winning him a friend in this goon, and, as always, his English accent was greeted by a sneer. His tone was conversational and quiet, but his eyes were intent, focused, steely.

"Boohoo, Your Highness," the goon retorted, sipping his whiskey and eyeing Wesley with derision. “Our boys’ll get there when they get there, and you’ll wait around like usual until they do."

"And if we get nailed?" Wesley inquired politely enough. Cecelia noted that his hand never left his gun. Again, she felt a surge of admiration that this man found her worth protecting enough to leave an honest life far, far behind. "We’ve had some close calls and no mistake. We’re in this business for you, old chap. All we’d like is a little cooperation on the matter."

The man’s gaze lingered on Wesley a moment before sliding to Cecelia. “And what’s our little lady got to say about all this?" Cecelia blinked and swallowed. "Mister Fox has put it well, I think," she said tremulously, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "We will always hold up our end and be on time. We just want to make sure it goes smoothly, is all." She pressed her lips together, noting the disregard with which her statement was met. A woman running her late husband’s shipping business was a tricky enough thing. She was lucky that she had Wesley to help her, be her voice. No one would have listened to anything she said without him.

"Well then, let’s all make sure it does go smoothly and we’ll all go home happy," the man said, finishing his whiskey in one swallow and standing. “Always nice doin’ business with yous two. Sir, ma’am." He gave them a mocking half-bow and sauntered away into the crowd, leaving Cecelia and Wesley at the table.

"Wesley, dear, I think I need a drink," she said quietly over the hum of talk and the sound of a woman singing. "Could you go an get me something? Anything at all will do. Get yourself something, too." He nodded, putting a hand gently on her shoulder as he stood. She remained seated at the table as he headed to the bar, listening to the crooning and wondering if she was ever going to be able to breathe freely without a crushing weight on her shoulders again.

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Anayeli sat at a table, watching the men and women around her drink and chatter and go about their business. She sat alone, waiting on her husband to come in for the evening, like she did every now and then. Her job was simple- linger in the shadows until someone came in with a broken something or a cut other thing. In the years she had worked with Carbonell, she had cared for children, worked with bullet wounds of all shapes and sizes, and seen sickness (and on the occasion, death), but it never compared to her time in the Army Nurse Corps. She tried to bottle those memories up and keep them out of the way, but triggers tended to be her nightmare.

Anayeli caught sight of a pair walking by, standing out from the rest-- Wesley Fox and Cecelia Chancy. She was well acquainted with Cecelia, after meeting her during the war. The doctor watched the two converse rather rigidly with one of the Carbonell's men, frowning gently at the sight. As much as she liked and respected the woman, Cecelia didn't belong in Carbonell's business. It even became tough for Anayeli at times, but she had eased into this world, and followed along with the motions of the rest of them. Anayeli had chosen to follow along with her husband, and the two worked well together, as a couple and as part of Carbonell.

When Cecelia was the only one occupying the table, Anayeli stood and walked by. "What's wrong, darling?" She asked, gesturing to a seat to ask if she could sit with her.

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Anayeli Stone

Anayeli Stone is the oldest child of a farmer from Texas. When she was seven, her father moved their family closer to the oil wells that were beginning to pop up in early January of 1901, and their family went from poor to well-off in just a few months. At the same time, Anayeli’s brother, Abel, was born in March of 1901. Anayeli graduated from high school, discriminated for her race, but accepted into the University of Texas none the less. She was was gaining an education in medicine, but further studying was cut short when she was married off to a man by the name of John Flagler in 1915, who was the heir to Mission Oil Company. Anayeli’s life idled for two years before World War I began. John Flagler went off to fight in the war, and Anayeli wasn’t going to sit around any longer. She became a part of the Army Nurse Corps, first taken overseas in May 1917 before being appointed to an army hospital in Texas in April 1918. When the Army School of Nursing started to spread through certain hospitals, Anayeli got the chance to start and finish the education she had been deprived of. She completed her education, graduating with a couple hundred other women in 1921.

News arrived that John Flagler had died honorably in the war, and Anayeli went back home as a graduate of the ASN and a widow. Her brother came back from war, but her father had been cleared as missing in action. Abel stayed home with his mother to go back into the oil business, and to take care of her. Anayeli was again, in limbo, until she met a young farmer by the name of Clarence Stone. She fell deeply in love with him, and ran away with him so they could marry. When Clarence mixed himself up with Carbonell, Anayeli took the chance to become their personal doctor, only working whenever they needed her. She’s been living well-off with Clarence ever since.