Yvon Leffoy (yvon) wrote in lightning_war, @ 2008-08-20 17:32:00 |
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Current mood: | terrified |
Monday evening, 14 September 1942, in Odd's Lane in Londinium...
Yvon Malfoy huddled next to Alessio Zabini under the wide awning of a shop; he’d tried to break the windows but the wards had held. They were cold and they were wet and they were miserable, and the lightning had hit several buildings; the rods and wards had held on some, but several others were heavily damaged, or burning. “It’s been quiet for a while, hasn’t it? Maybe it’s over?”
Alessio shook his head, wordlessly, clinging to Yvon. “No,” he whispered, “it’s not. I can feel it, and the sky…”
Yvon looked up. The tear in the sky was growing longer and wider, not smaller. He shivered, not just from the cold, and glanced out at the deserted street. There was someone else out, hurtling toward them, a blur of loud footfalls even in the rain. The stranger threw himself against the doorframe next to them, swearing in multiple languages, most of which Yvon didn’t know, but the sentiments were obvious. The voice was familiar, too. Yvon’s eyes widened. “You,” he said quietly. “You would be out in a lightning rain. Where were you going?”
Vilém Zitek’s head popped up, his eyes wide as a startled rabbit’s. “I’d ask you the same damn thing!” He wriggled a paper bag in his hand. “I was out picking up ammo, I had no idea we were in for stormy weather. Or running into attractive healers; I would’ve worn a nicer shirt.” The last was accompanied by a grin.
Yvon turned to Alessio, who had never met Vilém, and smiled. “This is Vilém Zitek, one of our favourite patients. If he ever comes in—and he will—watch him. If he hasn’t made a pass at one of us in the first three minutes, he’s either dying or about to code.” He glanced back at Vilém, a little grateful in spite of the embarrassment; the humour made the air a little warmer. “This is Alessio. We got engaged a few hours ago. You see that building over there? That’s where.”
For a moment, Vilém just gaped at Alessio, then glanced over at the building. “Must’ve been one hell of a proposal.”
Alessio smirked. “I liked it,” he said, and kissed Yvon’s cheek.
“So where are the rest of you?” Yvon asked Vilém, beaming now in spite of the cold and the rain. “And don’t worry about your shirt. It’s in better shape than the last one we had to cut off you.”
“They’re safe at home, at least, that’s where I left them. And if they’re not there, I’ve got bigger problems. Zsuzsa has a house on this street, that’s where I’m heading. If the whole hiding-in-doorways routine isn’t doing it for you, you’re free to head in the same direction. Well, more like make a bolt for the same direction,” Vilém explained, shifting to peer up at the sky.
“That sounds like a plan to me,” said Yvon, looking upward.
“Well, no time like the present. We’re about three doors down, give or take. Looks like we’ve got a break, good enough for me,” said Vilém, scrambling to his feet.
Yvon followed, pulling Alessio with him as they ran through the downpour and up the steps into the townhouse. It was very elegant, not at all what he’d have expected, except for the crudely-patched hole in one wall and the rough outerwear hanging on the coat tree. He would have offered to take off his wet coat and boots, but he had neither, and he didn’t particularly feel like stripping. The house was still and quiet, and even though it had blackout wards, the light inside was still dim.
“The cellar’s not normally on the dime tour, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Vilém reset the wards as fast as he could, then hurried them both through the house to the cellar door. “Honey, I’m home! Hope supper’s ready ‘cause I brought friends!” he called as he pulled it open.
Zsuzsanna looked up at them in disbelief, and then in shocked recognition. “My God,” she said, “Doctor Malfoy, we’re neighbours?”
“Not any more, I’m afraid,” said Yvon, who didn’t feel like explaining that the flat had belonged to Alessio’s brother. “But we’ll have to get another flat in Londinium, Tintagel’s too far from work.”
Stepán sighed. “Well, we certainly can’t let you get killed,” he told Yvon. “And this…?” He glanced at Alessio, openly curious about him. Yvon smiled. Alessio was gorgeous, even waterlogged—and his.
“My fiancé, Alessio,” Yvon said proudly. “Alessio, this is Stepán and Zsuzsanna Zitek. Vilém’s husband and wife.” He didn’t mention that Stepán was also Vilém’s brother; Alessio wouldn’t judge, especially considering that they owed them for shelter, but it was always awkward.
Vilém kissed Zsuzsanna’s cheek. “It’s been bad out there, but it’s starting to calm down. I’m not looking forward to the mess there’s going to be when it’s all over. So I reckon the best we can do is get cosy for a bit until we’ve got an all clear.”
Zsuzsanna nodded. “It’s going to be ugly out there,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m glad you’re letting us stay here,” Yvon said quietly. The sheer amount of iron in their cellar and armoury was already making him feel twitchy, but at least Alessio was safe.
“If I let you die, the scenery at Mungo’s would take a major nose dive. True fact,” Vilém told him.
Stepán laughed. “He’s taken, and so are you.”
Alessio nodded. “Very taken,” he said, and took Yvon’s arm possessively. Yvon watched him. Alessio kept glancing at Stepán, frowning, as though he thought he should know him but didn’t. Yvon wondered about it; maybe they’d met somewhere else. Or maybe he’d been with Alessio while they were apart, and he was embarrassed about it? He left it alone.
Yvon let go of Alessio’s arm and put his arm around his shoulders, instead. “Anyhow. It’s…unbelievably good to see you all, especially given the circumstances.”
“Yes, I should imagine so,” said Zsuzsanna, and brought them blankets. Yvon accepted gratefully; not only was it warmer under a blanket, but it was better to have a blanket between his skin and the potential of falling iron.
Vilém nodded. “What’s the likelihood you’re going to be out there helping clean up once we’re clear to go?”
“I don’t think we could rightly do anything else,” said Yvon, with a sigh; he’d been in worse shape a few times during the previous wars. He glanced nervously at Alessio. “At least we slept,” he said under his breath. “A little.”
“You need to be careful, you know that,” Alessio told him just as quietly. “You haven’t even…I mean, just last night…”
“I know,” said Yvon. “But there may not be anyone else.” He looked back at Vilém. “You’ll take charge of search and rescue ‘til the cavalry comes?”
“Yeah. We’re pretty good at the front line shit,” Vilém said, smirking a little. “Somehow, we always end up in the middle of emergencies, no idea why.”
“Because trouble just loves you, Vilém,” said Zsuzsanna, who was now dishing up something out of a cauldron that smelled like soup. “I know I won’t be able to keep you and Stepa out of the ruins, but Malfoy can’t search buildings with you, he can’t bear iron.” She frowned. “I don’t suppose you can eat this, either.”
“Thanks anyway,” said Yvon, although he hadn’t had any supper.
“There’s ship’s biscuit,” said Stepán, “although it’s hard as rock, you’re welcome to it. It’s just not warm.”
“Thanks,” said Alessio. They sat there, in the dim light of spelled crystal—Yvon was glad there was no gaslight on, all things considered, as that had probably been the cause of the fire—and ate, quietly, and then the ground began to shake, and Alessio pulled the blanket up over him and wrested him down, shielding him with his own body over Yvon’s muffled protests.
“That’s never happened before!” Zsuzsanna exclaimed, as several things fell loudly off the walls and shelves. The ground shook for…nearly a minute, Yvon realised, once he was done being shocked. It had seemed much longer.
“Fuck,” said Vilém. “You know what that is?”
Yvon stuck his head out from under the blanket, a little warily, and swallowed, glad that he hadn’t choked on the bit of biscuit that had been in his mouth. “Earthquake?” There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. They were in the best place to be during a lightning rain—but the worst, during earthquakes. Even with blankets, what if the house fell down on them?
Stepán frowned. “I hope that’s the last of it, then.”
Alessio kept looking at him. It might have made Yvon nervous, if they hadn’t just betrothed themselves to each other. “Do you two know each other?”
“No,” said Stepán.
Zsuzsanna shrugged. “So, Vilímek…once you and Stepa have got people out, Malfoy can do his job and…” She glanced at Alessio. “What do you do, anyway?”
“I’m a journeyman healer. I know how to do field medicine,” Alessio told her. He looked up at Yvon. “Someone’s got to help you, after all.”
“You mean watch me like a hawk,” Yvon said, but he was smiling at Alessio. “Alessio and I work together. You just haven’t met him yet because he’s been at war—he’s been back for two weeks, the better part of which we’ve spent trying to put him back together.”
“Well, no climbing in ruins for him, either. I’m sure I’d never hear the end of it at that hospital if I let a wounded vet re-wound himself,” Vilém said easily.
“You’d not hear the end of it from me,” said Yvon, glancing down at Alessio.
“I’m fine now,” Alessio said, but he didn’t argue the point further. It wasn’t as if he really planned to be anywhere other than by Yvon’s side.
Yvon sighed. “You are. But I promised you a few things this evening.”
“I know you did. You’ll make good,” Alessio said simply.
“I take it you haven’t been engaged very long,” Zsuzsanna said quietly, smiling from them to her husbands.
Alessio laughed, ducking his head. “Is it that obvious?”
“I should have married him five years ago,” said Yvon, laughing along with him.
Stepán laughed. “I’ve heard that before,” he said idly.
“Hey, we’re pros at that,” Vilém said, grinning at Zsuzsanna.
Zsuzsanna laughed. “Vilém always did say you were too pretty…” Her voice trailed off. “Well. Too pretty not to have someone.”
Yvon remembered, then; he had insisted that he was only interested in women, which was true, when Alessio wasn’t around, and Vilém had told him he was too pretty not to have ever had a man. Which he hadn’t denied, only sighed and refused to say more.
Vilém chuckled, shaking his head. “Pretty much.” He glanced upwards at the cellar ceiling. “Man, I just want this to be over. Not that the company isn’t fantastic, but I hate waiting.”
“Nobody likes it,” said Stepán quietly, glancing sidewise at Alessio. “You do look familiar,” he finally admitted. “I know I can’t have met you before…”
Alessio shook his head. “I doubt it, unless you were at the Italian front.” However, it was a chance to peer more closely at Stepán without it being too strange, so he took it, trying to ignore the faint sensation of buzzing at the back of his skull.
“No, never,” said Stepán.
“I don’t know, then,” Alessio replied. Yvon remembered Stepán’s readings, and groaned very quietly, then took Alessio’s hand in his own. He didn’t have any idea what Stepán did. He was rather afraid that he’d find out, and that it would be inconvenient or dangerous. He’d had no chance to replace the mesmeric suggestions that had damped Alessio’s powers before.
Yvon sighed. “Have you ever been contacted by someone named Patil?” he ventured, still wondering about their powers.
Vilém smirked. “Oh, hey, your buddy, Stepa.”
Stepán groaned loudly. “Oh, him.”
“So yeah, you could say we’ve run into him. He’s a little bitch, mostly,” Vilém told Yvon.
“He’s not that bad,” Alessio said, shaking his head. “He’s really not.”
“Alessio,” Yvon said gently, “I’ll grant you he’s better than Hitler…”
“He just…wanted to help, that’s all,” Alessio said, shaking his head again.
“That’s not what Fairlight said.” Stepán looked Alessio right in the eye. “We have a friend who’s read his mind.”
Alessio blinked. “How many people read minds in this country?” he asked, surprised.
Yvon took a deep breath. “Fairlight. This is the same Fairlight who worked in the Alley this summer? Disgracefully young, even for you?” He glanced pointedly at Vilém.
“Hey, we took care of the kid, cleaned up a whole big mess,” Vilém protested. “We were the good guys in this one.”
“That’s good to know,” said Yvon. “He’s a relative. His real name is Endymion Dashwood.”
“Mother of fucking pearl, who isn’t he connected to?” Vilém asked, scratching the back of his head.
Yvon laughed. “That’s a good question. So he read Patil? What did he see?”
“Nothing good,” said Zsuzsanna.
“Shock,” Vilém snarked.
“No, seriously, tell me,” said Yvon. “He wants to talk to Alessio.”
Stepán frowned, then stared directly at Alessio. “You’re one of us?”
Alessio flushed and nodded. “I was beginning to think it was just my family.”
“No,” said Yvon. “We’ve seen a few more in the hospital, but I can’t talk about patients, not even with your brother or Endymion.”
“It’s not like you have to talk with Endymion…” Alessio started, then trailed off.
Yvon kissed his forehead, although the prospect of figuring out how to maintain patient confidentiality around a telepath was daunting and much too much so even to think about, now. “I’ll tell you when we’re alone, some time. I meant to. But we got distracted.”
Alessio nodded, smiling a little at that kiss. “Okay.”
Stepán frowned. “There are other things to know about,” he said. “Patil’s not the worst thing that could be looking for you.”
“How comforting,” said Yvon. “Anyone who wants to get at him will have to go through me. What did Endymion learn? You’ve not told us.”
“Patil wants to understand us,” said Stepán, “which doesn’t sound so bad until you learn it doesn’t stop there. He wants to learn how to control it. Not in himself; he isn’t one of us. In other people.”
“And if you don’t measure up to his idea of control, better get used to the idea of the government doing it for you. Doesn’t that sound like a fucking party?” Vilém added.
Yvon swallowed hard. “It’s not…” He sighed. “Controlling it is just a matter of understanding the emotional states that cause it to manifest, isn’t it?” He glanced at Stepán. “You control yours, don’t you?”
“Not really,” Stepán admitted reluctantly.
“What do you do?” Alessio asked.
Stepán shrugged. “It started with visions. But I’ve picked up a few other things along the way. Mostly by meeting…others, like us.” He swallowed. “I’m glad I haven’t picked up Endymion’s talent; it didn’t seem pleasant at all.”
Alessio looked at Yvon with wide eyes. Yvon sighed. He wasn’t sure what Alessio wanted him to say, and it wasn’t his talent, but he took Alessio’s hand and squeezed it, as if to tell him he could say whatever he liked.
“That’s…I mean sort of, in a way what I do,” Alessio finally said, looking at Stepán again. “And Endymion’s gift isn’t pleasant, it’s awful.”
“He seems to be all right with it,” Yvon said gently. “I think it’s probably useful…but really an awful surprise.” He sighed. “I do want to know what is out there that’s worse than Patil, but…” The ground began to shake again, much harder. Yvon let Alessio cover him up again, even though he hated it that he could do nothing to stop this, and began to pray softly in Latin. The Ziteks were praying as well. Alessio kissed his cheek through the heavy, wet, smelly wool. Yvon wanted his rosary, but it wasn’t in his trousers, which meant it had burned. It wasn’t the only one he had, but it was his favourite. Gone. Like his letters. And so many other things. But he had Alessio, and that was what mattered.
alessio, stepan, vilem, zsuzsanna and artisson