WHO: George and Patrick WHAT: Oh noooessss Marryyyyy WHEN: Sometime Saturday WHERE: Patrick and John's WARNINGS: Probably talk of torture and blood.
Patrick had been sitting with John, trying his best not to bother the other man. Not that he felt John was particularly annoyed by him, Patrick just knew he could be annoying. He was loud and chatty and entirely made of jiggling. It was a conscious effort to keep still, but he managed it. He didn't want to distract John at all. He did, however, bring the man tea and some food often, in case John wanted them. Nicholas had come over and spent the night, and he was on the floor, stretched out, doing his accounts. Downpatrick was curled beside him, his head resting on the small of Nicholas' back.
When someone knocked on the door, Downpatrick didn't even look up. "I'll get it," Patrick suggested, knowing John would be just fine with Nicholas there. "I'll be back." He kissed John and then trotted to the door, pulling it open once he saw his brother through the peephole.
"George!" Patrick said, pulling his brother inside and into a hug in one move. "Let's go into the bedroom so we don't disrupt Nick and John."
"Hey," George said, feeling strange. Too numb and too tense all at the same time. "Okay. Oh, hell, sorry, I didn't even tell you I was coming over, did I?"
It had been a whim that drove him to Patrick's house. Except the word 'whim' sounded too light and breezy for what he was feeling. He was trying to stay calm, though. At the end of the day, Mary was one woman. He'd been able to talk to her calmly enough a few hours beforehand. But now his brain was driving itself crazy with worry, and it had suddenly seemed hugely important that he make sure Patrick and John were all right.
"It's fine!" Patrick reassured his brother before taking George's hand. "Just through here."
He led George to the bedroom after glancing in to see Nicholas and Downpatrick now cuddled up to John as he read. Patrick smiled, glad beyond reason that Nicholas was there. Then he closed the bedroom door behind them and he sat down on the bed he shared with John.
"You look pale and worried. What's up?"
"I'm not really sure," George confessed. He flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Patrick was fine, of course Patrick was fine. Why wouldn't he be fine, it's not like Mary was going to hunt him down herself and light him on fire. But George couldn't shake the terrible certainty that something awful was about to happen.
"Mary being back is messing me up a little more than I thought it would, I guess."
Patrick let out a slow breath and then he leaned back beside George, tilting his head so it rested on George's shoulder. "Well she's stupid."
That just about summed it up.
"What are you worried about, Georgie?"
"I don't know," George mumbled against Patrick's hair, wrapping his brother into a hug. "It's like the start of a flashback. I know that what I'm worried about is irrational, but that doesn't mean I'm not sweating bullets." He closed his eyes. "I guess I'm worried she's going to hurt you or John, especially. Since she never got to back then."
Patrick swallowed roughly, though he never pulled away from the hug. It wasn't because he was worried Mary would hurt him. Not at all. It was because the most annoying and glaring gap in his memories was during the Marian raids. He didn't remember the time he had spent with John at all, which meant he didn't really remember what Mary had done to George either. He knew it was bad, but that was about all.
"I think I knew she wanted to hurt me," Patrick said softly. "Because I hid John. She got her hands on him once and I swore I would never let it happen again. But I- I don't remember. It's hard to fear something that you don't remember. I worry for you two, but that time is such a blank for me."
"She figured out that you and John were helping hide Protestants," George said, keeping his eyes closed. He was safe, and he was going to convince himself of that and calm down, damn it. "And she connected the dots and figured out that I had to know about it. And then there was some torture."
He said the last bit very quickly.
"George!" Patrick said up quickly and then he stared down at his brother, shocked. "Because of us!? How the hell did she find out about us in the first place? Oh goodness, did I do something stupid like tell her?!"
"No, no, it wasn't you," George said, trying to smile reassuringly. He wasn't going to tell Patrick about Margaret's involvement in the whole mess. That was water under the bridge, and he didn't want his brother angry at someone on his behalf. "She just found out, she had a lot of spies. And I wouldn't tell her where you and John were, so...she tried to make me tell her."
The look Patrick gave George was one of utter sympathy and regret. George had been hurt for something he had done. Something worthwhile, yes, but it still caused Patrick pain to know that he may have sheltered John from Mary's tortures, but he couldn't do the same for his brother.
Patrick reached out and he grabbed George's hand. "What did she do to you, Georgie?" Maybe it would help to fill in Patrick's memories. Of course there was a chance George didn't want to talk about it.
George squeezed back gently. Most of the memories of the actual process had faded over time, lost in the haze of the thousands of other injuries he'd received. What had stayed behind was the feeling of helplessness and pain, of hanging from his wrists or being strapped down and unable to squirm away.
"The standard procedure," George murmured, curling up around Patrick's legs. "The rack, the manacles, knives and thumbscrews. It wasn't even the worst I've ever been tortured, it just, well, hurt a little more coming from one of my monarchs."
"Oh, Georgie." Patrick hadn't been through torture nearly as many times as his poor brother had. He wasn't a martyr. In fact, on one of the few occasions it had happened, he had been so drugged he had hardly felt any of it. Patrick hated that George had been through it again and again.
He leaned down then, to plant a kiss on George's forehead. "She hurt us all. She was supposed to deliver England, and instead she only brought fear and pain. She never should have hurt you. You always gave everything for England." Considering George had been the one to torture Patrick while he was drugged, Patrick meant that wholeheartedly. He was all too aware how difficult that had been for George. "And I'm so sorry it was because of me."
George reached up to ruffle Patrick's hair, feeling calmer already just for having his brother with him. "Patty, it wasn't just for you and John. It was for all the people she was hurting and you two were helping. I'd have gone through it a dozen more times if it meant letting you do the work you needed to do."
He squeezed Patrick's legs gently. "I wouldn't mind not remembering it, though. Who the hell came up with the rack? Was it Lucifer? It was a bad person, whoever it was."
Patrick didn't know what work he had been doing, but he accepted George's words as they were given. When George mentioned the rack, Patrick winced. "Ergh. I don't know. I...don't think I've ever been on one. But...it would take someone horrible, yes."
"I think I'll be okay," George murmured, not letting go of Patrick. "I mean, by the time Mary came to power, I'd already decided that my monarchs were all going to be insane. So it wasn't like I didn't see it coming. I just don't like feeling helpless, especially when people I love are thrown into the mix."
Patrick stroked George's hair as the man had done for him many a time. "You are never helpless, George! Just because some...terrible bitch of a woman did this to you, you weren't helpless in that situation. You were strong. You were doing what you needed to to keep your family and your countrymen safe, which is more that she ever did. That's not helpless at all."
George smiled up at Patrick. "Hearing you curse makes me happy and I have no idea why. I love you, you know that?" He hugged his brother tightly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Patrick snorted at that. He didn't curse often, so he supposed he saved it for times when it was necessary for emphasis.
When George mentioned he didn't know what he would do without Patrick, Patrick winced a little. A year ago he had tried to leave them all behind, and it did hurt to know that if he had, Patrick wouldn't have been here to see George and John through this. "I'm here to stay. You won't ever have to know that, okay?
"I have no idea what I'd do without you either. Which is why Mary won't be getting near you again. I am more powerful that she will ever be again." It wasn't often Patrick talked like that ever.
Hearing Patrick talk like that made George happy in an entirely different way. It was so good to hear his brother having some confidence in himself again.
"You are," George said. "You really are. She can't shoot fire out of her hands....thank God."
"Goodness, that would be the worst power for her to have!" Patrick said warily. "I can't control my fire, but I could confetti her eyes while we ran away!" he said with a grin. The truth was if she tried to hurt George or John Patrick knew he could tap into something medieval inside of himself. But until that time, he liked to keep things light.
George laughed and hug-tackled his brother back against the bed, which made them bounce so hard they nearly tumbled off.
"Don't ever change," George muttered against Patrick's shoulder. "We wouldn't have anyone to shoot confetti at people if you did."
Patrick squealed as George tackled him, and he clung tight, hugging his brother back even as they nearly tumbled to the floor.
"Eeeiiii! You nearly tackled me too hard!" Patrick squealed with glee. He buried his face in George's hair, so relieved to see his brother acting like himself. "Don't you change either. You're one of the bravest and most wonderful people I know." George has sacrificed so much for him, and he was always there when Patrick needed him. "You're perfect the way you are."