Will Stutely (sly_stutely) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2020-12-05 11:21:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | clio, will stutely |
WHO Will Stutely and Clio
WHEN Saturday evening
WHERE Clio’s house
WHAT Worried Stoots
WARNINGS TBA
Nobody goes anywhere alone. He’d said it himself. And now, not even twenty-four hours after Tuck was snatched because he’d ducked out on his own for a mere moment, here Will was, breaking his own rule. It was stupid of him. It was reckless. But Will had been damn close to crawling out of his skin all day, and Clio was the only one left now that he could talk to. Usually it would be Little John in whom he’d confide these things. Little John, his solid, stable comrade, the godfather of his child, his brother from the very first fight. He’d listen without judgement as Will laid out his fears, and then between them they’d thrash out a plan. But the gulf of silence between Will and John had grown too big. He’d been absent too long, had checked out of their struggles for reasons Will couldn’t quite understand and wasn’t quite ready to forgive. Much, Alan, Leila— with the others gone, Will was the closest thing they had to a leader. He had to be strong for them. Couldn’t fill them with his doubts. Clio, though. Clio understood. With her, he could allow himself to be weak. Her brownstone was about a fifteen-minute walk and subway ride away from the parsonage, direct. Usually Will varied his route, taking more roundabout courses, ducking into alleys and doubling back to be certain nobody followed him there. That typically bumped the travel time up to at least a half hour. Today, it took him almost ninety minutes, the trip comprising four separate trains and a lengthy detour through Queens and back. He might be taking a dumb gamble with his own safety, but he wasn’t going to risk Clio’s. He’d promised he would never let the Sheriff darken her door, and, by hook or by crook, that was a promise he intended to keep. Climbing the stoop, though, a jittery apprehension began to creep back in. He hadn’t been followed, he was sure of it. He’d taken every precaution, and as good as the Sheriff was at stalking a target, the Merry Men were even better at slipping a tail. Marian and Scarlet and Tuck, they’d probably been sure, too. Stupid, selfish bastard, he was. Any of the others pulled an idiot move like this, he’d give them the rounds of the kitchen. Casting a darting glance along either end of the street, he rapped urgently on the door. |