Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s definitely…” 

Percival looked down at the slip of paper in his hand once more, and then up towards the front porch of the little house among the trees. The address was correct, if the small sign with the number 21 next to the door was anything to go by. He could hardly read the number what with the moss that crawled up over the black digits. It was safe to say that wasn’t where the green stopped, however.

It had taken Percival three hours to get from the city to where he was standing right now, where the long path that had started at the edge of the forest opened up into a clearing just big enough for his car to make a sharp turn. At least he wouldn’t have to back out of that narrow lane again. The cabin was made of a dark type of log, and if it hadn’t been for the vines growing so far and wide that it was almost hard to distinguish the house, it would have been an incredible sight, no doubt.

Percival wondered once again how long the cabin had been out of use. He had a lot of cleaning up and clearing out to do, but that thought didn’t bother him all too much, surprisingly enough. It might help to clear his head and at least he’d have something to do for the first few days.

According to the old landlord, there was running water, gas for the stove, and electricity. It was really all one needed to be able to function in a place like this.

“Ah. Nice…?”

Percival stepped up the creaky steps of the porch, waving his hand when cobweb clung to his brows. Clearly it had been vacant for a while. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but by the looks of it that old thing would most certainly collapse under his weight, as the wood looked rotten. That would be the first thing he was going to chuck out.

Trying the key in the lock after he’d pushed aside some more vibrant green vines, Percival unlocked the door and stepped inside. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting. Perhaps more cobwebs and a skeleton sitting in an armchair by a fire that had died a long time ago. He had expected, he was not met with anything even similar to that. Despite the dust, perhaps. The door opened into a narrow corridor, with what looked like an open but shallow wardrobe immediately to his right. There was a coat rack and a plank of wood fixed just above his knee which he presumed the previous owners had used to sit on to put on their shoes. It also allowed him to close the door with a sidestep, as the rest of the corridor wasn’t wider than the door itself.

There was a surprising lack of dust for as far as he could see. For now, at least. The corridor smelled like old wood and faintly of a campfire and it was more of a warm welcome combined with the quiet than coming home to his New York apartment had been. To his left and to his right in the corridor, there was a door. The one on his left lead into a bedroom with a wardrobe lining one wall, and in the middle a big bed meant for two. It smelled like mothballs in there but he’d brought clean sheets. After all, he preferred his own bedding. He immediately opened a window to let some of the stale air out and more of that fresh, earthy smell from outside in. The other door in the corridor was the bathroom. It was nice enough. He had a bath tub with an old, plastic shower curtain, a sink, and a toilet. The water seemed to work fine, even if it had an odd color as it poured out of the faucets for the first few seconds. The toilet flushed.

A few more steps down the corridor and Percival stood in a sitting room that spaced out to his right. There was a fireplace built into the wall on the side of the bathroom, which was good because if there was one thing Percival had been hoping for, it was being able to sit back on a comfortable couch by a calm, warm fire. To his left there was an opening into the kitchen, which was once again rather narrow as most of the spaces in the cabin were, with the furniture lining one wall. The door at the end of the kitchen spat him out onto the back porch, wider than the one at the front of the cabin with a wooden railing all around it like a balcony would have, and a few steps down to a patch of ground that Percival guessed had once been a garden. Everything creaked and smelled of old wood and rain but the garden… If the old, calm feel of the cabin hadn’t convinced him this had been a good choice yet, then the garden did.

Well, not so much the garden, as that was an overgrown mess of weeds and plants he’d have to shovel out of there, but more so what lay beyond the square patch. Grass, first. A few feet, maybe ten or so, until the tree lining began. He couldn’t look far beyond that but there were little wildflowers growing among the grass, and as the sun was shining, he could already imagine himself picking a book from the bookcase in the sitting room and picking one of the large trees to lie under. He would read until he dozed off in the afternoon sun with nothing to worry about but making himself food and keeping himself clean. If he stood really still, he could hear water running somewhere in the distance – another thing he’d get to explore with all the time he had on his hands.

Percival stood there for a few minutes, looking out over what was now his own, more or less just breathing in the air that didn’t smell remotely like the city smog and enjoying the soft sounds of nature around him. The wind in the trees, the birds. Enjoying the sun on his face. He eventually decided that it was best if he started on cleaning things up and making the cabin live-able as soon as he could. There was no time to waste, but there was light to lose.

It was noon when Percival started on the interior, and by the time he’d deep-cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, put clean sheets on the bed, and dusted every horizontal surface, the light outside was already fading. He made dinner in a clean kitchen, ate it on his dust-free couch, and made a fire with some wood he’d gathered from his garden by the time night fell. Looking around at the progress he’d made was immensely satisfying. He’d not felt like he had really done anything at all since the war ended until he glanced around his new home and found it perfectly comfortable.

He’d gotten no telephone calls all day, no mail, no visitors, no interruptions. It might have seemed like a lonely existence out here, but for a first day, Percival would say it had gone quite well. And he didn’t miss the city at all. Tomorrow, he would work on the garden. It was a plan and he had a goal in mind. Having work to do in the foreseeable future was such a relief after the days he’d wandered aimlessly around New York. Life in the city would go on without him, he realized now. Nobody necessarily missed him there, except for a few old friends perhaps, but if they really wanted to see him they knew how to contact him. Percival relaxed and let go, slowly but surely forgetting anything he’d worried about back in New York. It all seemed so silly now.

Percival retired to bed when he began to feel sleepy, and he dozed off to the soft sounds of nighttime that wandered in through his window. Nothing exciting was going to happen anytime soon. No bombshells, no battalion, no Nazi bastards. Just him, his books, and the prospect of having fuck all to do.

Exactly how he liked it.

Chapter Text

Percival woke up to complete tranquillity. He had slept better than he had in the past few weeks. It seemed like, out here, the nightmares couldn’t reach him as easily as in New York, let alone the battlefield. Well-rested albeit still a little sleepy, Percival made himself coffee in the kitchen, and drank it under a blanket on the back porch. As he sat there, he continued planning. Something really had to be done about the garden and it had to be done soon. The vines covering pretty much every conceivable surface on the outside of the cabin needed to be removed, too, which was going to be one hell of a task. Nothing Percival couldn’t do. If he ploughed on, he’d hopefully be done by nightfall, and then the cabin would really be a good place to spend the rest of his days in.

He was slowly starting to realise that he wouldn’t mind staying here until he really couldn’t anymore. He hadn’t planned ahead when he had found out about this cabin – he had just packed the things he knew he was definitely going to need and piled everything into his car. Now, though, sitting there in the silence of the early morning with no cars or people in sight, it occurred to him that nothing was stopping him from staying here forever.

It eased his mind a little bit. Before this, even though he knew to relax, there was something holding him back. Perhaps before, he’d thought that this would only be temporary, and that he was going to have to go back to the city eventually. But why would he? If he was happy here, why should he return to something that just didn’t feel right anymore? Yes, he did realise it might get lonely in the long run, but he had always been alone. Even with friends coming and going, in the end he was by himself. No legacy to speak of, no wife, no children. Perhaps he should look into getting a cat, or maybe a dog.

But for now, work had to be done, he reminded himself. Percival got up and went to get dressed.

First up were the vines. They simply had to go, the sooner the better. It took a solid few hours to cut them all down with the rusty pair of shears Percival found in a crate under the back porch, but once it was done the result was stunning. The dark wood of the cabin was now completely free of the green twigs and branches growing up and over, so finally the real structure of the cabin was on display. Who knew that something so beautiful could be buried under so much green?

Percival stopped to wipe the sweat off his brow and admire his work. He stood in the mess of green that was still the garden as of right now, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and a smirk on his lips.

Live-able is what he had strived for, but downright paradise was what he’d achieved.

Well, save for the garden.

But that was next on his to-do list, and by nightfall he had indeed done what he’d wanted to get done. It felt good. It felt great. He was moving forwards, leaping even, and though by night time his garden was but a barren little field, it already looked more organised than anything in the cabin.

Over dinner Percival decided that he wanted to do something nice with it. Maybe grow a vegetable patch, some flowers, perhaps he’d try his hand at herbs and fruit while he was at it. And since he was running out of food, his next best bet was going to the small town a few minutes away to get some groceries in.

The village was nearby, and Percival drove there in his car expecting to be there and back again before noon. He did his food shopping and loaded the car up, and then spent another while wandering around until he stumbled upon a small shop with a young, auburn-haired Englishman. Percival had been drawn closer by the pots of flowers outside the shop. They were beckoning him closer, inviting him in. An older lady just exited the shop as Percival approached and he greeted her politely. She told him if he was looking for someone with green thumbs, he’d come to the right place, and as that was indeed what he’d been looking for…

A bell tinkled to announce his entry as he pushed open the white wooden door. Immediately Percival was met with a dozen different smells, then a short, chubby canine, followed by who he assumed was the owner of the shop.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the man said to Percival as the dog barked at him and tried to jump up against his leg.

Percival gave it a few scratches behind the ear and the furball seemed satisfied enough and trotted off back to his owner. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Seems friendly enough.”

“She is. And she loves attention. Can I help you? Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

Percival looked around the shop. It was small, and with how many plants stood gathered around it felt a little crowded, almost like he’d stepped right into a jungle. Smaller potted plants stood on shelves close to the ceiling, allowing room for the larger ones standing on the ground. Some reached high, some kept low on the ground. Percival realised that he didn’t know the names of at least half of the plants in the shop and made a mental note to educate himself. Perhaps he could go by the bookstore near the grocer and see if they had anything on gardening.

“Nothing specific, yet. I’m looking to make my backyard a little more inviting.”

The owner, with the freckles littering his cheeks, gave a sunny, albeit shy-looking smile. “I’m sure I can set you up with something.”

Though the man seemed timid at first, when Percival got him talking about the plants and flowers in his shop, he seemed to come alive. Newt – that was his name, Percival supposed he should at least try and make contact with some of the villagers he would undoubtedly be seeing more often – indeed had exactly what Percival was looking for, and they eventually even agreed that it would be best if Percival parked his car out front to make loading it all up easier.

Percival went home with a car that looked every bit the jungle that Newt’s shop had been – but also with a smile on his face and excitement in his bones.

Newt had told him about what kinds of seeds he should start planting in which month or which season, and he advised him on what books on gardening to get from the bookshop in order to get the best possible outcome. They had spent a while planning the layout of Percival’s garden on a sheet of paper and now it was time for Percival to make it so.

Percival brought his wireless with him into the garden and started with the bags of fresh soil, spreading it out and giving a look of new life to the barren, dry ground. He stuck to the layout Newt had helped him with, lest he make a mess of the one thing that he really wanted to be perfect.

It was strange – he’d never been someone who could see himself digging through dirt with his bare hands and forcing roots into holes he made in the ground. Regardless, Percival enjoyed himself. The sun on his back, the water in his glass on the porch cool, the earthy smell of the soil surrounding him. When his garden ended up looking like an actual garden, the seeds deep underground and the leaves of the pre-grown plants and flowers he’d bought a vibrant green against the darkness of the dirt, Percival was more content with his life than he’d ever been.

After the chaos of the war it was refreshing to see the order he’d created, and the knowledge that he could give life to living organisms instead of taking and taking and taking was a new and welcome feeling. Now it was a matter of making sure his flowers and his fruits and veggies didn’t perish at his own hands, but he was confident that in a few days he would be eating a hearty vegetable stew with produce from his very own garden.

What he didn’t notice, nor accounted for, was the creature watching him curiously from beyond the line of trees as he worked. Nor how it kept itself purposely hidden within the thick bushes. Nor how it was eyeing his tomatoes with a hungry sparkle in its eyes.

Chapter Text

It was cold.

Freezing cold.

Percival’s breath drew up in near-translucent clouds before his eyes, evaporating before they could really get very far.

Though the weather didn’t really match the time of year, that wasn’t the thing that struck Percival as odd.

It were the trenches.

It didn’t even necessarily occur to him that this wasn’t a trademark of the war, but rather of a war he’d never fought. The war Before, the Great War, a war that he’d been too young to understand. Too young to fight in. He’d lost his older brother to this war.

These trenches, which he’d always imagined would have buzzed with life (and death alike), bustling soldiers and medical crew pushing through the thick, swampy muck that sucked at their boots as they tried to plough through – they were completely deserted. The sky overhead was an even shade of grey, no cloud in sight, no sliver of sunlight streaming in through the dark blanket.

And it was so damn cold.

Percival’s blood rushed through his ears, because despite the lack of sounds around him, it felt like he shouldn’t be there. He’d read about these trenches in books and he’d heard about them from the few of his brother’s friends who had survived. If those stories were anything to go by (and they were, they had to be – men didn’t go through that and then just forget about it, it wasn’t that simple) these trenches should be alive with a cacophony of sounds. Loud, sharp cracks of gunfire, the howls of bombs flying overhead, the metallic clangs of weapons being reloaded, of firearms being exchanged, even of men shouting. The fear was there, but it wasn’t fueled by the noise.

It was fueled by nothing at all but the rapid beating of his very own heart.

Percival walked, accompanied by the sucking sound of his boots in the mud. He wasn’t sure where he was going but if there was someone or something that could make sense of this for him then that was where he wanted to be.

He thought he’d never been this scared before in his life but he had. He knew he had.

He jumped at the sound of a sharp ring, somewhere in the maze of trenches, and clutched his hand over his heart. After a minute of hesitation he started walking faster.

There was a phone ringing somewhere, and if there was a phone ringing somewhere then that meant that there was life – somewhere.

But however far Percival walked, the sound didn’t get louder, it just felt like he was walking in endless circles. There was nothing he could recognize the trenches by, he couldn’t mark the walls of soil to see if he was really walking in circles, he couldn’t even reach out to them if he wanted to.

There were no ladders.

No stairs.

No steps.

Is this what his brother had felt like?

Percival woke with a start and immediately banged his head back against the headboard of his bed.

His telephone was ringing.

He gathered himself up out of bed and blearily stepped out into the hallway. It was chilly, in the morning, he’d come to realize that that was always the case out here in the woods. He didn’t mind the cold, though he still preferred the warm sun on his back when he worked outside in the afternoons.

Percival preferred letters over the telephone, but the cabin had come with one mounted on the wall just next to the opening that lead into the kitchen, and it seemed someone had found a way to ring him. It was probably an old friend from the person that had left him the cabin, or something of the like. He wouldn’t know how anyone else would be able to ring him up.

When Graves got to the telephone he took it off its hook and brought it to the side of his face to listen. His voice was still gruff and low with sleep when he grunted a confused greeting into the transmitter. The sun wasn’t even above the trees outside of his window.

“Mister Graves? Good morning. Oh, it’s good to hear your voice. I’m so sorry for ringing you up so early in the morning.”

Percival’s brows knitted together.

“Tina?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry. I’m not used to-“

“How did you get connected to the cabin?”

There was a pause.

“I had Queenie over at administration pull some strings. I hope you don’t mind.”

Percival had to think about that one for a moment but he could handle Tina. As long as either of the Goldsteins didn’t go about telling others about his getaway and where to find him then he was all set and perfectly fine with them knowing. Well… Almost. Because of course the first thing that his old colleague asked when he told her that it was fine, was if he minded her dropping by for a cup of coffee and a little chat to catch up. It was something Percival had purposely avoided when coming back to America, but Tina offered to bring over some of Kowalski’s baked goods and though Graves didn’t have an overly intense sweet tooth he did very much appreciate the man’s mini custard tarts.

And just like that Percival’s plans for the day were altered drastically.

Percival ended up accidentally falling asleep on his sofa after bathing and getting dressed, but luckily he didn’t dream this time. He woke up to the sound of wheels on the gravel just outside of his home. He briefly thought that getting Tina’s automobile back out with his own standing by the front porch was going to be disastrous. He hoped she was more skilled at driving in reverse than he was.

He stood from the sofa to go and greet her on the front porch. She was just getting out when he stepped out of his home, and she almost seemed surprised to see him when she turned from her car to step towards the porch.

“Good morning, sir,” she said to him, polite and professional as Graves had remembered.

Percival gave a nod of acknowledgement in return. “Morning, Tina.”

“Your cabin is lookin’ lovely today.”

Percival looked around him, up at the cabin and across the porch with its splintering, damp wood and the few vines that still dared make their way up the posts on which the porch rested. He looked at it like he was only just noticing it, too. It did look lovely in the light of the sun that was still rising and filtering through the trees. Percival looked back at Tina with a small smile, something he was sure the woman hadn’t often seen from him. “Sure is.”

They both went inside and while Percival boiled water for coffee to go with the pastries Tina had brought, Tina looked around the cabin. She stopped at the window that looked out over the back porch and Percival’s garden and made an appreciative noise at the back of her throat. “I didn’t know you were into gardening,” she noticed.

Graves, from the kitchen, shrugged out of habit, and brought two cups of coffee into the sitting room, to the coffee table by the sofa. “I have to have something to do around here.” Because if it weren’t for his newfound hobby of gardening, he might already have gone mad. Even books couldn’t hold his attention for very long anymore these days, even though he’d loved reading. That was all before the war, he supposed.

“It could use some tidying though, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Percival was just sitting down but paused for a brief second, frowning, before he lowered himself into the cushions. “What do you mean ‘tidying’? I just planted everything yesterday.”

Tina’s quiet and puzzled ‘oh’ got Percival’s attention, “Why?”

“Well-” Goldstein hesitated, still looking sidelong into the garden beyond the window, “It’s just—I mean look for yourself.”

Graves did. He stood and went over to where Tina was standing to peer out and onto his patch of greens. And sure enough…

Just last night everything had looked beautiful and neatly planted in rows, but when Percival gazed upon it again it barely resembled the picture of the day before. He was tempted to say it actually looked almost exactly the same as it had when he had first moved in.

Plants were torn out of the ground in a mess of roots and soil, the beginnings of his tomatoes were missing though the plant itself was still intact, flowers looked… They looked nibbled on. It looked like a small storm had manifested in the center of his garden patch, gone around the small perimeters once or twice, and then disappeared into thin air.

Strangely enough, the only thing that really still stood perfectly upright and untouched, were his grape hyacinths, their bright blue among a sea of destroyed green a stark contrast that quickly caught Percival’s eye.

Percival was perplexed.

Tina was confused.

“What the…”

“You mean this isn’t what it’s supposed to look like?”

Percival eyed her incredulously, one bushy eyebrow raised. “What? No.”

He glanced at his garden in defeat once more. What had happened? Where had his unripe tomatoes disappeared off to? Who or what would enter a perfectly beautiful garden and leave it in such a state of disarray?

Graves rubbed his brow and tried to make up a plan. Not only did he have to do up his garden all over again, or at least partially – he needed to make sure that this wouldn’t take place again too. He could have kicked himself. He’d been gifted a cabin in the middle of the woods with little to no civilization nearby and in an area that was protected against poachers and hunters by the very state.

How could he not have anticipated that he’d have a few wild visitors.

When Tina and Percival had finished their breakfast, Percival suggested that he introduce her to someone he had met in town the day before.