Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With special thanks to my Assist-Muses Corvidiss and Hittooclosetohome <3

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1800s A/U

The fic isset 200 years before the series timeline (so in the Regency era of 1816).

Warnings for Historically Accurate Themes such as racism, homophobia, religion, slavery, sexism, etc.

I’m not a Historian so I tried my best but I’m sure anachronisms abound, please try to be generous!

Chapter Text

The large Georgian manor stood aloof, proud of its isolation at the end of a long driveway among acres of land so aggressively manicured it looked barren. The façade was perhaps a little austere, grey and minimalist in design, but it had a pleasing sense of architectural balance, large windows and light neoclassical touches.

What made the manor appear so unwelcoming was not the building itself, but the sparse, militaristic look of the clipped hedges and resolute lack of personality or ornament anywhere in view.

It surprised no visitor to learn that the owner of this judgemental looking manor was a Colonel in the British Army, with his wife Susan, an excessively proud woman. They lived with a complete set of staff, and with their two sons: Hugo from a previous marriage, to all accounts an athletic success and academic failure; and the younger son Svlad (named after a Prussian who had saved the Colonel’s life) who no one had seen for some years and was the subject of speculation in the nearby village of Chorley Green, just outside the thriving, bustling port city of Liverpool. It was generally assumed that he was kept indoors due to chronic ill health.

Svlad had been a disappointment almost from the day he was born. To his strict, military father, Colonel Scott R. Chorley, he was soft and effeminate. Despite his best efforts, it was clear they had nothing in common whatsoever. When 6 year old Svlad had been caught playing dressing up games with the maid’s daughter, he’d been beaten so soundly he couldn’t go outside for a week.

When he was 10 his father had forced him to hunt a deer. His father had promised that if he killed the deer, he would be proud of him, finally accept him as his son.

Svlad tried his best to please his father, he always tried. But he couldn’t help bursting into tears the moment the deed was done, and didn’t stop crying even as his father beat him with a belt so hard it almost killed him.

Susan Chorley (neé Boreton) had re-married beneath her after her first husband had died. Now that he was dead, her first husband took on saint-like qualities and she reminisced of the time she had wanted for nothing, been indulged in her every whim.

Whenever Svlad needed nursing back to health, either through illness, or more often from his father’s abuse, his mother made it abundantly clear that she resented the burden he placed on her. It wasn’t that she did any of the nursing herself, but that it looked in poor taste to enjoy social evenings when one’s young son was known to be sick at home.

“Why can’t you be more like your brother Hugo? Instead of being a curse on my life” she would say, over and over. Svlad had once corrected her by pointing out Hugo was his step-brother but it had only earned him a smack so he kept quiet now. 

When Svlad was 11, he finally tipped his parents over the edge. The local village boy Tom Pritchard, who visited to bring them fresh bread, was someone Svlad had long looked at with special interest. Every time he arrived Svlad watched him from afar, blushing slightly from a longing to make him his friend, until finally he worked up the courage.

“Good morning, my name is Svlad Chorley. Do you want to be my friend?” he introduced himself brightly one day.

Tom ducked his head shyly. “Don’t think you’d be allowed to be friends with me, Sir.” He answered politely.

“You’re very beautiful.” Svlad said plainly. He was, Tom had light brown hair and kind, hazel eyes that Svlad longed to examine more closely, but just then his father grabbed him by his collar and pulled him away.

“Thank you Mr. Pritchard you can go now.” The Colonel ordered, and Tom scurried away.

The colonel threw his son bodily into the parlour room and bore down on him, shaking with anger.

“I always feared this day might come but I had hoped – prayed to the Lord God that I was wrong.” He said with cold fury dripping from his words as he advanced on Svlad.

The boy backed away instinctively as his father towered over him.

“I didn’t do anything wrong I was just being friendly” Svlad tried to justify.

“Everything about you is wrong” The Colonel roared, taking off his belt.

“No, please – I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. I’ll be good I promise!” Svlad tried, in vain.

“You’re pathetic.” The Colonel said in disgust as he beat the boy. When he was done he dragged him up the stairs and Svlad honestly thought he was going to be thrown off the roof, but instead, he found himself in the empty, dark, cold attic. There was nothing in there, no windows, just dust that made him cough. 

When he’d had time to look around more thoroughly, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Svlad would realise that there was in fact one small window, but it had been boarded up very thoroughly.

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt in such a comprehensive way, physically and emotionally, that it wasn’t just the dust making it hard for him to breathe.

He cried so much he wondered that a person could generate so many tears from within them. Where could all this water come from? There was nothing soft in the room and his bruised, aching body found no respite in any position. All that existed was the pain, which moved from dull to throbbing like the tides of the ocean.

“Mother!” he said when she appeared a few hours later, in some vain hope that she might dissent from his father’s view things and take his side, take pity on him. He felt some instinct that mothers should protect their children, but his mother had always made it clear that he was a mistake, and she regretted his birth every day since.

“Don’t think for one second your father didn’t tell me what you’ve been up to. Your…inclinations.” She said with repulsion, and a warning finger that he stay away.

“But I don’t – I haven’t-“ Svlad said in confusion.

“No of course it’s not your fault it’s never your fault, you have no heart, you don’t care at all for my nerves, if you cared about your mother at all you wouldn’t be such an embarrassment.”

“But I do care! Mother I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong…” the boy’s lip trembled and tears started to fall.

“Your father is quite right, it would be social suicide to let you roam about the place any longer. You really are so selfish, stop snivelling for god’s sake” she snapped, angrily.

His father stepped out from behind her, with a decisive, military pose.

“Containment is best for everyone. In the meantime we’ll bring in the local priest to see what he can do, I’ve heard he’s a man of many talents. Perhaps he’ll have some ideas on cures and the like. Frighten the demon out of the boy. You can stop feeling sorry for yourself Svlad we’re still going to feed you! Hard to believe he really is my son…” The colonel added in a mutter.

“He is your son” Susan returned, just as viciously. “I assure you these are not Boreton genes causing this unnatural depravity. We have never had a Boreton cause so much shame – and yet, we’ve all heard the rumours about your nephew Michael now haven’t we?”

“Nonsense. Michael’s a fine lad, training to be a lawyer in London.”

“Hm. A lawyer.” Susan sneered.

“Not everyone’s cut out for the military.” He turned to Svlad. “Although perhaps military service would do you good…” he pondered.

“Yes perhaps a nice French soldier could kill him off and save us a lot of bother.” His mother sneered.

The 11 year old recoiled at that, trying not to cry because his father always hit him for showing weakness.

“People feel pity for a grieving mother. No one pities the mother of a little molly.” She said in contempt, before turning and making a dramatic exit from the room.

Svlad had no idea what, specifically, he’d done wrong, but he was used to this treatment by now. His parents had always hated him, and he was coming to accept that they always would. He ducked his head and waited for them to leave so he could cry unobserved.

It was so dark in the attic that he couldn’t tell night from day, could only assume the meals were daily in frequency although it felt longer. On the one hand, the food was minimal, on the other he wasn’t doing anything to burn it off. It was just one long, awful torment of insanity-inducing boredom and self-loathing. He’d made his own parents hate him.

He had thought he’d give anything to see another human being. But when that other human being turned out to be the local priest, Father Osmund, it turns out he had thought very wrong.

Chapter Text

Svlad spent over 5 years locked in an attic, with a wash bowl and jug, chamber pot, thin blanket; visited once a day by a silent maid who brought him fresh things and leftover food.

In Winter he huddled by the chimney flue, warmed by the fires from the floors below, but often it wasn’t enough and hypothermia set in. At those times, delirious, he was taken to a small room and nursed with mute efficiency back to health by that same maid. It was the only time he left the musty, dark attic.

Perhaps it is strange to think that it took two years of this treatment before Svlad considered the possibility of escape. It was not that he didn’t feel, desperately, the hopelessness of his situation, it was simply that it failed to occur to him, and struck him rather as a sudden inspiration that a world existed beyond the house that was all he’d ever known.

Once the thought did occur to him, it occupied his thoughts hence as a recurring dream, filled with peculiarities that were all his imagination could guess at with regard to the real world. Even before being locked in the attic, he’d never been allowed beyond the grounds of the estate.

His thoughts naturally turned to the boarded up window. The attic was constructed primarily of wooden beams, boards, and nails, and when Svlad determined that a nail may serve as a useful tool, he set about finding a loose one that he could wrestle free over time. Once that was done, he painstakingly scraped away at the planks on the window until he could find some kind of leverage, covering his hands with splinters in his efforts to prise them apart.

It often seemed hopeless, but time was on his side and small actions accumulating over months and years can amount to progress.

And so, one day, his efforts bore fruit and he saw daylight for the first time in so long that he couldn’t withhold the tears of emotion. It wasn’t much of a window, but it was big enough for his small frame to climb through, out onto the small parapet that went all the way around the front of the building.

It was dizzyingly high up, and the cool breeze frightened him as much as it thrilled him to feel the fresh air on his skin. Svlad crept carefully around the parapet, examining the best place to get down, trembling with agitation but determined to investigate this paradise of outdoor space and light. Having decided on a plan, he retreated, and determined to build up his strength until Sunday morning – the time almost everyone would be at church.

It had been two days since Father Osmund had last come to see him. His whole body still ached from the encounter. He only hoped he’d have strength enough for the task ahead of him. At first the natural light gave him a headache and hurt his eyes, but he made himself get used to it. He was accustomed to quietly pacing up and down as the only kind of exercise available, but now he tried press ups and sit ups to increase his stamina.

On Sunday morning, Svlad watched the family and servants depart, trying to still his racing heart and trembling nervous excitement. When they were out of sight he took a deep breath, and went out onto the parapet. He moved quickly to the other side of the building where a smaller extension was attached, and climbed over the parapet with determination that only faltered when he chanced to look down.

It was a long way down. A ground-spinning, fatally long way. Being locked in an attic had stunted his growth and reduced his strength, but as the only other option was to return to the dark prison of his teenage years, he closed his eyes and gave himself up to fate.

He didn’t pray to God, he knew God hated him, the priest had made that violently clear to him. He prayed instead to the Universe.

He lowered himself as far as possible, and then let himself drop onto the roof below. He landed gracelessly, slipping precariously down the slope of the roof, and only just managed to hold on to the edge as a roof tile slipped past him and plunged down to smash on the ground below. It wasn’t encouraging. He was still two full storeys up, but he could see no other choice, and his strength was failing as he let himself drop.

He landed painfully in a shrubbery which broke his fall in a sharp and unforgiving way. He muffled his cries of pain in case anyone were still in the building, scrabbled to escape, ripping his clothes on the branches, and ran away from the house, in the opposite direction to the driveway.

Adrenaline kept him going for about half a mile or so, but then his vision grew blurry, he stumbled, and crashed into something - or rather, someone - solid.

The man apologised instantly, voice full of warmth and genuine regret.

“I beg your pardon sir, I was lost to my own thoughts – are you all right? Pray allow me to help you” the man said as Svlad lay dazed on the floor. The man, dressed in natural, earthy tones, reached down to help him up but Svlad instinctively flinched from him, cursing his own reaction internally.

“Are you ill good fellow? You’re very pale, I think we should go directly to my cottage where I can offer you my apologies in the form of some breakfast. My name is Sherlock Hobbs. Would you allow me to give you my hand?”

Svlad stared at him for a moment, bewildered. This was the most anyone had spoken to him in a long time, and the warmth and kindness in this stranger’s voice was entirely new to him. Eventually he nodded hesitantly, and the man leaned over to help him up. As he helped the boy up, the man let out a small groan of pain.

“Are you all right?” Svlad asked in concern.

“It’s my back – always giving me trouble, but I see you’re bleeding! Indeed you look as though you had been through some adventures.” Mr Hobbs replied, unobtrusively examining the cuts, bruises, and scrapes that covered the teenager.

On the face of it, he was a pauper, and yet Mr. Hobbs perceived something odd about him, something that differentiated him from an impoverished country boy. His clothes were old and covered in dirt, but they had once been of fine quality. His voice was genteel and not coloured by local accent. His unnatural pallor was at odds with the ruddy tan of most country lads his age. Sherlock determined that this lad had a story to tell.

“You live…here?” Svlad asked cautiously as they approached the cottage, which was still inside estate grounds.

“I manage the estate for the Chorleys.”

At the expression of alarm on Svlad’s face, he continued “There is no cause for alarm. You have my word that whatever secrets you have are safe with me, I’ll not get you in any trouble lad. Now, where did you spring from?” Hobbs asked, gesturing for the boy to sit as he got him some milk, bread and jam.

“I – It – it’s rather complicated.” Svlad said. He gazed around the small cottage, overwhelmed by curiosity. It was neatly arranged but it seemed cramped and packed with things compared with the attic. It was slightly claustrophobic, but he liked the smell. Instead of dust and confinement, it smelled of the sweet williams growing by the door, warm bread, and the wood fire Mr. Hobbs had burning despite it being late Spring.

“You’ll at least tell me your name?” the man prompted, fetching a couple of things from a trunk.

Svlad sat up with excitement at this chance to try the new name he’d thought of for himself. In the years he’d spent daydreaming of escape, the question of what name he would assume outside had occupied him for at least 3 months.

“Dirk. Dirk Gently.” The boy said confidently, and Mr. Hobbs gave an approving nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gently.”

Hearing someone else say the name made him relax a little, smiling with sheer gratitude, and the man’s already kind expression seemed to soften as he regarded him.

“I have here some of my nephew’s clothes, I daresay may fit you if you’d not object to them? A shirt and some trousers as yours appear somewhat the worse for wear?”

“Th-thank you.” Dirk said, startled at the generosity.

“And we must wash those cuts and scrapes Mr. Gently. Here’s a washbowl. And here-”

Sherlock took a poker from the fire and Dirk jumped back in alarm.

“For warming the water only.” Sherlock said, not quite hiding the curiosity in his voice at the reaction. He put the poker into the bowl and it sizzled. Dirk flinched slightly but sat back down cautiously.

“I’m…sorry. I’m not very used to…company.” Dirk said falteringly. He was aware that he was drawing too much attention to himself. He felt an instinct to trust Mr. Hobbs, an intense longing for a friend.

Sherlock gave a low chuckle. “As you may tell, there is little enough traffic in these parts and I too am in dire need of good company. We have found each other by providence! Come, let us clean the dirt and blood and get you these new clothes.”  

Dirk took off his shirt without giving it much thought, since he’d never been in this situation before.

Turned to the fire with his back to the cottage, Dirk did not notice the grave expression as Sherlock stared at the injuries on the boy’s back.

“Who did this?” he asked softly. It was little wonder the boy recoiled from being touched if this was the expected result.

Dirk turned, and Sherlock saw the same scars on the front of his body, whip and belt scars that looked vicious. What stood out the most on the boy’s pale skin, however, were the marks of the cross, branded into his skin. There were over a score of them, and each one must have been excruciating. Some were more faded than others, but one near his lower back was still fresh and blistering.

“The…p-priest.” Dirk said, lowering his eyes and blushing. “He says I’m…unnatural and – wrong. That I have a demon inside me that must be expelled.”

Sherlock took a deep breath. He hated cruelty in all and any form. What had been done to this child shook him to his core. He saw that the young man was holding his breath, desperately unsure of what fate he had just sealed for himself by admitting this.

“You’re safe here.” He reiterated and the boy took a deep breath of relief.

Sherlock Hobbs began to clean and carefully apply what pastes and bandages he could to the worst of the wounds, trying to be gentle despite how impossibly tense and skittish the young man was.  

“This priest is Father Osmund?” he checked. The boy nodded.

Mr. Hobbs shook his head. “I knew he had a cruelty in him but I had no idea it could extend this far, go to these lengths. How could anyone do such a thing to a child?” he said in an appalled whisper.

“He s-says that a man and a woman should lie together and not a man with a man or a woman with a woman, to do so is evil in the eyes of God and to even think of such things would be cause for eternal damnation.” Dirk repeated mechanically, “not that I have lain with anyone” he hastened to add. “Nor thought on it. But -” he frowned. “They sensed the wrongness in me even when I was young.”

Mr. Hobbs looked at him thoughtfully. He was beginning to understand this boy’s story, and it was a delicate situation.

“I have a niece, Tina. She is of rare, good character and a kinder soul you will not meet on this earth. She has taught me that such feelings are part of God’s plan, not in conflict with them. You are as much a part of God’s plan as anyone.”

“You – you think that I’m not…evil?” Dirk asked with surprise.  

“No, Mr. Gently. Harming a child is evil. A parent failing in their duty of protection and care is evil. You appear to be the victim of evil, not the perpetrator. I flatter myself that I am a good judge of character” Mr. Hobbs said solemnly. “And you-”

Mew

Dirk jumped a mile at the sound and backed against a wall.

“My cat, Mustard.” Mr Hobbs said, chuckling a little. “Nothing to fear, she’s a gentle creature I assure you.”

“Cat?” the teenager said with a puzzled look.

“Yes. Here she is.” Mr. Hobbs scooped up Mustard and presented her to the teen who looked at it as though he’d never seen a cat before.

“Oh…she’s so…furry and soft.” Dirk said in amazement. The tension eased out of him as the cat purred in his arms. Mr Hobbs watched the tension drain out of him, and saw how young he truly was in that unguarded moment.

He took Mustard from him to allow the boy to dress in the clean clothes, and when he was done, gestured for him to sit, while Mustard purred around the guest’s legs ingratiatingly.

“When I met you, it seemed you were in a great hurry to be somewhere. May I ask your destination?” Mr. Hobbs asked.

“I…don’t know.” Dirk admitted. “Just – far away from here.”

Mr. Hobbs nodded pensively. “Perhaps you would care to tell me your story? You can count entirely on my discretion.”

“You give me your word you would tell no one? Especially – the – the Chorleys?”

“I give you my word of honour and swear it on my life.” Mr. Hobbs said with absolute sincerity.

“Have you ever heard of a person named Svlad Chorley?” Dirk asked tentatively.

“The youngest son of the family – heard of him yes, though I’ve never seen him. They say he has poor health, and never leaves the house.” Mr. Hobbs spoke slowly, an idea forming as he looked speculatively at Dirk.

Dirk said nothing and Mr. Hobbs saw the truth.

“They locked you up.” He said softly. “And tormented you with abuse.”

“I escaped” Dirk said, somewhat redundantly. “I – I don’t know if – but I couldn’t stay there.”

“Of course you did the right thing.” Mr. Hobbs said, understanding the doubt in the boy’s voice. “They had no right to lock you away or hurt you. Powerful people think they can get away with anything, and alas, they are usually right. As for Father Osmund…God will judge him for what he has done.”

“I had to get away but I suppose part of me didn’t expect to get this far. I’m not quite sure what to do now. I fear I am rather conspicuous and my behaviour will betray to the world who I really am.”

“I will help you any way I can.” Mr. Hobbs promised. “I happen to know a young lady who is a master of disguise, who can help you to hide. She will surely help you to blend in and associates with the kind of people who will make it easier than most. You will like her, I feel sure of it.”

Mr Hobbs stood, and started to pack some spare clothes, food, and a little money into a bundle.

“Once they find you missing, who can say what measures they may go to - you must get away before they return.” He said with worry. “I will tell you how to find my friend, Miss Wilder, but then you must go on alone or my absence will cast suspicion this way. When I deem it safe, I will find you both and see to it that you are provided for.”

“But you have so little yourself” Dirk said doubtfully, seeing that the bundle of items being given to him was a generous proportion of the man’s worldly possessions.

“Don’t worry about me. I have plenty. You must look to your own safety for the time being, and befriend Miss Mona Wilder.”

Chapter Text

“Renata my love I have news!” Jacob barrelled into the living room of their apartment.

“I should hope so! You are, after all, a newspaper man” Renata teased.

“Merely a print setter.”

“Nonsense, the finest newspaper man in New York.” Renata announced, decisively.

The apartment in Lower East Side, Manhattan, was furnished simply, but with that delicacy of understanding of what separated a home from a mere place of habitation. Much of this had to do with Renata’s gift with plants and flowers, as well as a sensible placement of lighting and furnishings.

Jacob Brotzman chuckled at his wife’s affectionate pride. “Until they print my articles, I am but your humble print setter. But Renata, look at this. I saw this today. Read.” He held out the newspaper article to her.

“A new remedy! Potassium Bromide…do you think – this could help our daughter?” Renata asked as she read.

“We must go to Great Britain and consult this doctor, Sir Charles Locock, perhaps he could stop these infernal seizures, she may have a life yet!”

Renata put the paper down and observed her husband with gravity. He was always the more impulsive one, and she longed to share in his excitement, but felt it a duty to consider the implications before rushing into anything.

“It was not so long since we fled and now you wish to return?”

She looked around at the life they had just started to build in New York, and her heart sank at the prospect of starting everything again.

“We fled Germany, not England, the wars have not penetrated that island and nor shall they, do not you remember the victory of Trafalgar? Britain’s navy is unmatched and Bonaparte is no fool, he will not venture to such humiliating defeat again.”

“But Jacob the crossing is such a dangerous one and-“

“Renata.” Jacob took her hands affectionately and spoke with the serious, calm tone that was so impossible to guard against. “This is our daughter.”

Her expression softened and she nodded. “Of course you are right.”

“As are you, it is a dangerous and long journey, I know.” Jacob conceded. “And we don’t have the money for us all to go and return. A proposal then: Theodore will go with his sister and see this doctor, and we will save up the money for their return and send for them once the money is ready!”

“But we can’t afford to do that, Theodore is working-“

“Only as a Delivery Boy” Theodore spoke up, from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Distributor.” His father corrected.

“Of course I’ll go. We will be fine, and this could be the only chance Amanda has.”

“Todd my dear” his mother went to him with worry, using his nickname affectionately.

“Mother I’m 30 years old. It’s about time I had some adventures to call my own. And it will not be our first time crossing the Atlantic, we’ll be fine.”

“Remember that she must not have any emotional or physical shocks, it can trigger an attack. Try to protect her from the stresses of travel, and-”

“I know.” Todd reassured his mother. “We’ll be fine. Really. We’ll go in a couple of weeks.”

“Amanda might not want to-“

“Mother. Of course we will not go unless Amanda wishes it – but I daresay she’ll be more resolved to go than any of us.” Todd said confidently. He was right.

 ---------------------

The crossing was arduous, but Todd and Amanda landed safely in the hustle and bustle of the docks of Liverpool, and the trepidation of a new city could not overpower the sheer relief of being on dry land for the first time in a month.

They took lodgings in a modest but respectable lodging house, and Todd set about arranging a meeting with Sir Charles Locock, who was almost as keen to meet a patient he could try the remedy on, as Amanda was to try it.

Potassium Bromide, the latest treatment for those with convulsions triggered by various physical and emotional stresses, worked well for Amanda. Taking it guaranteed at least a week of no seizures, and his brother had never seen her happier. The only problem was, it was expensive, and neither of them found it easy to get work in the port town they’d landed in. After the first month they were forced to neglect buying medication in favour of greater necessities such as food and rent.

Todd tried to be a delivery boy for a local newspaper as he had been in New York, but the work was hard and low paid. Amanda had never been especially good with textiles, and with no references she couldn’t get a teaching job either.

Todd was not proud to say that there were times he’d been compelled to steal to get enough money for lodgings, food, and occasionally allow Amanda some respite with medication where they could spare the money.

The plan had been for Todd and Amanda to stay for a year, by which time their parents would have saved enough to buy them a return ticket. Transatlantic passage cost a year’s worth of Jacob’s salary and they had been left with no savings after fleeing Germany to New York. Todd had been given all their parents had, but it was up to him to supplement it as best he could so they might afford to live.

Their parents sent them a short letter every month, and Todd read it out to Amanda in the common space of their lodging house. It was always a highlight for Amanda, who desperately wanted to go home.

At the time they were expecting the 5^th monthly letter, none came. Todd assured Amanda that these things happened sometimes, post got lost, and it was nothing to be concerned about.

Then a message came not from their parents, but from a solicitor, informing him that his parents had died in an outbreak of yellow fever. He looked at Amanda, who was looking at him excitedly, waiting to hear what their parents had written them. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind.

Remember that she must not have any emotional or physical shocks, it can trigger an attack.

“What? What is it?” She asked in concern, sensing Todd’s restrained manner.

He was her big brother, and he had a responsibility to protect her. But this would be too much. The loss of their beloved parents, the knowledge that they were stranded here, struggling somehow to earn enough to get passage back to their home – if indeed there was any point in that now that they had no family to return to – it could kill her.

“Nothing.” He choked out, forcing down all emotions until he was alone. “Nothing. It’s – well actually no it’s bad news. I’m sorry Amanda, just – I don’t want you to get too upset because it’s all going to be fine, it’s just that Father’s having some trouble at work and thinks he might lose his position.”

“Oh no…” Amanda said with distress.

“It’s a setback… I won’t deny it”

“Read it to me.”

Todd swallowed, shakily, and feigned reading the letter, making it up as he went.

The next month he lied that their father had lost his job, and they would have to stay longer in Liverpool and try to fend for themselves while their father looked for more work. Todd framed it as positively as he could – fearing a severe seizure that might permanently disable his sister.

Since then, Todd had written every letter proclaiming to be from their late parents himself. The more he did it, the more proficient his skills at lying became, until it became a second nature to him.

When he got drawn into gambling, and lost what little funds they had, it was only a small step to say that he’d sent the money back home to help their parents get by.

Chapter Text

Dirk let out a plaintive moan as he felt the uncomfortable squelch of horse manure underfoot.

This would have been distressing at the best of times, but as the shoes were new, and Dirk had gone without breakfast and lunch for the month in order to afford them, it was particularly galling to find them sullied quite so soon.

While he attempted to scrape the worst of it off using the kerb edge, a matronly looking woman approached him with a basket full of baked goods.

“Good day sir! Can I interest you in some freshly baked bread?”

“Thank you but it is with regret that I am, at present, in no position to pay you.” Said Dirk, whose pangs of hunger protested more violently at the sudden vision of warm bread rolls.

“Then why not take them for free?” The lady said, rather unexpectedly, and Dirk looked at her penetratingly for a moment.

“…Mona?” he asked doubtfully. She grinned, and the smile gave her away.

“Mona you are astonishing.” Dirk acknowledged with awe.

Mona gave a modest curtsy. “I bought these for you, Dirk. You must be hungry.”

“I am starving, Mona you are – you save my life daily.” He said fondly.

“You’re my friend” she said simply and they shared a look of mutual affection. Over the years their bond had grown so strong that Dirk thanked any power listening that he should have had the fortune to encounter first Mr. Hobbs, and then Miss Wilder after his escape.   

“Please tell me there’s work to be had at the Royal? Have they decided on a play?” he asked her, clasping a hand on her arm. Their lives were constantly on the edge of a financial precipice, and it was mostly Mona’s acting skills that kept them afloat, while Dirk tried to pick up work where he could with no particular skills to speak of.

“We are to perform Hamlet, and I will be Ophelia” Mona replied, looking pleased.

“You’ll be the star of the show as always Mona.” Dirk said, happily.

“They have promised that you may be the prompt-reader for the play. I insisted on it.” Mona added, excitedly. Part of him was used to this generosity on the part of his closest friend, but somehow it never ceased to surprise and touch him.

“How should I ever repay you?” He asked her softly.

“By being yourself, always.” She said, breezily. They entered the theatre and retreated backstage, greeting those they passed. When they reached a private room they sat, glad to be out of the public gaze, and ate the provisions.

“I wish I could be on stage, I’m sure I could pass for an actor if you were to teach me.” Dirk said wistfully.

“You know it’s too dangerous. If someone were to recognise you-“

“I know…I know.” Dirk said sadly, for it was not the first time this conversation had taken place between them.

“I wish so too” Mona said softly. “I wish you could have all you desired– perhaps one day we should leave this place for somewhere safer. It’s only for lack of funds we remain. Which reminds me, how is your new lodging? I know it is small and cramped…”

“It’s – fine. I don’t need much as you know.” Dirk said with a shrug.

“But?” Mona prompted perceptively.

“I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." Dirk quoted dramatically.

Mona took his hand with concern. “You’re still getting bad dreams?” she asked, looking at him with worried brown eyes that told of all the secret confidence between them.

Dirk looked down, self-conscious and subdued. There were no secrets between them. Dirk had told her everything that had happened in his childhood, and over the years Mona had held him as he cried in grief for his loveless childhood, filled with darkness, violence, and neglect.

“You know I’m not violent by nature. And yet, when I think of those who harmed you, I pray for God to take them from this mortal world.” Mona said darkly.

“That’s all behind me now. I have you, and Mr. Hobbs as allies and friends, which makes me the richest person on Earth.” Dirk said.

Mona smiled softly, but it had a little sadness in it too. For Dirk’s sweet and positive nature only emphasised to her the injustice that he should have been so abused, and that his abusers roamed free while Dirk could never be free of the bad dreams that haunted him, and must live partly in hiding for fear of being recognised.

Dirk was the only person who knew all of her secrets, too, and he accepted her without question or judgement. On the contrary, he was always on her side no matter what she told him about herself. There were skeletons in her closet, and like Dirk, they had a tendency to follow her around; but with Dirk she always felt safe in a way she never had before.

He put a hand on her arm suddenly. “Mona do you smell that?”

“Smoke?”

“I think we should get out of here.” He said urgently and she gave a quick nod as they rushed out of the theatre, just in time to watch with dismay and heartbreak as their home for the last 16 years burned in front of them. They held onto each other, as they always had.

----------------------------------------------

“I came as soon as I heard what had happened, are you two all right?” Mr. Hobbs asked once they’d settled in a private corner of the tea garden.

Although Mona gave a nod in the affirmative, she still looked shaken, and Dirk was sending worried glances her way. The theatre was more than her home, it was part of her soul, and seeing such a substantial, solid thing as the brick stagehouse collapse had frightened her more than she cared to admit.

“You know you are both welcome to stay with me any time, my house will always be open to you.”

Dirk paled slightly. “I…can’t go back there.” He admitted with difficulty.

“I understand.” Sherlock said with a sigh, wishing he could afford to move somewhere that was safe for his friend.

“But Mona could!” Dirk said quickly, and Sherlock looked at him with a fondness that was habitual with him. These two young people were the kindest people he knew despite their difficult backgrounds, or perhaps because of it, he couldn’t be sure.

“I would never leave you alone, Dirk” Mona said, genuinely shocked at the idea.

“At least take some money for lodging” Sherlock suggested, handing them some money he’d saved.

“You don’t have so much that you can afford to give it away.” Dirk said astutely, but Mr. Hobbs was not to be deterred quite so easily.

“Please.” He said, as though to take the money would be to do him a favour.

For in truth, it was for his own peace of mind that he wanted his dear friends to be looked after in his absence, and if he couldn’t be here in person – money would have to be the poor substitute. He wished he could afford to give up his day job and spend more time with the two people he considered as son and daughter.

Dirk and Mona seemed to understand this, for they took the money and thanked him.

Dirk regarded Mona, whose eyes were red rimmed from smoke and tears.

“We still have each other.” He observed, uncharacteristically subdued, as though he couldn’t be sure if it was enough to comfort her in the face of such a tragedy as this.

She regarded him with a strange look that he couldn’t interpret, for his words had prompted her to imagine if he had been lost to the fire as well as the building itself, and it filled her with such a mixture of horror and relief to think on, that she had to embrace him, not caring if anyone saw them or deemed it inappropriate. Dirk was caught off guard, but returned the embrace, comforting his friend as best he could.

Touch was something Dirk had struggled with over the years, and only with Mona did he feel safe enough to respond naturally. Even with her, if she startled him, and he was tired or distracted, he would tense instinctively, awaiting some kind of blow. These times upset Mona so much that it took all her acting skill not to show Dirk how much it hurt, knowing that he would blame himself unjustly.

But over time his self-confidence had grown under the care of his friends, and he lived with a kind of joy for life that radiated out and warmed all those around him. When Mona looked at him, she knew that whatever difficulties lay ahead, they would get through together.

1816, New York State, Encampment of Miss Farah Black and Molly the horse

Miss Farah Black stroked the short fur of her horse Molly as she took out of the saddlebags the newspapers she’d got in town. Molly was soothed by her presence, and she smiled, aware that in all the world, this horse was her greatest companion, and they shared an understanding she could find nowhere else.

She’d already set up camp, prepared a fire and eaten dinner in the small enclosure she’d found, and now it was time to get to work.

Miss Farah Black scanned the newspapers with concentration, using the daylight while it lasted. Her last bounty, bringing in Gordon Rimmer, had provided her with a successful pay-off, but she couldn’t afford to relax when work was so uneven.

She put together the pieces she had cut out, reviewing the options and the ‘WANTED’ sections.

The first few had large bounties, but their locations were unknown, and gave nothing for her to work with. Others she dismissed as being too solid – other bounty hunters would be vying over them and she would rather avoid competition if she could help it. But further down the list, a more promising lead. Mona Lamia – last known location, Liverpool.

She was wanted for murdering someone when she had been 15 years old, and had apparently promptly fled to England to evade capture, but the person she’d killed had powerful connections and had not stopped looking.

Farah would have preferred something more local, but she also had to stick to the sidelines of jobs to avoid confrontations with other bounty hunters, not least of all, her brother.

Besides, she had the money, and she’d always wanted to travel. She knew someone she could trust to look after Molly while she was away, and after only a moment of hesitation, she had made up her mind.

Time to buy a ticket for an Atlantic crossing.

Chapter Text

The common lodging house on Vauxhall Road was the cheapest one in Liverpool, and not without good reason. The dormitories slept as many as could be crammed into them, segregated by gender. They smelt sweaty and humid, the scratchy, thin bedding on the floor invited as little time to be spent there as possible. The shared living spaces were small, dark, sparsely furnished and unwelcoming.

Perhaps the worst part was the quality of inhabitants, ranging from those out of work but somehow still supplied with drink, to unruly dock workers, gambling factory workers, and worse.

It attracted those in the most desperate of situations, and that was the situation Todd and Amanda found themselves in now. They were kept in separate dormitories, divided by gender, and Todd’s mind was brooding on his sister’s vulnerability in this shabby cheap place, such that he didn’t notice the individual who took the spot next to him.

“Good afternoon!” Dirk said brightly.

“Do I know you?” Todd asked, doubtfully. These kinds of places tended to attract a variety of people, very few of whom Todd wished to interact with.

“You will, momentarily. My name is Dirk Gently. I’m in the bed next to yours. Pleased to meet you! You look like you’re having a terrible day.” Dirk observed candidly.

Todd looked at him with open annoyance. “That seems like a rude thing to say to a stranger.”

“Well you wouldn’t be a stranger if you told me your name.”

“Can you please leave me alone?”

“Is that an American accent?”

“Look, I’m really not interested in a conversation. I’m tired, and hungry, and I’m in no mood for it.”

“But you came in earlier with food?” Dirk said, puzzled.

“I gave it to my sister.” Todd admitted. Dirk’s expression softened with admiration for this act of generosity and Todd looked away and glared at the floor in self-conscious guilt.

“I’m happy to share what little I have. Here.” Dirk handed him a freshly baked Cornish pasty.

“That…thank you” Todd said in surprise, taking the pasty, wrapped in paper. He devoured it, having not eaten since that morning. Only after he’d eaten it did it occur to him that Dirk might have intended to break it in two.

“What do you have for yourself?” he asked.

Dirk shrugged dismissively. “Oh, you know, I don’t need much.”

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll make it up to you.” Todd said, feeling his suspicion had been confirmed, despite Dirk’s assurance.

“It’s of no consequence. I’m really quite used to it by now, my job is not terribly secure at the best of times, and given the presently charred state of the theatre, I would say this qualifies as a could be better of times. Though not the worst, I like to think the worst is behind me.” Dirk said with an openness that astonished Todd, who had been used to polite aloofness from most people he met.

“Oh.” Was all he could think of to say at first, before recollecting himself. “You work in the theatre? Right I saw that one had burnt down recently…”

“I’m only a helping hand, not like my friend Mona who is an actress, the best you will ever see, she was to play Ophelia next season.”

Todd nodded. “I’m Todd, by the way. Todd Brotzman.”

Dirk held out his hand enthusiastically and Todd shook it, glad that Dirk was at least, significantly cleaner than everyone else here. Having eaten the man’s food, it seemed to Todd that the least he could do was be civil.

“It is lovely to meet you. I feel sure that we’re going to be excellent friends.” Dirk said complacently.

“Your manner is quite…unusual” Todd observed, attempting to be tactful.

“Thank you!” Dirk said. “Oh, you mean, I’m a little odd…yes lots of people find that about me, it’s quite all right. I assure you I’m quite harmless.”

Todd didn’t look reassured by this.

“Well, thank you again for the food. I must see if my sister is settled.”

“I’ll go with you!” Dirk said, heading for the shared lounge while Todd tried and failed to think of a reason why he should stay behind.

Todd failed to shake off his new companion, and before he knew it, Dirk was introducing himself to his sister with the same amount of enthusiasm. To his alarm, Amanda seemed to take an instant like to him.

“Normally I’m a sort of stagehand, but the theatre is being rebuilt from a fire and until it is reconstructed, my position is a precarious one. Hence – my current residence at this salubrious establishment.”

“That’s so cool, I love the theatre.” Amanda said, which was true, though they very rarely had the money to go in, she often loitered outside to try and hear words and music.

“And why are you here if you don’t mind my asking?” Dirk asked candidly.

“That’s really none of your-“ Todd started, but Amanda clearly had other ideas.

“Our parents sent us here 8 months ago, so that I might find a remedy for the seizures that currently control my life.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s terrible…and so interesting!” Dirk said with obvious fascination that Todd chafed at.

“Yes. Well…” Amanda said, a little drily. “Their intention was to fund our return after a year, but three months ago my father lost his job, and indeed we had to send them money instead of them sending it to us, as my mother fell ill. So we’re stuck here, with no money, hoping our father can find a new job soon and save up enough for us to go back to New York”

“I’m sure everything will work out. Perhaps after all, you were destined to be here just at this time.” Dirk said philosophically and Amanda nodded, not really believing it, but wishing to be polite.

“I feel sorry for Liverpool sometimes, it’s a place everybody wishes to leave.” Dirk noted.

“You want to leave?” Amanda asked.

“I would like to go to London with my best friend Miss Wilder, and Mr. Hobbs. I am forever trying to save up but…as you can see, I’m not terribly good at it. In fact I’m not terribly good at anything.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” She said kindly. He smiled at her with gratitude that seemed disproportionate to the politely given words, and she smiled back. Like her brother, she had found it difficult to make friends in Liverpool, and for the first time in a long while she felt appreciated.

“In any case, we’re hardly in a position to criticise given our own similar situation.” Amanda observed drily.

Dirk gasped as inspiration struck. “When the theatre is rebuilt, perhaps you could be an actress!”

“Um no she couldn’t that’s really not-” Todd objected instantly.

“Not what?” Dirk said, affronted.

Todd struggled to find the words to express that acting was hardly a proper line of work for someone as educated and refined as his sister, but as he looked at Dirk, hoping it was obvious enough to go without saying, he saw that there was no way out without causing offence.

He looked at Amanda, hoping she might come to his rescue, but she returned his look with one of innocence that expressed her enjoyment at his present discomfort. He would find no help from that quarter.

“That is to say...” Todd continued awkwardly “thank you for the suggestion, we’ll think about it.”

Todd could tell that Dirk knew full well that he looked down on the theatre as a possible career avenue, but evidently Dirk was used to this attitude; notwithstanding a brief look of disappointment, he dismissed the topic from then on and instead turned to giving them advice about living cheaply in Liverpool, much to Todd’s gratitude.

After that, Todd considered it best to remain quiet, as Todd and Amanda talked at length about all of the performances Dirk had been tenuously involved in during the last decade or so. He was quite the raconteur and could switch between dramatically conveying the themes and plotlines of major theatrical productions, and providing light-hearted anecdotes from behind the scenes.

He spoke so often and fondly of a Miss Mona Wilder that Todd started to feel a strange stirring of jealousy that he couldn’t quite explain, but he shook it off and allowed himself the luxury of relaxing, if only a little.

As Dirk described an incident where he’d been in charge of releasing buckets of water for a rain effect from the rafters, and had misconstrued the official signal from the director of precisely when he was supposed to do this, Todd reflected that he hadn’t seen Amanda this happy in a long while.

Most people shunned her for her condition, and their hand-to-mouth existence combined with Todd’s distracted worries meant that her life had become rather dull and monotonous. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh so freely, and felt a surge of gratitude to their new friend for making his sister so happy.

They talked for hours, until Dirk and Amanda started to behave as though they had known each other all their lives. It was precisely because of Amanda’s obvious adoration that Todd felt a need for more stringent precautions on his own feelings. He couldn’t afford to let a stranger break his sister’s heart, when their lives were fragile enough, and he couldn’t put his trust in someone until he felt certain that it was deserved.

All the same, a glimmer of hope had wormed its way into his life.

Chapter Text

Miss Black had never before ventured beyond the state boundaries of New York, so Liverpool presented an interesting and novel prospect. As the ship sailed into the Mersey, busy with traffic, and finally settled by the dock in the very heart of the city, it seemed a lively place.

The grandiose architecture of the riverside buildings made Farah feel uneasy, reminding her that it had been less than 10 years since the slave trade had formed a vital part of this city’s economy. Perhaps her own parents had been transported through here as slaves. The thought made her shiver.

As she stepped down from the dock, she saw a mixture of ethnicities working alongside the ships, unloading cargo, and found she was not as conspicuous as she’d anticipated, at least here by the river. However, as she moved in towards the city, people stared at her in a way that felt more familiar.

She found private lodgings in a place not far from the river, and started about asking discreet questions to determine if anyone knew anything about Mona Lamia.

On the second day of her arrival she chanced upon a church which displayed posters and leaflets campaigning for the abolition of slavery in British Colonies and to put pressure on the United States to make it illegal. She didn’t want to get involved, she was no one’s poster girl and she had work to do.

As she turned to walk out of sight, a bird-like, middle-aged woman made her jump.

“Would you like a leaflet? William Wilberforce himself is going to be speaking in a week on the subject of the Christian principles which compel us to advocate for American emancipation of enslaved peoples.”

“No, thank you.” Farah said, politely.

“Is that an American accent? I don’t wish to be rude, only I’d have thought you might be particularly invested in this subject.”

Farah paused, took the leaflet, and decided to use the encounter to her advantage. “Do you happen to know anyone named Mona Lamia? Or ever heard that name?”

“Mona Lamia. No, and I’m quite sure I would remember such an unusual name. Is she connected with the abolition movement?”

“No. I’d like to speak with her.”

“Perhaps you could write her a letter?” the woman suggested.

 “Yes. Perhaps. Good day.” Farah said in a way which clearly marked the end of the conversation.

“Have a lovely day.” The woman said.

“Thank you.” Farah said, feeling there had been something strange in the encounter that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but then, she was a foreigner in a foreign land and it was only her second day here.

She didn’t see the way the woman smiled knowingly at her back, before disappearing into a crowd

Over the next couple of weeks, Farah Black made frustratingly little progress. No one seemed to have heard of Mona Lamia. She had no picture, and the description she had was of a 15 year old, not the young woman in her mid 30s that must have spent many years in the UK by now.

She was beginning to think she’d been ridiculous to come here with so few leads. She hadn’t found any records or documents for Mona Lamia, and wondered if by now the woman would have lost her accent.

She’d had a long and unhelpful conversation with a coach driver who had thought the name sounded familiar – someone they’d met in the Highlands, or was it the Black Mountains? They couldn’t be sure… but they had hardly been a reliable source, they had sounded drunk and she could hardly traverse Wales and Scotland on the off-chance.

If Farah were entirely honest with herself, she was starting to feel homesick and lonely, as well as a little foolish.

She’d had an interesting conversation with a fishwife by the river, and almost thought she’d found something like…a friend. But when she’d returned a couple of days later, she couldn’t find her conversation partner, it was almost as though she’d never been there, and Farah felt a sting of disappointment that surprised her and spoke of how desperate she was for an ally of any kind.

She wished she could have brought Molly with her. She was unaccustomed to city life, and it was strange how much more alone she felt among the crowds of people who stared at her, than she did on her own under a sky of stars with her horse and pack and nothing else.

She would give it two more weeks, and if nothing else turned up, she’d travel to London for a month to see if anything could be gained there before returning home.

Chapter Text

Being close to the docks made the lodging house a noisy place to be during the day, but Todd had nowhere else to go. He studied the newspaper job advertisements, circling possible candidates for a shortlist.

“You can’t work there, it’s too dangerous.” Dirk said, making Todd jump to find him looking over his shoulder. It was surprising how quickly he had become used to Dirk’s quirks and mannerisms over just a few days.

Dirk’s tips and tricks for navigating the city’s downtrodden underworld were useful, he was often generous with what little he had, and always kind and optimistic. This is how Todd knew he did not deserve to have him as a friend; he tried resisting but it seemed Dirk was equal to his stubbornness, so instead, Todd’s self-loathing grew with every expression of admiration or encouragement sent his way.

“I have no choice, I have to find something – Amanda needs medicine and we both need food…” he mumbled distractedly.

“You’re a good brother, Todd.” Dirk observed. He sighed wistfully. “I wish I had a brother like you.”

“No you don’t.” Todd said with certainty.

“Yes I do” Dirk insisted, thinking of the step-brother who might have helped him, but did nothing while he was locked up and abused. He couldn’t imagine Todd doing that.

“No, you don’t.” Todd stubbornly refuted. “I’m not a good brother I can assure you. Just – drop it.”

“Why? You brought Amanda all this way and now you’re trying so hard to look after her until your parents can send you money to-“

“They’re dead! All right? They’re- dead. Three full months ago.” Todd admitted. The anger left him in the course of the short sentence and he sat, deflated.

“I’m so sorry…” Dirk said before frowning in confusion “But Amanda said-“

“She doesn’t know. I haven’t – told her.” Todd admitted, with a great deal of bitterness.

Dirk looked at him, stunned into silence for a moment, and then felt compelled to check that he had understood. “You haven’t told your sister…that your parents are dead?”

“I couldn’t!” Todd defended, “If she has too great an emotional shock, it will trigger a seizure and any one of those could be fatal without the medicine.”

“But you cannot hide this from her forever?” Dirk said in confusion.

“Once the medication is more stable, I’ll tell her. I just – need to make more money somehow.”

“But wait, if your parents are dead, then you did not send them the money-”

“I lost it. Through some…misjudged actions.”

“You…gambled it?” Dirk guessed. He had seen enough similar stories to understand how this one had gone.

Todd nodded, looking shame faced.

“I see.” Dirk said pensively. He thought for a moment. “If I get money for your sister to take her medication, would you tell her the truth?”

Todd looked at him in shock.

“Amanda is a grown woman, and she deserves to know the truth.” Dirk said with a simple honesty that made Todd feel ashamed.

“No, I- you’re right. I can’t keep lying to her forever… I’ll get the money and tell her the truth within the week.”

“Good.” Dirk said, satisfied. “And I’m sorry about your parents, Todd. That must be very difficult.”

“Thanks.” Todd swallowed, knowing he would be unable to say any more on the subject without his emotions betraying him. “What about your parents?”

“They’re dead.” Dirk said, rather quickly. Todd supposed he felt similarly unable to talk about it.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly in response.

“What about this one?” Dirk said, pointing to a job offer of a legal clerk, and in pointing out the numerous ways in which it was unsuitable, Todd succeeded in helping him change the subject.

-------------------

Todd was true to his word. Unfortunately, the medication failed to live up to the expectations placed on it, the emotional shock being too great.

Finding out that her beloved parents were dead, that her brother had lied to her for months, that the one person she depended on had deceived her on a matter of such importance, and then recklessly gambled what little they had away…

Amanda had been devastated and angry in equal measure, and fallen into such a fit as Todd had not witnessed before, and which required a hospital stay as she recovered.

Todd’s fury was contained very carefully within him for many hours, until such a time as he and Dirk stood outside by the docks and Dirk attempted to comfort him.

“Amanda will get better, I’m sure of it, she’s a young lady with a great deal of tenacity and courage. This is definitely better in the long run, Todd, you must see that? She couldn’t have been deceived forever and you hadn’t a right to-”

“You say that I had no right? No right? She is my sister!” Todd said fiercely. “You are the one who had no right to interfere. You are a stranger who barged into my life and has wreaked havoc, making an awful situation even worse! I wish we had never met.” Todd said with bitterness, leaving before Dirk could reply.

Dirk stood in a state of shock. He wished he could understand what alternative course of action had been the correct one, because he still couldn’t believe that continuing to lie to Amanda was the right thing to do. Still, he’d never meant for her to end up sick and in hospital, and he felt terrible that she was now suffering because of his advice.

His eyes stung. He had thought that after 16 years, he might make some new friends, much as he loved Mona and Mr. Hobbs. But Todd already despised him, and perhaps Amanda would too.

His mother’s wish that he’d never been born echoed in his mind and he focused on his friends instead, as he always tried to when he was upset. Mona’s friendship had never been this wrought with tension. But then Mona and Sherlock both had more patience than anyone else he knew, or they couldn’t possibly stand his company.

Neither of them would like to hear him say that, but he still felt deep down that it was true. His parents had detested him from birth, and Father Osmund had made it clear that this was entirely his fault, not theirs.

Before he really knew what he was doing, he was walking, aimlessly hoping to distract himself from the stirred up feelings of inadequacy.

Chapter Text

Anger tends to prompt physical exertion as much as melancholy prompts the opposite. For Amanda, cooped up inside the sour-smelling hospital room, the boiling anger inside was causing her to overheat. She knew that if she left this room, her brother would not like it. Perhaps a couple of weeks ago that might have been reason enough to endure it, but his revelation had changed everything for her.

She got up and dressed. She needed fresh air, and she no longer cared about being obedient to another’s wishes now that her trust was shattered.

She strode purposefully towards the river, and the sea breeze coming in was a little harsh at first, but it matched her mood, and as the breeze cooled her temper, she slowed down.

Along the riverside, she saw an unusual group of musicians busking, with a small crowd around them, and stopped to listen.

Four men were playing the most beautiful, melodic folk music unlike anything she had heard in a long time. Sometimes a kind of sea shanty, other times a Celtic tune more reminiscent of mountains and valleys, and reels that made her want to dance.

A Hispanic looking gentleman played the violin with entrancing skill, while a black man played the clarinet, and a young Asian looking man played tambourine and danced. In the middle, driving the melodies and guiding the group, a man with blond hair and a guitar that looked like an extension of his body.

The music was so soothing and hypnotic it felt as though all the tension flowed out of her body and there was nothing but her, and them.

Often it isn’t until we have a chance to truly relax that we realise how long it’s been since that feeling had occurred in us, and Amanda felt like she could breathe for the first time in years.

The man with the guitar glanced up at the crowd and caught her eye as though some invisible thread connected them. Some small electricity in the blue of his eyes gave her a pleasant jolt, though she had no name for the feeling.

Then he looked down, played a complex arrangement, and she felt unaccountably as though he were playing it just for her, and no one else.

It was hard to say how long she stayed there, listening to that restorative music, but as she noticed clouds appearing, she decided to reluctantly pull herself away and return to her hospital bed. It was her great regret that she had no money to give them.

She walked back towards the city centre, but she must have caught a kind of rush hour, as people and horses crowded to get past and round her, going seemingly in all directions.

She tried to extract herself from the crowds, but she felt ensnared in a fish net of people jostling around her, bumping into her and confusing her senses. Everywhere she looked there were dense groups of people. She tried to calm her breathing, but it was no use.

She had less than a second of awareness that a seizure was imminent before she hit the ground and convulsed.

This cleared the crowd soon enough, not from consideration for her, but in fear and repulsion.

She lay there, gawked at, for a minute or so, not in control of her body, and then it was over.

People were squawking and squealing over her at a safe distance, shouting things at her in relation to her supposed indecency. She’d heard many of these before, the stigma that accompanied her condition was one she had come to bitterly accept, though the resentment she felt for the unjust accusations still boiled in her.

She did not know what caused her condition, but she knew it was not through any fault of her own behaviour.

She was trying to find energy to lift herself from the pavement, when she heard shouting of a different kind. Shouting for the crowds to leave her be.

She lifted her head enough to see the musicians from before chasing off the crowds, and the guitarist kneeling down to her, checking she was all right, before carefully lifting her up.

The next thing Amanda knew, was the smell of rosemary and sage. She opened her eyes slowly, and stared at the red, black, and grey interior of the brightly patterned gypsy caravan around her. The rounded room was strange to her, and her instinct that she was alone proved correct as she sat up.

She felt refreshed as after a good, long sleep.

She stumbled out of the caravan in a daze, instinctively alarmed to find herself – a lone young woman – in a compromising position such as this.

The musicians were sat, relaxing by a small fire.

“Welcome.” The blond man said. “Care for a drink?”

She felt a strange mix of compulsions within her, one urging her to stay, the other insisting that she must go. She shook her head mutely.

“I understand. You should return home. We would have taken you there if we knew where to take you, I hope you’ll forgive the liberty of assuming you needed rest first and foremost.” The man said.

“Thank you.” She said, a little uncertainly. “I… have to go.” She decided.

“We’re not far from the city centre, it’s just through there.” He gestured to a path through a hedgerow that she could see led back to the streets. She saw the landmark spires and towers she’d become accustomed to use for navigation and had a good idea of how to get back to the hospital.

“Thank you.” She said again.

“I’m Martin.” The man said, before turning to his companions. “This here’s Gripps, Cross, and Vogel”

“Amanda.” She answered, still feeling as though this were some kind of dream.

“See you around, Amanda.” He said with a smile, as though he were certain of the fact, and she backed away a couple of steps, before turning and making her way swiftly back to the hospital.

In the hospital bed she thought of nothing else but the sweet music she’d heard, and the smell of rosemary and sage.

Chapter Text

At the fifth rejection of employment, Todd began to wonder if he were being discriminated against despite his best attempts to conceal his Jewish heritage. He sighed. Then again, he was hardly a catch for any employer. He could try to blame the turbulence of his earlier years but the truth was he had never settled to any apprenticeship or useful employment, thinking it beneath him, and now in place of experience and skills, all he had were regrets. He knew now that he had been entirely dependent on his father’s influence with the New York newspaper, intending to follow his footsteps without having to earn it.

Yesterday evening when he’d gone to see his sister, the hospital staff had informed him of her temporary break-out, but he felt no authority to command or rebuke her. Instead, she had rebuked him in no uncertain terms for his bitterness towards Mr. Gently, and told him to make amends to him as their only friend in this city.

She was still angry with him. She probably would be for some time. And meanwhile, he still had no money to afford her medication.

He conceded that he had been too hard on Dirk, letting the frustrations and anxieties of the past year be directed towards the wrong target. It worried him when Dirk failed to return to the lodging house that night, despite his best efforts to separate his concern from the rather eccentric Brit.

He’d become used to creating a wall around himself and Amanda, a fortress to keep everyone at arm’s length. Somehow, Dirk had made his way inside the fortress – and not through underhand means, but as though he had simply climbed in through a window and made himself at home.  

He was glad then, and relieved to bump into him by chance, watching the work on the theatre with an uncharacteristically sorrowful countenance.

“Mr. Gently –“ he started with formality, and then corrected himself. “Dirk.”

Now that Dirk had made himself at home inside the fortress of Todd’s life, there was no use pretending that he was a stranger.

Dirk turned to him and his unguardedly expressive features registered pleasant surprise and natural warmth, before he plainly remembered their last encounter and it turned to caution and worry.

“Good afternoon Todd, did you need me for something?” Dirk answered, politely, and almost caught Todd off guard by his sincerity. After being treated so badly, Dirk would still help him if he asked. Todd felt a sudden wave of concern for how easily such a trait may be abused, and a certain protectiveness of his friend – for he was his friend, after all.  

“You didn’t come back to the dormitory last night, I was worried.” Todd opened.

“You were?” Dirk asked with understandable confusion, before explaining. “I considered that some fresh air may be more productive than sleep.”

Todd felt the familiar pangs of guilt within him, knowing that Dirk had felt too upset to sleep. “I wanted to apologise for what I said before. Times have been desperate lately, and I feared for my sister, but you are not to blame for that. In fact, you have been the best and only friend we have in this city.”

“Friend?” Dirk echoed with almost childlike hope in his voice.

“Yes.” Todd said with a small smile. At this, Dirk’s countenance appeared radiant, and all of the protective, admiring, and fond feelings swelled up within Todd to create an odd sensation that he swallowed down as fast as he could, knowing full well that it would be dangerous to let those feelings be explored.

“How is Amanda?” Dirk asked, trying to draw attention away from what he knew was a rather unrefined gratitude at finding a friend.

“Physically, she’s better, but… she has been walking around unchaperoned – I need hardly tell you how dangerous that is in her condition. Perhaps you could talk to her, she’s still furious with me. I just wish I could find employment, or some way to pay for her medicine.”

“Yes, I wish I could help with that too, alas with the theatre out of action my prospects are equally bleak.”

“Our first priority is not starving to death.” Todd noted drily. “But I’m so worried about my sister…to be so close to a remedy and not have the money to afford it-“ he sighed in frustration. “In her weakened form another attack could be fatal, there must be some way to raise money for her support, if only to get her past this present danger.”

“Perhaps my friend Mona has had better luck at the other theatres.” Dirk suggested, trying to be optimistic.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Master Chorley, I’ve been sent to give you a message.” The man said with a Scottish accent. His presence seemed to turn the air around them to ice.

Dirk recoiled from him like a startled animal, drawing Todd away from him with one hand.

“That’s not my name.” Dirk said vehemently, with more anger than Todd had ever heard before.

“The theatre is no place for a Chorley, especially this close to the family estate.” The man observed, with obvious delight in the discomfort he was causing. He took a step forward, and Dirk took a corresponding one back.

Dirk frowned for a moment and then his eyes widened. “You set the fire” he said in a horrified whisper.

The man didn’t respond, his gleeful smile was answer enough.

“The world is a dangerous place, where anything could happen. If I were in your position, I’d certainly watch my step.” The man said, voice dripping with malice.

“I think you should leave now.” Todd said, boldly, stepping between the men. He disliked the effect this man seemed to be having on Dirk, and standing by while this man threatened him was out of the question.

“You can’t run forever Master Chorley.” The man said in a singsong tone before backing up a couple of steps, and dissolving into the crowd.

Dirk let out a couple of breaths in relief, standing with his back to the wall of a bootmaker’s shop.

“Are you all right? Who was that?” Todd asked.

“Mr. Mage. He’s a…butler.” Dirk answered, rather cagily.

“He kept calling you Master Chorley.” Todd frowned. “As in – the Chorleys? You are-”

“That’s not my name Todd.” Dirk insisted quietly.

“The Chorleys who own half the- or practically all of the county? Those Chorleys?”

“Please do not pursue this” Dirk warned.

But Todd’s mind was working overdrive as he put the pieces together.

“No- wait, you – are you seriously telling me that my sister is in a beggar’s hospital right now and your family is one of the richest families in the whole country?”

“You don’t understand!” Dirk said “they hate me, did you not hear him just now? They burned down the theatre just because they knew I worked there-“

“You told me your parents were dead! You lied to me!” Todd said, aghast. “All this time it was in your power to help us, and instead you lied! Your family’s wealth could save Amanda’s life!”

Dirk sighed and closed his eyes, frustrated that he couldn’t communicate clearly through the emotion and memories that closed up his throat. It was too much, and he didn’t know how to convey it all at once or where to start.

“They will not help me.” He said firmly.

“You haven’t even tried.” Todd accused. “Even if it’s just money to make you go away this could save Amanda’s life! I thought you wanted to be friends? Friendship isn’t just about doing easy things you wanted to do anyway Dirk it’s about doing the right thing even when it’s hard.”

Dirk looked at him with a frightened, pleading expression. “Please don’t do this Todd. They hate me. I don’t know if I can go back there…you don’t understand” he said.

“What I understand is that you lied to me and all this time I’ve been struggling to eat your family have so much money they could sustain Amanda forever and they wouldn’t even notice it missing!”

“It’s not that simple!” Dirk insisted.

Todd sighed, rubbing his face with one hand, before trying one last time.

“The worst they can do is say no, but at least you will have tried, Dirk? Really, if they’ve disowned you what’s the worst that could happen from just asking for a few pennies?”

Dirk stared at the ground for a moment, silently.

“Please Dirk, if you’re truly our friend, you would do this for us.”

Dirk clenched his hands into fists to try and still the trembling, and closed his eyes in defeat.

“I will go tomorrow.” He agreed finally.

“Thank you. Thank you!” Todd said, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in months. He clasped his hand on Dirk’s shoulder, ignoring the way he tensed at the sudden contact. “You are a good friend.”

Dirk remained uncharacteristically quiet, but Todd thought of his own parents, and tried to imagine any circumstances where they would have ever refused him aid, and couldn’t. This plan was sure to work, and even if it didn’t they had lost nothing for trying. Once he could set Amanda up to live comfortably, she would be sure to forgive him.

Chapter Text

“Remember me?” the fishwife said with a small wave.

“Anna!” Farah said with delight. “It’s great to see you again, I was beginning to fear you’d been abducted.”

Farah hadn’t even noticed that she’d wandered this way, perhaps subconsciously guided to look for her friend. She was so glad to bump into a friendly face after the melancholy turn her thoughts had taken, and sat next to her on the wooden crate as she mended the net in her hands, a pile of them by her side waiting to be done.

Anna laughed. “Life keeps me busy. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“Indeed. Although perhaps not as busy as I would prefer.”

“How so? You know you never did tell me what it is you do, or why you wanted to talk to this Mona person so much?” Anna asked conversationally.

Farah sized Anna up for a moment, and then caved. “I’m a bounty hunter. I’m looking for Mona Lamia because she’s wanted for murder back home, and if I bring her in I’ll be paid for serving justice.”

“My word, a bounty hunter! That sounds so dangerous!”

Farah laughed a little. “I can look after myself. In my position I have little choice but to know how to defend myself.”

Anna nodded thoughtfully at that. It was her sensitivity and understanding that had drawn Farah to her in the first place. Somehow talking to her was so easy, she listened and didn’t judge.

“Murder is certainly a serious charge for a young woman to have.” Anna observed.

“It seemed the murder took place when she was 15 years old as well. She may be violent by disposition.”

There was a comfortable pause, but Farah noticed that Anna had stopped working on the net.

“What if she had good reasons? What if she too, needed to defend herself?” she asked quietly. “She may have killed him in self-defence. Men so often try to take advantage of women.”

“Anna, is everything all right? If you need help, I can protect you. Is it your husband?” Farah said, starting to feel angry.

“No, he’s a very kind man. Oh! I just remembered I must prepare some supper for when he returns – I won’t be long, would you be kind enough to watch my work?”

“Of course” Farah said. She sat on the crate, staring out towards the sea. When she’d entered the area, it had smelt overpoweringly of fish and salt, but it was remarkable how quickly she’d become accustomed to it. She supposed a person could become accustomed to a lot, one way or another.

The thought reminded her of what Anna had said, and she frowned in worry.

“Good day.”

Farah stood up, as a young woman appeared next to her. She had dark hair, brown eyes, and a gentle smile as she looked at her. There was something strange about her too, she had an air of vulnerability that instantly brought out Farah’s protective instincts.

“How do you do?” Farah greeted in return. She tried not to hope this person had information about Mona Lamia, but then she noticed she was wearing the same clothes that Anna had worn, and had the same build.

“You’re looking for me.” The young woman said shyly. “I’m Mona.” She held out her hand.

“Mona Lamia?” Farah checked, preparing for anything.

“I go by Mona Wilder now. I’m an actress!”

“An actress…you were …Anna? No, it isn’t possible…” Farah said in confusion.

Mona giggled. “Yes, and the drunken coachman, and the beggar man, and the baker, and the flower seller…”

Farah thought back on her time in Liverpool with a start. She looked at Mona closely, examining her features.

“You were the woman? By the church, that gave me the leaflet?” She guessed.

Mona nodded, ingenuously.

“You know that I have a bounty for you?” Farah checked, fearing some trick.

“I know.” Mona replied. “You told me.”

“I don’t understand. You know I’ve come to arrest you. And…I had no idea any of those people were you. You could easily have remained hidden.”

“I am an actress.” Mona said with a note of pride.

“You have an extraordinary talent.” Farah admitted, and Mona beamed with pleasure. “But I’m afraid I still don’t understand …why did you reveal yourself to me knowing that I have a bounty for you?”

“I like you.” Mona said simply.

Farah’s world seemed to stop.

It was strange to say, but no one had ever said these three simple words to her before. Mona was looking at her with all the trust of a duckling on their imprinted parent. Farah could hardly comprehend it.

“I don’t – understand.” She said again, shaking her head.

“I didn’t mean to kill anybody.” Mona said solemnly.

“He was trying to hurt you wasn’t he? It really was self-defence.” Farah surmised, and again Mona gave her quick nod.

Farah sighed, and sat down on the crate. She frowned in thought.

“Then I have lost a bounty.” She said to herself. It was just as well the last job had paid well.

“But gained a friend!” Mona said brightly. Farah looked at her, and couldn’t help smiling at Mona’s straightforward honesty. She should have felt humiliated or angry at the trick Mona had played on her, but it seemed impossible to be angry with Mona. She didn’t mean any harm. She was just navigating the world entirely on her own terms, and Farah understood what that was like.

“That is worth much more to me.” She admitted and Mona practically bounced with excitement.

Mona sat next to her, and they talked for many hours.

Chapter Text

As Dirk approached the front door of the mansion, he became increasingly sure that this was a very bad idea.

He looked up at the parapet of the building, glanced at where he had escaped down the side, and noticed that the shrub that had perhaps saved his life so many years before, had been removed. Now there was nothing except for the sharp gravel within several metres of the area. For some reason the sight of it made him shiver.

He focused on calming his breathing as he stood in front of the large, austere door.

“Don’t Panic” he muttered to himself, remembering the reason for being here. Todd hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear that he thought Dirk owed them this. It had, after all, been his fault that Amanda had to be hospitalised. He could have killed her. The least he could do was knock on this door and see if his family would give him a pittance to go away.

He just had to calm his nerves. The priest wouldn’t be there, just his parents. His father had never spared the rod, or his fists or boots or belt or anything else he could bring to hand, but that had been when he was a child.  

He was an adult now. It was different. He was an adult.

He had just raised his hand to knock when the door opened and the butler, Mr. Mage, appeared.

“Master Chorley. How utterly delightful to see you again.” Mr. Mage sneered.

Colonel Chorley appeared from behind him, looming out of the shadows, and grabbed his wrist, hard.

“Come in before someone sees you for god’s sake Svlad”

“That’s not my name anymore, let me go!” Dirk said in panic as the door shut ominously behind him.

His father did not let go.

“Look, this was a mistake, I’ll go – let me go and I’ll be on my way.” Dirk said, trying hard to break free of the bruising grip around his arm.

It was amazing how much bigger than him his father still was, despite the fact that he was no longer a child. He still loomed over him, strong and severe. Well-fed in contrast to Dirk’s years of poverty and malnourishment, and so, so angry. Exactly how he remembered him.

“It’s about time you came home.” His father said. “Instead of roaming about the streets, or in the theatre with prostitutes and faggots where you can be as perverted as you like while risking shame on our family every moment. It’s disgusting, it’s humiliating” his father said, face getting redder as he spoke.

“Let me go” Dirk tried again, starting to breathe too fast as the reality of the situation bore down upon him.

His father smirked, just a little, and Dirk saw exactly what he was thinking.

“No. No…no…please.” Dirk said desperately, as his father dragged him towards the stairs. “No, not there again you can’t – I’m a grown man, you can’t – you can’t lock me away you can't do that I'm not a child any more you can't!"

But he could. He did. Dirk’s vision was spinning in his panic, he felt dizzy and stumbled several times. As they approached the door to the attic the Colonel punched Dirk hard, twice, trying to make him stop struggling and force him into the dark room. Mr. Mage stood in the doorway and watched, enjoying the spectacle as Dirk’s father unleashed all his pent up fury on Dirk.

Lady Chorley had never let her husband forget the failure that was their son, and had spent years using it as ammunition. Now all of that resentment and bitterness rained down on Dirk. Fists and boots and fury were his world for what must have been minutes but felt like hours, until he drifted away to unconsciousness.

The Colonel left him there, a bruised and bloodied heap in the dark, dusty attic that had taken so many years from him.

When Dirk came round, he knew exactly where he was, but not when. His life seemed to blur into one indistinct half-waking half-sleeping mass of time in this attic.

Was this a nightmare? Was he dreaming once more of that first night in the attic? Everything hurt so much he couldn’t think clearly. He had to focus on breathing past the pain. His arms had taken more than their share of injuries in trying to defend the rest of him, and his right arm had been broken in the process. It wasn’t the first time.

He held it to him, trying to keep it still, focused on breathing while moving as little as possible, and lay there for a long time simply protecting himself from movement of any kind. Then it came back to him that he was here because he had walked right up to the house and knocked on the door, and it occurred to him that he deserved every bruise and broken bone he had received because what kind of person could possibly be that stupid?

Then again, perhaps this was what he deserved. The theatre had burned down because of him. It was his fault that Mona was struggling to pay her rent now, not to mention all the other actors and theatre staff suffering because of him. And his new friends: one was lying in a hospital bed as a direct result of his reckless advice, and he’d lied to the other and caused him to despise him.

He belonged in this dark, lonely attic where he couldn’t cause harm to other people. He wasn’t fit to be out in the world, like his father had always said.

His father… the years hadn’t softened his hatred for Dirk, and it was only a matter of time before Father Osmund would be brought in. The thought made him feel sick with fear, even after all these years.

He thought of the gravel. It had taken him 5 years to escape before; in his current state of pain and vulnerability, the prospect of escape seemed utterly impossible, and he squeezed his eyes shut as silent tears fell. Mona would be all alone. He’d been so stupid and selfish.

Even after 16 years away, this place had never really left him. The smell of it, the feel of the wood floorboards, the darkness, all of it conspired to bring back those memories of his childhood and all the suffering he had endured here.

Dirk knew a trick that he had learned during that time as a child in this place. The only thing to make the endless pain go away for just a little while. He felt a little sick to think of it, but swallowed down the fear and got it over with.

He dropped his broken arm onto the floor heavily, and the jolt of pain caused him to fall back into the respite of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

“Good morning” Amanda said, with a confidence that belied her nerves. She had walked right into the middle of the camp of musicians, boldly, and they had all stopped what they were doing to look at her.

The violin player who she now knew was Mr. Cross had stopped practising and sat down with the others around the campfire. Martin gestured for her to sit with them, and since she saw a seat that retained a certain amount of distance between her and them, she took it.

“You feeling better?” Martin asked and she nodded slowly.

“Yes. Thank you. And thank you again for rescuing me the other day.”

He shrugged a little. “It was no bother. Can’t think why no one else stopped to help you.”

That answer struck a chord in Amanda, something that called strongly to her. These people lived the way they wanted to, accountable to no one. It made them outlaws, perhaps, but they lived with their own moral law instead, a code of basic human decency that social ‘propriety’ seemed to have entirely forgotten in its ambition to appear correct. She envied them.

“I have some herbs that may help.” Mr. Cross said. “They have been known to help fits of that kind.”

Amanda hesitated. “I can’t afford-“

The men erupted in laughter before she could finish the sentence, and instead of making her defensive, she relaxed in complete understanding with them. She laughed a little too. Kindness was free. Obviously.

“May I ask how you met each other?” she asked instead.

“Born into the life of a traveller, but I was cast out by the outcasts.” Mr Cross stated concisely. Amanda nodded.

“Ran away, 16 years ago now.” Said Mr. Gripps, who she now heard had an American accent. “I’ll be my own master. Ain’t nobody gonna cage me.”

She turned to Martin.

“Just a travelling musician, when we met on the road we decided to travel together and we’ve been doing that ever since.”    

“And Mr. Vogel?” she asked, turning to the youngest member.

“They adopted me from the street. Took me in as one of their own.” The youngest member explained.

“Your music is… I heard it by the docks. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.” Amanda noted. They all seemed pleased by this, muttering with pleasure.

“You play?” Mr. Gripps asked.

Amanda shook her head. “I wish I could. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play music but, my family could never afford it.”

“And what would you play, if you could?” Martin asked, leaning in a little.

She thought for a moment, glancing at Mr. Vogel’s tambourine. “I’ve always been drawn to percussion. The rhythm, like a heartbeat, like life itself.”

Mr. Vogel stood up instantly, with great enthusiasm. “I’ll show you!”

He sat by her and she picked it up quickly, while Martin made her a drink, Mr. Cross prepared some herbal remedies for her as a gift, and Mr. Gripps prepared other types of percussion instrument for her to try.  

These people were interested in what she thought, without judging. They wanted to see her flourish, not merely subsist. They had formed a group with close, loyal bonds not because they had to, but because they wanted to. Amanda had never felt safer or happier in her life than she did in this moment.

Chapter Text

Mona let herself and Farah into the cheap lodging house where she knew Dirk had been staying.

She checked for him first, but as she couldn’t find him, she returned to the common room where she had seen Dirk’s new friend. She had a habit of keeping an eye on Dirk’s new acquaintances, because Dirk had a kind of sheltered naivety that had never left him in all their years on the street. Many people had tried to use that to take advantage of him, and would have succeeded if not for her watchful guardianship.

Consequently, she was aware of Todd Brotzman, though she had been too busy with Miss Black to introduce herself to him formally.

“Good morning.” Mona said to Todd Brotzman as he once more scoured the papers for jobs.

“Good morning” he replied a little warily, looking up at her and the black woman next to her who had unexpectedly walked over to his table in the lodging common room. Most people who came looking for him were not of a friendly disposition, usually wanting money for debts owed. They didn’t look like that sort of person, but you could never be too careful in Todd’s opinion.

“My name is Miss Mona Wilder, I’m a friend of Mr. Dirk Gently. I believe you know him?”

“Yes, I do.” Todd said, relaxing. “He told me about you, you’re an actress I believe?”

Mona nodded happily. “This is my friend, Miss Farah Black.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Todd said with a nod towards her.

“I’ve been trying to find him but I haven’t seen him for a week. Could you tell me where he is?”

“I haven’t seen him for a week either…I was actually rather hoping he might have returned by now”

“Returned from where?” Mona asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “It’s not like him to make a trip without telling me.”

“The last I saw of him, he was going to see his family.” Todd said, thinking back.

“Dirk has no family, save me and Mr. Hobbs.” Mona said, suspiciously.

“No, his real family. The Chorleys.” Todd stated, a little coolly, still annoyed that he’d been lied to about this fact.

“They’re not his real family.” Mona bit out, startling Todd somewhat. “But – that doesn’t make sense. You said he went to see them? Voluntarily?”

“Yes. He promised to try them for financial aid” Todd started to explain, but Mona shook her head, eyes wide with fear.

“No. No he wouldn’t have gone back there. You’re … you’re lying. You’re lying. NO.” Mona said, with confusion.

Farah put a restraining hand in front of her.

“Mona what is it? What’s wrong?” Farah asked her quietly. Mona shook her head, unable to speak from panic.

Todd looked away from the abject distress on Mona’s face and looked to Farah instead as he explained.

“We are in desperate need of money, my sister’s sick, and needs medicine – when Dirk told me he had connections who could help – I persuaded him to try.”

“No.” Mona shook her head in denial. “No he couldn’t – he wouldn’t.” she said, the panic and fear in her voice contagious, and transmitting itself to the others.

“He wasn’t exactly keen on the idea but my sister is sick, and we’re all of us struggling to survive. Desperate times call for-“

Mona took a step forward very suddenly that startled Todd. “You don’t know what you’ve done” she said in a low tone.

Farah recalled to mind what Mona was capable of, and held her back gently.

“Mona, I have no context for any of this. Tell me – what is this place?”

Tears welled in her eyes when she looked at Farah, who felt a strong and instant desire to protect her with everything she had. The strength of the feeling startled her a little, but she didn’t fight it. She simply accepted that protecting Mona Wilder was a part of her life now.

Farah was aware that she would normally have felt somewhat jealous of this Dirk individual, but Mona had made it clear in the way she described him that her feelings towards him were deep, but entirely unromantic. Instead, Farah cared about Dirk because Mona cared about him, and she would do whatever she could to help find him.

“Dirk isn’t safe there. We must help him.” Mona said urgently. “We must go to Mr. Hobbs.” She added, more decisively. “We can waste no time, Farah please help us, please.”

“Of course I will.” Farah assured her.

“And you.” Mona said to Todd, who started at the ferocity of her expression. “You will help us rescue him. You will help us fix this!”

Her tone brooked no debate. He would have taken little persuasion; he was curious about where Dirk had been for the past week. He had expected that it might take a couple of days, but a week was too long, especially given how certain Dirk had seemed that it would be unsuccessful.

Todd wondered if perhaps Mona had spent too much time at the theatre, imagining Dirk as a damsel in distress at the top of an ivory tower in need of a knight to rescue him, when more likely he was sat around a dinner table with awkward silences between awkward conversations with his estranged family. But still, it had been a week and Todd missed his friend a surprising amount considering how new their association was. Until Dirk came along, he had been in a monotonous state of inertia. Having been shown how colourful and joyful life could be when Dirk was around, he had lost his tolerance for the grey toil of before.

 So, he followed after Mona as she rushed out of the room, and hoped that Dirk would return the sunshine to his life.

Chapter Text

Farah found two horses at short notice, and rode with Mona behind her while Todd took the other. Farah was very clearly an excellent rider, and Todd felt rather self-conscious by comparison, it having been some time since he’d ridden for any duration.

They rode out to the cottage of Sherlock Hobbs in just over half an hour, relieved to find him at home. Mona wasted no time.

“Sherlock please help us! It’s Dirk!” she greeted him and he took her arms to steady her.

“What is it? What’s happened?” he asked her with concern. “I see you’ve brought friends…” he turned to the newcomers.

Mona took a moment to catch her breath. “This is Miss Farah Black, she’s my friend. And this is Todd Brotzman, he’s…he’s the reason Dirk is in trouble!” she ended angrily.

“I’m a friend of Dirk’s – I didn’t – I’m not sure exactly what’s going on..?” Todd admitted.

“I’m Sherlock Hobbs, why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what this is about from the start, and then we can decide how best to help Dirk.” Sherlock’s steady voice and demeanour settled them, and even Mona visibly calmed down.

They sat down, and Todd explained everything to them, as honestly and openly as he could, sensing the importance of the situation despite not fully understanding it.

“He’s been there for a week and has not been seen since?” Mr. Hobbs checked, after he was done.

Mona started with a gasp. “Do you think they would have…” she couldn’t finish her sentence, but the fear was in her eyes as she looked at Mr. Hobbs.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But we must assume that he is alive and in need of our help. I pray it is not too late.”

Hobbs brought out some slate and chalk and started to draw a map of the mansion. He looked instinctively towards Farah, sensing that she had the best strategic mind among them.

“He told me they used to keep him in the attic. I daresay they may have locked him there again. The colonel is not known for his imagination. Colonel Chorley is at home today but the lady is at her sister’s house for a few days, and she has taken her maids with her. There are perhaps 6 or 7 other staff there, including the butler. He’s an unpleasant man.”

“Yes, we met him the other day. He admitted to burning down the theatre.” Todd noted.

Mona bristled with fury at this information. She looked at the map for a while.

“Mona? I know that look.” Mr. Hobbs said, watching her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should bring about a little theatre of our own. The only problem is how to escape with Dirk quickly.”

“We must steal their carriage. That way we can leave and they cannot follow us.” Farah suggested.

“I will do that.” Sherlock Hobbs offered. Mona looked at him in surprise.

“You can’t be involved Sherlock or you will lose your position, and your home. Dirk wouldn’t want that.”

“Mona. I would lose my very life if it meant helping you or Dirk. You must know that. It is high time I put my principles into practice. I have been a servant of this despicable man for years, and I can bear it no longer.”

She clasped his hand and nodded her respect for his decision. Mona outlined her plan to the others and they agreed. Todd wondered just how his life had become such a maelstrom of strangeness and adventure, but if Dirk was in danger because of him, he would do everything in his power to right that. It was slowly being impressed upon him that Mona was not simply being hysterical, and that something was very, very wrong.

“I need some things for the plan.” Mona stated decisively.

“Me too.” Farah said. “Let’s return to Liverpool to get them and reconvene here.”

-----------

Todd remained with Mr. Hobbs while Mona and Farah were gone. His trepidation increased as he assisted Sherlock in preparing a kind of first-aid kit of remedies, bandages and poultices that Sherlock evidently considered possible as necessities.

At the sound of thundering hooves, Sherlock looked out of the window of his cottage.

“That’s early…oh no...”

“What is it?” Todd caught a glimpse of a black horse going by at a little distance from them, with a black caped rider.

“The devil himself.” Mr. Hobbs muttered. “Father Osmund.” He turned to Todd with a worried expression. “They say he killed people in the Americas and came here to escape justice. There’s a boy in the village, young Francis, he was but 7 years old when Father Osmund paralysed him in an exorcism gone wrong. They say it was an accident but I will never believe that it wasn’t deliberate. I would swear to it that he enjoys it.”

“What makes you so sure?” Todd asked, amazed that someone so malevolent could exist in real life.

Mr. Hobbs looked at him with a shadow over his features. “Because I saw what he did to Dirk. When Dirk escaped that place, he came here and we met by sheer chance, or providence, and I saw that day what had been done to the boy, and he was just a boy you understand. The sign of the cross burned into him repeatedly. Whiplash welts covering his back. Scars all over from beatings.”

Todd’s eyes widened in horror. To look at Dirk a person would have no idea of his tumultuous and violent history, and perhaps that was by design. He recalled how quickly Dirk had steered away from any conversation about his past. It made his heart ache to think of the mistreatment he had suffered in the past.

“Dirk is a good-hearted soul, heaven knows how after all he has endured, but he is kind and generous.” Sherlock continued, with fondness and sadness intermingled.

“Yes. He is.” Todd acknowledged softly. Todd had established that much in the first few minutes of meeting him. It grieved him to know how much pain Dirk had suffered, and he felt a surge of guilt for sending Dirk into whatever hell he was now in, even though he hadn’t understood what he’d done at the time.

“Whatever perversions his family accuse him of, he does not deserve to be thus punished.”

“Perversions?” Todd asked hesitantly.

“That’s how they justify it to themselves. They say Dirk is somehow wrong, unnatural. That he doesn’t belong in this world. And if you think that too, perhaps you should leave now because I must warn you that his friends may be few in number, but we are fiercely loyal. No matter who he loves, Mona and I accept him for who he is.”

Mr. Hobbs said all of this with meaning and now regarded Todd significantly.

Todd’s eyes widened in understanding and he took a moment to digest the information. “Oh.” He said as he considered it. Mr. Hobbs packed up his household possessions, knowing he would be leaving this cottage that had been his home for good.

Todd spent some time considering what Mr. Hobbs had told him. In retrospect it didn’t surprise him that Dirk was …that way inclined. The truth was, he hadn’t allowed himself to hope. He’d spent his life suppressing such feelings. His shock was not that Dirk was who he was, but that he had friends who accepted him as he was. Todd didn’t know that finding such acceptance was possible.

He was painfully, vividly aware that society felt much the same way as Dirk’s family apparently did – that these feelings, no matter how right and good they felt, were bad and wrong and unnatural. He’d known that all his life. But he had no conception that others might think differently about it. That those feelings could be safe to express among certain people.

While Mr. Hobbs believed that Todd was adjusting his world view to tolerate a thing beyond his realm of comprehension, what Todd was really doing was wondering just how far their acceptance went. Would Mr. Hobbs and Miss Wilder continue to accept Dirk if he… found love? Could they form a community that didn’t care what the rest of the world thought? Was such a paradise on earth possible?

Then again, what if Dirk never forgave him for what he’d done? For bullying him into returning to a place of his nightmares? Todd felt a sinking guilt within him; an instinct told him that Dirk would forgive him, no doubt as easily as before…but Todd would not forgive himself.

“Well and may I ask you Mr. Brotzman, if you have chosen a side?” Mr. Hobbs asked him once he’d finished packing his things.

“I’m on Dirk’s side.” Todd said without hesitation, and that seemed to please Sherlock.

Just then the horses with Farah and Mona returned.

Mona unloaded saddle bags full of items and Sherlock went to help her.

“I have bad news, while you were gone, Father Osmund arrived. We must hurry.”

“Oh no! Quickly then” Mona said, hurrying with the things.

“Father Osmund?” Farah asked, frowning thoughtfully. “I know that name. There’s a bounty for him, has been for years but no one’s been able to find him. It’s a high value one, for a massacre that occurred decades ago – they call him the Black Winged Butcher back in New York state.”

“Then you can arrest him!” Mona said, picking up on the idea that Dirk might finally be safe from the man that haunted so many of his worst nightmares, and that the priest might at last meet justice.

“If I did it would be the biggest bounty of my career…by a long way. But he’s dangerous. Perhaps we should wait and consider our options” Farah cautioned.

“I’m not leaving him in there with Dirk.” Mona said resolutely.

“All right. Then let’s continue with the plan, but we must be on our guard. Leave the priest to me.” Farah said, preparing herself for what would certainly be the most dangerous bounty of her career. If she managed to cash it in, she would be a wealthy woman – but she never got ahead of herself when there was work to do.  

“Let us change our clothes and rehearse.” Mona directed, with determination.

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang, and Mage the butler opened it with condescending arrogance, which nearly, but didn’t quite, manage to cover his surprise at being presented with a finely-dressed lady, a black maid servant, and a man dressed as a carriage driver.

“Good day.” Mona said with the airy confidence of a Lady, with just the tiniest hint of condescension. Farah almost forgot she was playing a role, she was so convincing in her every attitude and appearance. “I am so sorry to bother you, only my foolish, foolish driver” she glanced at Todd, betraying a little of her genuine anger towards him, “has caused our carriage to overturn. My maidservant and I were rather hoping you might be able to assist, being as you are, the closest property to the unhappy accident.”

“Colonel Chorley is not well disposed towards unexpected visitors. I’d advise you to-“

“You would advise me?” Mona said sharply. “A household servant would advise me? Have you any idea who I am?”

Mr. Mage was momentarily stunned by the tone and she used the opportunity to push past him.

He turned as she entered the house, and as his back was now turned, Farah pistol-whipped him unconscious in one smooth motion. Todd stared at her in astonishment, but there was little time to adjust as Colonel Chorley came out from his study.

“What is the commotion here? Who are you?” he demanded.

Farah wasted no time and took no chances with the military colonel. She pointed her gun at him and he hesitated only slightly before he raised his hands in surrender. Gesturing for him to enter the front room, he sat on a large chair, watching her guardedly.

“What is this? Who are you people?”

“Shut up.” Farah ordered, then to Todd, handed him the gun and instructed him to keep it aimed at the colonel. Todd followed her instructions, trying not to appear as out of his depth as he felt.

Mona took the ropes tying up the curtains and tied his wrists with it, pulling as hard as she could and gratified by a grunt of pain. She had heard much about this man over the years, and she detested him with a passion.

Meanwhile Farah was taking a bottle from her bag, and after covering a cloth in ether, held it to the Colonel’s face. He struggled, briefly, but then fell unconscious.

“You should shoot him.” Mona said angrily, but her desire to avenge her friend was interrupted by the sound of screaming. “Dirk!” Mona said in fear, looking up towards where the cries of pain were coming from.

Any lingering fear that they were doing something wrong left Todd at the sound of Dirk’s screaming. Mona hadn’t been exaggerating, Dirk was in serious trouble and they were justified in going to any lengths to rescue him.

They raced up the stairs to the first floor, where they encountered a startled maidservant who wisely retreated into the room she was cleaning and shut the door. They ignored her, continuing up towards the attic where Mona opened the door, and Farah entered gun-first.

The scream of agony was like nothing Todd had ever heard before, and prayed he would never hear again. He wasn’t sure what was worse between that and the smell of burning human flesh that assaulted him as the door of the attic flew open.

The scene that greeted them was this: Dirk was tied with rope so that he was lying face-up with arms outstretched, and the priest was bearing down on him with an iron implement that was pressed against Dirk’s skin and making a hissing noise that could still be heard despite Dirk’s agonising cries of pain.

Farah wasted no time in pistol-whipping the priest, who fell to his knees in a daze as she tied him up and handcuffed him, taking the iron implement out of his hand and throwing it to one side. Todd glanced at it, and saw that was a specially designed brand in the shape of the Christian cross. It was still hot, the shape of the cross glowing red on one end.

Father Osmund had been branding the cross into Dirk’s torso, just above the waist on his right side. Dirk was sobbing with pain and Todd tried to take in all the scars and brand marks over his body, along with the more recent bruises and cuts. His arm was very obviously broken.

The scene was like that of the mediaeval torture Todd had read about, and he felt himself pale and dizzy at the reality of it. He knew this scene was stamping an indelible impression on his memory.

While Farah dealt with the priest, Mona rushed over and untied Dirk, kneeling next to him, stroking his hair comfortingly and whispering soothing words to him.

“P-please stop” Dirk whimpered, eyes closed. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

Mona looked at Todd with an expression of such rage and grief that he would never forget it as long as he lived. She turned back to Dirk, taking a handkerchief and wiping Dirk’s face carefully with it.

“Sshh you’re safe now, Dirk it’s all right, we’ve come for you.” She said to him. “We’re here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Todd said in panic, “I didn’t know – I’m sorry” he looked back to Dirk as Mona wrapped a shirt around Dirk’s bruised body, covering the exposed wounds and blisters from view as she helped him up. He clung to her for a moment and she embraced him back. For the moment, that comfort was more important than the injuries that were made worse by the contact, but then he pulled back with a wince, holding his arm close to him and relying heavily on Mona to stay upright.

“We must go.” Mona said with urgency. As she helped him down to the floor below Dirk asked them to wait. They thought he needed to catch his breath due to his injuries, but instead he hurried into one of the bedrooms and rejoined them quickly with a nod that they could continue.

Outside, Sherlock Hobbs was waiting for them with the Chorley carriage, and they wasted no time hurrying into it, as Farah and Mr. Hobbs took the driver seat, and the others joined Dirk in the carriage.

Chapter Text

Sherlock Hobbs took charge of the carriage, knowing he would have to abandon it somewhere far away from them and make his way back.

The lodging Farah had rented for her stay was small, having been intended only for herself, but it was also private. She guided Dirk to the only bed in the apartment without hesitation.

“Thank you” Mona said to her quickly, distractedly.

Farah brought water and bandages and helped Mona to clean and treat Dirk’s injuries. Mona looked at Farah helplessly when it came to the broken arm, but the experienced frontierswoman knew what to do, and splinted the arm with a wooden ruler she found in a drawer.

Dirk had said nothing throughout, nor looked at them.

“Dirk, you’re safe now” Mona said with infinite gentleness.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Dirk said quietly.

“I’m not angry with you. I’m never angry with you” Mona said with her reassuring, soft voice. “Though perhaps I am angry elsewhere” she added, looking at Todd meaningfully.

“I went back there…after everything you and Mr. Hobbs have done for me, I was so stupid…”

Todd stepped forward from where he’d been hovering in the corner of the room.

“That was entirely my fault. You went because I told you to, but I had no idea it was that bad, if I had known I would never have insisted, I’m so sorry…” Todd said helplessly, feeling like an intruder, but unable to leave. Dirk shook his head tiredly.

“It’s my fault. Mona...the theatre. The theatre burned down because of me, Amanda is in hospital because of me…it’s just as Father Osmund says, I’m evil and wrong and bad things happen because I’m unnatural…”

“Sshh…” Mona soothed him gently, stroking his face with her hand and smoothing his hair from his eyes with the loving affection of family. “You are all things good, and right, and perfectly natural, and you are surrounded by your loving friends. Never listen to those awful people Dirk, you’re with us now. You should rest, my dearest, dearest friend.”

The physical and emotional turmoil had clearly taken their toll on Dirk, and at this little encouragement, he drifted off as Mona made sure the pillows were comfortable for him.

It was with something like admiration that Farah observed Miss Wilder’s tender care of her friend, or perhaps the beginning of something more than that. She couldn’t quite define the way she felt about this extraordinary actress; so brave and loyal to her friends, so gentle and caring, and so gifted. One thing she knew for sure was that she could never have forgiven herself for turning her over for a bounty. Mona Wilder was worth more than any amount of gold.

“I’m going to stay with him.” Mona stated, as a fact rather than a question, despite the residence being Farah’s.

Farah nodded her acquiescence. “I need to go and deal with Father Osmund.” She said grimly.

“I’m going to see if I can find my sister. Then I will return.” Todd decided.

“Farah…” Mona called to her before she exited the room. “What you did was…extraordinary. I can never repay you for it, nor thank you enough for helping me today.”

“I’m a bounty hunter, it’s my job.” Farah said, and it was true, but she still blushed a little, surprising herself.

“You would have helped us if there were no bounty. You had been preparing to do so” Mona pointed out, with a fond smile. Farah presented a tough façade, but Mona saw through it to the person beneath; someone so capable and yet prone to so much self-doubt. She felt a desperate urge to eradicate all the self-doubt in her heroic friend and do everything in her power to make Farah feel like the special and remarkable person she was. But all that would come later, for now, her attention would be in ensuring Dirk’s recovery.

----------------------------------------

By the time she'd returned, it had been several hours, but Mona still had to be coaxed to leave the room to change her clothes and clean up, leaving Farah to tend to Dirk.

Farah took the bandage off carefully, tutting a little to herself. “What kind of monster would do something like this?” she murmured. “In New York he’ll get what he deserves.” She assured Dirk, who winced as she carefully applied a salve to the wound and re-dressed it. She glanced at the other indelible marks on Dirk’s skin, but refused to gawk.

“Thank you for helping me.” Dirk said, a little cautiously.

“You’re very important to Miss Wilder and…” Farah started, vaguely.

“And Miss Wilder is becoming very important to you.” Dirk guessed, with an understanding nod. “She is a special person. I think that perhaps you and I are rather alike. In more ways than one.”

She understood what he was implying and acknowledged the truth with a nod of the head.  

“You won’t… hurt her?” Dirk asked with worry.

“I don’t intend to.” Farah answered, and Dirk relaxed. She saw in him that same naïve trust that Mona had – a simple faith in people as though they never lied. It amazed her that two such individuals could have survived for so long without her. She also felt a surge of affection for Dirk, simply because of his love for Mona.

“Then I think we will be excellent friends.” Dirk said brightly, and Farah had a feeling he might be right. The feeling was hope.

Chapter Text

Some days seem to pass by as a mere moment, and others compound a year’s worth of experiences into the daylight hours as though no other day could possibly do, like weeds competing for the same soil. For Todd, this day was a year’s worth of events compressed into one, and it was far from over.

“Amanda! I was beginning to worry…” Todd said, relieved when his sister arrived at the lodging house.

“Ask me where I’ve been.” Amanda challenged, and Todd felt the defiance in her tone.

“Where have you been?” he complied, and she moved slowly, aware of the attention she was commanding, but with no petulance, only matter-of-factness.

“I don’t expect you to understand what I have to say next. I only need you to be aware of what’s going to happen. I’ve met some musicians, and I’m going to travel with them for a while.”

“You- musicians – I- what?“ Todd spluttered, barely coherent in the suddenness of the shock.

“You heard me.” Amanda said calmly. “But if you like, I will say it again. I’ve met a group of musicians who have invited me to join them, and I have accepted. We are going to tour the country together. Don’t worry about my condition, one of them is a herbalist and he knows a great many aids for convulsive disorders like mine, and the others have already agreed to help me pay for the medication from the earnings.”

“There are men among them?”

Amanda laughed. “Yes Todd. There are men among them. Since my sole company for the last several months has been a man, even though he were my brother, I must have forgotten the company of women altogether. Don’t worry. They are honourable. And I’m afraid that you don’t have any say in the matter.”

He looked at her with open concern. “Amanda, you’re my sister…”

He had said it not with reprobation but with sentiment, and she took pity on him.

“I’ll be safe with them, I promise. Trust me, Todd. I know you never have before, but that’s why I must do this. I’m not a little girl anymore, I have my own life to lead. Your attempt to protect me has been like a prison cell around my life, and I need liberty. I must have liberty. And I must live my life for better or worse.”

Todd thought for a moment on this, too painfully aware of his own failings to feel any moral high ground to use as leverage. He had tried to protect his sister and all he had done was lie to her, and betray her trust. As for Dirk, his actions could have resulted in his death or permanent imprisonment. As it was his injuries could become infected, or his arm may not heal properly.

“What is it?” Amanda said, perceptively, picking up on the guilt and gloom in his expression.

“It’s…Dirk.” Todd admitted.

“Is he ill? Is that why he hasn’t come to see me all week?” Amanda asked, defiance replaced by concern.

“In a manner of speaking…”

“What did you do?” Amanda asked with a suspicion that stung.

“He wanted to help us. Financially.” Todd took a deep breath. He supposed that he may as well be honest since his sister was determined to leave anyway. “He’s the son of the Chorley family.”

“The Chorleys who – own everything around here?” Amanda raised an eyebrow in disbelief, given how impoverished Dirk was.

“Yes. I asked him to see if they might help us, if they might give him some money. He tried to tell me it was a bad idea but I insisted, and – I shouldn’t have. I had no idea how much they could hurt him, I was too naïve to think a family could lock up and hurt their own son but…”

“Where is he? Will he be all right?” Amanda interrupted with urgency.

“We got him out. Miss Wilder, Miss Black, Mr. Hobbs and myself – we forced our way into the house to extract him, but not before he was severely beaten and injured. He’s currently recovering at Miss Black’s house, she’s a friend of Miss Wilder.”

“His own parents did that to him?” Amanda asked with shock, remembering with a sudden stab of grief the love her own parents had lavished on her and Todd, indulging every wish they could afford. Much as she wanted to blame him, she understood how her brother could have failed to imagine that such people existed.  

“They hurt him as a child too, that’s why he ran away and changed his name. I didn’t understand what I was asking of him you must believe me”

“I do.” Amanda said quickly. “You care for Dirk. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“What do you mean?” Todd asked cautiously.

“Like I said, I’m not a little girl any more Todd, and I’m not stupid. I see things. I understand things. I’ve spent so long observing life and people and everything around me that sometimes I believe I know more about life than those living it. But now I will actually get a chance to live my own life.”

“And you would leave just like that? Leave me alone?” Todd said softly.

“You’re not alone” she said, with certainty, almost amazed that others couldn’t see what she perceived so readily, but it had always been that way.

Todd regarded her with melancholy and incomprehension, but he could see that no argument would sway her. He wondered at her more enigmatic words, feeling that somewhere deep within him, he knew exactly what she meant, and yet not quite being ready to face that.

“Would you at least come with me to see Dirk? I think he will want to see you before you go.” Todd asked her.

“Of course I’ll see Dirk.” Amanda said softly.  “Let us go directly.”

Chapter Text

For the first time since she’d made her decision, Amanda’s conviction wavered, as she entered the room to find Dirk sitting up in bed with his arm in a splint, bruises on his arms and face, looking unnaturally pale and fragile instead of the usual radiant energy he projected.

It was only remembering how loyal and protective Miss Wilder, Mr. Hobbs, and Miss Black had been over him when she’d come to visit that reassured her that he was in safe hands.

She sat by his bedside and took his hand, smiling at him as she recalled his freely given friendship and the natural kinship between them. It had been Dirk seeing her as a real person instead of a burdensome sister that had initiated her journey of self-discovery, that had given her the confidence and determination to find her own path, and which had led her to a new life with a new family.

“I came to see you, and to say goodbye just for a short while. I have found some new companions who are going to help me explore this country a little, but I promise I’ll write and tell you what adventures we find and I’ll visit when I can. I’m sorry to leave you like this.”

Amanda explained quickly, not wanting to make her news any more difficult. She told him of her meetings with the musicians, her plans for the future, and thanked him for encouraging her to feel as though she had value of her own instead of merely being a side character in someone else’s life.

“I have a gift for you.” She said. “To remember me by.”

She handed him a handkerchief which had ‘Dirk Gently’ sewn into it with some sunflowers decorating one corner.

“Oh…this is-“ Dirk took it reverentially.

“Terrible. I know. Embroidery remains apart from my talents.” Amanda laughed, “my new friends helped quite a lot, it turns out they’re rather better at it than me. They told me to tell you that any friend of mine is a friend of theirs too. I hope you get to meet them some day.”

“Thank you so much.” Dirk said, choking up from emotion, and Amanda wished that one day she could give him small gifts as a matter of course and he’d think nothing of it, instead of considering any small act of kindness to be so novel.

When he had managed to compose himself, Dirk raised a finger.

“Speaking of gifts…I have one for you too. On the way out of the house, I suddenly remembered why I had gone there in the first place and I thought…well, I took something. Here.”

Dirk handed her a small jewellery box. “I thought you could sell it and get enough money for your medication.”

Amanda opened the box to find a beautiful diamond bracelet inside. She looked at it in astonishment, having never seen a real diamond before, let alone dozens of them set in sterling silver. She watched the light play on the cut gems.

“It’s beautiful…” she said in a hushed tone. Then she looked at Dirk as a thought occurred to her. “You took this for me?” she asked.

“Not as a…romantic gesture you understand-” Dirk hastily explained.

“I understand.” Amanda said quickly. “But after a week being held captive, after what they did to you…” her eyes wandered to wear Dirk’s splinted arm was held protectively to him. “You still thought to try and help somebody other than yourself?”

“I thought if I could get one thing out of it that made it worthwhile…”

“Nothing is worth you being hurt.” Amanda said gravely. “But – thank you. It means a lot to me that despite everything, somehow you still thought of me.”

“Of course I thought of you! You’re my friend. At least, I hope so.”

“Always. I’m just so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. And – what happened to you as a child sounds so awful.” She said with sympathy.

“My parents think I’m…unnatural, wrong.” Dirk admitted cautiously.

“How could any parent hate their own child? Especially someone as wonderful and kind as you?” Amanda said, knowing it would forever be beyond her comprehension.

“It’s because of…the way I am. Inside. The feelings I should have for women, I …” Dirk swallowed.

“Have for men?” Amanda suggested, perceptively, and kindly. He looked at her and nodded.

“I know.” She said with a soft smile. “Or at least, I guessed.” She took his hand. “It’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Tears welled up and spilled over so fast it made Dirk gasp for breath, and Amanda very carefully pulled him into a hug.

“I will write to you, I promise.” She said gently. “I wish I could be here while you recover but-“

“I understand.” Dirk said, and she felt that he truly did. “You are brilliant, Amanda. It would be a crime to waste the life you have waiting for something to happen instead of reaching for what you deserve. I believe in you.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she took a shuddering breath. “My dear friend, I will come back and see you often.” She promised.

She carefully placed the box into his hand.

“You should keep this, it’s too much.”

“No, please take it, please.” Dirk said, and the tone of his voice made her take the box. She had a feeling that for Dirk at least, it was a comfort and compensation to him that she should have this as a result of what he’d endured. She couldn’t take that from him, so she took the bracelet instead and her friend instantly relaxed with relief.  

“Goodbye Amanda.”

She kissed his forehead affectionately. “Get well soon my friend. You’re a special person, Dirk. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I hope you find it.”

“As are you, and I have a feeling you’re going to be happier than you have been in your life.” Dirk said, made happy by the prospect.

She felt her heart glow with warmth. Of course among all the naysayers who thought she was insane, reckless, stupid, and would certainly cause her own downfall and disgrace – of course it was Dirk alone who had complete faith in her and her decisions, and who saw a bright future for her.

“Though I will miss you – and since I won’t be able to write to you because I won’t know where you are, you’ll just have to remember me as best you can.” He added.

“I would never forget you, but will hold you close to my heart always.” Amanda said, waving a little as she left.

Dirk in his turn, held all of his dear friend’s words close to his heart, and turned to them whenever he missed her.

Chapter Text

On her way out of Farah’s house, Amanda found Todd leaning against a door frame of the sitting room, looking pale and miserable. He looked up at her and she couldn’t help but take pity on him.

“If you want to talk to Dirk, now’s your chance.” She said meaningfully.

“I fear he won’t want to see me. I’m the reason for all of this after all” Todd said ruefully.

“Is that so? Did you abuse him as a child and lock in him an attic? Did you brand him with irons or break his arm?” Amanda challenged.

“No but if it weren’t for me he wouldn’t have gone back there.” Todd said and turned his face away. He was thinking of the scene in the attic, Dirk’s cries of pain, the same Dirk who had shared everything he had with them without a second thought, who had reminded them of what happiness was after months of struggling.

Even Amanda, acute as her understanding was, found herself surprised to see her brother swallowing down tears. It seemed to her this misadventure had deepened existing feelings, but she also knew that without her intervention, he would find a way to sabotage his own future happiness.  

“Talk to him.” Amanda instructed, not unkindly. Todd looked at her, then.

“You feel guilty, as you should. So…? Apologise! Dirk is the best friend you could have in this place and if you forsake him when he needs friends more than ever, I really will never forgive you.”

Todd seemed to rally at her words. She knew that protecting her had been an excuse for Todd to create defensive barriers between himself and the rest of the world, and that without her around, he would be able to let his guard down just enough to let some joy enter his life.

Todd looked longingly towards the door of Farah’s – now Dirk’s – bedroom.

“Go.” Amanda said simply, and Todd went towards the door as though hypnotised, and entered.

-----------

“How are you feeling?” Todd asked, as he sat by Dirk’s bedside. Dirk sat up, with a wince as his movement pulled on the still painful burn mark. Dirk looked as though he were going to dismiss the obvious pain he was in, but then chose to be honest.

“Pretty terrible, actually.” He admitted.

“I’m sorry.” Todd said, sincerely. “I should have listened to you, I should never have made you go back to that place.”

“It wasn’t you, Todd. I…I really thought, I hoped that perhaps…I don’t know. It was stupid.” Dirk mumbled. “I suppose I was still clinging to some kind of hope that they might have…changed their mind about me."

"That doesn't sound remotely stupid to me." Todd observed, with sadness.

"Only I don't see why they would have changed given that I haven't…they still have reason to hate who I am.” Dirk looked at him a little nervously. “I’m not – evil but I am…something.”

“I know.” Todd said simply. “Me too.”

Dirk looked at him in surprise.

“Maybe…” Todd swallowed nervously. “We could be something…together? If you wanted to, that is. I know I have no right to say such a thing…”

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, and you don’t owe me anything.” Dirk said softly.  

Todd knew he had to disabuse Dirk of the notion that his feelings were motivated merely by pity or guilt, given that he'd never felt so strongly about anything before. It was the strength of the feeling, the simple fact of it, that was giving him confidence to speak, and he let it propel him forward.

“The week you were away… it made me realise how much you’ve changed my life. How much you inspire me to be a better person, and how much happiness you bring into the world. I've never met anybody like you before. I like myself when I’m around you, I like everything more when I'm around you. At the very least, I pray you can forgive me enough for us to remain friends.”

Dirk stared at him in shock, saying nothing.

“You came to rescue me.” He noted, quietly.

“If I had my way nothing and no one would be allowed to hurt you again.” Todd said matter-of-factly.

“Maybe we could be something together.” Dirk whispered, echoing Todd’s words with reverence. Todd understood the sentiment well of never having considered it within the realm of possibility until now.

"You need not think of it now, while you are resting and healing. I just want you to know the truth. Because the one thing I know for absolute certain: you, me, the way I feel, there's nothing evil or unnatural about any of this."

"No...there...there truly isn't." Dirk said as though it were a revelation. He knew this, because what he felt when he looked into the blue depths of Todd's eyes was the very opposite of evil.

Chapter Text

The bounty that Farah claimed from handing in Father Osmund was substantial.

It allowed her to buy a house of her own outright, and she chose to settle down in the bohemian Soho region of the West End of London. She didn’t much care where she was so long as it was with Mona, but Mona and Dirk had long dreamed of going to London, and it was a convenient place for Amanda and her new companions to visit too.

Sherlock Hobbs brought his niece Tina with him and they opened an apothecary shop, which sometimes did trade with Amanda’s troupe of musicians and erstwhile herbalists.

Soho was artistic, close to the theatres and full of varied and liberal artists, writers, musicians, eccentrics, and outsiders of all flavours. It was the only place where a black American woman, a German-Jewish-American man, a Brit, and an actress, could all live together without arousing hostility, as they were merely one of many curiosities in the area.

In the heart of the theatre district, Dirk, assisted by Todd and financed by Farah, set up a shop for theatre props and costumes, which he named Dirk Gently’s Theatrical Accessories.

Life was good, and Mona had landed a starring role in a Midsummer Night’s Dream that she was overjoyed about. Mona being happy made Farah and Dirk happy, which made Todd happy.

It was a crisp morning in September, so Todd had already got up to stir a fire in their room into life before slipping back under the covers next to Dirk. He always let Dirk sleep when he could, because Dirk often slept badly, though over time the nightmares were becoming less frequent.    

Still, this morning Dirk woke with a gasp, and Todd saw the fear in his blue eyes before he stroked his hair soothingly and murmured words of reassurance. “Shhh, it’s all right. You’re safe. I’m here.” He said until Dirk relaxed in his embrace.

“Good morning” he said with a smile.

“Good morning” Dirk replied, a little shyly. He made himself comfortable in Todd’s embrace and let out a small sigh of blissful contentment that made Todd laugh a little.

They lay in bed, as the morning light started to stream through the gap in the curtains.

Todd shifted a little as his arm went dead, and wrapped his other around Dirk’s waist, pulling away quickly when Dirk winced.

“I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” Todd asked, realising he’d accidentally brushed the most recently branded cross scar on Dirk’s body, which though three months old, was still raised and in the process of healing.

“No. A little” Dirk admitted. He sighed. “My body isn’t my body. It’s a battlefield.”

“A battle you won.” Todd said, watching him carefully. He put a hand on Dirk’s cheek. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”  

Dirk looked directly into his eyes – something that, Todd noticed, ever since his return to the attic, he’d avoided doing. It was so sudden that Todd blushed before he could help it, as he marvelled at the beauty of Dirk’s soft sky-blue eyes, and the complexity of emotions he read in them.

The tinge of doubt - he was still working on that. But also the wonder, the tenderness, and the breathtaking love that Dirk was capable of despite being subjected to so much hatred.

“I never thought I would get to have this.” Dirk said in quiet amazement. “This kind of happiness.”

“Me neither.” Todd admitted. Dirk always looked so especially beautiful in the morning light, and Todd wanted to stay here forever, but he said: “Farah and Mona will be waiting for us at breakfast.”

“They won’t mind the extra time together.” Dirk said airily. “Perhaps we could just…stay here all day.”  

Todd couldn’t help grinning at the way Dirk’s thoughts mirrored his own. But there were things to do today. It was a special day, and Todd felt a sudden motivation to be up and about, preparing and perfecting everything.

“Don’t forget, Mr. Hobbs and his niece Tina are coming for dinner tonight. Amanda and the others too.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Dirk…it’s your birthday today. Did you forget?” Todd said giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday.” He added.

“Oh.” Dirk frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I saw your birth certificate among your papers.” Todd admitted.

“Quite the detective.” Dirk said with a smile. “I had forgotten though. I don’t celebrate my birthday. I never have.”

“Why not?”

Dirk shifted a little, and then sat up, looking at the bedsheets with a distant expression.

“My mother said that the day of my birth was the worst day of her life. On my birthday, she was usually even angrier than usual with me.” Dirk swallowed, and Todd hated that even now Dirk’s heartless mother could still hurt him like this. He gave him another kiss.

Todd turned and sat so he was facing towards him and took his hands.

“I’m sorry, Dirk.” He said sadly. “But what you should know is that it was the very best day of my life – if you hadn’t been born I wouldn’t get to be here with you now…so we’re celebrating. You deserve to feel special, because you are, and I love you, Dirk.”

“I love you too” Dirk said, feeling as though he might overflow with contentment.

-------------------

“In the kitchen, Farah and Mona were just putting the finishing touched on a birthday cake, and Farah stood back to admire their work.

“It’s perfect.” Mona said, delighted.

“You really love him don’t you?” Farah said, watching Mona affectionately.

“Of course I do – Dirk is my family.” She said without thinking, and then paused thoughtfully. “It’s different…than the love I have for you.” She said, reassuringly, embracing Farah.

“Oh I know. I’m not jealous. I love him too. He’s…been through a lot, hasn’t he? How do you think he’s faring? Really?”

Mona clearly liked Farah the better for her interest in Dirk and smiled warmly at her. “I think he’s doing better than ever before. I think we all are. I wish he’d never had to go back to that place, but with the priest gone, and us finally in London, he feels…safer. More settled. For the first time in our lives, it’s safe to celebrate.”

Farah kissed Mona’s forehead before putting a cover on the cake and putting it on one side.

“Farah…I was wondering…” Mona said a little shyly. “Do you ever… miss…home?”

Farah turned to her at the uncharacteristic hesitation. Mona always knew what she wanted, in a calm, decided kind of way. Mona was an extraordinary, creative, and spontaneous person full of joy and life, but she was also safety, stability, calm. She soothed, and cared, and surrounded Farah with softness unlike anything she had experienced before. She hadn’t believed these things could exist for her.   

“This is my home. You are my home.” She said, searching Mona’s eyes to check if they were on the same page, and finding what she expected to see: relief and love. She would never tire of seeing the love on Mona’s kind, soft features.

“Now, let’s put up some decorations for Dirk.” She said, and Mona nodded with a happy bounce of excitement.

Chapter Text

A crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle of the Black Winged Butcher finally meeting justice, in the form of the city gallows. The newspapers had had a field day stirring up memories of all he had done, and talking of him finally being hunted down, although Farah’s name had been conspicuous by its absence in each account.

Father Osmund walked up the steps, and stood as the noose was placed around his neck. He didn’t tremble, not even a little. At this close range, he could tell that his executioner was female. First that goddamn bounty hunter, and now this.

"The final insult, a woman executioner.” He said, sardonically. She said nothing as she adjusted the noose. “What, got nothin' to say darlin?" he goaded.

Miss Curlish shrugged. "Why? You're gonna die anyway." she said neutrally.

Priest grinned at her relaxed sang-froid. "Damn, I like you."

She gazed at him levelly before pulling the handle to open the trapdoor.