Work Text:
Heathcliff hisses out a curse when the needle picks the meat of his thumb for the fifth time today and watches as the blood beads and flows from the injury, catching in the small divots that make up his thumbprint. Rolling his eyes, he shoves his thumb in his mouth to staunch it before it makes a mess, immediately getting a familiar mouthful of copper. He's bitten his cheeks and tongue and had too many teeth knocked loose and knocked out over the years to be bothered by the taste of his own blood.
He's not the best when it comes threading his own clothes, but between stitching wounds and patching fabric holes during his time with the Syndicate, he knows his way well enough around a needle on most days. Most days not being today, apparently. Go figure.
Nelly made certain he knew the bare basics of this and that when she had the time to tuck him away and teach him. They were both aware he couldn't rely on her for everything with Hindley and Josephine haunting the halls of the manor with their tempers worse than vipers. Sometimes the two would make sure Nelly stayed extra busy for the simple reason they didn't want Heathcliff to be looked after since she was the only one to raise a fuss about his care when Mr. Earnshaw was off on trips and later still after the man died.
So here's Heathcliff, using his paltry knowledge and steady hands to repair a few of his work shirts, or trying anyway.
Usually, by nature of how the Clock works, destroyed clothes aren't anything to worry about, but break's still on. Dante isn't using their powers unless absolutely necessary, and Heathcliff can respect that even it means crooked stitching on more recent tears.
He could always ask for new shirts to be sent his way, but that seems like more of a bother than it's worth if it means getting a lecture from Faust or worse, Outis if the latter catches wind of it. Besides, he's trying be better about a lot of things in different ways, like with fixing more of his own mistakes for one. Shirts are easy compared to most of the other stuff he tends to ruin. In theory anyway.
Removing the thumb from his mouth, Heathcliff examines the wound. It's still bleeding. Maybe the needle got him deeper than he thought—having yanked it out so fast, he didn't check how far it actually went. Considering how calloused his hands are, there would have been a decent amount of force behind it. Maybe he shouldn't stitch things up while he temper is steadily getting frayed at constantly messing up something that's supposed to be relatively simple.
Heaving a sigh, he wraps his thumb around the end of shirt and makes his way out of his room. There's a first aid kit in the larger communal bathroom. He isn't quite sure who does regular checkups on it to keep it stocked, but it always has supplies in it when a trip to the actual infirmary isn't needed.
What Heathcliff isn't expecting to see when he walks down the long stretch of hallway is Don Quixote's old man. It's rare to see him alone, as far as Heathcliff knows anyway. Alonso likes company on most days, and when he doesn't, apparently he's hole up in his room which is either fine or causes Don Quixote to sigh and frown when she thinks no one's looking.
Alonso stops in front of him with no real expression on his face. He looks down at Heathcliff, tall height made taller by the heels of his boots.
"Oh, you're bleeding."
Not what Heathcliff wants to hear from a Bloodfiend, if he's being honest. Feels like a toss up whether the man knows he's being kind of creepy or not.
"Oi, don't tell me you came from wherever 'cause you smelt blood. 's weird, makes you seem like a hunting dog."
Before Heathcliff can figure out of he insulted Alonso by comparing him to a dog, and now has to deal with whatever the consequences of that are, said Bloodfiend smiles wide enough to crinkle the corner of his eyes.
"No, of course not." He shakes his head, sounding amused. "I needed to get closer to figure it anyway. How'd you get an injury, Sir Heathcliff? A valiant struggle?"
Heathcliff barks out a short laugh, rough around the edges. "If you mean with a needle and thread then, yeah. Just trying to fix some tears in my shirts, but the needle ain't cooperating. Or my hands aren't. Or both."
Maybe he'll call it a day and try again later. Might be harder to do with a bandaged thumb anyway.
"I can offer my assistance if that's the case." It's surprising to hear, and Heathcliff doesn't bother masking the look on his face. Whatever it is seems to amuse the man all over again. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It won't be the first time I've done this. Rest assured, your shirts will be fine."
And who is Heathcliff to deny this type of help when it's freely given? He's got his prideful moments, sure, but he can let that lie for this, plus the idea of watching a First Kindred fix up holes in clothes is weirdly novel. He knows Alonso likes to knit, which was already strange enough for Heathcliff to wrap his head around, so why not one more thing to add to the ever growing list?
Mind made up, Heathcliff gives a short nod, "Sure, why not?"
A few minutes later finds Heathcliff with his thumb properly bandaged and shirt swapped for one that isn't bloodstained. There's a small table in Alonso's room that they sit at across from one another with the pile of clothes that needs to be worked on between them. Music plays from somewhere in the room, the soft crooning sort that Nelly liked to put on sometimes, turned too low to make out any proper words.
Heathcliff didn't have to stay, he was told, but curiosity won out. He watches the motions of needle weaving through the fabric before he finally decides to speak.
"So where'd you learn to do this anyway?"
"I've been alive a long time," Alonso answers without slowing down his work. "It is one of the many skills I've picked up and honed for its practicality. Granted, Nicolina had me beat in that regard having come from a family of tailors and being the one to fashion most of our clothes."
Nicolina was the Barber, Don Quixote told him that much when she was in the mood to share about the family they had to kill. She never refers to the other three by their titles used in La Manchaland, he noticed. Neither does Alonso. That makes sense.
Heathcliff is curious about them, if he's being honest with himself—various family dynamics are interesting to learn about considered how fucked up his own upbringing was. He doesn't know how to ask though since it's not something he indulges in regularly, so he never asks to save himself the trouble and the potential embarrassment of bringing up a topic that's likely to put someone else in a piss poor mood.
"That why you're always knitting something? To keep up the habit?" That feels safe enough to wonder about.
Alonso makes a soft noise and answers properly, "Yes. That and for my dexterity. I also find the act of counting the stitches meditative."
He looks up from his work, pushing back his bangs when they fall into his face. The bun his hair is in seems to only be helping so much, but Alonso doesn't bother fixing it. He hands off the shirt to Heathcliff and grabs another, examining the mess made of that one.
"Your work is a little crooked, and you pulled too tight in some areas, but not bad overall. Who taught you, if you don't me asking?"
Heathcliff takes longer than he'd like to answer, stunned into a silence by Alonso's need to be nice about Heathcliff own earlier attempts. Not perfect, but not completely ruined. The time spent with Nelly didn't go to waste in that regard, not as bad as he was expecting anyway.
"Nelly," he finally answers after being quiet for too long, "She was a family butler. Took care of me."
Alonso hums, threading the needle with ease that would make most people jealous. "Was she your mother, or someone close to one?"
Heathcliff bangs his knee on the underside of the table when he jumps in surprise. It didn't hurt, but he finds himself reflexively cursing like it did.
"What? No, not really. Never considered her one anyway." Heathcliff never gave much thought to his parents to the point where no one could the fill the gaps they left because in his mind there were no gaps. They just abandoned him, nothing more nothing less. "Caretaker, I guess. When she was minding me anyway. Never really liked calling her a nanny."
"Just as good then. Having someone is always good, no matter the relation."
It was good, but Heathcliff went and ruined that too. Nelly cared about him, he knew that much. She wouldn't have tried so hard and doted so much if she didn't, but she stopped caring at some point and he didn't even realize it. Probably couldn't stand of the sight of him after a while. She was probably happy when he left; one less mess to clean up after until his leaving made Cathy worse.
"Yeah well—" he feels a shift in his own tone, cuts himself off before he can take his frustration out on the wrong someone. See, he's getting better at this. "Did Don Quixote not tell you anything that went down with last Golden Bough?"
Alonso pauses his work, looking up. "We are not on that part of her retellings yet, but she did let me know you were involved directly and to be careful about asking you certain questions."
That was nice of her, if a little embarrassing. The care is appreciated, and the warning is a good idea in hindsight.
"Like what? It'll be fine. I'm doing the asking, so I ain't gonna bite your head off for it."
Alonso smiles as if he said something funny. At least it doesn't take long for Heathcliff to realize what he just said, and why it might be amusing for Bloodfiend to hear. It was an accident, really, but he'll take it since the reaction wasn't a negative one.
"The word engraved on your bat mainly. She told me it used to say something else, but you spent hours changing it after what happened." He goes back to working on the shirt. "I'm sure once we get to the portion of the story that involves you, there will be more to advise me about."
"Yeah my bat." Heathcliff lets out a sigh, "I got someone I need to remember no matter what. It's just a reminder of that."
"I understand, memory is a fickle thing." Alonso offers. Heathcliff straightens his posture and listens. "While I was stuck in the middle of the park, I found myself forgetting things about mine and Quixote's adventures and other things in general. At some point, I wondered if I would forget entirely, so I made myself remember what I could. I still get some details mixed up, but Quixote's been helping keep what I can in order when she notices."
"You tried so hard, and she went trying to make it seem like it never happened."
It's only after the words leave his mouth, and Alonso suddenly looks at him with an expression that reveals nothing, when Heathcliff's own words catch up with him. He wasn't even thinking about Don Quixote when he said that, not really.
"That was her right." Alonso says softly before Heathcliff can even attempt to explain himself. "It hurt to learn that she did, but it was her right."
He grabs the last shirt to work on, not starting immediately.
In front of Heathcliff is the man that didn't fight back against his family when they betrayed him. Who carried guilt for two hundred years while letting himself get stabbed and tortured. Of course he answers like this.
"Still, are you not mad, at least a little, at being forgotten like that? Not like it was an accident or anything." Heathcliff can't but ask and push, curious about a situation that's similar to his own.
"At the cost of who she was, yes. How can I be upset, when I saw that her only course of action was something so extreme as willfully erasing her memories to rid herself of the pain my actions caused?" Alonso shakes his head, starts working on the shirt in his hands somehow. "It broke my heart for different reasons, but no, I don't think I can ever really be mad at her."
Heathcliff thinks he can get it, somewhat. He wants to be mad at Cathy on some days; he is mad at her on some days when his mood hits the dregs and he doesn't know what to do with everything inside of him.
How can he not be, after what she put him and others through? What she tried to do and nearly succeeded with. Doesn't mean he loved her any less. He'd rather not be mad at her, if he's being honest, but that's just who he is as a person. Nelly too, catches his ire for starting it all. He finds himself less mad at her these days though and more frustrated at himself for being too shortsighted to see how he was ruining her too.
They're why he's trying to do better these days, for what it's worth.
He lets out a sigh and does a terrible job at folding the shirts in this lap to give his hands something to do. It helps settle his mind a little.
"Would have done it still if your roles were reversed? Drank from that river, I mean." He can't help but ask.
"I would like to say I would not have." Alonso answers slowly, after a beat or two. "Many of the problems that stemmed between me and my children were due to my own shortsightedness, I understand that now. To forget them would have only made it worse. I would be running away completely."
Looks like they can relate on that front.
Silence settles between them again. Heathcliff tries not to think too much about anything given the conversation topic can tip him either which way if he isn't careful. He needs a nap after this.
"And if you were in a similar position, would you choose to forget?"
Of course he gets asked the same question; he should have expected this.
"Nah, I wouldn't want to." Heathcliff answers immediately. He's been through this kind of decision before in real time. He wouldn't let himself forget. "For all the pain that was caused, there's gotta be some good in there too, yeah? What's the point of anything if it's all forgotten?"
Alonso huffs a small laugh. "That's a nice way to look at it."
"Not really, just is. A lot of bad in the City. Remembering the good things helps makes it bearable. I get why she did it, really, it's just—" He heaves another sigh, a mix of frustrated and exhausted, "Case of being different people, innit? So we all do things differently even with the same problem."
"That would be at the crux of most things, yes." Alonso hands over the last shirt, somehow smiling despite the topic. "For what it's worth, which may not be much, I'm sure whoever it is would be glad to know you are remembering them."
That was obvious, wasn't it? The Heathcliff of a few months ago would have denied it. Then again, the Heathcliff of a few months ago wouldn't even let himself be in this situation. Funny how much and how fast things are changing.
He shrugs, "Maybe. Not holding my breath though. Don't care either way, it's my choice to remember."
"Do you think it's a good choice, then?"
"Yeah." He takes the word and rolls it around in head. When he repeats it, it's stronger this time, "Yeah. One of the few good ones I'm capable of making."
If it ends up being a mistake, well, Heathcliff's good at making those anyway. It'll all work out fine. He'll make it work out fine for Cathy if no one else. She'd deserve it more than him anyway.
"Do not be so harsh on yourself," Alonso tuts softly, tucking away his needles and thread in a box. "Quixote speaks of you highly, and she has a good judge of character."
Heathcliff scoffs, glad it's usually hard to tell when he's blushing unless it gets real bad. He rests his elbow on the table and his cheek in his palm just in case though.
"Lass is too nice. Like you, apparently."
Alonso laughs for some reason, laughs harder at Heathcliiff raised eyebrow and confused look, all tension caused by the previous topic gone.
"Thank you, Heathcliff, but I'm really not." The box shuts with a sharp click. "You saw the memories, yes?"
"Some of 'em sure, but seems like you want to change and do better, so that's gotta mean something."
Either way, it's not like he went bashing heads if people annoyed him. Can't be any worse than Heathcliff was when he first got on the bus and hated every second of it.
"Well, I suppose you're right." He doesn't sound very convinced though, but that's his own issue to work through.
"I think everyone on this damn bus is like that, or trying anyway whether they realize it or not."
Alonso's eyes shine, "Oh, so it means I'm in good company then?"
"Good? We'll see how long you'll be saying that after someone gets a harebrained idea in their head." Heathcliff reminds himself of Don Quixote that was once Sancho chasing after her old man while he went fighting bears for fun. "Then again, that might be right up your alley."
"Quixote gets it from somewhere, after all." He sounds proud himself or maybe it's of Don Quixote and whatever antics he heard about her getting up to.
"As long as you two keep me out of the biggest messes, then have at it, mate."
The whole thing with the gnomes was enough. But knowing the other Sinners, going through something calmly would be too good to be true. They're all trouble magnets, somehow. At least it doesn't get boring. Alonso will fold in nicely.
"No promises, but I shall keep that in mind."