A/N: ok this pretty much fits in with my Hope Never Dies fic, mostly because I realised Fletch has one of those histories you just want to make a story from, and I wanted to write cute kiddy outlaw stories lol. So yeah if you don't want any spoilers for Fletch's history later in the Hope never Dies fic then don't read this, if you're obsessed with spoilers then read away XD, but don't say I didn't warn you.
Fletch's life had never been one of the easiest, born upon the eve of October the 18th his mother promptly died from complications during childbirth, not once holding her new baby boy. His father, a blacksmith, had to raise him all on his own, the usual jolly temperament of the man began to deteriorate after the sudden death of his beloved wife; Beatrice Greenwood. He became a hard and cold man who blamed his son for the death, and so Fletch was hated in his very small family. Arthur Greenwood took up the heavy hobby of drinking, much to the despair of his little five year old son; Bartholomew Fletcher Greenwood. He didn't quite understand what was happening to his father, although never knowing compassion from him he still became different, and much more violent, that's when the beating started.
The seven-year-old boy had been taking beatings for two years of his life, and as he sat on his porch steps watching the villagers of Locksley go about their business of the day a strange feeling erupted in him. Knowing nothing of the different lifestyles children of his age had, in comparison to him, he sat and watched a small girl running, she was laughing, her friend not too far away. Fletch's face broke into a small smile as he laughed a little, something that had never happened before, this strange feeling was happiness, happiness was something Fletch had never felt, never smiling, never laughing. The girl turned to him, her blond hair sweeping around her pretty little face. She giggled and whispered to her friend who nodded in return, and both of them bounced happily over to Fletch. "What's your name?" The blond girl asked, her smile gappy with the teeth she'd lost. "Bartholomew, you?" Fletch replied, his own voice startling him slightly; he barely ever spoke, forced not to say anything until spoken to by his father. "Jenny. This is Catherine, she's a noble." The blond girl told Fletch introducing him to her friend who was also blond. "What's a noble?"
"A special person." Jenny stated with a small giggle, like she had told some big secret. "Nobles get to go into the big castle, and they tell everyone what to do in the village."
"Like Sir Robert?"
"Yes, just like Sir Robert. That's where Catherine's father is now, with Sir Robert." Catherine nodded at Jenny's words, each of the girls sat by Fletch, either side of him. "You are the Blacksmiths son aren't you?" Catherine questioned, Fletch nodded. Catherine was an amazingly well spoken girl, with amazingly dazzling green eyes. It was no surprise as she was the daughter of a noble, and then next in line to the title her father held. "Why is it you sit out here and watch us play?" The young boys face contorted into confusion, "What's play?" He asked. Jenny giggled again, "Oh don't tell me you don't know what play is. You must know what play is." Fletch just stared confused, and it suddenly dawned on Jenny that Fletch had no idea what playing was. "Oh. Why is it when I see you out with your father, you do not smile? I barely see you smile."
"What's to smile?" Fletch questioned again, still confused by all the phrases, he felt like he didn't know the meaning to being alive. "Smiling is like this." Jenny said loudly her lips breaking into a massive array of teeth. "You do it when you are happy." Catherine added. Fletch nodded, not quite understanding what happy was, but it soon dawned on him that was what he was feeling when he watched the girls playing. Fletch's bright blue eyes lit up as he laughed a little. "I think I understand now."
"Understand what?" A booming voice from behind the three jolted them from their seat on the porch. Fletch's smile disappeared from his face as his wide eyes clouded over with fear, gazing up at the burly man that was his father. "I asked you a question boy, what do you understand?"
"N-nothing father."
"You must understand something, y'told these little rats you understood something, so tell me boy, otherwise you'll get a beatin'." Jenny's lips pursed as she almost started forward in anger to stop the man, but Catherine grasped her hand and held her back. "I-I understood how to smile, and what happiness was." Fletch smiled momentarily, his father contemplated it for a moment before his face contorted in anger and a hard slap was heard. Fletch went tumbling backwards onto the dusty ground, his little body shivering a little. Arthur made his way over to his son, grasping him by the ear and dragging him inside shouting obscenities at the young boy.
Night soon fell and fletch shivered on the hard wood floor of his room, a small blanket only just covering his bruised body. He felt weaker than ever, and as if a dark shadow was taking over his head. He fought against it, trying to stay with his body, but the sinking feeling wouldn't go from him. Soon the sound of his father and another woman, obviously bought for, in the other room began to fade into the darkness that engulfed him.