I'm Sorry
Characters: Ranger McGucket, Fiddleford "Old Man" McGucket
~Pairings: Nothing Specified
Word Count: 1,160
Trigger Warning: None
Note: Takes place pre-series
Ranger McGucket struggled between the two people that held him, his eyes wide beneath the rough sack over his head. This could not be happening, he couldn't be getting kidnapped. But he was getting kidnapped and so Ranger struggled and screamed and whimpered.
Usually in this sort of situation Ranger would hold onto the hope that his Dad would come and save him, after all that's what happened when the gnomes took him that one time, but he hadn't seen his Father in months and so that hope didn't exist.
Chanting began to enter his ears and the monotonous voices sent shivers down his spine. Where was he? What was going on?
Rough hands pushed him into a chair and tight straps fastened around him, Ranger kept screaming.
"Don't worry," a voice spoke calmly, oddly familiar. "Soon you'll forget, soon you'll be better."
The sack pulled away from his face and Ranger gasped as he looked down the barrel of what appeared to be a gun.
"Please don't hurt me," he whimpered out, closing his eyes and crying. "Please don't hurt me."
If he had opened his eyes he would have noticed the sudden trembling in the hand that held the gun and if he could see under the dark red robe he'd have noticed the sudden fear in the blue eyes under it.
He would've watched as the trembling hand fell to the man's side and as the blue charging of the gun vanished.
"Who brought him here?!" The voice was no longer calm and instead venom laced each of the words. "Who dared lay hands on him?!"
No one spoke, no one moved.
Ranger squinted open an eye, the robed man with the gun was livid, his whole body shaking and his hands flying about in anger.
"He," the man gestured towards him with the hand that held the gun and though Ranger flinched no bullet came. "He is off limits! No one touches him! Not now, not ever! Do you understand?!"
"But it's our job to—"A cloaked figure began, but was cut off as a blue beam hit him in the head.
Ranger screamed as the body fell to the floor in a heap, "You killed him!"
"Don't be silly," the man with the gun hissed. "He's merely forgotten. Now you two take him outside," he ordered. "He is no longer welcomed in this Society."
Two robed figures stepped forward and took the blubbering man away, never speaking, and never hesitating in their orders.
"The rest of you move out, find someone else that we can help tonight I'll get the boy home."
The corridor emptied and Ranger tried not to panic, he didn't want to be left alone with someone who had clearly gone insane.
The man stepped forward oblivious to Ranger's growing panic, and rested his free hand on Ranger's shoulder. Despite trying to be brace the ten year old flinched away violently and the hand immediately pulled away, as if it had been burned.
Ranger watched the hand cautiously as it hovered in the air for a moment It was as if the owner was unsure what to do with it, before it once again fell to the robed man's side.
"Right then," the man cleared his throat awkwardly. "Let's get you home son, I betcha your mother's worried about you."
And just like that Ranger knew where he had heard that voice.
"Dad?" He whispered in amazement.
The man's whole body stiffened, "N-no, of course not—"
"Don't lie to me!" Ranger's anger pushed through and the man froze, when it was clear that his Father wasn't going to respond to him Ranger kept talking.
"Are you going to come home now?" Ranger asked desperately, because all at once that hope of rescue existed again. "Because you said you were gonna come home and play catch with me soon."
"Ranger I really can't rig—"
"Dad please," Ranger cried. "You need to come home. I want you to come home."
"I can't!" The screaming words caused Ranger to jump. He'd never heard his Dad yell before. "I just can't Ranger! There's too much to do here! I can finally help people, save people! Don't you understand? I can't come home right now."
"But what about helping me and Mom?" Ranger asked, choking slightly on his sobs. "What about our family?"
"I'm sorry," Fiddleford whispered. "But I can't, you and your Mother will be fine without me."
"No! That's not good enough!" The fear and desperation in Ranger's soul had been replaced by anger. "What kind of Father are you?! What kind of Father abandons his family?!"
"I'm not abandoning you, I'm doing this for you!"
"No you're not! You're doing this because you're afraid!"
Fiddleford stiffened, his hand grasping the gun tightly, as the other fiddled with the dial nervously.
"Please Dad, just let go and we can go home. Let go of the gun thing and take off the robe and just come home," Ranger begged.
Silence, one beat, two, and for a moment Ranger dared to hope, before his Father's next words cut through him like a knife.
"No, no I'm not coming home, I can't ever come home. I have a job to do," his voice had turned hollow, uncaring.
Ranger sat in shock, his heart clenching and his stomach turning, then he screamed, "I hate you! I hate you! Don't you dare come home after this, because I won't ever forgive you! And I'll tell Mom why you aren't home and she'll hate you too! So don't you da—"
The blue light hit Ranger straight in the head and the ten year old fell silent, his head falling to his chest, his threats dying on his tongue.
"I'm sorry," Fiddleford blubbered, as the gun fell from his hand and the blue words Society of the Blind Eye blinked up at him. "I'm sorry, but you can't know, I can't let you. People need me, I have to help them, I can't, I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" Tears fell from his eyes and he desperately scrubbed his arm across his face in an effort to stop them.
"Right then let's get you home," carefully he unbuckled his son's body and lifted him into his arms, hugging him close. "Don't worry son, you'll be fine and really this is for the best, you get to be safe and I get to help people. Only you won't have to worry about getting snatched up because no one here will ever touch you again I'll make sure of it."
Fiddleford took Ranger home quietly and quickly, sneaking into his own house and laying his son down in his bed.
"I'm sorry," he whispered one last time, before vanishing back into the night.
As Ranger grew older he could always remembered the strange creatures that no one else could, but the poor boy could never quite recall why his Father had left him alone.
There's this nifty theory floating around Tumblr that Ranger remembers the monsters and that the Society of the Blind Eye never erases/erased his memories and I liked the idea so I wrote a story about it...
As to Ranger's age well I took a random guess...for all I know I'm totally off...but eh I tried
Also to those who read my Doctor Who stories, specifically TARDIS Thoughts, now that summer is upon us that should get back on schedule thanks for being patient :)
Please Review :)