I've been working on this for the longest time. I've posted a few times already, but I always end up deleting everything and starting again. I don't know what's wrong with me... I just never think it's good enough. I want this to be so perfect. It's all of my favorite characters in one story, it has to be perfect, right? I do so hope you guys like this. Please, tell me if you do.
I don't own any of the characters, I have no rights over their stories and I don't intend to gain anything from this.
George Knightley was trapped in the memories of his father. They had been very close, they had done everything together. And he had been taken away. He was killed, murdered. It had been so sudden, so unfair. A man that was so kind and loving and good had been taken mercilessly from his family because of another man, one that was nothing like him, bad, perverse, evil.
Iris, his little sister, came rushing into his lap. She was a small little thing, barely with any weight, but her arms around his neck held him with efficient strength. Her smiles were sweet, her eyes innocent. She was so much like dad. She had no idea. "What are you doing, Georgie?"
"Thinking about dad," he said. He could never lie to her. Not even when the truth was so painful, so raw, not made for the ears of a little girl. He would not lie to her. That was not his way.
"I think about him, too," she admitted in a small voice. "You look like him, you know?" George smiled. He had just been thinking the same thing but about her. Could she have known? "I watch you sleep sometimes," she added shyly, as if afraid of his reaction.
"Really?" he kept the smiled on his face. "What do you do that for?"
Iris lowered her head and let the sadness in. George could almost see her shrinking in his lap, getting inside herself, closing like and oyster, her pearls lost forever. "It's like dad came back and is sleeping." Her voice was heavy, hurt, and brought tears to George's eyes. But he held them in, for her.
"He's not coming back, Iris."
Her breathing was heavy and superficial. She looked lost inside herself, a feeling George understood all too well. "I know... I just miss him, that's all."
"I miss him, too. But it's been a long time and..." No, he would not lie. Not about this. Not to Iris. Not George. "Well, he's dead, Iris. He is never coming back to us."
She jerked her head violently. Her eyes wet and the innocent gone. All she had left was anger and the need to understand. "Why? Why does he have to be dead? Why did he leave, George? Is he tired of playing with us? Why did he leave us?"
George shook his head and tried to explain the truth to his little sister. The unfairness of the world, the lack of mercy, the evil some were capable of. He tried to make her see that dad would never leave them if he could help it, if it were his choice. Especially Iris, the light of his life, the apple of his eye. And then George stopped, words not being enough anymore.
"Is it because of this bad man that we were left with nothing? That we lost everything...? And dad?"
"Yes."
Iris dried her face with the back of her hand. "Do you know this bad man, Georgie?" she asked lost in thoughts.
"Not yet," he said meaningfully. But oh, he would. And George would make him pay for what he had done.
"Kids," called Mrs Knightley entering the room and kissing each one of her children on the forehead. She didn't noticed - or pretended not to notice - the tears in Iris's eyes or George's anger.
"Mom," he greeted. "How was it?"
Her face fell. She seemed ready to avoid the subject, but George insisted. "Good," she lied. Mrs Knightley was always lying to her children when she felt like she needed, when she wanted to protect them from the truth. George could understand, but he didn't appreciate it. "I sold the house," she confessed under the looks George was giving her.
"Great," he said miserably. Now they could pay the debts Mr Knigthley's death left them. The debts that horrible man had imposed on them.
Mrs Knightley sat on the bed between them. She closed her eyes, grimaced and then started crying. Immediately, George tried to comfort her. Iris embraced her and Mrs Knigthley sobbed. "It's just- this house," she said. "All of our good memories are here. And your f-father... all of his dreams. And I just can't believe we had to sell almost everything, George! It isn't fair!"
All logic seemed to have left her. Her maternal instinct that so often told her to lie to them, not to let them see the pain she was in. She wasn't trying to protect them anymore. She cried and sobbed in their arms. She allowed the to see her weakness, her humanity. And that made her even more of a mother in their eyes. George was seeing now behind that armor she wore and he loved her more. In this room, were the two only people that understood him completely. They knew. They felt it too.
"I will sell the byke," he told her. He was crying now. It didn't matter.
Mrs Knightley faced him. "No, you won't. You can't. It was a gift from your father. And with the money from the house... I can pay for everything. Keep your motorcycle, George. I beg of you."
"I want to help you," he insisted. "Before I leave."
Mrs Knightley pushed him away. She had stopped crying, her face hardening. "You insist on this. George, I cannot pay for that school. I don't want you to go."
"I can get a scholarship," he said with a certainty he did not possess. He wasn't certain of anything anymore, except of his need for retaliation.
"I don't want you to go," she said again. "It's dangerous out there—"
"We've discussed this, mom," he cut her.
"Yes, we did. And I said no."
"Please, don't argue with me in this. Not about this. I need to go. I won't rest if I don't go. Understand, mom. I need you to understand." Once more, the words left him hanging so George kept on repeating that tiny, meaningless prayer, "Understand, please, understand."
"Your father wouldn't want you to go," she said pleading. "I'm sure of that." George kept saying his prayer. "I see there's nothing I can say to make you stay?" George shook his head. He could see she was giving in. Suddenly, Mrs Knightley pulled her son close and held him above her heart from where George begged for forgiveness. She gave him more than that - her blessing.
"I will miss you, Georgie," said Iris in her sweet, childish voice.
"And I, you, Iris." George kissed her hand. "I will keep you two close to my heart."
Mrs Knightley rocked him like he was still a baby. "Remember what your father used to ask of us. What he always demanded we do."
George nodded, crying. "That we be happy. Yes. I will find my peace there, mom. I will find peace," and he repeated that a thousand times until finally he almost believed it himself.
This is just a preview. I have a ton of other characters coming. And I'm taking requests. Now, it's your turn to give me some love.
Oh, and for you that want a little taste of George - think Ezra Miller, how about that? ;D