Missing Pieces
In which Tintin is actually a trans girl and lost daughter of Haddock
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"Don't be afraid, Tina.
Everything's going to be okay.
I won't let them hurt you."
Tintin jolted awake, gasping and drenched in sweat. Not this, he thought, not again. These dreams- or according to him, nightmares- have been plaguing him ever since he was little. He didn't know what they were from or why they were happening, but fear surged through him every time he had them. He closed his eyes and sighed. An image of a young man flashed through his mind. For some reason, he felt calmed by him. He didn't know who he was or how he knew him, but he felt so comforted whenever he saw his face after he had the nightmares. The boy with the jet black hair. The one with with the rumbling voice and blue shirt.
Tintin looked up at the clock. 6:25am He sighed and swung himself out of bed, slowly dressing himself in his plus fours and white polo shirt. He's been living on his own for as long as he could remember, but he didn't know how he got to where he was now. One day he woke up in the hospital with bandages over his chest and a name on a band on his wrist. "Tintin" it had read. No last name. On it also was his apparent birthday- 10th of January. No one had visited him when he was in the hospital. It was just him and the doctors and nurses, every day. They always asked him how he was feeling and checking his stats. He still didn't understand how he had gotten there. It was one of the few mysteries he could not solve.
"Snowy! Here boy!" He called as he strolled into the kitchen. His snow white fox terrier came bounding into the room, expecting food. "Whoaaaa!" He howled. Tintin leaned over and patted him on the head and scratching him behind the ears, reaching onto the counter with his free hand and putting a bone on the floor in front of the dog. "It must be nice not to have nightmares like mine, Snowy…" He mumbled before he turned to the refrigerator to look for his own breakfast.
xXx
The flea market was busy, per usual. Tintin wove his way around the stalls, looking for nothing in particular until he came upon an artist doing portraits for people. "Hello Mr. Remi," Tintin called, coming closer to the well-known local cartoonist, "Care to draw me today?" The cartoonist looked up, smiling as he saw the young reporter, "Ah, yes. Here, sit down. I won't take long." He gestured to the stool and Tintin sat down, smiling. As the cartoonist drew Tintin, Snowy got impatient and began wandering, following a man as he wove his way around, slipping wallets out of passerby's pockets. Minutes later, Snowy heard a familiar voice calling his name, and he barked in response.
"Snowy! Don't run off!" Tintin scolded once he got to his dog. Then he looked up. He gasped.
Great snakes… A model ship stood in a glass case before him. It's beautiful… Something drew him towards it, like some unseen force pulling him forwards. "How much for the ship?" He asked the stall owner. "What are you willing to pay?" The man glanced up at him. "I'll give you a quid." He offered. The stall owner nodded and took the money as he handed Tintin the ship. "Thank you," Tintin smiled.
You're doing well, Tina. Keep going.
Tintin blinked. What? He looked around, seeing no girls anywhere. He shook his head and walked off, nearly bumping into a portly man who was eyeing his ship. "Hey, how much for the model ship?" He asked the stall owner gruffly, almost out of breath. The stall owner shook his head, "I just sold it to this here lad. If you want to buy the ship, ask the kid." The man turned to Tintin as if to say something, but Tintin was quicker, "It's not for sale." The man shook his head. "Look kid, there are bad people out there looking for a ship like that. If you ever encounter trouble over that ship, contact me." He handed Tintin a business card and hustled off.
Tintin looked down at the card, "H. Barnaby Dawes, Interpol" it read. He shook his head. If he wanted to contact Interpol, he could just ask Thomson and Thompson. Although… Mr. Dawes seemed like he knew what he was doing more than Thomson and Thompson. Tintin shrugged and walked off with the ship, again nearly walking into a man.
"Oh, sorry, mister." Tintin squeaked, looking up. This time it was a wiry man with a red suit and a cane. "That's alright. How much for the ship?" The man asked. Tintin looked at him sideways. "I just told another man back there that it's not for sale. Good day, sir. I shall be off."Tintin began to walk off but the man in the red suit grabbed his shoulder. He leaned in close and growled in Tintin's ear in a low, deep voice, "The name is Sakharine. Should you ever like to sell the ship, come find me at Marlinspike Hall, just outside of Brussels." Sakharine's low mumbling in his ear sent shivers down Tintin's spine and warmth somewhere else. Tintin shook his head and turned around to look at him. "Well, it's not for sale right now, but maybe a few years down the line if I move, I might possible contact you. Good day, sir." Tintin turned around and left.
xXx
Tintin stared glossy-eyed at the model ship. Why had two men tried to purchase it from him? Why did this ship seem to be so important? He didn't understand. He sighed. He ought to go to eat something; it was already six, and he had work tomorrow.
Tina, never forget where you come from.
Tintin jolted awake again. He had fallen asleep in front of the model ship on the desk in the parlor room. He quickly checked his watch. Good, he had only been out for ten minutes. He shook his head at his slumbering and stood. "Here Snowy," he called, "here boy! We're going out." Snowy bounded into the room and followed Tintin out of the flat.
xXx
In the back of the library, Tintin poured through old history books dating back to the time of King Arthur II. History interested him greatly, and he'd love to look through all these books, but the library closed in an hour and he had to find whatever he could on the name of the ship- "The Unicorn."
Don't forget the history of our name.
Tintin blinked. This needs to stop… Then he looked down. On the page in front of him was a page on the Unicorn, with an image of the cross view of the ship's interior. It was stunning. As he continued to read on, he heard a creak of the floorboards around the corner. Snowy barked. "Who's there?!" he shouted, looking up. Silence. Tintin shook his head, closing the books, and left, encountering no one except the librarian in the front.
"I still don't understand why two men are after my model ship," Tintin remarked as he strolled down the street towards Labrador Road with Snowy. The storm had stopped, but the sidewalk was still fairly filled with puddles. "Rrowr?" Snowy looked up at Tintin, dancing around the puddles. Tintin sighed. "Let's go, Snowy. It's late."