Title: Rumours
Author name: DocJorgensen
Category: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Drama, Angst
Characters: Siegfried,James, Random Farmer
Ships: None
Rating: K
Spoilers: None
Summary: Siegfried and James deal with some nasty rumours circulating about Siegfried and Helen.
DISCLAIMER: Behold! I own nothing.
Author Notes: This is ficlet coming from a conversation Toxo and I had about Siegfried possibly (?!) having an affair with Helen. We both agreed that we didn't have the guts to do that, or quite frankly, the stomachs to deal with the revulsion, but this idea came to me, as if in a dream. Anyway, cheers Toxo!
If anyone catches the second reference, I might be willing to write them a custom one-shot.
The rumours started, as rumours do, in quiet, and in sparse patches. But wicked rumour, swift and cruel [1], soon spread to all Darrowby, and the surrounding farms.
James heard nothing, at first. Then he started to hear, just a little whisper in the pub, in the market, from the laborers on the farms.
"Poor bugger. Nowt to do with me. But yon vitnery? His wife, they say, aye that's right, Vitnery's wife and Mr. Farnon." A nudge, a wink, a conspiratorial elbow to the ribs, then snickers and in some, outright bellows and roars of laughter.
At first James couldn't believe it. Then with the outspreading of the gossip his blood came to a boil.
That was how Siegfried found him, sitting stiffly erect on the settee in the sitting room, slamming back whiskey.
"Bloody ignorant-minded villagers. Damn and blast!" James swore, choking down whiskey, the decanter nearly empty.
He felt the burn of the alcohol, the slight inebriation, nothing compared to the wrath that circled inside of him, just looking for an outlet.
The anger, brewing and scorching through his body made his hands shake and his whiskey slop against the edge of the glass.
"Hell!" The taste of the word was bitter in his mouth, dark and harsh but somehow fitting.
"James! There are ladies in the house." Siegfried rebuked him mildly. "And what are you doing, drinking this early in the day?" He tried to pull the whiskey decanter from James' hands.
"I'll drink if I feel like it, Siegfried." His speech was only slightly slurred. "And haven't you heard? You're having an affair with my wife." It sounded bitter, and meant to hurt. Siegfried startled. "Leave me alone." He made as if to throw the decanter, and Siegfried grabbed his wrist and the bottle, tugging it from his hands.
"James. Drinking is not going to solve this. We have to act like reasonable, mature adults, knowing that there is no truth in these rumours. They are no reason to lose your temper and start swearing constantly, now are they?" Another mild rebuke from Siegfried, which only served to enrage James.
"Aren't they?" James looked angrily at Siegfried, the whiskey catching up to him.
"No they are not." Siegfried said firmly, still holding on to James' wrist. He pulled him off the couch and up into his arms. James staggered, inebriation taking hold. "C'mon, m'boy. I think some rest will do you good." Siegfried, arm around James' chest, helped him up the stairs, James' head laying on his shoulder. He helped him to his rooms, then when Siegfried had turned to go and was shutting the door, James called out;
"Siegfried?" The word was definitely slurred now.
"Yes, James?" Siegfried turned in the door, and looked at James, who must have been seriously drunk, that he let these next words escape;
"They aren't true, are they?" They made Siegfried feel as though he'd been shot, but he showed the incredible sensitivity that was his hallmark and simply replied;
"Of course not."
The incident passed, and so did most of the gossip, dying away into light whispers and shadows, creeping back from whence it came, except once.
It was on a visit to Mr. Benson's farm, after we had finished castrating a fine young colt. He started snickering as we turned to leave, and murmured, not quite under his breath enough;
"Vitnery's wife and Mr. Farnon." And he chuckled, just a light little laugh, but enough to set James' temper off, who took one step quickly forwards. Only to be stopped, by Siegfried's hand on his arm, quite tightly.
"I'll handle this, James." His voice was low, and in control, but James could see that the famous temper was off and running, his fist clenched and unclenched, his teeth gritted together, and James almost swore he could see the tendons in his neck standing out.
There was no fire, no brimstone, no blood, but Mr. Benson backed up as though Siegfried was the very Devil himself. Siegfried made no physical gestures, no poking the shoulder, and his voice was quiet.
"You, Mr. Benson, you bloody idiotic son of an ignoramus, if I ever, ever hear you say such things again, you will live to regret it. Is that understood?" He bit the words off, as if it were physically painful, and his voice contained so much anger and malice it was hard to keep from shuddering.
"Ye-e-es, Mr. Farnon." Mr. Benson looked as though he wanted to add a sir, but his terror kept him silent and shaking. Siegfried said nothing else, just turned and headed into the car.
A few minutes later, he turned and said; "James, I need a drink. In great quantities."
[1] – Aeneid, Book 4.